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.
Author's Note: For those of you who already reviewed this chapter…it's still the same, nothing is different. I just resubmitted it.
Furrowing his brows suspiciously, he crossed the living room and switched on the entertainment center. He opened the tape player, turning the white cassette with no writing over in his hands a few times in hesitation.
Cragen's car had been easy to identify and John had to admit feeling surprised as he'd stood in the doorway watching it drive away. He'd honestly been expecting his partner.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on here. Jesus, no wonder Fin had been anxious to get hold of him….he had formally ratted him out to the captain. And then to add insult to injury, he hadn't even had the balls to tell him to his face.
The thought made him scowl and he nearly crushed the tape in his fist.
It was just like those IAB bastards to make a recording of it. The evidence would be readily available to use against him the second he tried to defend himself. Hell, they'd probably even made copies for the chief and commissioner by now.
Fuck wads. They had no problem ruining other people's careers without notice, but they sure as hell always made sure their own asses were covered in every way possible.
His instinctive reaction was to throw it in the garbage. They were obligated to allow him the chance to hear the accusations against him and he was obligated to verify that he had done so. They couldn't pursue any further investigation until he had contacted them saying he was aware of the testimony against him.
Well, fuck all of you.
Damned if he was going to just hand them back the evidence that would be used to destroy him. Childish as it may seem, if John Munch was going down there was no way in hell he was doing it submissively. He was going to give them absolute hell for as long as he possibly could.
At least then he could pretend to care about his pride.
He made it all the way to the garbage can in the kitchen and ended up stopping with his hand on the lid. Tapping the cassette against his palm, his eyes darkened and he turned back around again.
Let's just see what old Fin has to say. Let's see how easily he handles it while he crucifies his trusty partner.
His hands were shaking by the time he got back to the entertainment center and he was seeing spots as he popped the tape player open again.
He knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with. He would be the first to admit he was a glorified cynical asshole and a professional pessimist in regard to just about everything.
But damn it.
He really thought they were friends.
I can't fucking believe it.
He slammed the tape roughly inside the compartment, cursing out loud.
How can he just sell me out like this? Partners don't do that to each other…ever.
He pressed the play button, still seething, and listened to the captain's voice fill the room.
"Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit…"
The sound of it only infuriated him more. He clenched his teeth and his fists simultaneously, and wished more ill on his partner than he had ever done to anyone in his entire life.
That spineless, yellow-bellied, backstabbing-
"This is the testimony of Elliot Stabler, witnessed by Detective Olivia Benson, December 29, 2006…at 1:30 in the afternoon."
The world seemed to stand still. If not for the way he felt his chest contracting, he would have sworn his heart had stopped.
Pinpricks of light began exploding before his eyes and he felt himself getting hot. His throat dried up so quickly that it choked him and he had to consciously remind himself to breathe as his knees locked.
The sound of himself gulping air was the only thing he heard for a moment and then the captain's voice was back.
"Okay." The words were soft. "Elliot…can you tell me about the day the men took you?"
His reflexes acted before his brain and the tape player was savagely turned off before he even realized it.
The silence filling the room was overwhelmingly loud as he stood stock-still in front of the entertainment center, blinking robotically and trying to catch his breath.
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The room was pitch-black. The slats in the shutters provided the only illumination as bright moonlight peeked through and cast odd patterns on the opposite wall.
Don lay staring at them, exhausted and wishing that he could be swept away into oblivion, yet knowing it wouldn't happen.
He couldn't close his eyes without seeing images of Elliot being brutalized. He couldn't concentrate on his breathing without hearing the sound of Elliot crying and pleading. He couldn't attempt to make his brain wind down without hearing his words playing over and over again.
He had no intention of ever listening to that tape again. He didn't need to…there was no way he would ever be able to forget what he had been forced to hear. He felt bad about the lie, but was hopeful that Casey would forgive him if she ever found out about it….which, God willing, wouldn't have the chance to happen anyway.
Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to get through John's protective shell… but nothing the man did could hide the fact that he was still suffering mental agony day after day. The fact that he had made a point to come to the criminal proceeding proved it better than anything he could have ever said, and even while John had been screaming at him during their few tense confrontations the hurt was painfully obvious.
With the meeting with Fin to look forward to in the morning, Don knew that his time was up. He had stalled, begged, and cut corners for as long as he possibly could. If facing the harsh reality didn't get through to that man, nothing probably ever would.
His intense guilt was what had driven John Munch over the edge in the first place. Don prayed that the same would be enough to bring him back.
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She couldn't stop herself from groaning out loud in pleasure.
"Oh, my God," she murmured happily, closing her eyes. She grunted throatily in appreciation, savoring the sensation for as long as she could.
Smacking her lips softly, Casey lowered the fork back down to jab at another piece of blueberry waffle. The small mountain of whipped cream balanced on top wavered slightly with the movement as she swiped a little more onto the piece on her fork. Bringing it to the side, she carefully scooped up two fresh blueberries as well before lifting the entire thing to her mouth.
"Mmm," she groaned again, shaking her head in disbelief. Sweet syrup and whipped cream exploded with blueberry along her taste buds again. She chewed awkwardly because of the large portion in her mouth and spoke out loud. "Thank you, New York."
She could count on one hand the number of times a case had required her to relocate to a new venue. She had been working steadily for almost two straight weeks out of a hotel, albeit a nice one, and had made sure to keep receipts of all her purchases for the city clerk to record when she arrived back home.
Casey Novak had no intention of taking advantage when the state of New York was paying for her every necessity…but this was the first morning when she actually didn't have something pressing to do and God damn it, she was going to get breakfast from room service.
The pillows were piled comfortably behind her head, supporting her weight, and she was perfectly content eating the best fucking blueberry waffles she'd ever had under the covers. Swallowing, she paused to reach for the glass of orange juice and perked up at a particularly interesting scene in the movie currently on the television in front of her.
Turning her head back after the scene was over, she looked at the clock. It was almost ten. She would need to get in the shower when she finished eating and get ready for the day. She suspected Dwight Haskins would be trying to contact her at any time to go over the rape kit.
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Her eyes flitted casually up from her book. Blue eyes stared straight back at her and she did a double-take instinctively, nearly dropping the hardback in shock.
Olivia chuckled wryly at her own jumpy reaction, her scoff a cross between amused and disgusted. She placed the book down on the floor and uncrossed her legs, shaking her head.
"Hey, sleepyhead," she teased gently, stepping closer.
Her fingers brushed across his cheek lightly. He sighed softly, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch with such desperation that it made her eyes well. She lifted her other hand to caress the opposite cheek automatically.
"Feeling okay?" she asked softly, all traces of amusement in her face replaced by sadness.
Elliot let out a soft, shuddering breath without answering and swallowed hard. She watched his throat contract with the movement and winced sympathetically.
"You thirsty?" she probed carefully. She thumbed slightly down towards his jaw, inadvertently grazing across the stubble on his face. "Want some water?"
His gaze remained locked with hers. She could feel his heartbeat through his cheek muscles. He still didn't speak, but the expression in his eyes and slight shift in his face made it obvious his response was negative.
"Are you sure?" she asked. She was surprised to hear herself nearly pleading with him. "I'll bet your throat must be dry."
Her lips pursed anxiously as she robotically moved her hands across his cool skin. Her expression was tender as she implored with her eyes. They continued the silent stare down for another half a minute.
Then his face crumbled slowly and he closed his eyes. She watched tears trickle from beneath his lashes and slide down onto the pillow but he never made a sound.
Her own eyes welled up in reaction.
"Elliot," she murmured sadly, stepping closer to the bed. She slipped her hands off of his cheeks and down to circle his collarbone lightly. "Oh, Elliot…"
He cried silently, sniffling, but didn't open his eyes to look at her.
Olivia swallowed hard to keep her emotions at bay and placed a gentle kiss to the side of his head. She rubbed her fingers soothingly through his hair and across his scalp, desperately trying to comfort him without words.
There was nothing she could say.
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Detective Kessler could feel his palms starting to sweat.
"But…it's not that easy, Fin," he said weakly. He gripped the sides of his chair hard, shaking his head as he stared at the man sitting in his partner's desk. "You know it's not that easy."
The black man scoffed, his eyes taking on a slight wild edge that made the other detective visibly flinch.
"Hey, man," he said shortly, pinning Kessler with a stony look. "Who the hell said it was supposed to be easy?"
He seemed to be becoming more riled with each word…Jake could see the man's foot tapping restlessly against the floor.
"You think I don't know how fucking hard this is going to be?" he went on, his voice rising steadily with every syllable. "I'm going to lose either my job or my partner sometime in the next ten minutes, god damn it!"
Unable to sit still any longer, Fin jumped up from the chair to pace the floor. Kessler watched him carefully.
"Look, Fin," he said hesitantly. "You're way high-strung right now...maybe you just need a little time, you know? Think things through a little better before making any stupid decisions."
The other detective stopped in his tracks so suddenly that he nearly stumbled.
"This is your career on the line here, man," Kessler continued. "And I personally would like to keep mine for the next twenty or thirty years, thank you very much."
Fin cocked one eyebrow, his eyes suddenly taking on a hateful gleam.
"Ah," he said softly, nodding. His brow furrowed. "I see." His voice became quiet. "How long have you been a cop, Kessler?"
The other man was startled by the swift change in direction, as was evident in his expression as he thought about it.
"Sixteen years this March," he answered. He stared at the other man with disgust. "And don't even try to give me any of that 'duty as an officer' bullshit. You know as well as I do that being labeled a rat just gives everyone else an excuse to fuck you over as much as they can"
Kessler's choice of words made Fin inwardly flinch, but his expression only tightened more on the outside.
"So you're worried that talking is going to cost you your job," he said evenly. "You'd rather sit back and watch a good cop take the fall rather than risk persecution."
"Fuck, man!" Kessler shouted, finally losing his patience. He stood up and glared at Fin. "John was the one who fucked up…he made the choice by himself and now he's going to catch it in the ass. You can't fight his battles for him, Fin, and you can't make me do it either."
The two men were almost toe to toe, but neither insinuated a threat toward the other. They just stood staring angrily at each other in silence.
"I wasn't talking about my partner, Kessler," Fin said in a deadly voice. "Maybe during all of your time spent covering your own ass, you've forgotten about what Elliot has had to go through."
"Of course not," he said, his eyes turning steely. "How dare you fucking say that." His face twisted defensively. "It's all anyone thinks about, for Christ's sake."
"Do you know what they did to him, Kessler?"
. Kessler's face flushed with shame and anger but he said nothing. Fin shook his head in despair. "Can you even… imagine what he must be feeling like right now?"
The other man looked at the ground angrily.
"What did he do to deserve that?" he pressed angrily, starting to lose his temper again. "Tell me how horrible Elliot Stabler has acted that would warrant treatment like that."
When he got no response, his teeth clenched even tighter. "Tell me how you can just sit here and pretend like nothing happened…like you don't care about how much our actions are hurting a damn good friend."
Kessler swallowed hard before looking him in the eye.
"How could anything we do possibly be of any help to him at all?" he said weakly.
"Well, sitting here doing nothing obviously isn't doing him any better," Fin fired back quickly.
Seeing the expression of pain that had taken over his face, Fin sighed softly.
"We've already wasted too much time," he said. He stared the other man straight in the eyes. "Please, Kessler…it's only about Elliot. That's all it's ever been about." He paused painfully. "I just can't punish him any more."
Jake Kessler closed his eyes and swallowed. After a moment he nodded.
"When is Cragen coming in?" he asked softly.
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Her stare seemed to burn holes through him as she continued pulling the items from the large envelope.
"Documented injuries," she went on, plunking the pile of glossy photographs down in front of his manicured fingernails. "With corresponding numbered photos…"
Haskins continued to look silently through the items collecting in a growing mound before him on the table.
"Blood sample," she continued, tossing the single document down on top of the others, "taken from Detective Stabler at the beginning of the examination."
Her hands went back inside the envelope, her brows creasing in mock surprise as if she were unwrapping presents instead of pulling out evidence. Her voice dripped with condescension that she just loved throwing back in his face.
"Semen samples discovered by florescent light." Her face screwed into dramatic uncertainty as she looked down at the defense attorney from where she stood across the table. "Oh, man…look at that…" She shook her head, wide-eyed. "Seven of the eight deduced as foreign."
He glared at her. "Casey-"
Almost in the blink of an eye her face became deadly hard again, as did her voice. "DNA samples lifted from crime scene evidence," she said, cutting off his voice almost entirely. She lifted out the last of the papers with both hands.
"Casey," Haskins repeated dryly, looking at her in annoyance.
"Sample one, match with Travis Sutton," she read dramatically, tossing the first paper in the stack carelessly. It fluttered near the edge of the table. "Sample two, match with Jason Evans." Another paper to the table. "Sample three, match with John Hughes."
Her wrist began flicking papers swiftly without aim, some of them smacking the man in the chest as she began reading the names fluidly with more speed.
"Sample four, match with Ethan Jones…sample five, match with Matthew Lucas…sample six-"
"All right," Haskins snapped loudly, losing his patience. He shoved the closest paper further away with a scoff of disgust. "I think I got the point, thanks."
"Are you sure?" Casey asked coldly, cocking an eyebrow. She gestured to the stack of papers in her hand with her shoulder. "There are ninety-four others here in case you're not positive." The sarcasm in her voice cut razor-sharp.
"What are you offering?" Haskins asked, getting straight to the point.
"Your clients plead guilty to sexual assault and conspiracy to commit a violent crime," she said, slapping the remaining pile down. "Fifty years in maximum security with no parole."
Haskins scoffed rudely, smirking. "You've got to be kidding," he said, shaking his head. When her expression didn't falter, his gaze narrowed. "Sexual misconduct with proof of malice…eighteen months in offender rehabilitation and supervised probation."
"Your other option is prosecution of a federal offense and your clients applying for Medicare while in solitary confinement," she said, her voice nearly catching with her fury. "Take your pick, Counselor."
"You've got no proof," Haskins said with disdain. "Where's your victim's statement?"
"It's en route," she said, mentally crossing her fingers. "The captain of SVU is sending it to me now."
The man's face turned sour. "Oh, that's convenient," he said sarcastically. "A statement taken by his own commanding officer….I'm sure there will be no discrepancies there."
"Manhattan Special Victims has been heading up the investigation of your clients before this whole thing even occurred," Casey countered. "Any activity involving those suspected automatically is fielded by them and that includes talking to any victims."
"Circumstantial," he said, smirking. "And….if memory serves me correctly…" His expression twisted almost mockingly. "I believe it was….Detective Stabler who instigated a conflict with one of my clients before evidence of an assault was recorded. I'm sure a jury might find that a bit questionable, don't you think?"
Her face turned indignant and he chuckled.
"Not guilty," he said easily. "One year in minimum security." His eyebrows lifted. "Come on, Casey…all you'll be doing is putting more stress on Detective Stabler. Do yourself the favor and lessen the burden."
"No deal," she snapped in disgust, overwhelmed by the audacity of this man.
Withdrawing another paper, this time from her briefcase, she tossed it down before him.
"Eight assailants isn't a hard thing to prove when you've got the evidence in black and white," she said wryly. "It would be in your clients' best interest to cooperate."
Haskins glanced over the DNA findings for the eighth attacker without speaking. She waited for his gaze to come back to hers and narrowed her eyes.
"Jones especially," she said, gathering her briefcase. She slung it over her shoulder and glared at him as she began walking towards the door. "Make sure you inform him that he's in a deeper boat than the rest."
She strode out into the hallway before the man could say anything.
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He stared pointedly at the detective, not sure if he was telling him the whole truth.
Fin raised his hands defensively. "That was it," he insisted. "I swear, Captain…that was all I heard."
He shook his head angrily, sighing. "Great," he said sourly. His bitter gaze fell to the police car paperweight resting beside his keyboard. "So that only helps strengthen the argument that John started it."
Don lifted his steely eyes to the other man sitting beside Fin.
Detective Kessler had his attention fixated on the floor, brows furrowed. His jaw was set intently. Cragen stared at him a moment.
"Kessler?" he said authoritatively. The man's head snapped up fast and he saw what he thought was pure dread in his eyes. "What about you?"
The detective looked at him squarely. "What about me, Captain?" he asked edgily.
Don fixed him with an exasperated glare. "Am I wrong in assuming you've got something to add?" he said sarcastically. "Or are you just here to listen in on a confidential report about a fellow detective?"
Kessler sighed softly, shaking his head.
"I was down in the lockup with the suspects," he said gravelly. "John came down to tell me that my shift was up and that Briscoe would take over. That…that dude…" His face scrunched in annoyance as he tried to come up with the name and he waved his hand. "Whoever it was who made the complaint-"
"Jason Evans," Don cut in.
"Right, right," Kessler said, nodding. "We're both heading up the stairs and this guy Evans calls Munch by name, throws out some crap about seeing him with Elliot in the Bronx or something like that."
Don's face reflected his confusion. What the hell does that mean? "Go on," he said, trying not to show his unease.
"I didn't know what the hell the guy was saying…tell the truth, I thought it was just some shit to get us riled," he continued. "But John's got this look on his face, like…" He shook his head. "I've never seen a look like that from him. He goes down to the cage, they start exchanging words."
He shrugged. "I don't know what, I couldn't hear 'em…anyway, next thing I know, John's got his gun in between the bars on the guy's face. I start coming towards them, real slow like, you know…guy's taunting him, telling him to shoot him and all kinds of shit." His face suddenly hardened. "Then the fucker starts-"
He cut himself off abruptly, remembering he was sitting before his captain, and blushed.
"Sorry, sir," he mumbled. "Evans starts rubbing his crotch, making crude noises…tells John he doesn't care about being shot because he already got what he wanted…"
"Mmm…it's been a long couple of years." His smile was cocky and indulgent. "I made up for plenty of lost time. No wonder the man's got so many kids."
His fists clenched even as he was relaying the story. "That's when I stepped in, tried to wrestle the gun away," he said. "Fin showed up about a minute later and managed to knock it out of his hand."
Kessler shook his head angrily, looking up. The captain's face was positively murderous.
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said guiltily. "I…I know have said something at the beginning. I just-"
"You're positive that's what was said?" Cragen interrupted quietly. His voice was almost menacing. "Word for word…that's exactly what Jason Evans said?"
The detective did a slight double take in confusion, wondering why he wasn't jumping on him for not talking like he had been expecting him to.
"Y-yeah," he said, nodding. "Yes, sir…that's what he said. Exactly."
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She could tell by the slight intonation in his sigh that he was prepared for sleep and it suddenly occurred to Olivia just how much her instincts had become edgier while she had been here.
She didn't need to wear a watch to know exactly when midnight struck because he whimpered in his sleep every night at the precise moment the new day arrived no matter how dead to the world he was.
She didn't need to ask him how he was feeling because she could tell by the crinkles in his forehead the degree of the pain when it assaulted him.
She didn't need to look at the door to know the moment someone was approaching from outside because the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up and she would begin to feel hot moments before she even heard footsteps.
To a cop, the sharper reflexes were golden and envied. But to a best friend, they only served to break her already shredded heart into smaller pieces.
If not for Elliot's suffering, she never would have needed to acquire these instincts.
She walked over to the other side of his bed and pulled the blinds more securely to keep out the moonlight. He let out a yawn as she was coming back around the bed, making her smile affectionately.
Her foot brushed up against the empty cot as she stepped up nearer to him and her smile faltered. Kathy had called nearly four hours ago to let her know that she couldn't come back that night but hadn't given a reason. It was none of her business and she hadn't asked, but it still gave Olivia a gnawing feeling in her gut that she couldn't explain.
"Ready for bed?" she asked softly, the smile forming immediately again when she gazed down on her best friend.
Her hand slipped into his automatically. Elliot inhaled drowsily, his eyes becoming weighted, and nodded.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbled, struggling to keep his focus on her.
She lifted her hand to trace her finger lazily across his brow and watched his eyes swimming. Each blink became longer and more labored. Using all of his strength, he opened his eyes fully to look up into hers.
Goodnight, Liv.
He didn't say a word and she read the message clearly anyway. Smiling warmly, she bent down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Goodnight, Elliot," she said tenderly.
His eyes slid closed as soon as she finished speaking and a look of contentment etched into his face as he succumbed to oblivion. She carefully reached up to turn off the light above his head and the resulting blackness made spots appear before her eyes.
The grip on her hand went lax but she kept hers firm for another moment. She swallowed hard, careful not to make a sound that might cause him to wake up and see the pain that had taken over her face.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered brokenly.
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He sat with his back against the side of the couch and shook.
"No." The teary voice echoed around the living room, sending goose bumps onto already clammy skin. "It…it was…different." His voice broke, barely masking a sob. "It was sh-sharp. It didn't…didn't- feel like…" He sobbed again, unable to say the word.
A penis. John shook his head in agony, the tears making his neck sticky. For Christ's sake, Captain…you don't need to make him say it.
"It's okay," Cragen's voice was quick to cut in, making him swallow hard in relief. His voice was gentle and more delicate than John had ever heard before. "I know what you mean, Elliot…it's okay."
He heard soft sniffles as silence fell for a moment before the captain continued.
"Had they ever used it before?" he asked.
No…you're listening to him say all this, damn it. Jesus, Captain, he said it felt different…you think he would lie?
"I don't know," Elliot said weakly. It sounded almost like a whimper. "They just…just kept shoving it in and taking it back out." His voice shook. "It hurt-" Broken sobs filled the room. "God, it hurt so bad."
The rest of the painful recollection never registered. John broke down into hard sobs, feeling his stomach convulsing. He leaned forward towards the carpet and dry-heaved several times as he cried.
"God, this is all my fault," he sobbed, barely able to move. He could hear Elliot's voice continuing on the tape but didn't comprehend the words. He wondered how much was left. "This is all my fault."
The house was dark and quiet, with only the two voices coming from his stereo tape player as his companions in the night. They didn't offer any comfort.
They just kept talking as he yelled out in anguish and sobbed.
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She shrugged casually.
"It doesn't hurt me," she said, lifting an eyebrow smartly. "You're going to prison either way…it's up to you whether or not you'll be allowed to see sunlight while you're there."
The man sitting across from her only smiled cockily, jerking his head slightly. He leaned his elbows against the table.
"I like your outfit," he said.
His eyes dragged across the upper half of her blazer and tight white sweater underneath slowly. Casey resisted the urge to shudder in disgust and only scowled harder, throwing a look beside the man to where Haskins sat.
"I'm walking out this door in ten seconds," she said. "It's your choice. Like I said, it doesn't bother me."
Travis Sutton stared at her edgily. "No one else has said anything," he said. "If someone had, you wouldn't be in here trying to convince me to take a deal." He grinned. "I watch cop shows, too, you know."
"We're done," she said shortly. "Enjoy solitary." She looked at Haskins. "I'll meet you in cell four in five minutes."
Then her eyes glinted as she leaned across the table towards Sutton.
"If you check out my ass when I turn around," she said menacingly. "You'll be limping down to the infirmary."
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"There you go," she said tenderly, holding the straw tightly still as he took a sip. "See….doesn't that feel better?"
The bitter look on his face was unexpected, though, and the anger that came next threw her for a loop. He turned his head away from the cup.
"I want ice," he said softly.
Olivia was startled. "Are you sure?" she asked cautiously, wanting so badly to force him to keep drinking the liquid. "Elliot-"
"Stop it!" he yelled harshly, making her jump. "I don't want water, Olivia! I want ice! Get me some ice!"
She quickly took the cup away and placed it on the table. "Alright," she said quickly, swallowing. "Okay. That's fine...I'll get you some ice."
Before her hand could press the call button, his face crumbled and he suddenly burst into tears.
"I'm sorry." He gasped for breath, hardly able to speak. "I'm sorry, Olivia…I'm so sorry." His words came out almost as whimpers as his sobs bordered on hysterics. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."
Olivia had the railing lowered almost instantly so that she had room to wrap him completely in her arms. She took him lovingly against her, rubbing his back and rocking him.
"Shh…" she cooed quietly as he buried his face into her neck. His fingers dug into her back as he desperately clung to her shirt. She could feel him shaking. "Shh, Elliot…baby, it's okay. It's okay."
She rubbed over his shoulders and tried to keep herself from crying as she listened to him weeping.
"Everything's okay," she said gently. "I know you didn't mean to, honey…everything's okay. I'm not mad at you, Elliot…I'm not."
He coughed and sniffled wetly against her, inhaling a loud, shaking breath without being able to help it. She hugged him tighter. After a few moments, he began pulling back and she loosened her grip instantly. When he was able to see her face, he saw that her expression was loving and compassionate.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice broken.
Olivia only smiled and brought the side of her head down gently against his. Her hand found his and squeezed tightly.
"It's okay," she repeated softly, her other arm draping across his neck. She pulled him closer against her gently. "I promise….everything's just fine."
He sighed and closed his eyes, his weight heavy against her side.
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"Afternoon, Ethan," she said dryly as she strode into the last holding room.
"What do you want, bitch?" Jones said crossly, looking pissed off as he sat next to his lawyer at the table.
Casey smiled, only too pleased with the atmosphere. "Ooh…" she said snidely, seating herself across from him and opening her briefcase. "Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the cell this morning?"
"Fuck you," he said harshly. "I ain't supposed to even be in this shit hole anyway."
Casey's face went stony as she looked at Haskins.
"I suggest you advise him to watch his language," she said. "I can leave at anytime, you know."
"Just get on with it, Casey," Haskins said in annoyance. "He'll behave." He shot a mutinous glare towards his client. "Won't he?"
Jones rolled his eyes but obediently said nothing else.
She leaned her elbows casually on the table and shrugged. "I can't say I blame you," she said. "I know if I were about to spend my retirement years in solitary confinement, I'd be pissed off, too."
He smirked. "Nice try," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Sentencing doesn't come until after conviction…and attorneys don't get a vote. Once that verdict comes in, you're done." He pursed his lips. "All you're here for is to blow smoke up my ass in hopes I'll tell you some important piece of information that you haven't figured out yet so you can win your case."
She couldn't hide her startled look and his grin split wider.
"My old man was a defense attorney," he said smugly, cocking an eyebrow. "You got no tricks I haven't already heard of."
"You do realize, Mr. Jones," she said briskly, switching topics with ease. "That you are facing multiple murder charges along with rape kidnapping, don't you?"
"Kidnapping?" he said, smirking. "I didn't kidnap no one." He grinned devilishly. "If you were at the trial a few weeks ago, you would have known that."
"So you don't deny that you did rape Detective Stabler," she said icily.
Jones looked at Haskins in amusement. "Did I say that?" he asked the other man.
Refusing to let him get her worked up, Casey slid the paper resting under her elbows neatly across the table.
"Semen sample found on Detective Stabler during a rape kit," she said matter-of-factly. "Yours."
He barely glanced at it as she slid another one overtop of the first. "Fingerprints on a lighter found at the crime scene, similar to the types of burns recovered on Detective Stabler's genital region," she went on. "Also yours."
"Fingerprints on several pieces of rope consistent to the types of abrasions found on Detective Stabler's hands and wrists," she continued, sliding another paper over and continuing to the next in her stack. "DNA from the bandanna used to gag him...semen found in the bathtub where he was first assaulted…"
"Alright," Haskins cut in, holding up a hand. "He gets it…get on with it-"
"And a positive identification from a photographic line-up," she finished, cutting him off.
She barely spared Haskins a glance as she stared piercingly at Ethan Jones. He raised his eyes from the papers in front of him and glared back challengingly, with equal force.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "We've got you on rape and kidnapping, Ethan…it's right there in front of you." She shrugged. "Combine that with the…." She made a show of counting to herself. "Five murders we have linked to you? Not very good odds, there, Sparky."
"So what?" he said. "I admit to rape….and then what?" His eyes glinted dangerously. "I'll get lethal injection for murder. What do you think is gonna happen? That they'll throw me in solitary confinement instead of killing me?"
"The DNA evidence collected from the crime scene show eight assailants-" she began.
"And because only seven of us were at the trial and the police are too stupid to do anything but convert oxygen into carbon dioxide," Jones said in amusement, "you want me to tell you who contestant number eight is."
He smiled cunningly. "So you want to talk negotiation?" He leaned back in the chair smugly. "I'm all ears."
Casey dug through her briefcase and pulled out a stapled package of papers.
"Ethan Sanders Jones," she began reading without preamble. "Time of arrival 3:43 am Tuesday, July 2nd, 1969. 9 pounds, 4 ounces; 23 inches long. Delivered by Doctor Allan Garrison at Bixby Medical Center in Adrian, Michigan."
"Wow," Jones said sarcastically. "To think I wasted all those years celebrating my birthday on July 1st."
"Mother…Jessica Eileen Bernstein," Casey continued without pause. "Father… Michael Ethan Jones."
She licked her finger to flip the page, but before she could keep talking Haskins interrupted.
"How is my client's birth certificate of any relevance here?" he asked in annoyance. "Did you come here to waste-"
She slid the glossy mug shot of the young man across the table without looking up from her paper. Haskins snatched the document up quickly.
"What the hell is this?" he asked, annoyed. He scanned it momentarily and shoved it back toward her. "You can't introduce new evidence during a plea bargain, Novak."
"Check your records," she said dismissively, flipping through several stapled papers from her briefcase. "I showed you all of this yesterday…it's not my problem if you decide not to follow-up the DNA results for a face or birth record."
Haskins scowled but said nothing as she continued speaking as if he hadn't.
"Jesse Frederick Madison," she said. "Time of arrival 5:30 pm January 5th, 1983. 10 pounds, 9 ounces; 26 inches long. Delivered by Doctor Hal Webster at Saint John Hospital and Medical Center in Detroit, Michigan."
She looked at him pointedly, reciting the rest from memory. "Father: David Welsh Madison, mother: Jessica Eileen Bernstein."
Jones was glaring hatefully now and Haskins looked like he was about to shit a brick, but neither spoke.
"Protecting family," she said coldly, pushing the document towards Jones. She sneered in disgust. "How brotherly of you, Ethan."
Jones stared at the photo in disdain.
"We've got the identity," she continued. "Tell me where he is and I'll try to get you off on a lesser sentence."
"Doesn't matter," he retorted, but the fire had left his voice. "My ass is fried either way. I don't have to tell you dick."
"Why get your brother involved, Ethan?" Casey asked thoughtfully. "He was serving a minimum sentence for possession of stolen property…six months and he'd have been free. Why screw him over for your own sick pleasure?"
"Just because my mom had some bastard with some freak on the street doesn't mean he's my brother," Jones spat out bitterly.
"Actually, genius, that's exactly what it means," she shot back snidely.
"You can't talk to me that way, bitch," he said angrily. "You better shut the fuck up."
"You've got one chance," Casey said shortly. "Tell me where Jesse Madison is, Ethan."
Jones cocked an eyebrow. "No," he said clearly, pursing his lips in amusement.
His eyes sparked and she could see he was pleased with himself. Rather than slap the asshole across the face like she so desperately wanted to, Casey simply stood.
"Your loss," she said. She looked at Haskins in disdain. "That's all seven, Dwight…shame." She shrugged. "Looks like Elmira's going to be getting mighty crowded."
She threw one last mutinous look at Jones and walked to the door.
"Hey, Novak."
The use of her name from the lips of the vile man at the table made her blood boil. Her face was carved in stone but her eyes flashed as she looked back at him.
"You know you can tell a lot from a man by looking at his fingers?" Ethan grinned suggestively. "Check out Elliot's some time."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was nearing one when Kathy pulled into the hospital parking lot. She shut off the car and hopped out, opening the rear door and pulling out a small duffle bag.
She went through security clearance robotically, barely registering the words coming from her mouth and the handing over of her driver's license for confirmation. She clipped on the visitor's badge and went to the elevators.
"Kathy!"
Olivia's voice from behind her startled her as she was nearing room 420. She turned around to see the brunette striding toward her, holding a cup of coffee.
"Hey," she said, stopping to allow Olivia to catch up. The other woman began returning the greeting but Kathy interrupted her guiltily. "I'm sorry I wasn't here last night…I-"
Olivia waved her hand instantly, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it," she assured. "It wasn't a problem…really."
A surge of bitterness came up in Kathy's chest suddenly.
"Oh," she said, awkwardly, trying to figure out where the feeling was coming from. She blinked quickly. "Well, good." She nodded rapidly, swallowing, and hoped she didn't appear as mixed-up as she felt. "That's good."
"This morning has been a little rough on him," Olivia went on, her voice becoming almost emotionless. She pursed her lips and sighed softly. "Doctor Beck was right…he really does want to be out of here."
Shaking her head, the detective pushed the door open and looked back at Kathy, gesturing for the other woman to precede her.
"Olivia," she burst out, startling her. She bit her lip as the detective turned back in surprise. "Hold on…just-" She sighed anxiously, biting her lip, and turned toward the opposite direction away from the door.
Her face scrunched in concern, Olivia poked her head into the room to see Elliot in the same position she had left him sleeping and then eased back out. She turned to face the blonde, now with her arms crossed tensely over her chest.
"Is something wrong, Kathy?" she asked carefully.
"I can't…I can't do this." Her voice was anxious and shaking as she shook her head. She was so full of nervous energy that she was almost bouncing side to side. "How can we do this?"
Olivia watched her cautiously, so confused she didn't know what to say. "Do what?"
As quickly as she had started moving, Kathy suddenly stood still and dropped her face into her hands. The sound of sobbing preceded her shaking shoulders and she nearly slumped over.
Even more confused and now a little scared, Olivia began edging slightly closer.
"Hey," she said softly, her brow creased. She bit her lip and lightly touched her shoulder, the move making Kathy sob harder. "Hey…come here. Come here, let's go sit."
Kathy sniffled, shaking her head, as Olivia wrapped a gently hand around her arm. She led her over to a few chairs sitting against the wall a few feet away. Kathy sank into hers with a frustrated growl, anger on her face as she hastily swiped at her tears. Olivia sat beside her, her confusion unable to be hidden.
"What's going on?" she asked gently.
She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry to just…lose it like this." She shook her head again, looking at Olivia and seeing her concerned but bewildered expression.
"I'm scared, Olivia, and I know it's not reasonable and I know it doesn't make any sense and I-" She cut herself off, aware that she was rambling and sighed shakily. "I'm scared."
Olivia looked at her sympathetically. "I know," she said gently. She paused, shaking her head. "I'm scared, too."
"He's going to want to be with you." Kathy's voice was anxious and rapid. "I just-I know it." She looked at the detective, eyes shining. Her voice was hoarse and pained. "I love him, Olivia. I do…God, I love him so much." She was practically pleading.
Olivia shook her head quickly, squeezing Kathy's shoulder tenderly.
"Kathy, he knows," she said, nodding in conviction. "He knows you love him…and he loves you."
The other woman's face twisted.
"Try to imagine what he's going through," Olivia said painfully. "Kathy, every person to come in contact with him for almost 30 days did something to hurt or scare him. There's not…there's no 'magic pill' that can just…make that go away."
Her voice was becoming strained.
"I told you before that I will never stand in your way," she said. "I meant it." She swallowed. "But you're going to have to understand that right now…" She looked at her desperately. "Right now, you can't give him the kind of help he's going to need."
Kathy shook her head, tears running silently down her cheeks. She was startled when Olivia grabbed her hand, squeezing so tight that she thought her knuckles would break.
"I need you to be in his corner," the detective said anxiously. The blonde was startled to see tears in her eyes too. "No matter what the situation turns out like…please, Kathy." Her voice became choked. "Please be in his corner."
Kathy ducked her head, the tears breaking free and fast. Olivia felt herself crying too as she watched her anxiously. When she looked up again, her eyes were shining.
"I will always be in his corner," she said hoarsely. "I always have been." She sniffled. "Nothing in the world could ever keep me from it."
Olivia nodded, lowering her eyes to catch the falling tears. When Kathy hugged her tightly, she felt the surprised tension in the other woman's spine. She pulled back after a minute and saw the hesitation on the brunette's face.
"I've always trusted you," she said, linking her fingers through Olivia's softly. She swallowed, brushing more tears away awkwardly. "Every day for the past eight years….I'd never not trust you with his life, Olivia."
She smiled tearfully, pleased to see the detective's eyes sparkle.
"No matter what the situation turns out like," she repeated. "I'll always be in his corner." She squeezed Olivia's hand gently. "And yours too. Don't ever doubt that."
Olivia chuckled tearfully, smiling. She squeezed Kathy's hand back.
"Ditto," she said softly.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Agent Gilbert grumbled, striding towards the front door. "Geez, hold your-"
The sentence was cut off into an abrupt exclamation of surprise when he opened the door and found himself flying backwards.
"What the hell-?" he cried.
Don stormed through the door with all the grace of a bull elephant, his face twisted furiously.
"You son of a bitch," he growled, advancing after the stumbling man quickly. "You're lucky I don't scramble your face, you bastard."
The IAB agent scrambled to maintain some of his dignity and straightened quickly.
"Hey…hey!" he said angrily. "You can't come in here. This is private property-"
"Shut up," Cragen snapped, slamming the door shut behind him. "I'm about four seconds away from arresting you for obstruction, so if I were you, I'd just sit your ass down on that couch and stop talking."
"What the hell are you talking about?" the man said, outraged.
The older man stalked to stand in front of the agent. "My detectives have been cooling their heels, waiting on the results of this….investigation…" He spit the word out harshly, his fists clenched, "that you assholes have been shoving in my face, and all along you've had access to information that we need for our case."
Gilbert scoffed. "You've got a set of balls, coming in here and making an accusation like that, Captain," he said angrily. "How dare-"
The hard fist was colliding with his face in the next second.
Cragen glared at the man as he yelped and jerked to the side, ignoring the fiery burn traveling down his wrist. The next moment he was grabbing the agent's shirt in his fist and shaking him.
"Do you… have any…" Don could feel his hands trembling as he struggled to get the words out coherently past his anger. "Idea…just how much stress I've had to put on Detective Stabler thanks to you?"
The agent looked at him defiantly, but Cragen could see the nervousness in his eyes.
"Jason Evans admitted to raping him." His teeth clenched and he breathed hard. "Admitted it down in that lockup….gloated about it, for Christ's sake." Glaring at Gilbert, Don shoved him away hard. "And yet you decided it would be more worth it to question the motives of the detectives who heard him."
Agent Gilbert swallowed, his hand patting his cracked lip gently to wipe the blood away, and glared at the captain viciously.
"You've just made the biggest mistake of your career, Captain," he said angrily. He stalked over to the door, yanking it open. "Now get out of my house before I have you arrested for assault."
Don walked to the door without a word and stepped outside. He turned back around and leaned into the open doorway with a hard expression.
"I'm only going to tell you this once," he said menacingly, glaring at the agent. "So listen closely." The man looked at him angrily. "If I had been in that lockup instead of Detective Munch…Evans wouldn't be here to make any accusations at all." He glared at Gilbert hatefully. "And if I find out that anything involved in your investigation could have spared Detective Stabler from the hurt he has had to go through…." He shook his head with a growl. "I will personally make sure you lose all feeling from the neck down, you got me?"
The agent's face twisted. "Get out," he growled.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He swallowed hard, looking at the two of them anxiously. Kathy nodded reassuringly.
"Really," she said gently, trying to sound upbeat. "Doctor Beck said it was ok, Elliot." She couldn't keep the nervousness from her voice. "I promise."
Elliot stared at her with such earnestness that it made tears spring to her eyes. She blinked them away quickly as he looked at Olivia. She wore a bright smile, straining hard not to let her chin quiver, and nodded as well.
His eyes dropped slowly and he took a shaky breath. He looked back at them after a minute and nodded.
"Okay," he said softly, his voice weak.
Kathy came around the bed and crouched next to the duffle bag by the table. Olivia could see the emotions wreaking havoc across her partner's face and smiled as confidently as she could.
"You'll feel so much better," she said, nodding. She extended her hand gently and he clutched it tightly at once. "Really, honey…it will feel so much better."
"When can I go home?" he asked, sounding tearful.
His eyes stared into hers with such desperation that she nearly broke down right then. She heard Kathy across the room, getting water from the sink, and swallowed hard.
"Real soon," she said softly. She squeezed his hand. "I promise."
"Here we go," Kathy said brightly, coming up behind her.
Olivia moved slightly so that she was out of her way as the blonde set two plastic cups on the table beside the bed. One held water and the other was empty.
"I got your favorite," she said, unscrewing the cap from the tube. "Crest Vanilla Mint."
Very carefully, Kathy squirted a tiny amount of paste onto the head of the bright blue plastic toothbrush and screwed the cap back on. Elliot watched her movements hesitantly as she turned back towards him.
"Here you go," she said gently, holding it in front of him.
Her hand wrapped around his as he gripped the slim handle and helped him guide it shakily towards his mouth.
He brushed slowly for a minute and then pulled the toothbrush away, looking to the side. Kathy helped him drink a mouthful of water and then spit into the empty cup.
Elliot swallowed hard, breathing through his nose as he slowly brought the toothbrush back into his mouth.
The bristles…the bristles were soft. They squished against his teeth as he struggled to keep his hand steady.
His heart began pumping faster.
"Open up his mouth, boys."
The voice rang in his head but barely registered over his pounding heart. The hands were stretching his mouth painfully, forcing him vulnerable and exposed.
God….God, it was soft. It was…soft.
His stomach lurched and he gagged, yanking the toothbrush from his mouth and dropping it as if it were on fire. He gagged again and sobbed hard, barely able to breathe.