Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

I would like to especially thank those of you who are faithful reviewers, particularly tamasit1 and Jo for your great comments and critiques. You really keep me on my toes and my spirits up. This story is a very difficult one to write for me and I am quite frankly a little disappointed that I haven't gotten a lot of reviews after almost ten chapters. I really thought more would be into this. For those who are loyal readers, the story really hasn't even begun yet. Stay with me, please…and review. Thanks.

Four Weeks Earlier

The doors to the squad room banged open without warning and startled everyone inside. Don looked up in alarm and immediately made his way out of his office when he saw who it was.

Kathy Stabler stalked over to Olivia's desk and slammed her hands on top.

"Four days?" she said hysterically. She looked around at the three of them angrily. "Four…days?" Her face was turning red. "Elliot has been missing for four days and I'm just now hearing about it? On the news, for God's sake?"

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fin lowered his gaze. Olivia was sitting dead-still, looking into the other woman's face. Her eye was starting to twitch slightly.

"Kathy," Don said, coming up behind her.

She continued glaring at them tearfully as she turned toward him. He had never seen her so angry before.

"You...tell me what's going on, Don!" she said forcefully, stabbing a finger in his chest. "What happened? Why am I seeing his face on the news?"

He didn't respond. Kathy looked at him in disbelief and betrayal, whipping back towards the detectives. "Is it about a case?" she asked. She looked frantic now. Her words were starting to become rambles. "I've heard about people being put in Witness Protection when there's a threat or something…is that what happened?"

Still no one answered her. Tears formed in her eyes as she looked at them desperately.

"Damn it!" she screamed suddenly, finally losing control. "Why won't you tell me where he is? Tell me where he is!"

She turned around and hugged her arms around her middle, shaking and crying. Her face burned with embarrassment.

Cragen came up to her hesitantly but didn't touch her. He looked at John.

John looked back at the captain with agony in his features. Fin bit his lip slightly and swallowed hard.

"Kathy."

Olivia finally spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Don looked at her in surprise, as did the other two, but they had to guiltily admit a small amount of relief as well.

No one wanted to be the one to break the news. It was hard enough to swallow themselves.

The blonde turned toward her and was immediately on guard. Olivia looked like she was trying not to break down. Her fear began racing double time.

"What?" she asked, frightened. She suddenly noticed that the men were also holding back emotions, and it scared her even more. Striding back over to her desk, Kathy gripped the edge so tight that her hands began to tingle. "What happened? Olivia, tell me."

Olivia blew out a shaky breath through her nose and looked up at her, struggling to hold back tears.

"He-"

She choked and closed her eyes, the word breaking. Taking a shaky breath, she swallowed hard and forced her eyes open. Tears began swimming in them.

"He was taken," she whispered. "Kathy….he's been kidnapped."

Kathy froze, not moving an inch. Her face conveyed confusion, followed by shock, and then horror.

Her eyes welled up and she started to shake. "What?" she croaked. "How- that can't…"

She shook her head quickly and then stopped. Her expression slowly crumbled.

"No," she said tearfully. Sobs began hitching her chest. "Dear God….no."

Present

The woman leaned over and pressed the flashing button on her switchboard, keying in her mouthpiece.

"Dispatch 13," she answered automatically. "What is your emergency?"

"I…I need to talk to a cop," the young male voice said hesitantly. "It's important."

She waited for the location of the call to flash on the screen. She was shocked when the words UNAVAILABLE came up.

"What is your location, sir?" she asked.

Jesse looked toward the door anxiously again. "Look, please," he said insistently. "I need to talk to a cop!"

Furrowing her brow, the woman bit her lip. "One moment," she said after a minute.

She transferred to another line. "Dispatch 13 to Control," she said. "Caller requests to speak directly to police; no location confirmed. Assistance, over?"

After a brief pause, someone picked up. "C-Charlie 812," a man said. "Will take request, over."

Jesse blew through his cheeks quietly, nervously tapping his foot. Come on, come on…he prayed silently.

"This is Sergeant James Cannon," a male voice said suddenly. "How can I help you?"

"Are you-are you with the NYPD?" he asked.

Cannon frowned in confusion but recognized the panic in the young-sounding voice. "22nd Precinct, Staten Island," he confirmed. He waited a moment. "Is there something I can do for you?"

He swallowed hard. Suddenly, he was overcome with the urge to hang up.

What the hell am I doing? EJ will kill me if I tell these guys!

The man's face flashed into his mind again. The image of his family flashed into his mind again. His father flashed into his mind again.

"Hello…sir?" the officer said. "Sir, are you still there?"

Jesse swallowed hard, nearly choking. "I…I…" he croaked.

Cannon was alarmed at the tremble in the young voice. "Sir, are you hurt?" he asked quickly. "Do you need medical assistance?"

"No….no," he stuttered. He closed his eyes and plunged in. "I'm calling about the…that cop…the one on the news."

Sergeant Cannon had to stop a minute to think about what the guy was saying.

The cop on the…?

He racked his brain, trying to think if he knew of any cops who'd had television interviews lately. The 11:00 news usually was desperate for stories…maybe they'd stopped someone during a routine stop today?

Puzzled, Cannon keyed the mike again.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said hesitantly. "I'm not sure what you mean. Was it on the news today?"

A frustrated sound, almost like a growl, came over the line. "I don't know…" the man said impatiently. Cannon became wary. He sounded crazed. "The-the detective! Elliot something….?"

The light bulb suddenly went off. Twisting slightly, he swiveled around toward the large poster that was tacked on the bulletin board near the door. He walked by it a thousand times a day.

MISSING

New York City Detective Elliot Stabler

Gender: Male

Height: 6'0"

Weight: 185

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Brown

A photo of him was underneath the description, alongside a mug shot of convicted felon Jason Evans.

Detective Stabler was last seen on November 2nd, 2006 and is believed to be in the custody of several assailants, including an escaped felon by the name of Jason David Evans. They could possibly be driving a 1980 Dodge Ram van, color black, with A-1-P included in the license plate number. They are considered armed and dangerous.

All precincts are urged to be on the lookout. Any information should be directed to Captain Donald Cragen of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

Cannon leaned forward quickly.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Are you reporting a sighting?"

There was a long pause, so long that Cannon was afraid the man had hung up.

"Sir?" he ventured. "Are you-?"

"No-not..." the caller said hesitantly. "I mean-I…" He exhaled anxiously. "Listen, I'll tell you where he is. But….look-you…you can't say who told you, ok? They'll kill me, I'm telling you. They'll kill me."

"You're call is completely anonymous, sir," Cannon said patently. "I assure you no one will ever know that you-"

"Look, they'll know, ok?" the man snapped suddenly. "Trust me…once someone gets here the shit is going to hit the fan." He took a breath to calm himself. "I just…I can't do this….I can't watch them do this anymore."

Sweet Mother of God.

A crushing force slammed into the sergeant's chest with the weight of a sledgehammer. It was one of the kidnappers. He was speaking to one of the mother fucking kidnappers.


His hands began to shake slightly. Panic instantly began surging through his veins and his mind began to spin.

Why did I have to be the one to get the call? Jesus, what if I screw this up? What if I do something wrong? Dear God…please help me handle this right.

He immediately reached over and pressed the emergency assistance button under his desk to alert the others around that he needed help ASAP. Swallowing hard, he switched on the automatic recorder clumsily and turned on the electric transcriber.

"I'm ready," he said, willing his voice to be calm. "Go ahead with the information."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

His head was swimming so much that he was almost seeing double. His right arm was completely asleep. Wincing, he wiggled slightly to the left.

He was reminded instantly why that wasn't a good idea. The pain rippled up from inside and tore along his nerves. He was so weak that he couldn't even scream anymore. The tears continued down his face as he shook with the agonizing intensity, and it was at that precise moment that he wished he was dead.

"Such a change from our first encounter."

The man smirked as he watched him jump, splashing water loudly, and then whimper in despair. He stepped slowly around his body until he was in front of him.

Elliot lay rigid and held his breath, quivering. The man swept his gaze up and down his body slowly, his lips curled into a sick half-smile, and traveled back up to stare into his terrified eyes.

He loved seeing that look. He dreamed about it every night and relished in the delicious sensation. If there was one thing that Jason Evans thrived on, it was creating that kind of fear. He'd been doing it his entire life.

He continued staring, grinning in delight, taking in every detail of the pathetic form in front of him.

"You thought you were so hot," he sneered. "So damn special." He chuckled. "Look at you now. Not so tough now, are you?"

Elliot looked up at him silently. After a minute, the man's smile disappeared and he got down on his knees. He began to shake harder when he saw the man hovering down over him.

Evans face was furious as he snagged his chin and jerked it upright. Elliot let out a slight whimper and quickly swallowed the rest of the sound when the man leaned down within inches of his face.

"You little fucker," he hissed. "Did you think that was funny, biting me like that?"

He slammed his hand down against Elliot's throat, startling him and making him whimper all the way.

"Answer me, damn it!" he screamed in rage. "Did you think that was funny?"

He shook his head in panicked repetition quickly, his eyes squeezed shut.

The grip remained on his throat for a minute before letting up. The man had a frighteningly hateful look on his face when Elliot opened his eyes.

"Do you have something you'd like to say to me?" he continued.

Elliot looked at him helplessly, his eyes pleading. He laughed, aware that the gag was still firmly in place, but didn't touch it. Eyes gleaming, he slammed his fist down beside Elliot's head hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and started to shake.

"Apologize," he growled.

When he got nothing, he angrily grabbed his throat and lifted him off of the ground. His eyes flew wide in surprise and fear.

"Apologize!" he screamed furiously in his face. "Say it now!"

Squeezing his eyes shut and cowering from the face inches from his, Elliot began to cry softly. He vainly attempted to speak around the cloth stuffed into his mouth and cried harder, knowing he couldn't.

Evans watched him struggle and listened to his pathetic attempts at sound for a minute with his lip curled in disgust. He threw him back down onto the sand.

"You pathetic piece of shit," he said, glaring at him. "No one makes a fool of Jason Evans. Especially not assholes like you."

He moved back until he was next to Elliot's waist. He flinched when he felt his cold hands gripping him around the thighs and began to moan desperately.

He looked back up into Elliot's face and laughed gleefully. "Payback, my friend," he said, looking back toward where his hands were positioned. "Is the bitch of life."

Cupping his hands around the penis, Evans grinned and bent his head, opening his mouth wide.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Cragen convinced John to stay home and get some sleep only after promising to call him at dawn so that he could come down to the precinct. He drove toward his house totally exhausted.

He had just pulled into his driveway when his cell phone rang.

"Cragen," he answered.

"Captain Cragen," a man said, sounding uncertain. "Donald Cragen? From the Manhattan Special Victims Unit?"

"Yes," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes and cursing whoever the hell this person was. "Who's asking?"

"Sir, this is Captain Alexander Messing from the 22nd precinct," the man said. "We've received some information about Detective Stabler that I think you'll want to hear."

Don closed his eyes. After what had just happened at the subway terminal, he couldn't take anymore.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly.

Messing looked around at the officers gathered warily and paused before speaking into the speaker phone again. "Um….you might want to come down here, sir."

"God damn it, just say it," he snapped, at the end of his rope.

Another voice came on.

"Captain Cragen," Sergeant Cannon said nervously. "Um…we've received a call from one of the kidnappers, sir."

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Blood roared in his ears.

The officers listened to silence on the other end for a long time, looking around at each other anxiously.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," Cragen said softly.

"Yes, sir," Messing said, coming back on. "Listen, I know-"

He was startled to get a dial tone from the other end.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Olivia sprinted up the dark stairwell and through the doors. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

She spotted John and Fin going in the opposite direction.

"Guys," she called.

They turned around quickly, and she saw that they looked as disheveled as she knew she did herself. The captain's call rousing them from sleep had been only fifteen minutes ago. She knew she had broken several laws in her haste over, and had no doubts that the two men stopping to wait for her had as well.

They didn't speak when she got to them. She looked at them desperately, unable to keep the fear inside anymore.

"Do…do you think-?" she began to venture softly. She was startled when Munch interrupted her.

"Don't," he said brusquely. "Don't even say it."

He began striding ahead of them, toward the radio room. Fin looked at her sympathetically, but didn't speak.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The door burst open. Captain Messing looked up quickly, startled when he saw the tall man striding toward them.

"John," Cragen called quickly.

He stopped and looked around. Locating his captain, Munch went over to him. Fin and Olivia came in a minute later.

Seeing Cragen gesturing to him, Messing abandoned the map and strode over.

"Guys, Captain Messing," he introduced quickly. He looked at him. "My detectives- John, Olivia, and Fin."

He was curt and to the point. No one commented.

"You got the address?" Fin said anxiously.

Messing nodded and turned to his desk, lifting the small paper off. "Right here," he said, offering it to him.

He took it and the other two crowded in to look quickly. Olivia was immediately defensive.

"How do you know this is legit?" she snapped.

Messing gave her a cold stare, but didn't speak. He turned back toward the desk and silently switched on the recorder.

A young man's voice filled the room and they all fell silent.

Don lowered his head, listening to the words once again. Captain Messing stood back and watched the three detectives as they listened.

"Can you prove he is there?" someone said.

Another voice came in, sounding panicked. "Look, I swear, ok?" There was the sound of fumbling. "I've got his badge right here. Elliot Stabler...1st grade detective…239076, Special Victims Unit. There's a picture inside the front pocket…him, a blonde woman, three girls, and a boy."

Olivia's face went white.

Mother of God…

He had just described her partner's badge completely, all the way down to the family photograph he carried in the case.

Fin had to stop himself from gasping out loud. His hands started to shake.

"What is your location?" the first voice said.

There was a pause. "132 Kroaker Lane," the young man said finally. He paused again, sounding hesitant. "It's….it's a two-story house with brick additions on both sides. There…there's a lake too."

There was another pause and the first voice came in again. "132 Kroaker Lane," it repeated. "In what city is it located?"

"Look, you can't tell them," the man suddenly burst out, sounding panicked. "Jesus…I'm a dead man…I'm a fucking dead man."

"Sir," the first voice said urgently. "Sir-"

Then the call cut off.

There was silence in the room. Messing reached over and switched off the recorder, turning back to face the detectives somberly.

Cragen looked at the three of them. They were all visibly shaking.

After a minute, Messing spoke up. "We confirmed the address," he said. "Buffalo, New York. Half-mile west of Lake Harmony." He looked at them hesitantly. "We're coordinating a GPS and maps. They should be done in about ten minutes."

When he got no response, he bit his lip and fell silent. Don looked at him apologetically and he nodded in understanding. He then turned back to his detectives.

"Guys," he said gently.

Olivia was trembling. Fin was biting his lip so hard that the skin was white. Munch had tears slowly dripping out of his glasses.

He moved closer and turned his back to the other officers.

"Guys," he repeated, looking at the three people who he thought of as his children.

Fin was the first to meet his eyes. He waited, and after a long minute, the others did too. He held each gaze steadfastly.

"We've got no other choice," he said, his voice trembling. Tears began coming from his own eyes and he didn't even realize it. The words were stuck in his throat and he struggled to say them. "We have to try."

There was a long silence before Olivia finally spoke up, sounding so weak that he almost flinched.

"What if he's dead?" she whispered brokenly.

He saw tears falling faster down John's face at her words. Biting his lip, he was startled to feel wetness on his cheeks, but didn't react.

"We…have to try," he repeated in a whisper.

He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes, and fell silent.

The detectives watched in horror as their commanding officer and the man they loved like a father broke down into quiet sobs, bowing his head.

John gulped, quickly wiping his face. Setting his jaw, he stepped forward and looked at the officers standing around the office. They all looked at him carefully, eyes sympathetic.

He became angry and didn't know why. What right did they have to look at them that way? These people had no idea what they were going through. What right did they have to even try to sympathize?

"Get the maps," he said, with a clenched jaw.

Don sniffled quickly and ducked his head, swiping at his face. He looked up at John, surprised by the action.

Munch exhaled shakily and looked at his boss and colleagues, forcing his voice to be steady.

"We've got no other choice," he repeated.