Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, except for Jake Boyd. If I owned the rest of them, I would be a very rich person right now, and I'm not. Unfortunately.

Please read and review, but please be kind. This is my first SVU story. Thanks! And now, on with the show!

"I need to talk to you in the other room," Elliott said to me, nudging my arm. "Please."

"Sure." I snapped out of my revelry and followed Elliot out of the interrogation room. As soon as the door shut, Elliot turned to me.

"What the hell is the matter with you," he demanded angrily. "Why aren't you backing me?"

"You're doing fine," I said.

"No, I am drowning in there and you're off in la-la land somewhere. Help me, will you please?"

"Fine. I'll help you. Get off my case." I was defensive now.

"Excuse me." The door opened and Captain Cragen looked in. "Is there a problem?"

"No," said Elliot.

"No," I repeated.

"Then would one of you like to tell me why two of my best detectives are out here and the suspect is in there?"

"We just had to clear something up," Eliot replied quickly. "We'll go back now."

"Thank you." Cragen was gone.

"Let's play ball," Elliott said, turning to go back to the interrogation room. I followed and shut the door behind us.

"Okay, Boyd," Elliot said, taking a seat at the table across from Jake Boyd. "Let's try this again. Where were you on the night of the 13th?"

"I was home asleep in bed. Alone." Boyd looked at me, and I felt a chill run through me. Something about him unsettled me. It was like I'd seen him somewhere before. That was what I was trying to figure out when Elliot called me on it.

"You were in bed asleep at eight at night," Elliot said skeptically. "Are you sure that's the story you want to stick with?"

"That's what happened," Boyd said angrily. "I want my lawyer."

So do I," Elliot replied dryly.

"You know we have you, don't you," I said to Boyd. "We have your fingerprints at the scene, and we're going to have your DNA in a few hours. It's just a matter of time."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we, Sweetie?"

"This is Detective Benson," Elliot snarled. "Show a little respect."

"My apologies," Jake Boyd nodded at me and fixed me in his gaze, causing me to shiver again.

"Whatever," I said quickly. "I'm through here."

"So am I," Elliot said. "Let's go."

Back on the other side of the one-way mirror," I stopped and looked back at Boyd. "Did you notice anything about him?"

"Besides the fact that he's raped four women and apparently has no soul? No."

Elliot studied me with one of his looks that makes me feel as though he can see right through me. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." I blinked. "Nothing. I'm just tired."

"Well, get some rest, will you?" Elliot turned and headed for his desk.

"I will."

"No, I mean now. Go home. I can handle booking and processing Boyd. You go home. You need it."

"Elliot…" I started to protest.

"Look, for once could you just admit to needing a break and take it? I've got it under control." Elliot sat down.

"Okay. Fine. I'm going. Tell Don where I went."

"Sure thing. Are you going to get a cab?" Elliot watched me get my coat on.

"Uh-huh." I nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Sorry about earlier," I offered.

"What about earlier?" Elliot smiled at me. "Did we fight earlier?"

I tried to smile back. "Good night."

"Good night."

I rode home and let myself into my apartment, still lost in thought. Something about Jake Boyd left me unsettled and nervous, which I never was. I couldn't afford to be, not in my line of work. I pushed Jake Boyd to the back of my mind and tried to focus on the new movie I had been looking forward to seeing.

At midnight, long after the movie was over, the dishes were washed and three loads of laundry were put away, I was still thinking of Jake Boyd. I came to a decision. I had to talk to him. I needed some answers. I dressed and hailed a cab.

"Detective Benson," Jake Boyd was lead into the room and fixed me with his now familiar piercing gaze. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where were you living in 1964?" I demanded.

"1964?" Jake thought. "Why, right here in Manhattan, Detective. Why do you ask?"

"Did you know a Lily Benson?"

"Lily Benson? A relative of yours?"

"My Mother," I spat out through clenched teeth. "Did you know her?"

Jake smiled an evil smile and blinked. "Perhaps I did. The name does sound familiar. Did she ever mention me? Your Mother."

I was ice cold and could feel myself trembling. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You've figured me out, haven't you, Olivia?"

"How do you know my name?" I looked at Jake.

"Your mother? She was a special girl. Nineteen years old when we met. She was just of high school and thought she was quite the grown up. We had some wonderful times together." Jake was speaking in a calm, smooth voice and I was suddenly feeling sick. I didn't want to hear what he had to say, and yet…

"We went out several times," Jake continued. "Your mother liked to have a good time, and she liked her alcohol. It loosened her up."

"You raped my mother," I choked out, standing up shakily.

"Raped her? Now, Detective…"

"You raped her, you sick jerk!" I lost all control and lunged for Boyd's throat, pummeling him.