Elliot looked at his watch, then honked again at the car in front of him. It was useless, your typical Manhattan traffic jam, and he was going to be late for his appointment. Kathy was going to be angry. He considered calling her, but then the traffic began to move again. When he reached the building, he sprinted up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. He arrived at the doctor's office and scanned the waiting room for his wife.
"Mr. Stabler? They started without you. Sorry," said the receptionist, "They're in the first room on your left. Knock first, please." He could hear talking through the door, but couldn't make out any words. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before knocking. The door opened and Dr. Clark stepped into the hallway.
"Ah, Elliot. Glad you could make it," he greeted. Dr. Clark was an extremely skinny, young man with a shock of black hair and a pierced nose.
"About time," said Kathy angrily. Elliot stepped into the office and sat down in a chair across from her.
"I'm sorry, Kath. There was a traffic jam...."
"I'm sick of your excuses!" She said angrily.
"Oh dear," said Dr. Clark, the marriage therapist, "Why don't we talk about this calmly?" Elliot and Kathy both sighed in unison and looked up at the doctor. He took a seat in a chair between them so that they formed a triangle. "Kathy, why don't you start?"
"It's just that, it seems like more and more, Elliot's making excuses for why he can't be with me."
"That's not fair...."Elliot began, but Dr. Clark interrupted.
"Shhh! This is very interesting. Please continue, Kathy, what sort of excuses?"
"Well, it's mostly work. I mean, I understand that it's a legitimate excuse, but it's been four years since you started your new job, and every year you tell me you're going to transfer to a less demanding job, but it never happens."
"All right. Now, Elliot. What do you have to say to this?" Dr. Clark turned his full attention to Elliot, who wanted to smack the concerned look off his juvenile face.
"Every single excuse I make is true. I've never lied about going to work or coming home late. Sure, a couple of times I've gone out with my friends to get something to eat, but Kathy can't expect me to just go to work and come straight home. My day doesn't end when I leave the precinct. Today's my day off. I'm spending it with you, right?" he said.
"And what about a transfer?" Kathy interjected, finally talking straight to him instead of through the counsellor.
"I still don't know about that. It's not as easy as it sounds, and I actually feel like I'm making a difference here," he responded, looking down at his hands.
"Well, then. I really think this is an issue that you two need to be talking about a lot more. Talking will get this all out so you can deal with it," Dr. Clark stated. The problem was, Elliot didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to hear about all the things that were wrong with him.
"It's Olivia," Kathy muttered under her breath. Elliot's head shot up.
"Olivia?!"
"Whoa!" Dr. Clark said, waving his arms between them to disconnect their glares. "Who is Olivia? Maybe you'd better answer first, Elliot."
"Olivia Benson is my partner at work and my friend, nothing more," he said firmly, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn't entirely true. Kathy scoffed.
"Kathy, why don't you trust him?" Dr. Clark asked.
"Well, if I had a reason to, I would," she said bitterly.
"Now, now. Don't do the anger dance," Clark admonished. Kathy looked like she wanted to kill him, too. They sat in silence for several minutes until Clark broke in again, "How's your sex life?" They both stared at him. "I'm serious."
"We have four children," Elliot said.
"So I suggest that your main focus in the near future should be to find more time alone without the kids. They must have friends they can go to, right? Or relatives?" To give him credit, he was trying to bring the talk back into a more positive light before the time ran out. Kathy nodded, brightening up, but Elliot only stared past her at the bookshelves.
He prayed for his cell phone to ring and call him away to a crime scene, it would be better than sititng here with a wife he no longer loved and a doctor he hated and thinking about their plans for his evening. He was just too damn tired.
At the end of the session, he got in his car and tried to shake off the vibes. At least he had the whole drive back to get his mind straight.
Or he would have, except a call came in when he was halfway to the bridge. He called his house on his cell phone and told Maureen where he was.
*********
The phones at the SVU were ringing off the hook. Cragen pulled his detectives into his office.
"How did this get out?" he demanded. They were as mystified as he was, but no one answered. "Did anyone else have access to the information besides you two?" He pointed at Olivia and Elliot.
"Well we briefed you guys on it. Someone could've overheard," Olivia offered.
"Okay. There's no way to fix this now, but please be more careful in the future. There were about a million reasons we didn't want this in the press." He was pissed, so they all nodded understandingly and exited the office before talking.
"Well, this is peachy," Munch commented sarcastically.
"All the more reason to catch this hump," stated Elliot.
"Maybe it's better this way," Olivia began, "People know he's out there. He might mess up."
"No. No way. That fibres thing was the only lead we had. Now he knows we know, he'll ditch it," Fin said. Olivia nodded.
"I guess," she said. Her phone rang. "Benson." The guys turned back to the chalkboard, where a list of evidence was posted.
"So our perp knocks her out in the office. Why does he go all the way to Brooklyn before he rapes her?" Fin posed.
"To throw us off?" Munch said. He sat down in his chair and put his feet on his desk..
"Or he can't get it up at her office. Has to go to Brooklyn. Maybe he has memories associated with it," Elliot surmised, putting his hands on his hips and leaning stiffly against the wall..
"Hey, we've got the doc, we don't need you spouting off psychological ramblings," Munch interjected.
"It doesn't matter why," said Olivia loudly, then checked her voice and walked over to them. "A woman said she saw her neighbour dump an orange jacket in the dumpster. He matches the description of our perp," she informed.
"Let's go," Elliot said, grabbing his coat.
*************
The jacket matched, and they hoped that the DNA they collected would, too. Cragen seemed to have forgotten that morning's crisis, and the city was pleased once again by the hard-working NYPD.
"Got any plans for tonight?" Elliot asked Olivia when they returned to the precinct. They were just finishing up the preliminary reports. It was seven o'clock.
"Yeah. I was planning on eating leftovers and watching sad movies on TV," she stated half-jokingly.
"Oh. Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat, but since you have plans...." He grinned, carrying on the joke.
"I'd love to, but you've hardly been home in the last week. It's okay if you want to go," she offered. He looked at her, slightly confused.
"I'm glad you're concerned about my home life, Liv, but I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to go." He wondered why she always insisted that he go home to Kathy. Even when she had been stalked by that freak Eric Plummer. All he had wanted was to make sure she was safe, but she refused his invitation to his house for dinner. And then there was the time when he had been stressing out over Kathy and he had made the big mistake of telling Olivia. He wanted her to say, "Leave her. She's killing you." Instead, she had told he that he couldn't screw the relationship up because it was "the best thing he'd ever had." He didn't know that it was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say to him. That was another thing about being Elliot's partner: saying things you didn't mean. "Okay then. Just let me finish up here," Olivia answered. Elliot nodded and began to pack up.
**********
After dinner, Elliot escorted Olivia back to her apartment so he could get a file for work. She pulled her hand off the doorknob abruptly and looked at it.
"Ew, it's all sticky," she said, disgusted. She turned it with the tips of her fingers and let Elliot in. She called out from the washroom as she washed her hands, "Make yourself at home! I'll be out in a second." Elliot looked around the small suite. He had only been there a couple of times. It was fairly clean and functional but he guessed the rooms he couldn't see were probably messier. He sat down on a chair and leaned back. She emerged from the washroom and pulled a key out of her pocket. She opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet and pulled out a folder, handing it to him.
"There you go." She led him to the door, where he stood awkwardly. No gesture seemed appropriate. Hugs and kisses were too mushy and too personal. A handshake wasn't personal enough. He gave her a limp wave.
"Bye."
"See ya." She shut the door.
**********
The woman called the police at 2:04am. By 2:30, Olivia was at the crime scene, a park by the pier. The officers were swarming, blocking off the area. She glanced at her watch. It would take Elliot another twenty minutes to get there, give or take. She didn't see what harm it would do to start without him.
"What happened here?" she asked a uniform who was bagging evidence. She wished she had worn sneakers; the park was a mess of mud.
"Rape. The victim says she managed to escape to the docks to call us. I didn't question her further," he began.
"Where is she now?" Olivia interrupted.
"In my patrol car, trying to calm down. Do you want me to take her to get her rape kit?" he asked. Olivia nodded.
"I'll come with you." She pulled over another officer. "When my partner, Detective Stabler, gets here, will you tell him I'm at the hospital with the victim?"
********
The woman's name was Arlene Hanson. She refused to talk on the way to the hospital, pursing her lips obstinately while attempting to control the sobs that shuddered through her body. She had long black hair and was clutching a torn dress around her willowy form. Olivia gave her her long, beige trenchcoat and she took it without a word, but she took Olivia's hand and held it tightly between hers as if to make sure it was real.
After the kit was done, a nurse escorted Olivia into a small room where Arlene was sitting on a hospital bed.
"Your coat is on the chair, Detective," said Arlene. It startled Olivia. Arlene's voice sounded too high-pitched. It didn't match her appearance. Olivia took a moment to retrieve the coat before responding.
"Thank you. Can you tell me what happened to you?" Arlene nodded hesitantly.
"I was driving back from work. I was on the night shift. Anyway, I got a flat tire so I managed to pull over by the park and I got out to change it. Next thing I know, this guy grabs me, pushes me down, tears off my dress and starts raping me. I started to scream and he slapped me. So I reached over and grabbed one of the tools. You know, the one that unscrews the tire? And I whammed it into his head and ran off to the docks. I hid, and when he was gone, I called."
"Did you get a good look at him?" Arlene nodded.
************
"About 6'2'', 200 lbs, white with red hair, wearing a black shirt with the embroidery "Marty" and blue jeans. He was mostly bald and he's got a tattoo of a skull on his hip," Olivia explained to Elliot as they left the hospital.
"Better than usual, but we won't be able to ID him unless we get him in a lineup."
"Or a DNA test. Get anything else from the crime scene?" He shook his head.
"Her car was gone. Perp could've taken it. We couldn't find any tools lying around, either. So if she hit him with something, his DNA's gone. How was the rape kit?"
"We got semen that we'll run through the database tomorrow. She had bruising on the thighs and arms where he held her." Elliot said nothing. "Say, I think I'll go home and get changed. Meet you at the precinct. Let's get Arlene in to do a sketch." She looked up at his face and noticed that he was really strung out. "You all right?" she added. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.
"Yeah. No sleep," he answered. She didn't believe his explanation.
"Elliot, you know, if you need anything...." He nodded and patted her on the shoulder clumsily.
"Thanks, Liv." She paused a moment before leaving, searching his face. Then she turned and left.
*******
Arlene waas scheduled to come in at three that afternoon to describe the perp and the tattoo to the sketch artist. When she didn't show by 3:30, Fin and Munch went over to her place to check on her. Olivia and Elliot were still sitting at their desks when the other detectives returned. They looked like they 'd been hit by a bus.
"What happened?" Elliot asked.
"You mean the Captain hasn't told you yet?" They glanced to Cragen's door, which opened as if on command. He was followed by one of the Sergeants from the I.A.B. Olivia and Elliot wondered how he could've come in without them noticing. Cragen's face was cloudy, as if he had just lost a fight.
"Elliot Stabler? Olivia Benson?" inquired the Sergeant. "I'm Sgt. Blanchard. I'm officially informing you that you are under investigation by the I.A.B. for these leaks to the press. During this time, you are suspended from duty. May I have your badges and service revolvers please?" They just looked at him incredulously. Finally, Elliot spoke angrily.
"Pardon?"
"Your badges and service revolvers. And I would ask you to vacate the building as soon as possible." It didn't make sense to Olivia. She passed him what he asked for, glancing at Cragen, who wasn't doing anything but standing there, looking defeated. Sgt. Blanchard nodded at him and departed, tucking his new possessions into a bag. Elliot clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes at the Sargeant's back.
"Leaks? Plural?" Olivia began, furrowing her brow.
"Arlene Hanson is dead," Cragen stated stiffly. She blanched, remembering Arlene's black hair and imagining her lying in a pool of blood. She could still feel her hand clutching hers in the patrol car.
"What? How?" Elliot said. Cragen slapped a piece of paper on the desk between them. It was a print-off from a news website.
"This has the description of the perp. He was probably afraid she'd ID him," Elliot began.
"So who did it?" Fin asked.
"Not me," Elliot denied at the same time as Olivia said, "Neither of us!" She looked at him, puzzled.
"I didn't think so," Munch said, "Look, we're going to find out what's going on." She was shaking her head, only half-understanding. She felt her stomach lurch and ran to the bathroom. Then she threw up. God, she hadn't thrown up on the job since her first crime scene. She washed out her mouth and went back into the squadroom, face pale.
"You okay?" Elliot asked.
"Yeah. I guess. I should go home," she said, speaking it to make sure it was true. She had to leave.
"I'll come. We should figure out how this happened. Get this cleared up," Elliot said. But she shook her head.
"No. Come over tomorrow morning. I need to be alone, I think," she said. She turned back halfway to the door, "How did she....?"
"Shot in the head. It was quick. She didn't suffer long," Munch reassured. Olivia swallowed, taking in the information.
***********
Kathy had heard the news before Elliot got home, probably from Cragen, but it was sort of a relief to not have to repeat it. She was waiting at the door for him in a nightgown and she wrapped him in a consoling hug as soon as he walked in. He bent over her and buried his face in her hair, breathing it in. At that point he realized, he felt nothing. The smell of her hair used to make him happy, but it didn't do anything now. He pulled back and she kissed him full on the mouth, passionately. He was not in the mood for this.
"Kath....," he began, pulling his mouth away.
"What?" She said innocently. "I took the kids to my parents'." He didn't say anything, just headed to the living room. "Do you want to talk about it?" She tried again. He didn't. He really didn't, but he thought he'd rather talk about it than pretend to be excited about the prospect of sex with her.
"Okay," he exhaled slowly. "I don't know where to start......it's ridiculous. They've got nothing on us.....on me."
"I know. They'll have to admit they made a mistake. You didn't do anything wrong," implying with her voice that Olivia had. Elliot shut down as soon as she took that tone and rested his head in his hands. She sat down next to him on the couch and put an arm around his shoulder.
"We just need to prove that we're innocent in this," he used the 'we' purposefully, to show her that he wasn't about to abandon his partner. She'd just have to accept that.
"Okay......okay," she said, rubbing his back in circular motions. She stood up and smiled weakly, "Do you want some coffee or something?," she offered.
"No thanks. I'm going to turn in," he answered, trying to project a weariness that would make him unfit to do much other than sleep. Kathy followed him upstairs and crawled into bed. When he joined her, she tried to wrap her arms around him, but he shrugged her off, thinking about Olivia, lying alone and awake in bed in her apartment across the river.
*********