Max was scared shitless. He'd been running and hiding for hours now. Beneath his ball cap, sweat glued his hair to his scalp despite the early autumn chill. Hunted, he ducked into a smelly alleyway and hid behind a dumpster. Pairs of uniformed cops were marching the streets like sentries, his photo in hand. Their cars, lights flashing, were parked haphazardly here and there. But it was the dogs that did it. Max was terrified of large dogs. Some of the cops had huge German Shephard dogs, barely restrained, the K-9 unit of the NYPD.
He'd left his crappy motel that morning, intending to lose himself in another section of the city, switching up his stays and never remaining at the same place longer than one night. And now, it seemed that the entire police department was searching for him, crawling the sidewalks between the cheap motel and the bodega he'd visited last night. His car was already gone, impounded by the police. To escape, he desperately needed to find the subway entrance. But given his obvious height and the circulating photo, he didn't know how to do that unobtrusively. He berated himself for driving his own car into the city. He should have parked it at a train station or rented a car using his pseudonym. Anything. He couldn't afford to make stupid mistakes, not if he wanted to see Olivia again. And he needed to see her again. Needed to feel her writhing body beneath his own. Needed to feel her pushing at him while he pushed back and pounded into her. And most of all, he needed to touch the silkiness of her hair, and add it to his collection. He became aroused at the mere thought of ripping it out of her scalp.
With heightened vigilance, he watched a pair of uniformed cops with a dog pass his alleyway, unseeing. He exhaled sharply and made himself as small as possible between the brick wall and the dumpster, the stench of garbage filling his nostrils.
"My dog's got something!" a cop yelled out, doubling back to the alley. The dogs had been given items from Max's car to sniff, and one of the canines was onto him. The large German Shepard pulled at his handler, practically dislocating the man's arm. Max saw the cop and dog heading into the alleyway and freaked out. He climbed into the dumpster to get away, landing in something soft and squishy, and equally smelly.
"What is it, boy? Is he here?" the cop asked his dog. The dog responded by lunging into the narrow chasm between old buildings. He began whining as he approached the dumpster, then began to scratch at it. The cop shone his flashlight into the dumpster. "Well lookie what we have here."
Olivia didn't get very far before her phone began pinging. Texts from Elliot informed her that Max had been apprehended.
We got him, Liv. K-9 unit found him. Need you for line-up ID, at precinct ASAP.
Olivia stared at her phone, a maelstrom of emotions swirling through her. Relief, anxiety, anger, fear … they all warred within her at once. She'd been fantasizing about capturing Max herself. About arresting him and bringing him in. She had envisioned the perfect moment when he'd realize she had him, eyes wild with fear. Instead, a dog had bested her. She let out mirthless chuckle and rounded back to the precinct. He's off the street, she thought to herself. He's going to get what's coming to him.
Elliot observed Max Nelligan before sitting at the interview table across from him. "You stink!" he commented.
"I hid in the dumpster," Max admitted, shamefaced. As though being smelly was the worst of his offenses.
"Just like the garbage you are!" Elliot shouted at him. Elliot wanted to hit him but the oozy slime covering Max's shirt warned him off.
Max cowered before Elliot, no doubt remembering his fists and subsequent broken nose. Tate came to stand beside Max's chair and placed her hands on the backrest. "Ingrid Shuman. Erin Simmons. Michaela Bauer!" She spoke each name in a sharp staccato, punctuating a slam of her fist on the chair, startling Max three times.
"Who … who … who are they?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
"Really, you're going to pull this crap on us now?" She asked, almost amused. She banged the back of his chair again, skimming his neck with a sharp fingernail in the process. He recoiled from her, looked to Elliot, and then shrank back into his chair.
"I want my lawyer!" he demanded. Tate and Elliot eyed each other, and Tate let out a derisive snort.
"Your wife is here. Does she know your lawyer?" Elliot smirked at him.
For all the world, Max looked both relieved and terrified at the same time. "Eleanor is here? You called her?"
"Actually, no. She came of her own volition after we got a search warrant for your place. She wants to talk to you."
Max trembled at Elliot's words. He nodded reluctantly. "Alright, send her in."
Olivia sat in Cragen's office with Casey Novak. "So, Nelligan lawyered up. We're waiting for his lawyer, and then he's doing a lineup. Unfortunately, I can't let you observe his interview."
"Right, I've got this," Liv stated, her chin jutting out. She nodded forcefully. "I've got this."
"It's not all on you, Liv," Casey reminded her, the double entendre clear. She placed a gentle hand on Olivia's forearm and squeezed.
Eleanor Nelligan sat at Fin's desk, willing the nausea that overwhelmed her to recede. The police search of her home had uncovered Max's bloody hair samples. She'd known for some time that something was off with her husband, but she'd been under the impression that it was fixable with prayers, good home cooking and more attention. Right now, she wanted to slide beneath the desk and never come out.
"Mrs. Nelligan?" Elliot came to get her. "Your husband will see you now."
She stood on trembling legs and followed the handsome detective to a dingy interview room bathed in greenish fluorescent lighting. Her husband sat at a large table chewing his nails, while a tough looking masculine woman guarded him.
"Eleanor, Sweetheart," he pleaded, desperation and shame oozing out of him like a bad odour. Eleanor pinched her nostrils and exhaled sharply.
"I know I smell bad, Sweetie, but I really just need to hug you right now." Max turned his full on dimpled smile and tried to make his blue eyes beam at his wife. She recoiled.
"Don't touch me!"
"Now, Eleanor, don't be like that. You've got to hear my side of the story."
"I've heard it all from the police," she accused. Her face was drawn and grey. "The hair samples … oooh my god, what did you do?" A heart wrenching sob broke from her chest and she turned and ran out of the interview room.
"Wait! Call my lawyer. You have to call the lawyer!" Max shouted after her.
Sometime later, Max's lawyer, Lou Greenspan arrived despite Eleanor not making the call. Together with Casey, they arranged for the lineup ID. Olivia and the librarian, Anne-Marie would be making this ID, one after the other. The victims from Delaware were being flown in to make their identifications the next day. In the meantime, Max would be held in the tombs awaiting arraignment.
After the librarian positively identified him, it was Olivia's turn. She stood in front of the two way mirror with Elliot at her side. "You've got this, Liv," he whispered into her ear.
"No coaching!" Greenspan objected.
Olivia and Elliot glared at him.
"Ok, Liv, take your time," Casey said. She patted Liv's shoulder and gave her a tight smile. Olivia nodded at her.
Held up between her friends, Olivia took a deep, fortifying breath. The lineup came into the room, five men, all of them tall, with the decoys bearing facial features similar to Max's. But it really was a no-brainer. Despite his dyed hair, she'd recognize him anywhere. She could never forget the face of the man who had held her down in those terrifying few minutes, his blue eyes boring into her as sweat poured off his face. She would never be able to erase the image of his sweaty, red face while he orgasmed inside of her as she'd struggled beneath him. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself. She stumbled slightly against Casey and the blood drained from her face. Elliot saw her go pale and grasped her arm for support.
"You okay? Do you need a chair?" Elliot studied Olivia, a cloud descending on his eyes. She looked away from him.
"I'm fine. It's number two." She retained a quiet dignity in that small room, head held high despite the light headedness that assailed her now. Elliot's hand was on her shoulder and Casey grasped her fingertips in quiet support.
Elliot tapped twice on the window.
"Come on," he led Olivia out of the room and to the Cribs where she collapsed onto one of the beds. He sat next to her and held her hand. "You did great. You got him. So did the librarian."
"Good, good," she muttered, exhausted. "Seeing him again just now, it was …" she trailed off, not knowing how to express the disgust, shock and revulsion she was experiencing.
"It's okay," he murmured into her ear. "Come 'ere." Elliot embraced her, stroking her ponytail as she burrowed her face into his chest. He felt her settle her face in the crook of his neck like she had last night in her bed. He closed his eyes and held her tightly until her trembling subsided.
"I just don't think it's a good idea," Tate advised her.
"I'm gonna go with Tate on this," Elliot said.
"No, I want to see him. I have some things I need to say." After resting in the Cribs, she felt her strength returning to her limbs. Determination and indignation are powerful stimulants. "I have a right to confront my attacker."
"Yeah, sure, in a court of law," Tate said.
Olivia wouldn't back down. "You can both come with, but he can't hurt me from his cell."
"Liv, you were pretty shaken up after the ID. You sure you can handle this?" Elliot was never one to deny her but he wanted to protect her. She met his eyes with resolve, the deep pools of melted chocolate unwavering and steady. "Alright," he conceded. "But we're going with you."
Elliot and his partner accompanied Olivia to the tombs, between them, offering a hedge of protection on either side. She stood tall, towering over Tate, but still the older woman's presence gave her a feeling of security and she was grateful for it.
As they approached Max's cell, Olivia swallowed back the urge to scream at him. Instead, she casually sauntered over to the bars of his cell and waited for him to notice her. A pathetic figure, he simply sat, his face in his hands, moaning quietly to himself. She cleared her throat and he looked up. The change was night and day. His eyes lit up and a huge dimpled smile broke out on his face.
"Olivia? Olivia? Is that really you?" Max stood up and ran to the bars.
"What the fuck?" Tate muttered to herself.
Olivia frowned, caught off guard by his enthusiasm and blatant joy.
"I'm so happy to see you again. Finally. I've been dreaming of this moment," he babbled.
"And I've been dreaming of seeing you behind bars," she volleyed back after a slight hesitation. "After what you've done!"
"I didn't do anything wrong, Olivia. You have to believe me!"
Olivia almost stopped breathing. "Are you insane? You went on a raping and murdering spree."
"No, no, no, you have it all wrong. Let me explain, please. You have to understand." Max's eyes darted wildly, and he mopped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "Please."
"Understand what? Are you going to tell me why you raped those women?" She approached the bars until she was nose to nose with him. "How can you possibly justify your actions?"
"I was looking for you. Don't you see? I was looking to relive our night together."
Olivia recoiled from him. "Our night together? You mean the night you raped me?"
"You know that wasn't rape. You followed me. You wanted me. You said. ."
She cut him off. "I was drunk. I was incapable of consent. Just like that woman you drugged. The one we know of. How many, Max? How many others?" She gritted her teeth and grabbed the cell bars, shaking them as though she could shake sense into Max's deluded beliefs.
"It doesn't matter." He looked down at her with longing. "None of them were you. They didn't feel the same. They didn't smell right. And their hair. . .their hair was all wrong."
"Olivia …" Elliot couldn't remain silent. He couldn't take one more moment of that asshole tormenting Olivia. "Come on, it's time to go."
"We just got him admitting to more rapes, El," she croaked, her pulse quickening. She turned her head away from Max and sought refuge in Elliot's face.
"Stop saying I raped them!" Max shouted, his features morphing from quiet sincerity to rage. It happened so fast that none of them reacted quickly enough. He thrust his hand through the bars while Olivia was turned away from him. His trophy was right there, ripe for the plucking. With no forewarning, he grabbed Olivia's ponytail and yanked it with such force, that her head crashed into the bars behind her.
She screamed from shock and pain, while Max continued pulling at her hair. She grasped her head to stop him from pulling her hair out by the roots. She feared he would scalp her on the spot.
"Let go of her!" Elliot and Tate both shouted at the same time.
"No, she's mine. Back off!" Max's other hand came through the bars and closed around Olivia's throat. He squeezed, his large fingers blocking her airway. He'd pulled himself back as far as he could go into the cell, long arms stretching before him. They wouldn't be able to dislodge him without first coming into the cell. And when they opened the door, he'd grab Olivia's entire body. If he was going to go down, he was going to be holding his prize.
Tate pulled her gun while Elliot went to get the keys. "Let her go, or I'll shoot." Tate aimed her gun at Max's forehead, watching in grim horror as Olivia's lips took on a bluish tinge. The tall brunette was now slumped against the bars, eyes wild with horror and fear. Her hands had slipped from her head as she valiantly tried to dislodge Max's hand from her throat. Too weakened by lack of oxygen, her arms now fell uselessly at her side.
"Stabler!"
"Hold on, I'm coming." Elliot approached with a handful of keys, trying to figure out which one opened Max's cell. There were too many on the ring, all with different codes engraved onto them. In his panic, he couldn't find the right one.
"She can't breathe!" Later on, in hindsight, some would say Tate panicked. Others would say she saved Olivia's life in the only way she could. 1PP would become a thorn in her side, and ultimately, she'd be forced into early retirement. But right now, with a madman strangling Olivia Benson to death, Mac Tate did the only thing she could. She pulled the trigger.
A/N: An epilogue to follow shortly. Please R&R. To those of you who reviewed previously, thank you so much.