Chapter 9
A sharp rap at the door startled Cragen and he dropped the file in his hands. Without hesitation, the door swung open, and Fin stood there silently. "Captain, where's Elliot?"
Cragen looked into the eyes of the man who stood before him, trying to decide if there was any way around answering the question. They were a family. No matter what else happened, they were a family. They didn't just solve their cases and go home at the end of their shift. They lived and breathed for each case, and when it was over, they silently melted away into the shadows of the precinct.
Elliot's home with Kathy and the kids. Munch is out somewhere. Jeffries and Cassidy, we live here. We just disappear into the night…
He had laughed with her then, acknowledging the truth behind her words. The family had changed since then, but her words still rang true. A wry smile played at the corner of his lips--they may be the most dysfunctional family in the world, but they were still a family. He watched over each of the detectives under his command as if they were his children. They had filled the void in his life that Marge had left.
Cragen had been in this unit for far too long, they all had. Their utter contempt for pysch services was born out of an intense fear that they might be forced to leave. None of them could ever acknowledge how deeply each case hit them, or how twisted the world had become in the years since they had joined SVU. There were times when it became too much, when they would finally voice the question that haunted them all. The night he had spent with Olivia after the Bennett case had been one of those nights--a night of reflection while Olivia had nursed a glass of vodka, desperately seeking an answer that none of them could provide.
But most of the time, they leaned on one another, never speaking a word, but still communicating with their eyes what no words could ever truly describe. Without touching, without speaking, they silently gave their partners the strength to face what no other cop in the NYPD ever could. They hated their jobs, but they hated the violence and destruction to the lives of the victims even more. And despite everything they saw, they knew that they were the select few who could survive it day after day.
"Captain, why is Tucker in there with Elliot?"
Cragen heard the question, but he couldn't find the words to respond. He stared out the two way glass window in his office, silently watching the last thread holding the unit together unravel before his very eyes.
"Where were you on Friday night, Detective?"
Elliot stared across the table at the snide, contemptuous smile of a man he both hated and feared. "With my partner, Detective Benson. We got off around eight and went out for drinks."
Tucker advanced toward the table slowly. "And what did you do after you left?"
Elliot hesitated before answering. "I went home to my apartment until I was called in on the Carlton case."
"Alone?" Tucker suggested, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah, alone," Elliot repeated defensively. "Why the hell does it matter where I was?"
"Because you didn't go home alone." Tucker tossed a file on the table in front of him. Loose photos began to spill out.
"What the hell is this?" Elliot flipped open the file and stared at the photo in front of him, the color draining from his face.
"Why don't you tell me, Detective."
Elliot was frozen in place, the image burned into his memory long before Tucker scooped them up again.
One by one he tossed them on the table. "What's the matter, Detective? Can't stand the sight of your own work?"
"Where the hell did you get these?" Elliot whispered, finally bringing himself to look down at the image in front of him.
When everything in the world fell apart, when he didn't think that he could make it through another day, he looked to her. Her eyes drew him in--silently reassuring him, encouraging him, and letting him know that he wasn't alone. But Elliot didn't recognize the eyes that stared back at him now. They were filled with terror and a pain that he understood all too well.
A satisfied smirk on his face, Tucker leaned forward on the table to meet Elliot at eye level. "We got them from your apartment," he sneered.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
The pen in Huang's hand froze mid sentence. He looked up slowly, trying not to show his surprise. "Casey, come on in."
She crossed the threshold quickly before she could lose her nerve and then hesitated. Casey averted her eyes away from him and found herself staring out the window behind his desk. "It's a beautiful view."
"Yes, it is," he agreed. His eyes followed her, analyzing her movement. "But you didn't come here to talk about the view."
The expression on her face softened. "No, you're right." He gestured for her to have a seat across from him. She accepted it, grateful for the time it gave her to formulate her thoughts into words. Casey had always prided herself on her ability to take bits and pieces of information and spin them into a web of questions that captured the essence of realism and truth. Yet the questions swirling around her now seemed to be spiraling out of control.
She took a deep breath and plunged forward. "How bad is this? I mean…" She stopped, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Olivia is strong, right. She can beat this?" Her voice didn't falter, but the expression on her face gave away the insecurity she was desperately trying to mask.
Huang nodded in agreement. "Yes, she is strong. But Casey, that doesn't mean this isn't going to affect her. Olivia's strength is also going to be her downfall because she's not going to let anyone close to her. She wants to pretend that she can handle what happened on her own."
"I want to pretend that she can handle what happened to her on her own," Casey admitted quietly. She exhaled slowly. "I want to believe that she can just get right back up and give us a statement that will help us nail his ass to the wall." She looked away, her voice softening. "The only way that I can do that is by pretending that it's somebody else. If I let myself accept the fact that he was able to break her, then it means accepting the fact that none of us are safe, and I…" She stopped and drew in a long breath. "I can't take that, George."
He silently watched her crumble, offering her the space he knew she needed. "Casey, none of us want to accept what happened to her. But the truth is, she's just like every other victim that's walked through this door. The only difference is she has more to lose because in her eyes, she's struggling not just to keep it together, but also to keep her job."
Casey's head snapped up. "Is her job at risk?"
"She thinks it is, and as long as that fear is there, she's going to continue fighting all of us. Olivia's job has given her a reason for her entire existence, and the threat of losing that is more than she's prepared to handle."
We got them from your apartment.
The words sank in slowly, weighing down every muscle in his body. Elliot blinked hard. This couldn't be happening. He had to be dreaming. There was no way that anyone could possibly think that he could attack his partner, that he could attack Olivia. "You're wrong." Elliot's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh, really," Tucker answered sarcastically. He slid into the seat across from Elliot. "You were the last person to be seen alone with her. She's afraid to be in the same room with you and refuses to talk about what happened with anyone from the squad." Tucker chuckled softly. "Then she miraculously turns up on your doorstep." He paused dramatically, reveling in the shocked silence before leaning in for the kill. "Oh, yeah, and of course, you just happen to have photos of her during her attack in your apartment."
"I would never hurt her." Elliot's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table as if his life depended on it. "I was…here the whole time. How the hell could I have attacked her?"
Tucker folded his hands in front of him, dragging out the silence before he finally spoke. "Here's what I think. You go out for a drink. She tells you she's leaving again. You both start to fight, and then you leave. She goes off with someone else, and you follow her home to confront her. You tell her you need to talk and take her to your apartment where you attack her and leave her chained up to your radiator while you go establish an alibi."
"No, you're wrong," Elliot insisted, desperately wracking his brain for the words to explain what he could barely comprehend through the shock. "I was…I was with Cragen when the fire started."
"No," Tucker sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You weren't. The fire was started with an accelerant attached to a time-delayed toy balloon filled with gas. You could have set it up during the two hours that you mysteriously disappeared earlier that evening."
Elliot opened his mouth to speak, but no words escaped. Where the hell had he gone for two hours that night? The events of the last few days were a blur. He could barely remember what day it was, let alone account for every movement of his during that time.
Tucker leaned toward him, lifting a single eyebrow. "You're officially suspended pending further investigation." His voice was cold with no trace of remorse. "Give me your gun and shield, Detective."
Elliot stared straight ahead. He heard the words, but they didn't register. He was beyond anger, beyond rage…he was completely numb. His fingers closed around his shield, and he watched it fall on the table. His right hand reached for the holster on his belt. He turned his Glock over in his hand and hesitated for what seemed like an eternity before he felt strong hands forcing it from his grasp.
