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He was looking around nervously.
"We should leave, Olivia," he said urgently. "This isn't a good spot to be in."
There was so much more that she wanted to ask, but she could sense his nerves were heightened. So she did the next thing that, to her, was as obvious as anything could ever be.
"Ok," she agreed. "It's getting close to Noah's bedtime, anyway." She nodded. "My bed is pretty big. Noah and I will share and you can sleep in his room tonight, if you want."
Elliot looked at her in alarm when he realized what she meant. He shook his head immediately.
"No," he said quickly. "I can't go home with you, Olivia. Are you crazy?"
She just raised an eyebrow as if she had anticipated his refusal.
"Then I'll get us rooms in a hotel somewhere," she said easily. "We don't have to go to my place."
Elliot was looking at her in disbelief. Olivia gave him a confused one back, not sure why he seemed surprised.
"What?" she said, mystified. "Did you think I was going to tell you to get out of my car and go sleep in an alley somewhere, 'see you tomorrow morning'?"
Her brows furrowed as she realized that, yes, he had actually been expecting her to do just that. She shook her head, aghast that he would even entertain the idea.
"I'm okay with wherever you want to go," she said firmly, "But I'm not just about to leave you, Elliot. How could you think I would?"
He swallowed tearfully and a hundred emotions seemed to flash on his face as he struggled to speak.
Because, way deep down inside, he didn't want to leave her. He thought he might die of sorrow if he had to go back to the street now after finally being back with someone he missed so badly.
But he was so afraid. He kept imagining someone finding them, maybe watching them that very minute, and what that would mean for her. For her son.
For him.
He suddenly ducked his head, turning his face away, but she still saw his face twisting.
"You should," he whispered. He closed his eyes tearfully. "You have no idea what I've done, Olivia. You should stay away from me."
Her face reflected her sadness as Olivia looked at him and he didn't see it.
She reached over and took his hand firmly.
"Think again," she said softly.
She squeezed for a moment to emphasize her next point.
"It doesn't matter what you've done, Elliot. I know the person you are. No matter how long it's been...you can't change that."
He shook his head, not moving.
"Hey," she said firmly. "Look at me."
He reluctantly turned toward her. She studied his face and her voice became choked.
"We're partners," she said. "For better or worse. Remember? You told me that." She rubbed her fingers over his chapped knuckles. "If this is your 'worse," let me have your back. You still trust me, don't you?"
He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat.
His heart was racing and fear made his palms sweat, but he held her hand gratefully and finally nodded.
"Always," he whispered.
She smiled softly and nodded.
"We'll sort this out, " she said with conviction. "No matter what it takes, alright?"
Her eyes suddenly took on a warm glow.
"But tonight," she went on. "You're sleeping somewhere warm...and I'm introducing you to my son."
May 2012
When Captain Cragen saw the number on the desk phone as it rang, he stopped in the middle of the report he was signing and picked it up immediately. He recognized the U.S. Marshals office phone number.
"Elliot," he said, not having to even ask who it was. He was the only one who called from there. "How are things going?"
"This is Brent Woodhouse, Don," a voice answered from the other end.
Alarm immediately surged through the captain.
"What happened?" he asked dreadfully. "Is Elliot alright?"
The other man laughed pleasantly.
"Oh, yes, of course!" he said. "I'm sorry, Captain. Yes, he's fine."
Cragen let out a breath of relief.
"Actually," Woodhouse went on. "That's why I'm calling. Detective Stabler is doing such a phenomenal job out here that I've been broaching the subject with him of possibly joining my team on a temporary basis, providing you're in agreement."
The captain's eyebrows jumped in surprise.
"How does Elliot feel about this?" he asked. "Is that something he wants to do?"
"He is definitely in favor of the idea," the marshal said. "In fact, he suggested it. He's gained so much ground with our suspects that he's ready to go even deeper inside."
Then Woodhouse threw down his trump card.
"If you don't mind me saying," he continued, "You've got yourself quite a fine detective here, Captain. You should be proud. I can't thank you enough for encouraging us to ask him."
The captain sounded surprised and pleased.
"Well, if he's ok with it, I am, too," he replied. "I'll talk to him about it when he checks in tomorrow and work out the paperwork on my end."
"Actually," Woodhouse said. "These guys have been burning the midnight oil for almost a week straight and most of my team are taking a day to recuperate and catch up on sorely-needed sleep. I'd imagine Detective Stabler is doing the same. Why don't we just consider this his check-in and you can go ahead and start the paperwork?"
"I suppose that will work," Cragen replied. "I'll fax it to you. "
"Sounds great," the other man said. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he went on, "Oh, and Detective Stabler asked me to have you contact his wife and let her know as well, since we don't always know ahead of time when we can get in touch with our loved ones. He doesn't want her to worry."
"No problem," the captain said. He went on seriously. "Take care of my detective, Brent. I mean it."
On the other end, Deputy Marshal Woodhouse held the phone, looking down at Elliot tied to the bed and half-conscious while he spoke to Cragen. The detective seemed to be incoherent from the drugs he had just been given and was hardly making a sound.
Woodhouse smiled widely.
"Take care of him?" he repeated jovially. "I won't let him out of my sight, Captain. I can promise you that."
January 2020
The first night, he didn't sleep.
He would only agree to come back with her on the condition that she had to let him get out behind the building and come in through a service door. He insisted that he not be seen coming in with them.
She stopped to pick up Noah on the way. Elliot stayed in the car and almost lost his breath when he saw them walking back together. Olivia looked absolutely enamored and more lovely than he had ever seen her when she interacted with the young boy who responded equally in kind.
It hurt his heart.
She was a mother. And he hadn't been able to see it happen.
Being in her unfamiliar apartment bordered on overwhelming and he struggled not to let it show.
She offered him Noah's room. He quietly declined. She offered to take the couch herself and let him have her bed. He declined again.
Olivia bit her lip, not sure what to do about the odd tension that had seemed to be permeating from him.
"Ok," she said quietly. "I'm going be a few minutes getting Noah tucked in and then I'll get the couch set up."
She went into her son's room and closed the door. Soon, he heard the sound of their laughing voices through the wall as they commenced what was obviously a nightly ritual.
Tears burned his eyes and he stood up fast. He walked uncertainly around the room, taking in the numerous windows looking out over the city with trepidation.
This is a bad idea. I shouldn't be here.
When Olivia emerged a few minutes later, she carried an armful of blankets, a pillow, and an oversized sweatshirt that she'd found in the back of her closet that she wasn't sure who had left there. She deposited everything on one end of the couch.
They stood looking hesitantly at each other. She stepped over closer to him and reached out to grip his shoulder for a minute, unsure of what to say but still wanting him to know she was there for him.
He looked at her and tried to smile.
She quietly bid him good night and went to her room. He glanced at the couch, then at the windows, and bit his lip anxiously.
He walked back over to the front door, checked that it was locked, and then slid down slowly to the floor to sit against it.
His position was low to the ground, easier to be concealed in, and furthest from the windows. He was close to a corner so that no one could come up behind him and the door was against his back so that he would feel anyone trying to open it.
He wanted to sleep. So, so badly.
But he couldn't.
June 2019
"Please," Kathleen was pleading. "He's choking!"
She looked at the man standing there, growing increasingly more panicked.
"Take the tape off! He's choking!"
Sitting a few feet away, Elizabeth was crying so hard that she couldn't even speak.
Elliot would have hated that his daughters were begging on his behalf...if he had been able to think. But presently, the only thing that registered was that he couldn't get any air.
He had abruptly started to vomit a few minutes after being given drugs and with his mouth unable to open, it had gone back down his throat. Kathleen had seen him suddenly start gagging and turning red and had immediately yelled until one of their captors was forced to come and investigate.
The man was just standing there, watching. Her father was making horrible gurgling sounds by that point and looked absolutely terrified as he realized he was about to choke to death and the man was standing there.
"What's wrong with you?" she screamed. "HE CAN'T BREATHE!"
Elliot's vision was blurring. He looked at Kathleen in desperate panic.
Finally, the man ripped the tape roughly away.
Elliot collapsed forward, spewing and coughing so hard that his stomach ached. He dragged in huge spurts of air like a drowning man. By the time he could breathe normally, he was left hanging painfully by his hands, unable to muster the strength to hold himself up.
Looking disgusted, Emanuel Hernandez stepped over the mess that had gotten on the floor and left without saying anything.
Kathleen broke down into sobs. Elliot struggled to keep his eyes open and even in his state, tried to reassure both of them.
"I'm fine," he croaked. He could barely speak. "It's ok, baby. I'm fine."
He knew he wasn't very convincing.
January 2020
Sudden shaking jarred her out of deep sleep sometime in early morning.
"Mom," a voice whispered loudly. "Mom."
Olivia looked blearily over at Noah. He stood beside her bed, insistently tapping her arm with a worried look on his face.
She sat up immediately.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
That's when she heard screaming coming from the living room.
"Oh, shit," she murmured, hurrying to slide out of the bed. Her son looked bewildered and scared. She laid a hand on Noah's arm. "Stay in here a minute, ok?"
"Ok," he replied.
She hurried out of her bedroom and saw an empty couch, looking like it hadn't been used.
She flipped on the lamp and was surprised to see Elliot on the floor. He was curled up against the front door, hugging his arms over his chest and yelling in his sleep.
Olivia quickly went over and knelt down next to him.
"Elliot," she said. She gently gripped his shoulder. "Elliot, wake up."
He twisted away from her touch and let out a cry that was terrified and terrible. She said his name again, rubbing his arm forcefully, and he abruptly gasped awake. He tried to jump to his feet and nearly toppled over, still half-unconscious.
"Whoa, hey," she said quickly, reaching out instinctively to steady him. "It's ok. It's me."
He was gulping air like he was choking, looking petrified.
"I can't breathe," he gasped in panic. He wheezed frantically and clutched both of her arms with desperate, trembling fingers she crouched in front of him. "I can't-"
He doubled over with sudden sobs that almost took him to the floor. Olivia pulled him over to her, still on her knees, and wrapped him tightly in her arms. He gripped her like he was dying.
"You're ok, Elliot," she said painfully. "Just take some deep breaths. You're ok."
Her voice trembled with emotion as she rubbed her hands up and down his quivering back. He was weeping against her shoulder, so distraught that it made her want to cry with him.
A gut-wrenching thought occurred to her just then. She wondered just how many times he'd woken frightened and alone while out on the street somewhere.
Olivia's stomach went to her feet, thinking about it. She hugged him again and then kissed the side of his head impulsively, unable to help herself. It was breaking her heart to see him this way.
"It's alright," she murmured. "I'm right here."
She held onto him while he tried to calm down, sobs hitching against her. Finally, he blew out a shuddering gasp and pushed himself gently away.
He shivered miserably and couldn't hold her gaze more than a minute before averting his eyes away.
"Sorry," he whispered.
She wordlessly held out her hand and let him grip it as she got to her feet, pulling him up with her.
"I'll get you some water," she said, moving off to the kitchen beside them.
Elliot walked back over to the couch. He sank heavily down into it, leaning his elbows on his knees, and buried his face tiredly into his hands.
Olivia's hands were trembling as she got a glass from the cabinet. Tears blurred her vision and she could barely pour the water.
The entire next day, he did nothing but sleep.
Olivia had left towels for him to take a shower that morning while she got Noah ready for school. He had headed exhaustedly into her room, glanced into the bathroom, and then looked longingly over at her giant, neatly-made bed, piled with fluffy pillows.
He still hadn't come out by the time she and Noah had to leave. When she went back to her room, she found Elliot sprawled sideways on top of her bed, fast asleep. He didn't look to have showered yet and judging by his askew position, seemed like he had collapsed there without being able to help himself.
She didn't have the heart to wake him and just left the room quietly.
After taking her son to school, Olivia spent the drive to the precinct preoccupied and worrying about what to do.
It definitely would raise suspicions from the brass for the captain to be harboring a house guest who was involved in a current case, much less one who's DNA had been linked to the victim and wasn't yet officially ruled out as a suspect. Even though she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Elliot could never hurt anyone, he was going to have to offer an explanation sooner rather than later if she wanted to avoid getting tangled into an IAB headache.
But seeing Elliot so obviously frightened didn't sit well with her, either. Someone had him so scared that he had voluntarily lived on the streets rather than go to his own home and, apparently, had threatened not only his family, but her as well. He told a beat cop that he had been kidnapped, yet his family believed he had been on a long undercover assignment.
He said that he was hiding from a U.S. Marshal, but his shirt was worn by a rape victim who appeared in an encrypted advertisement for sex next to someone else who had the same tattoo he did. He also had ligature marks on his wrists as if he had previously been bound.
She was getting a bad feeling about it all and didn't want to believe what her instincts were trying to scream at her.
About twenty minutes after she arrived, Fin knocked on her office door. She looked up at him standing in the doorway.
"How's Elliot?" he asked her.
For a brief moment, she was sure that he knew Elliot was at her apartment.
Seeing her hesitation, he elaborated.
"Didn't you see him in the hospital yesterday?" Fin went on.
She tried to keep the relief from showing.
"Oh-yeah," she said quickly. "Yeah. He's...getting better."
"I assume you're going to go back," he said. " Tell him I asked about him, ok?"
She could tell that he still felt guilty over his last interaction with Elliot. She looked at him sympathetically.
"I will," she said quietly.
Fin looked at her grimly.
"The photo we saw...that tattoo?" he said. "It was right where the victim said. Next to her."
Olivia's face blanched at the mention of it. He nodded in agreement, knowing what she was feeling.
"Are you thinking what I am, Olivia?" he asked quietly.
She swallowed hard as she looked into his eyes. Her own dread reflected there.
"I really hope I'm wrong," she whispered. " Jesus, Fin...I hope I'm wrong."
Amanda stuck her head in at that moment.
"Call for you, Cap," she said.
Olivia gave him a look. Fin nodded and closed the door behind him as he left.
She picked up the desk phone and pressed the incoming line button.
"Benson."
"Hello, Captain," a familar voice greeted. "It's Romero."
Josh Romero was one of the technicians from their crime lab.
"I wanted to let you know that I got an email from Bridgeport Hospital in Connecticut," Romero went on. "I sent out a nationwide request in CODIS with Melissa Miller's information four days ago and just received a confirmation from them that she was seen there about a month ago."
Olivia reached quickly for a pen.
"Do you have a doctor's name?" she asked. He told it to her and she scribbled it down. "Thanks, Josh."
She stood up and walked to the door.
"Fin," she called out. He looked over. "I need you to go out to Bridgeport."
Elliot woke abruptly and, for a moment, didn't know where he was. He looked around in a panic and then his heartbeat slowly resumed to normal as he remembered.
He lifted himself groggily up off of the duvet and saw a small piece of paper laying on the pillow next to his face. He blinked fuzzily, rubbing his hand over his face and peered at it:
Elliot-
We'll be home around 6 tonight. Help yourself to the kitchen and call me if you need anything.
-Liv
Shivering, he pulled the duvet messily up over himself and sank back into oblivion.
Fin walked in to the emergency department of Bridgeport Hospital and showed his badge to the nurse on duty.
"I'm Sergeant Fin Tutuola," he said , gesturing next to him to Rollins. "This is Detective Amanda Rollins. We're from the Manhattan Special Victims Unit. We need to speak with Doctor Jay Fairfield."
The nurse paged Dr. Fairfield and indicated that he would be with them in a minute. Soon, a heavyset man wearing a sweater vest under a lab coat was walking toward them.
"I'm Dr. Fairfield," he said, looking at them both warily. "How can I help you?"
Rollins explained their case and what the crime lab technician had told Olivia. She showed the doctor a picture of Melissa Miller.
"What can you tell us about her?" she asked. "You told our lab that she was seen back in September. Why was she here?"
The doctor looked disturbed by the recollection of it.
"I can't be completely positive on the face without my notes in front of me, " he said. "But I definitely remember September. A whole group of kids was brought in to the ER by some U.S. Marshals. They told the staff that the kids had been sex trafficked."
Fin hesitated for a second before asking the next question, dreading the answer.
"Was the group just kids?" he asked.
Dr. Faurfield looked surprised, as if he had forgotten.
"Actually, now that you say that...no," he replied. "There was a man brought in with them, too."
"Did you get any of their names?" he went on.
He nodded.
"A few told us theirs," he said. "Your girl did, if she was in our system. I can try to look through my notes and see, if you'd like."
"We'd appreciate it," Fin said.
"You said they were sex trafficked," Amanda said. The doctor nodded, looking at her. "Did you do rape kits on any of them?"
"A few consented," Dr. Fairfield replied. "Not all of them."
Then his next words almost made Fin feel ill.
"But everyone that was brought in had a medical exam," he added. "And I can tell you that all of them had physical signs of sexual penetration. Including the adult man."