Title: 800 Miles

Chapter Title: Back to New York

Disclaimer: Yeah, right, like Iown SVU and ER! I wish

a/n: Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry it took so long to update!


"Patrick Regalato? This is the police. Open this door NOW!" Ilona yelled, banging on the door of their suspect's apartment. She had brought Elliot along with her to pick him up.

"Son of a bitch," Elliot muttered to himself, "Here, let me try."

He drew his gun and kicked the door open.

"Chicago PD!" Ilona yelled, and the two began searching the apartment, which appeared to be deserted.

"I guess he left town again, huh?" Elliot said to Ilona.

"Maybe not," Ilona said, pointing to the fire escape leading from Patrick Regalato's window to the ground below. There was a man clambering down the ladder.

"Let's get him!" Elliot said, grabbing onto the ladder. Ilona went out the front door of the building to try to stop him from getting away.

Patrick reached the ground just as Ilona turned the corner into the alley.

"Freeze! Chicago PD!" she yelled, her gun drawn.

"Oh, and don't forget the NYPD, too," said Elliot, jumping off the ladder and pointing his gun at Patrick.

"You want to do the honors?" Ilona asked.

"Sure," Elliot replied, "Patrick Regalato, you are under arrest for the murders of Kaye Shelton, Ann Landers, Alyssa Reese, Megan Loeman, Karen Milton, Stephanie Margarella, Chastity Hires, and Brianna Santapola and the attempted murder of Gabriella Feltre…" He continued to read Patrick his Miranda rights as he led him to the squad car.


"What the hell are you dragging me down here for?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, I think you know exactly why you're here," Elliot said, getting closer to his face with every word.

"Yeah, your little friend, Priscilla, ratted you out," Faizan said.

"Who the hell is Priscilla?" Patrick asked. He was hoping that he would be able to trick the detectives into thinking that it wasn't him, but they weren't fooled by his charade.

"You killed eight women, almost nine, so you better start talking!" Elliot yelled, pushing Patrick up against the wall of the interrogation room.

"You don't have anything against me," their suspect said.

"Well, that has yet to be determined. We have a written statement and CSU is searching your apartment and car at this very moment," Faizan said.

"You can't do that! You need a search warrant!" Patrick yelled. His voice was slightly muffled, as he was still pinned against the wall.

"We got one, so you needn't worry about your constitutional rights being violated," Faizan said.

"I'm still not saying anything until my lawyer gets here!" he said.

"Doesn't matter. Either way, you're going straight to the needle," Elliot told him.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing talking to my client without me present?" asked Charles Stott, the lawyer Patrick had called.

"Oh, we were just having a little chat," Elliot said, letting go of Patrick.

"Well, he's not saying anymore," Charles said.

"Fine then, if he's not going to talk, we'll just let the case go to the grand jury," Faizan.

"You won't win," Charles told him, "but try if you must."

"Oh, trust me, we will," said Elliot.


"So, how strong do you think the case is against him?" Ilona asked Kristen.

"Well, we're still waiting on the report on what CSU found, and I heard that Patrick had a residence in New York, which they're also searching," Kristen told her.

Just then, Elliot's cell phone rang.

"Stabler," Elliot said.

"Hey Elliot, this is Fin," Detective Tutuola answered, "Guess what we found in Patrick Regalato's New York residence?"

"Please tell me it's something good," Elliot replied hopefully.

"Journals," Fin said, "of all the attacks, except for the last three, which I'm assuming might be in his Chicago place."

"Alright," Elliot said, "I'll let CSU know so they can look for that."

"Okay, if we find anything else, we'll give you a call," Fin said.

"Okay, bye," Elliot said, hanging up the phone.

"So?" Malia asked.

"They found journals of the first six attacks," Elliot said, "Just tell your CSU guys to look for three more of them in Patrick's apartment."

There was a look on relief of all their faces. The case was starting to look a little shaky, but now, with the journals, they were sure that he would be convicted.


"So Patrick, I hear you like to keep journals," Malia said to him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, still trying to worm his way out of it.

"You know, the ones where you talk about all the women you attacked," Olivia told him.

"I didn't attack anybody, and if I did, I'm not stupid enough to keep records," Patrick said.

"Well, then I guess you wouldn't mind writing something for us," Malia said.

"I'm not writing anything for you slobs!" he yelled.

"Sorry, but you're going to have to," Kristen said, walking into the room, "I just got a court order that you have to take the test or else you will be found in contempt."

"What? How come I was unaware of this?" Charles asked, "My client is not doing anything!"

"Well then, I guess you can go to jail with him if you would like," Kristen said.

"Shut up Charles, you asshole!" Patrick spat at his lawyer, "Fine, I'll write you your little story if you want. I ain't going to jail, though."

"Okay then, just write this paragraph for us," Malia said, handing him a pad of paper, a pen, and the paragraph he was supposed to write, "And don't you dare try and trick us, we'll find out."


"Yep, this is a definite match," said Matt Ruffe, a CSU technician for the Chicago Police Department. He had just finished analyzing the journals and the sample of Patrick's handwriting. "Whoever wrote these journals also is the person sitting in your interrogation room."

"Great, thanks," Ilona said, "I'll go bring this back to the station with me."

When Ilona got back to the station, she immediately noticed that something was wrong. Instead of finding five detectives hanging around the squad room, she found five infuriated detectives and an angry ADA all sporting multiple injuries to the face.

"What the hell happened?" she asked in bewilderment, "I leave for half an hour and a melee breaks out?"

"He just went psycho," Olivia, suffering from a black eye, began to explain; "He started swinging at anything or anyone that was in the room. We had all of us and three uniforms, and we were barely able to subdue him."

"Yeah, and somehow he ended up dead," Kevin said, "Probably blunt force trauma; all the uniforms were clubbing him. It was all in self defense, of course, but whenever people die in police custody, we get hit pretty hard. People don't like the fact that we're allowed to use force."

"Yeah, well, I guess he's of the streets for good now," Elliot said. He had gotten a bloody lip and a small cut on his cheek, which he was dabbing at, trying to wipe all the blood away.

"You think we'll get in much trouble? Two suspects, both dead; it seems a bit suspicious doesn't it?" asked Malia worriedly.

"You probably won't, it was just some sort of odd luck that both of your suspects died while in police custody. I'm sure the tapes will confirm that. I have to go and try to explain all this to my boss, he won't be pleased at all," Kristen told her.

"So, what do we do now?" Dan asked, "I mean, we've already given our statements and everything, so how about drinks?"

"Okay, I'm pretty sure we could all use a nice, cold beer right about now," Faizan said, "and, of course, some ribs."

"Alright, let's just grab our coats," Elliot said, "but we can't stay out too late; Liv and I have to get up at 3:00, our plane leaves at 6:00."

"You have to leave tomorrow?" Dan asked.

"Yeah, we called Cragen after everything happened and he arranged for us to fly home as soon as possible; we have tons of other cases that we should be working on," Olivia said.

"Not to mention my vacation with the kids," Elliot said, "We should get in early enough for me to make the flight to Hawaii."

"Oh, yeah, that's right, I had completely forgotten about that!" Olivia exclaimed, "See? All that worrying was for nothing!"

"Okay guys, ready to go?" asked Faizan, who had been impatiently waiting by the door. He couldn't wait to get some ribs.


"Hey, if you're ever in Chicago again, remember to give us a call," Dan said to Elliot and Olivia as they were about to board their plane home.

"Okay, we'll remember!" Olivia said. She turned towards Elliot and said, "Can you believe this? They couldn't even give us seats next to each other."

"Yeah, I know, but we're only one seat apart," Elliot said, picking up his carry on bag.

When the two partners arrived at their seats, they found a very familiar person sitting in the seat in their row.

"Hello detectives!" exclaimed the wonderfully talented, handsome, lovable Chief of Staff of Chicago's County General Hospital.


THE END!