Title: Her Negotiation
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: What would happen if the Season 14/Season 15 finale and premiere were set in the AU of Liv/Will/Noah? Cragen sends Olivia home for a couple days after working the William Lewis case. She hasn't heard from her husband or son for several hours when she walks into their unusually quiet house.
Nick tapped his knuckles against the interrogation room door before pushing it open on final time. Through the window he'd seen that Will had his head resting on the table. He didn't exactly look asleep. It more looked like he was gazing blankly at the one wall with glassy eyes. Still, Amaro figured it was likely the closest the guy was going to get to sleep for a long time and he felt a little badly to be disturbing him.
Will slowly lifted his head off his folded arms and squinted distantly at Amaro as his back straightened. It seemed like he was carrying the load of the world as his shoulders lifted – because in that moment he really was.
"We can get you out of here now if you want, Will," Amaro offered to him.
Will squinted at him more and asked the inevitable question that he knew the answer to: "Did you find her?"
Nick let out a deep sigh at that and placed his hands on his hips and looked at the ground as he tried to come up with a better way to answer that then he had been all day. Instead he shook his head. "We're still working on that."
Will just slouched back further into the hard chair. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Not until you find her."
Nick allowed a nod. He knew in a similar situation he wouldn't be going anywhere either. Though, in a similar situation the reality was he'd be out on the streets taking the matter into his own hands. But he supposed staying as close to the bullpen as possible was about the best Liv's husband had in his toolbox at the moment.
"Well, there's not really a whole lot more you can do here, Will," he tried. "We thought you might be more comfortable over at your parents'. We'll keep you posted."
"I'm not leaving," the man put back to him almost syllable by syllable.
Nick let another small nod at that but still gestured at door. "Why don't we at least move you over to the lounge so you can be with your son and parents?" he suggested.
Will gazed at him rather defiantly. There was a moment where Amaro almost thought it was humorous. He'd seemed a similar look too many times in Olivia's eyes. There was some humor in knowing that her husband – her life partner – could manage just as steely glares. He wouldn't want to be in the room when the two of them were having a stare down. He wondered who'd win. He suspected that most of the time it was Liv. That tended to be how it worked in most marriages anyhow.
The glare finally faded and Will moved to rise. As he winced and struggled to stand Nick realized that despite the nerves and fidgeting that were apparent in the man, he hadn't seen him up and pacing the room. With how he was moving now it was clear just how much he was hurting from the beating he'd endured. He wondered if maybe they should really confirm they were done grilling him and let him take his painkillers. Yet he somehow doubted that he'd agree to that until he knew the status of his wife either.
The man hobbled over to him and the open door. Clutching at his one side while also bracing his arm. Amaro noticed that the hem of his shirt had crept up in his sitting – sticking to the gauze and medical tape around his torso. But what his eyes really fell on was a giant bruise on his hip – tracing up his waist and curling around to his back. It was so purple it might as well have been black. So defined he knew it would've been photographed not to document the man's injuries but to use in identifying the treadmarks of Lewis' boots.
"Your shirt is …" he gestured. He didn't think the guy would want his little boy seeing just how much of a beating he'd taken and how much he was hurting. Though, he suspected the kid already had a good idea – he'd witnessed it - and he wasn't really sure how much Will was going to be able to hide some of it as they sat in a room together.
Will just glanced down slowly – almost like a zombie. Like it was taking him an extended period of time to process that comment. But his hand finally came down and righted the clothing and continued in his awkward limp through the door.
"We're just this way," Nick said and pointed through the squad room. He could go around but with the way the guy was moving it was likely best to take him the shortest route possible. Make the shortcut across the bullpen to get him into the lounge and back to what was left of his family at the moment.
The moment they stepped into the squad room, though, he realized that had been a mistake. Rollins had been supposed to wait for him. Wait for him to move Will. Wait for him to take to get Liv's family out of there – back home where they belonged. Where they could try to rest. Or they could at least try to get her kid to rest. But apparently she'd forgotten. Or she hadn't listened. Or she'd just gone in with guns blazing as she tended to do – much to Nick's sojourn. Only this time – like so many others, just like the Lewis case to begin with – it was going to have consequences.
Rollins was standing in the center of the bullpen giving a briefing to a group of unis and plain clothes that they were about to send boots to the ground on the manhunt for Lewis – and the hopeful rescue (not recovery) of Liv. But even with the small crowd the case board and projection screens had been pulled over in plain view while the young blond detective spoke with an authority.
"He's like a cat playing with a mouse," Rollins told the group – the Captain standing among them with his back to the approaching that Amaro knew he wouldn't have wanted to see this at all. "When he can he moves them to a safe house. He takes his time."
"He's done this before," Munch interjected – building on the briefing with the authority of a sergeant. "He stops at a hardware store. He gets duct tape, rope and a soldering iron and then he stops at a liquor store."
"He ties the vic up," Rollins added. "Force feeds her alcohol, drugs. He drives around until he can find an abandoned location. Another set of vics. Roommates. He broken into their apartment. Forced them into the trunk of their own car and drives them to a fishing cabin. He holds them there for three days. He rapes, tortures …" her voice started to fade out as she turned back to the group and in scanning it her eyes fell plainly on Will.
Throughout the briefing the detective had been pointing to the faces of previous victims, pictures of previous crime scenes, maps plotting out Lewis' past movements. But even though that was what she was pointing at, scenes from the Benson-McTeague home were clearly visible. A picture from Olivia's NYPD identification was on the board as well as a duplicate of her smiling face with her husband and son – the picture Lewis had apparently taken from Will's wallet – was also there. A copy of Will's driver's license was also included among the tacked up pieces of paper. A photo of Lewis was pasted just above it. Sitting side-by-side it was apparent that there were enough similarities that if Lewis was pulled over and didn't want to react fatally, he could likely wrangle his way out of it using Will's identification if he had a naïve or lazy copy at the car window.
Will was looking at the board slack jawed as Amaro grabbed at his elbow and tried to guide him back the way they'd come.
"Let's go around the back way," Amaro tried but Will had dug his heels into the ground like a stubborn mule as he gazed. Amanda's horrified eyes meeting his as her words fell to a whisper.
"He left them there tied up," she finished, glancing over to Cragen who had also turned to assess her suddenly somber dictation of information. "But they escaped."
"So he lets them all live?" Will asked quietly. Amanda just gaped more still clearly unsure how to answer the question and again glanced at the Captain.
"Will – let me show you where your family is," Cragen said and moved towards him, though he shot both Rollins and Amaro clearly unimpressed looks. They'd been given simple task. Get McTeague to his family and out of the precinct and give a briefing and hand out Lewis' and Benson's photos. They'd screwed up even that. If they couldn't handle that – how could he trust them to bring home their colleague – their mentor, his detective – safely.
Will though also didn't heed Cragen's look. He jerked his elbow away from Amaro and glared at Rollins. "SO HE LETS THEM ALL LIVE?" he demanded even louder to the point his voice cracked and Amaro thought he was likely going to start crying again there in the squad room full of officers.
Amanda let out a deep breath and shook her head and shrugged her shoulders – not purposely but with the force of the air escaping her lungs. "No always," she admitted. She had too much respect for Liv – and for her husband, who'd always been friendly and kind to her even when Benson had been less than welcoming – to lie to his face.
Will's head dropped at that and he examined the ground as the Captain finished closing the gap and put his hand on the man's shoulder.
"Let me take you to your son," he said more gently this time.
All the cops in the room were looking at the man. None of them had likely expected to see the husband of the detective they were looking for. Many of them likely knew Benson was married to a McTeague. That likely meant varying things to many of them. Some of them likely despised it or the family. Others likely idolized them. Some bought into the mythology around them and their 9/11 contributions. Most likely hadn't ever met any of the McTeague's in person – not cops, not unless they knew Benson personally or had some other connection to the family. But Will McTeague was not likely what they were expecting. Especially as battered and bruised as he was – another victim in all this. And the circumstances around meeting any of the McTeagues wasn't ideal.
Will just started shaking his head more and it became clear that his breathing was changing as he finally looked back up. His eye glassy and unfocused. He stared at the case board again while the Captain again gently tried to nudge him out of the now eerily quiet full room.
"Those are the Carmichaels," he finally managed as he stood shaking and staring at the board. He looked like shock might be setting in again.
Amanda glanced over her shoulder at the board again. Off in another corner were individual pictures of the elderly couple. Below them were pictures from the crime scene that had been happening just above Will's head while he drifted in-and-out of consciousness in the hours after Lewis had pulled Liv out through the bathroom door and up the old service stairs of the brownstone t o the other tenants' home. Those pictures likely said more about why there were pictures of the Carmichaels than anyone in the bullpen ever needed to say.
"Why are the Carmichaels up there?" Will asked still staring at the board in a daze.
Cragen nudged at his shoulder again. "Com'on Will," he urged.
"Why are the Carmichaels up there?" Will sputtered again but then his jaw fell slack and his eyes gaped even more – to the point that the one swollen shut even seemed to open a slip. "Oh my God," he said and then started shaking his head. "Oh my God," he got out again but then started coughing as he dry heaved and crumbled over against his fractured ribs. His legs gave out and he near fell to the floor despite Cragen and Amaro trying to grab at him. His hand landing in the puddle of bile that he'd managed to heave from his empty stomach. "Oh my God," he started to cry and shake, heaving more that blood came up with the bile.
"SOMEONE GET AN EMT UP HERE," Cragen yelled at the room full of cops that were just looking at them stunned.
"My wife," Will started to sputter out. "What's he doing to my wife? Oh my God."
The ruckus must've been apparent from the lounge and Will's father appeared. The hulking man looked around the room – his square face landing directly on the board and drilling into Rollins too. He seemed to take in the information on it in a matter of seconds – barely even blinking and seeming not needing to think at all. But then he looked at his son and dropped to one of his aged knees, rubbing at Will's back.
"You're going to be alright, Willie," he assured and then looked Cragen in the eyes before glancing back at the group of men and women that seemed to have become statues in the room. "What are you all looking at?" Ted barked. "Go find her."