Sorry about the long wait. Real life got in the way. Also, this chapter was a bit rough.

There were a few seconds of silence after Cliff's proclamation. The atmosphere in the room had changed. While previously the men had laughed and joked, they only stared at her grimly now, anger in their eyes. Olivia looked down, heart pounding in her chest hard enough to hurt. They were going to make her pay for her defiance a dozen times over.

Her ankles were freed and she drew back, wondering if it was possible to simply die of fear, if her heart might overload on terror and spare her what was coming. A hand closed onto her leg, yanking her onto her back, and then they were on her, a half dozen hands holding her down, roaming her body, spreading her legs. Their scent, their sheer presence against her was overwhelming. She tried to struggle but it didn't matter. There were far too many, and she'd been weakened by all that had happened already. They held her effortlessly against the ground as the first man stepped forward, unbuckling his belt as he knelt between her legs, grinning at her through a mouth of yellowed teeth. He bent over her, wrapping a hand around her throat and pressing down almost gently.

"Not so brave now, are you?" he taunted, as she quivered beneath his hands. "Thought you were supposed to be a cop. Gonna stop me?" His hands slid down, kneading between her legs. "Gonna arrest me for fucking you 'till you can't even walk?"

With that, he entered her roughly and she whimpered, trying fruitlessly to squirm away. She tried to turn her head, spare herself the sight of the man moving above her, his face red with exertion. But someone held her hair in an iron grip, forcing her to watch the man violate her, to see the sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

When he finally finished, pulling hard at her hips before letting them drop to the ground, he moved away and another man took his place before she could even draw a full breath. Then he was inside her, going hard. She hurt already from before, but pain was building into agony and tears spilled out the corners of her eyes. She couldn't endure this. She would break long before the end.

Even as the second man raped her, another man bent over her, his mouth over her breast, his tongue making a slow circle around her nipple before he bit down, hard enough to draw blood. She screamed raggedly, thrashing beneath the hands that restrained her.

"If we're not using her mouth, we may as well shut her up," someone suggested, and then cloth was shoved back in her mouth, deep enough that it fluttered against her throat with each breath. She gagged and coughed, trying in vain to dislodge it. It was harder to breathe now and she was panicking, each inhale closer to hyperventilation.

The next man was massive in every sense of the word, towering even over Cliff. His weight alone crushed the breath out of her body as he moved atop her, grinning down. He shoved himself inside her, stretching her painfully, and her vision wavered as she clenched her teeth over her gag, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Please, she tried to say, but the word was caught by the cloth, and no one would have listened in any case.

There were still more after that, and they took her one after the other, and she screamed until her voice broke. Even then they didn't stop, flipping her onto her stomach and starting again. They were neither creative nor cruel as her captors, but they were relentless and unending, multiple hands on her at once, violating her in every way imaginable, twisting her body, hurting her in ways she'd never dreamed could happen.

Somewhere in the agony and madness, she looked up to see Cliff leaning against the wall, watching her expressionlessly. Their eyes met and she looked at him with a silent plea - she would apologize, she would grovel, she would debase herself to him - if only he would stop this.

He saw this, and he turned away, smiling coldly, leaving her to the mercies of the men around her.

There was very little of it to be found that night.

xxx

It was evening, the last rays of sunlight fading from the gray of the apartment building. Elliot stood in Rob Jensen's apartment, staring at the spray of dried blood that still marred the walls. The body had been taken away hours ago, and CSU had swept the area, bagging or photographing anything that looked like it might be evidence. The crime scene was processed, it was time to move on to the next part of the investigation. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to leave.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped. Cragen had come up behind him and he hadn't even noticed, too caught up in his thoughts.

"It's not your fault," Cragen said, as though he knew what Elliot was thinking. "We've done all we can here. It's time to go back to headquarters and see what else they've found."

"It is my fault," Elliot said hoarsely. "He did this because of me. He knew where she was and I let him blow his own brains out. I failed every step of the way."

"It's not your fault," Cragen repeated firmly. "You could never have foreseen this. Olivia wouldn't blame you and neither do I. The important thing is to get her back home. And we've learned plenty just from what we've found."

"We've learned nothing."

"We've learned there was more than one guy," Cragen said, and if he saw Elliot flinch, he didn't show it. "We've learned their MO, we've learned they've been active for at least eight years, and we know Jensen came across them when he was a detective. That's a lot more than we would have had to go on before. We can find her through the old cases. Now come on. We've got work to do. Staring at bloodstains does nothing for Olivia."

He followed Cragen out, and let himself be driven to the station house. He sat at his desk, staring at a case file folder, but he couldn't focus. He couldn't get the images of Olivia tied down and helpless out of his head, the knowledge she must be enduring far worse now. They pounded in his brain like drumbeats, driving out all other thoughts, and he couldn't focus, couldn't sit still.

In another few hours, after he got into a screaming fight with Fin, Cragen called him to his office, shutting the door behind him.

"Go home," he told Elliot, his voice calm but hard. "You're exhausted, you're emotional, and you're not doing anyone any good like this, especially not Olivia. Go home. Get some rest."

"I'll get a couple hours in the crib," Elliot said, starting to turn, but Cragen stopped him.

"No. Go home. Rest. Don't let me see you before noon."

Elliot whirled on him, furious. "I'm not -"

"Go home," Cragen said, his voice like steel. Or I'll take you off the case permanently. See if I don't."

Elliot stared at him another moment, then stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He made it all the way to the garage in a righteous fury, but in his car, he rested his head on the steering wheel, exhausted. Cragen was right, of course, but that didn't matter to his rage. He wanted to be out there, bashing in the heads of whoever had done this to Olivia, but they were no closer to finding out who they were. Maybe they'd eventually be able to track them down by looking at what they found at Jensen's apartment, but he doubted it. The man was a monster but he'd been good at his job. He knew how detectives worked and he would have covered his tracks. They might get more by looking at the cases from before he was fired, but would that happen in time to help Olivia? He might hope, but he knew better.

He was reaching into his pocket for his keys when his phone rang, deafening in the silence. He fumbled for a moment, then lifted it to his ear.

"What?" he snapped.

There was a confused silence. Then an unfamiliar voice. "Is this Detective Stabler?"

Elliot rubbed at his temples, trying to calm himself. "Yes, speaking. I'm sorry about that."

"This is Dr. Gardner from Mercy Hospital. I think I have some information you'll want to hear."