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.

Thank you again for all of you still with me…thank you a million times over.

I just want to let you all know…Elliot hasn't even really begun his screen time yet. Have faith, there is still a lot coming. I promise the end will justify the means.

She was jerked rudely out of sleep and even without opening her eyes knew it was not time to be awake. Her eyes cracked open and she was nearly blinded, so exhausted she couldn't even see anything.

Her body sank back into sleep in seconds.

A distressful moan met her ears and made her realize instantly that she hadn't been imagining it.

Straightening, she slid upright wearily and lowered her feet to the floor as she pulled out her cell phone. She squinted at the harsh yellow light that flooded from it immediately and managed to read the numbers.

It was just past three in the morning.

Moving the phone slightly to her left, she saw Olivia dead to the world on the cot nearby. Her head snapped back around when she heard his escalating cries and she shot to her feet.

"Stop…God, stop….please!"

Kathy was just barely able to make out his thrashing form as she hurried to the bed. She laid a hand on what she hoped what some part of his face as she fumbled for the lamp above the bed.

"Elliot, hey," she said softly, running her fingers tenderly over smooth skin. Her hand groped quickly around the wall. He whimpered tearfully. "Hey…shh. Wake up."

Dim yellow light flooded her eyes suddenly and she was forced to squeeze them shut for a moment.

"Stop…please, it hurts!" He groaned violently and she felt his face shudder. "Please…please…."

"You're alright," she said, framing his face with her hands. "Elliot, it's me, honey…it's Kathy. Wake up sweetheart...it's just a dream."

Agonized blue eyes met hers for a moment before his face crumbled and he sobbed brokenly.

Overcome with sadness and concern, she moved closer to cradle his head with her arm. "It's alright, baby," she murmured. She stroked through his hair tenderly, taking his hand with her other one. "Relax…relax."

. She leaned down even further and wrapped her arms around him, letting him burrow his face into the crook of her arm.

"It's just a dream," she whispered hoarsely, tears falling down her own face as she rubbed his back slowly. "I'm right here…Olivia's right here...nobody can hurt you. Everything's alright."

After a few more minutes, she reached up to turn the light off. He tensed immediately and his loosening grip immediately got tighter. She waited patiently, rubbing his back and talking softly until he was asleep again.

Sighing softly, she swallowed hard and quietly made her way back to the chair. Stretching back out, she attempted to get somewhat comfortable, but sleep was now gone from her mind.

Across the room, Olivia turned toward the wall to keep Kathy from seeing the tears streaming down her face.

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Carefully cracking the shower curtain open, she ducked around the pulsing spray and reached out to retrieve the shampoo bottle.

Her hand slipped from the curtain and she stumbled, lurching forward. She threw out her arm instinctively to keep her balance and wiped out the entire line of hair products and soap that she had positioned on the side of the tub.

"God damn it!" she yelled, hooking her hand over the temperature valve to keep herself upright.

Pushing the curtain back angrily, she bent over and began picking up the various bottles. The water gushing onto the floor only complicated matters more as a few of the bottles slipped from her grasp several times before she could get a good grip on them.

Squirting a healthy amount of shampoo into her palms, she began scrubbing it into her scalp so furiously that she nearly broke her nails, growling through clenched teeth anxiously.

It was 7:00 in the morning on the first day of her official trial and Casey Novak was a complete wreck.

She'd thought seeing Elliot the day before would be a good idea, would actually help keep her grounded and focused. He had been dead asleep and really looked no different than the last time she had seen him almost two weeks ago, but now that she had the faces of the men accused of putting him there in her memory it was almost too hard to even step foot in the room.

The visit had only served to sharpen the knives of emotion that had been flirting along her gut since she had found out about his return.

This was not a nameless victim. This was a colleague. This was a friend. This….was Elliot.

He had a family who loved him, friends who would die for him, a future bright with potential and possibility. He was wonderful and wholesome, one of the few truly good men she'd had the privilege to encounter in her life. She loved him like he was kin.

This should not have happened to Elliot.

It was a horrible crime to be inflicted on anyone.

But Elliot...?

A searing burn of rage had begun creeping up in her stomach during that moment, and remained lodged in her chest now, making her hands shake.

Rubbing conditioner in her hair, she rinsed quickly and turned off the shower. She reached for the towel and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out of the tub.

Today was going to be a day to remember. It was the arguably the most important case of her entire career and it had absolutely nothing to do with her conviction record. Today was her day of reckoning.

She stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection.

This was what her job was all about. This was her chance to show her stuff. Dwight Haskins was going to wish he'd never even heard of Casey Novak.

Her hand continued to shake as she rubbed her hair with the towel.

She was scared.

She was scared as hell.

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He checked his watch one last time as he put on his coat and glanced out the window in disappointment.

The light in his office was the only illumination in the otherwise dark squad room and not a soul was there other than himself.

Sighing and shaking his head sadly, Cragen grabbed up his keys before switching the desk lamp off. He checked that he had left the computer unlocked so that Lieutenant Barry could have access to it while he was gone and then walked out the door, locking it behind him.

His heart was heavy and thumping at the same time as he walked toward the main doors.

There was no turning back now. The start of trial proceedings was going to force them to face everything with no boundaries.

He hoped to God that Olivia, John, and Fin would have the peace of mind to be there.

Of the three of them, he worried most about Olivia's capability to remain objective with the extreme pain and heartache she was suffering over her best friend and John's ability to conquer the darkness that had consumed him. He was a completely different man now and it was terrifying to see.

Fin was struggling quietly, but it was so obvious to Cragen that he may as well have just stuck a neon sign over his head. His intense loyalty to Elliot was blurring his lines of judgment and yet he remained so attached to the other man that he was willing to take the brunt without resistance. It was slowly but surely tearing him apart and he wouldn't be able to handle it much longer.

He opened the doors, his brain automatically churning towards what routes to Buffalo would be the fastest, and almost jumped out of his skin in surprise as he nearly collided with the person standing against the wall.

Fin looked at the captain, half-defeated and half-defensive, but his shoulders were slumped sheepishly. His hands wiggled nervously in the pocket of his coat.

"You mind having a passenger?" he asked quietly, his eyes darting away guiltily.

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Olivia was so shocked when she pulled open the door that she stopped in her tracks.

At 10:40 am, on the third floor of the Buffalo City Courthouse, courtroom number four was so packed that there was hardly any standing room left.

Uniformed officers were lined up along the wooden rows of seats, almost elbow to elbow to make as much room as possible. She was startled as she scanned the rows for a familiar face and didn't find a single one.

Making her way along the back, she headed for the side and took up position next to the wall. Her eyes automatically began taking in the occupants again.

Several rows began discreetly glancing over at her and she tried to appear nonchalant about it. But as it continued, she found herself starting to become unnerved.

"Detective Benson."

Starting, she looked for the source of the voice. A uniformed officer she had never seen before suddenly appeared at her side, lightly gripping her elbow in a non-threatening manner.

"Here," he went on, subtly tugging her arm forward. He gestured toward the bench nearest to her and she noticed a glaringly empty spot that hadn't been there before. "Take my seat."

Still trying to process how this officer knew who she was, Olivia blinked dumbly and stammered, "No, I'm fine, really. You don't have-"

"Please," he insisted, his expression kind as he looked at her. "It's no trouble."

The other men in the bench were nudging each other to make room, nodding at her quickly. Slipping robotically into the offered spot, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously up at the officer.

"I'm sorry….do I know you?" she asked.

"Sergeant Ben Rogers," he introduced, offering his hand to her. "Mounted Patrol." She shook his hand graciously. "I just want you to know that my entire unit is behind you and your partner. What those bastards did to him is despicable. No matter what happens today….we've got your backs."

She was so stunned that she couldn't speak.

"That…that means a lot to me," she stammered after a moment, blinking in amazement. "Thank you."

The men along her other side all echoed the sentiment as well, all from various units nowhere even near Manhattan. Their compassion absolutely blew her away.

People continued to trickle in intermittently. At about ten minutes till, the doors opened again and the sound of clicking heels echoed into the room loudly. Heads naturally turned toward the obtrusive noise and several postures became noticeably straighter as Casey made her way down the middle aisle.

As she craned her neck to get a glimpse, Olivia suddenly noticed Cragen and Fin sitting on the opposite end of the courtroom. The sight of them was comforting and yet made her anxiety level skyrocket. Continuing down the rows, she realized that almost the entire sixteenth precinct was in attendance, along with Melinda Warner sitting near the middle.

Her heart began to beat in her throat. She had been so preoccupied with her own personal involvement in having her best friend victimized that she hadn't even given a thought to how much the society she knew was affected. Seeing the turnout for what wasn't even the main conviction charge made it hit home hard.

This wasn't just about Elliot Stabler anymore. This was a blow to the entire police department for the state of New York…the notion that brothers in blue took care of their own was embodied right here before her eyes.

"Docket number 10-2343, People v. Ethan Jones, Jason Evans, James Bowman, Travis Sutton, John Hughes, Matt Lucas, and Jeffrey Pendleton. One count kidnapping in the first degree."

The voice of the bailiff booming made her start in surprise and Olivia turned her focus toward the front. She was startled to see that the seven defendants and their attorney were now sitting around the table.

"All rise," the bailiff continued boisterously. She numbly got to her feet with everyone else and watched the distinguished older man come in from the side door. "The honorable judge Warren L. Verella presiding."

Judge Verella approached the bench and seated himself, arranging papers within reach and putting his glasses on.

The bailiff instructed everyone to be seated and declared court in session.

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Anxiety, helplessness, and despair warred for control as she sat next to the bed. Her hand was lying loosely over his and she could feel the muscles contracting, as if he was preparing to move it at any moment.

"Don't, Kath," he whispered tearfully, gulping. The tears continued their steady stream down his face. "I'm dirty. I'm so dirty."

Her throat closed again and the tightness in her chest came back for a moment, panicking her for a moment as she couldn't breathe.

Blinking to dislodge the tears from her eyelashes, Kathy swallowed and squeezed his fingers.

"Oh, baby," she said sadly, biting her lip. "Maybe in a few days, we can ask the doctor if it's alright for you to take a shower."

He shook his head violently all of the sudden and she was startled when his breathing began to become rapid.

"What….what is it?" she asked in alarm, getting to her feet. "What's the matter?"

"No….no showers," he said thickly, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing as he choked. "I don't want to take a shower." He started to sob. "Please, Kath….I don't want to get in the shower."

Kathy was horrified and shocked.

"Okay…honey, relax," she said, frightened. She reached up to stroke his hair. "Elliot, you don't have to take a shower, sweetheart. I just thought you wanted to, that's all…you don't have to."

She attempted to hug him only to have him move away. His hand moved out of her reach and he turned to face the wall, still sobbing.

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"Ms. Novak."

Her head snapped up quickly and she tried to appear like she wasn't distracted. The judge gestured to her.

"Do you have any opening statements?" he continued.

Compulsively smoothing her blazer, Casey cleared her throat. "No, your Honor," she projected with practiced confidence.

He nodded. "You may call your first witness."

"People call Detective Olivia Benson," she said, turning toward the crowd.

There was a short period of audible noise as people swiveled around in their seats to look, including many of the defendants. Dwight Haskins did not raise his eyes from his papers.

She watched as the detective stepped into the box and the bailiff came to stand in front of it.

"Raise your right hand," he instructed. She did. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," Olivia said clearly.

"Be seated," he said quickly, nearly cutting her off.

Casey met her friend's eyes as the bailiff stepped away. Olivia smirked ever so slightly in sarcasm and though she kept her face composed, the attorney allowed the amusement to gleam in her eyes. The detective had griped passionately the day before about how she loathed having to listen to the robotic prattle of the bailiff after so many trials in her career.

Coming around the table, she moved to stand before the witness box.

"Please tell the court your relationship with the victim, Detective Elliot Stabler," she began.

"He's my partner," she replied.

"How long have you worked together?" Casey continued.

Olivia's eyes gleamed slightly. "Eight years."

"On the day Detective Stabler was kidnapped, were you together?" she asked.

"Objection!"

The stern voice of Haskins behind her made Casey jump slightly in surprise. She turned toward the judge and tried not to display her annoyance.

"The charge against my clients has not been proven," he said. "The reason we're even standing here now is to try to discern exactly what happened."

Oh, for Christ's sake, Olivia thought angrily. Clenching her teeth, she looked at her lap to avoid opening her mouth. Being charged for contempt wouldn't do a whole heck of a lot in her partner's defense.

Judge Verella nodded. "Sustained," he said. "Rephrase or move on, Ms. Novak."

Casey made sure she was turned away from the judge before rolling her eyes toward Olivia. She glanced down at her notes.

"This is time log provided by the precinct where both Detectives Benson and Stabler are currently employed," she said, displaying it for the jury's benefit. "Would you please tell the court the activity documented for Tuesday, November 14?"

She walked over to Olivia to show her the document, even though they both knew it by heart.

"We received a phone call about a body found in a warehouse in Queens," she said. "The description was consistent with the case we were currently working on."

Casey nodded. "Describe the call," she said thoughtfully.

Olivia furrowed her brow a moment. "I was the first to pick up the phone," she began. "The caller identified himself as a police officer from Queens and asked to speak with a detective named Elliot."

"Did he specify first or last name?" Casey threw in as an ad-lib. She could almost feel the objection on the defense attorney's lips and was quick to beat him to the punch.

"Um, no," she said. "But since my partner's first name is Elliot and he has spent a significant portion of his career working out of Queens, I assumed the call to be for him."

Casey nodded. "What happened next?"

"We drove out to the warehouse and found no other officers on scene," she continued. "My partner began calling to confirm the location and we suddenly heard shots being fired from inside the building. We went inside and split up to look around…"

She scanned left and right, her weapon raised defensively. Elliot mirrored her movements from beside her, their steps in synch and soundless.

Stepping into a broad, open area, they moved further apart to search each side.

Something caught the corner of her eye and she turned to see a staircase along the back wall. Her adrenaline kicked and she strode toward it, signaling Elliot that she was going up. He nodded and ventured into one of the rooms.

Shaking herself, she kept going.

"There was a set of stairs near the back and I went up," she said. "As I approached the landing of the second floor, I heard a loud squealing noise, like tires."

She jumped over the last few steps to the ground and looked around frantically. Her heart caught in her throat at the sight of him on the ground and she hurried to help him.

"Detective?"

Casey's gentle urging startled her into the realization that she had zoned out again. Clenching her teeth in frustration, she scooted forward and tried to focus.

"When I got downstairs, someone rushed me from behind and knocked my gun out of my hand. I was dragged to the stairwell and handcuffed while five men surrounded my partner, who at this moment was on the ground. They forced him to stand and dragged him to a van that was near the entrance."

"Did you recognize any of these men?" Casey asked.

"No, I didn't," she replied.

The attorney paused. "How did you get free, Detective?"

Her heart felt like it was coming out of her chest.

Dear God, what are they doing to him? What could they be doing to him?

"A pair of detectives had been dispatched shortly after we arrived," she answered. "They arrived about twenty minutes after my partner was grabbed."

There was a momentary pause and Olivia was surprised when Casey didn't immediately continue her questions as they practiced.

She chewed on her lip for a brief moment before nodding. "Thank you, Detective," she said finally, ignoring the confused look on the other woman's face. "No further questions."

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The house was blissfully quiet and though she had been tempted before to turn on the radio, she decided to just leave it silent. She was almost sick of hearing Christmas songs by this point.

Laying the box down in the middle of paper, Maureen cut carefully along the edge and set aside the roll. She folded the ends down neatly and tucked the excess to make a perfect cover of wrapping over one side.

Wrapping presents had always been a compulsion of hers that she never could quite explain. Whatever the reason, she was very picky about her packages…each one had to be measured and tucked precisely for the smoothest result possible. Her favorite part was the ribbon…she once used up an entire roll of mint green silk on one enormously ornate bow for a present she had given one of her junior-high school boyfriends.

Her mother had been quite upset with her for that, but it was her fault for passing the gene- every present her mother ever wrapped looked as if it had been done professionally.

She smirked, rolling up the other side. It certainly hadn't come from her father's side of the pool; that was for sure.

The smirk became a chuckle.

He always seemed to measure the paper to be too short for the box, but instead of starting over he would make sure the top portion visible under the tree was covered and leave the bottom completely bare thinking that no one would ever notice.

Actually, now that she thought about it, maybe he was the one with the neurosis.

A few days after Easter, when she was about nine, she had lifted the chocolate bunny from her basket about to take a bite and discovered it had been eaten from the bottom all the way to the backside- completely hollowed out. Her dad finally admitted that he had taken to nibbling off a small chunk every time he passed the basket, saying he couldn't resist. He claimed to have no idea he had eaten so much of it….but apparently, he was still in a right enough mind to turn the bunny outward so that she wouldn't notice.

God, I love that man.

Her hand stilled on the bottom of the box as her fingers began to tremble.

She would give her most prized possession to see a hundred bare-bottomed presents sitting under that tree right now.

She would sacrifice everything she owned just to eat one chocolate bunny with a hollow backside.

Biting her lip, Maureen gazed out the window at the crisp morning.

Holidays had become awkward after her parents had separated, but they were managing to adjust.

Christmas this year would never be able to be adjusted to.

Or forgotten.

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"Detective Benson."

Dwight Haskins strode toward the box almost the moment Casey was in her seat. His legs ambled with measured strides and the look on his face hinted at smug.

She knew instantly that this was not going to be pleasant.

He continued up to her and cocked his head slightly, looking as relaxed as could be in his Armani suit and perfectly gelled blonde hair. Pausing a moment, he pursed his lips ever so slightly before speaking.

"You said that you assumed the call to be for your partner," he said. "So, you turned the phone over to him?"

She looked directly into his steely green eyes with authority. "I did."

"You never actually heard the conversation taking place on the other end." It was not a question and she decided she could start to loathe him.

"That's correct," she answered without hesitation.

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was so quick that she didn't know if she was seeing things or not.

"So for all you know," he challenged testily. "The call could have had absolutely nothing to do with the case in which you were currently investigating."

God damn him. Casey wanted to rip her hair out.

"My partner has never once lied to me," Olivia said edgily. The ice in her voice could have knocked the man over where he stood. "There was never a doubt that he was not relaying the information exactly as it had been given to him."

"Right," Haskins said snidely. Before Casey could call out any objections, he was already moving on. "Were you able to see the ground floor of the warehouse as you were ascending the staircase?"

She paused, wanting to clench her teeth. "No," she said. "It was evening and the building was not well-lit…all I saw around the stairs was the wall beside them."

"And you came back down after hearing….tires squealing, did you say?"

"Yes," she answered.

"This fall has been abnormally windy compared to last year," Haskins said, projecting his voice almost theatrically as he turned toward the jury for a moment. "On November 14, the day in question, the weather report indicated 'heavy wind' around the area."

He turned back to Olivia. "Are you positive the sound you heard was caused by tires?"

"I am as certain as realistically possible," she said, refusing to be baited.

"The address for the warehouse is in a dilapidated area," he went on. "Run-down, poorly maintained…so I imagine a lot of pipe damage and broken foundations." His eyes narrowed slightly to fix on hers. "Could it be possible, Detective Benson, that heavy wind blowing through a cracked window frame could have produced a similar sound as the one you described?"

"The van was parked and running," Olivia said sarcastically. "It wasn't there when we arrived and I'm pretty sure it didn't teleport into the warehouse."

"But given the weather and the condition of the building," he persisted relentlessly. "Do you agree it is possible that the sound could have been something other than tires?"

"Yes," she spat out angrily, wanting to strangle him. "It's possible."

He nodded sagely. "You said that your partner was on the ground with no weapon," he continued. He narrowed his eyes again. "How many men were around him?"

She paused a moment. "Five."

"Detective Benson, how many men are sitting at the defense table at the moment?" he said edgily.

Olivia clenched her teeth slightly. "Seven."

"Uh-huh," Haskins said absently. "Did you see any of the men's faces?"

"No," she said.

"You didn't see any of their faces."

"No," she repeated testily.

He cocked his head slightly. "Detective, based on what you saw of the assailants, could you identify any of them if you saw them again right now?"

Her heart was beating almost out of her chest and she had to take a deep breath through her nose to keep from snapping. "No," she said reluctantly. "I could not."

He smiled slightly, obviously pleased. "Then why are we here?" he asked in exasperation.

"Objection!" Casey called out angrily.

"Withdrawn," he said smoothly and turned back to his table to retrieve a piece of paper.

"You stated to officers on-scene that you were able to identify three figures of the van's license plate," he said, glancing down. "Could you recall them for me, please?"

She had to stop to think a moment. "J-Y-B," she said.

"Are you positive?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "Positive."

He retrieved another paper. "This is the title to a 1980 Dodge Ram van owned by one of the defendants," he said. He did not name who. Striding over to her again, he held the paper out. "Detective, will you read the first three figures of the license number?"

Olivia stared at the paper and didn't respond. Her face was tight and her eyes were flashing with rage.

"Detective?"

"U-Y-8," she said harshly.

She glared at him when he pulled the paper away. He smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"Thank you," he said. "No further questions."

"You may step down, Detective," Judge Verella said.

Her knees were shaking as she got to her feet.

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Casey promptly called her next witness, Captain Will Butler of the Queens County Police Department, to confirm that the call made to the 16th precinct on November 14th had not been made by his squad and that no activity had been reported at 1723 East 22nd Avenue.

Haskins had no questions for the Chief and Casey had no more witnesses. Judge Verella dismissed the jury and adjourned court to give them time to deliberate.

Cragen jumped up at once and headed for the restroom. Fin leaned back to chat with a detective from the squad, trying to release the tension in his shoulder blades.

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Olivia pulled on her coat as she descended the stairs. She had warned Casey that she would be going straight back to the hospital the moment her testimony was done. The attorney had no problems with it and said she would stop by after court to let her know how it went.

She smiled as she pulled open the main doors, despite the bitter chill that whipped around her. She was looking forward to that guilty verdict.

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Two hours later, the court room was full again.

Don sat nervously as they waited for the jury to arrive. A long deliberation usually meant a tough decision, a short deliberation an easy one…at least in his experience. They were somewhere in the middle and he didn't like knowing that.

The prosecution table looked ridiculously lonely with Casey sorting through papers by herself beside the defense table, packed with chairs and bodies.

Fin was busy talking to one of the members of their squad sitting behind them, so Don just sat quietly with no way to relieve the anxiety.

After about twenty minutes with still no sign of the jury, he stretched his arms behind the bench, leaning back to lessen the pressure to his spine, and glanced at the other side of the room.

He nearly fell out of the seat in surprise when he recognized a man standing near the back, partially hidden by the crowd and making no effort to be a part.

It was John Munch.