title: religious ecstasy - chapter three
author: duck
rating: pg-13
author note: opus dei and the complaints against them are real. the sanctuary on whitehall street is not. i've been to ny three times in my whole life and i only picked the street cause it was near the park. i've tried to keep portrayal of the opus dei members as accurate as i can. and i have no idea about the detectives' respective faith.
disclaimer: same as it ever was. still not mine. although this olivia's acting slightly ooc, so she might be mine [shrug]. she's just a little cranky.
- Special Victims Unit Squad Room -
- Monday April 26th 1:13pm -
"No--" smack "--no--" smack "--no--" smack "--no--" smack "--and no." Elliot slapped the last of the folders down on the stack on his desk. "I've got nothing. You?"
Olivia sent a venomous glare at her own stack of files. "No, the worst I've found is a couple assault charges and a few DUIs. If our guy is here he's escalated or never committed a crime before."
"Violent nature suggests escalation," Elliot commented. Olivia gave him an irritated look that said she knew. Elliot held up his hands. "Look, we're both exhausted from surveillance last night. Try not to take it out on me."
"I didn't even say anything!" she protested.
"You don't have to." He stood abruptly and headed for the coffee machine. "Fresh cup?"
"God yes," she said, sighing. This case was getting to her and Elliot was right; it wasn't fair that she was taking it out on him. "I'm sorry," she said softly as he set down the steaming coffee in front of her. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
He gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before collapsing into his own chair. Propping his feet on the desk he gave her an encouraging half-smile. "It's a tough case and we're all dead on our feet. No leads, just some kooky Catholics."
"I think it's the last one that's getting to me," she said, taking a sip of the coffee. It burned her mouth but it was a rare privilege to have hot coffee at the station house. "I don't know what it is about them, but I just get this unsettled feeling about them. I'm convinced our perp is here somewhere."
"Yeah, and only a couple hundred people to sift out," Elliot said as he squeezed his eyes shut. He sat there motionless for a moment before opening his eyes again. "I feel it too, Liv. My gut says he's here, but who knows where."
His partner didn't answer but gazed at her computer screen blankly through half-lidded eyes. He snapped his fingers in her general direction and she glanced up, startled. "We've only got thirty left to look through. Let's finish up, okay?" She nodded and reached for the list. He grabbed it before she could.
"You didn't take a nap this morning, did you?" She jerked her head back to look at him.
"What? Of course I did," she assured. He shook his head at her. "But--" His head continued to wag back and forth. The pout that formed on her lips would have been attractive if she didn't looked like death warmed over. "Dammit, Elliot! How can you always tell?"
He pointed up the stairs to the crib. "You. Sleep. Now."
"Sure thing, Dad," she said as she rose.
- Corner of Broad and Water Streets -
-Monday April 26th 11:43pm -
"Elliot."
"Hmm," he said groggily.
"You're dozing."
"Sorry. You're turn to be mom." His four hours of sleep this morning seemed like a distant memory. "You can even tell me 'told you so' if you want."
"But I didn't tell you anything," she said, watching the opposite corner where three prostitutes were putting themselves on display for a man walking by. He kept walking so she turned back to her partner. "C'mon Elliot. You've gotta stay awake."
"I am."
"Hardly."
"Talk to me then." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Keep me awake. Figured out yet what's bothering you?"
"Not really." She still seemed unwilling to pursue the topic but he decided to press anyway.
"Want to know what I think?" She rested her arm on the door and turned to face him fully.
"This should be good."
"I think you're uncomfortable with people who have so much faith. The fact that they've devoted themselves so completely to something that no one can prove exists makes you leery. You're incapable of such absolute faith yourself and anyone who is scares you."
She actually laughed at him. "Did you even read the things I left on your desk?"
"What, the things you found when you were supposed to be sleeping?" She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. "Sorry, out of bounds. We already resolved that fight. And no, I didn't have time."
"Let me fill you in, then," she said, acidity reeking through her tone. "Opus Dei numeraries are expected to wear the cilice, a spiked belt, around their thigh at all times prescribed by their leaders. They also whip themselves in addition to performing other smaller daily acts of corporal mortification, which includes cold showers and sleeping on the floor."
"No wonder Alphonso didn't want to cooperate with us. All that's enough to make anyone really grouchy," he replied flippantly.
"This is serious stuff, Elliot." She locked eyes with him, willing him to realize how important it was. "Women are completely unequal and their recruiting practices are aggressive and best likened to those of a cult. They discourage potential members from telling anyone about the life-changing decision they're making. They drive a rift between parents and children, husbands and wives. All so their members' ultimate loyalty lies with the Opus Dei."
Elliot groaned and rubbed his eyes. "It is a prelate too."
"You're Catholic, you understand that stuff better than I do," Olivia admitted.
"A prelate is defined by its members, rather than a physical space like a diocese is. They could have members in many different countries," he explained.
"They do," she confirmed. "Over 80,000 of them."
"Well it's not exactly a number to be afraid of," he said with a small smile. "But then again we're only worried about a couple hundred of them here in the city. Okay, let's just say for the moment that you're right and there's something in their teachings that convinced one of them to kill prostitutes. What is it? And do you think the good Brother Alphonso is covering for them?"
"Well they certainly do like pain, and the entire group takes the teachings of God and their founder very literally. They might take active steps towards stopping prostitution. And as for the perp for all we know it's Brother Alphonso himself," Olivia said, thinking aloud. They both gazed thoughtfully at the street corner where the three prostitutes still stood. The silence was broken by the bleat of a cell phone. They automatically reached into their pockets, but Elliot held his up.
"Mine." He flipped it open. "Stabler." He met Olivia's questioning gaze, then closed his eyes. "Okay, we'll be right there." He snapped the phone closed and opened his eyes again. "Bad news. We got another set of victims about two miles from here."
[tbc]
author: duck
rating: pg-13
author note: opus dei and the complaints against them are real. the sanctuary on whitehall street is not. i've been to ny three times in my whole life and i only picked the street cause it was near the park. i've tried to keep portrayal of the opus dei members as accurate as i can. and i have no idea about the detectives' respective faith.
disclaimer: same as it ever was. still not mine. although this olivia's acting slightly ooc, so she might be mine [shrug]. she's just a little cranky.
- Special Victims Unit Squad Room -
- Monday April 26th 1:13pm -
"No--" smack "--no--" smack "--no--" smack "--no--" smack "--and no." Elliot slapped the last of the folders down on the stack on his desk. "I've got nothing. You?"
Olivia sent a venomous glare at her own stack of files. "No, the worst I've found is a couple assault charges and a few DUIs. If our guy is here he's escalated or never committed a crime before."
"Violent nature suggests escalation," Elliot commented. Olivia gave him an irritated look that said she knew. Elliot held up his hands. "Look, we're both exhausted from surveillance last night. Try not to take it out on me."
"I didn't even say anything!" she protested.
"You don't have to." He stood abruptly and headed for the coffee machine. "Fresh cup?"
"God yes," she said, sighing. This case was getting to her and Elliot was right; it wasn't fair that she was taking it out on him. "I'm sorry," she said softly as he set down the steaming coffee in front of her. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
He gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before collapsing into his own chair. Propping his feet on the desk he gave her an encouraging half-smile. "It's a tough case and we're all dead on our feet. No leads, just some kooky Catholics."
"I think it's the last one that's getting to me," she said, taking a sip of the coffee. It burned her mouth but it was a rare privilege to have hot coffee at the station house. "I don't know what it is about them, but I just get this unsettled feeling about them. I'm convinced our perp is here somewhere."
"Yeah, and only a couple hundred people to sift out," Elliot said as he squeezed his eyes shut. He sat there motionless for a moment before opening his eyes again. "I feel it too, Liv. My gut says he's here, but who knows where."
His partner didn't answer but gazed at her computer screen blankly through half-lidded eyes. He snapped his fingers in her general direction and she glanced up, startled. "We've only got thirty left to look through. Let's finish up, okay?" She nodded and reached for the list. He grabbed it before she could.
"You didn't take a nap this morning, did you?" She jerked her head back to look at him.
"What? Of course I did," she assured. He shook his head at her. "But--" His head continued to wag back and forth. The pout that formed on her lips would have been attractive if she didn't looked like death warmed over. "Dammit, Elliot! How can you always tell?"
He pointed up the stairs to the crib. "You. Sleep. Now."
"Sure thing, Dad," she said as she rose.
- Corner of Broad and Water Streets -
-Monday April 26th 11:43pm -
"Elliot."
"Hmm," he said groggily.
"You're dozing."
"Sorry. You're turn to be mom." His four hours of sleep this morning seemed like a distant memory. "You can even tell me 'told you so' if you want."
"But I didn't tell you anything," she said, watching the opposite corner where three prostitutes were putting themselves on display for a man walking by. He kept walking so she turned back to her partner. "C'mon Elliot. You've gotta stay awake."
"I am."
"Hardly."
"Talk to me then." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Keep me awake. Figured out yet what's bothering you?"
"Not really." She still seemed unwilling to pursue the topic but he decided to press anyway.
"Want to know what I think?" She rested her arm on the door and turned to face him fully.
"This should be good."
"I think you're uncomfortable with people who have so much faith. The fact that they've devoted themselves so completely to something that no one can prove exists makes you leery. You're incapable of such absolute faith yourself and anyone who is scares you."
She actually laughed at him. "Did you even read the things I left on your desk?"
"What, the things you found when you were supposed to be sleeping?" She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. "Sorry, out of bounds. We already resolved that fight. And no, I didn't have time."
"Let me fill you in, then," she said, acidity reeking through her tone. "Opus Dei numeraries are expected to wear the cilice, a spiked belt, around their thigh at all times prescribed by their leaders. They also whip themselves in addition to performing other smaller daily acts of corporal mortification, which includes cold showers and sleeping on the floor."
"No wonder Alphonso didn't want to cooperate with us. All that's enough to make anyone really grouchy," he replied flippantly.
"This is serious stuff, Elliot." She locked eyes with him, willing him to realize how important it was. "Women are completely unequal and their recruiting practices are aggressive and best likened to those of a cult. They discourage potential members from telling anyone about the life-changing decision they're making. They drive a rift between parents and children, husbands and wives. All so their members' ultimate loyalty lies with the Opus Dei."
Elliot groaned and rubbed his eyes. "It is a prelate too."
"You're Catholic, you understand that stuff better than I do," Olivia admitted.
"A prelate is defined by its members, rather than a physical space like a diocese is. They could have members in many different countries," he explained.
"They do," she confirmed. "Over 80,000 of them."
"Well it's not exactly a number to be afraid of," he said with a small smile. "But then again we're only worried about a couple hundred of them here in the city. Okay, let's just say for the moment that you're right and there's something in their teachings that convinced one of them to kill prostitutes. What is it? And do you think the good Brother Alphonso is covering for them?"
"Well they certainly do like pain, and the entire group takes the teachings of God and their founder very literally. They might take active steps towards stopping prostitution. And as for the perp for all we know it's Brother Alphonso himself," Olivia said, thinking aloud. They both gazed thoughtfully at the street corner where the three prostitutes still stood. The silence was broken by the bleat of a cell phone. They automatically reached into their pockets, but Elliot held his up.
"Mine." He flipped it open. "Stabler." He met Olivia's questioning gaze, then closed his eyes. "Okay, we'll be right there." He snapped the phone closed and opened his eyes again. "Bad news. We got another set of victims about two miles from here."
[tbc]