Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.
The crib was full of sleeping officers. The room was silent, save for the barely audible moans coming from a lower bunk in the far corner. Munch tossed from side to side, the pillow clutched in his hands. "No, God please no…" The image of his friend's mutilated carcass invaded his dream….he could hear Elliot's screams for help echoing around in his ears.
"Do something!" he shouted in his dream. The other officers were only watching as Elliot was viciously slashed. John tried to run to help him, but he was paralyzed. Elliot caught his eye. "John!" he shouted. "John!"
"John." He awoke with a gasp and saw an officer staring down at him. He sucked in a breath and waited for his heart to slow. "Your hour is up," the young man said. John nodded and scrubbed wearily at his eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled. He climbed to his feet and the officer took the bed he had just vacated.
Elliot slumped against his bonds, his face sticky with the tears he hadn't been able to hold back. The man had retreated back up the ladder an hour beforehand. He could feel the blood gushing down both of his arms. The man had dug his knife into Elliot's forearms and ruthlessly yanked downward, ripping through flesh and muscle nine times on each side. His yelps of pain had only seemed to add more ammunition to his captor's obvious delight.
"Pay dirt!" Olivia whipped her head up from the file she was blearily looking at when Fin suddenly shouted, breaking the early morning silence. He strode over, holding a file over his head.
"What is it?" Cragen asked hoarsely. It was four a.m. Elliot had now been gone for two and a half days. The entire squad was moving on auto-pilot. They were beyond exhausted; their movements were robotic.
Fin held the file open for them to see. "This is a police report from 1990 completed by a Georgia state trooper," he said. "It says that a pattern was discovered during their investigation. Our guy had gotten a job with Fed-Ex in every state that he was in at the time and reported having quit shortly afterward." He looked at the Captain hopefully.
Cragen knew that this information would probably prove useless, but left no stone unturned.
"Call the Manhattan office and ask for a list of all companies in New York," he said. "Ask them if they've had any employees quit within roughly two months of being hired."
He nodded and hurried off with new determination set in his features.
The captain checked his watch. "Next group," he called out. "Go take a break."
Ten officers, including Olivia, headed wearily upstairs toward the crib as ten more were coming down.
"I'm taking five," he said to Fin. "Handle things out here."
He nodded, and Cragen went into his office and shut the door. He turned on his desk lamp and collapsed into his chair. He picked up the cassette tape in his hands and turned it over absently, his mind unwittingly conjuring up the sounds of Elliot's screams.
It had broken his heart to listen to that tape. He was usually good at keeping his emotions in check, but that had been over the top. He knew how much the three SVU detectives were being affected by this nightmare. In a matter of minutes their strong circle had completely broken, leaving them hanging and lost with one of the sides missing. But just because he was their superior didn't mean that he wasn't hurting too. Just like all of his detectives, Elliot held a special place in his heart and memories.
He thought back to when they had their very first encounter….
36 year-old Donald Cragen packed up the last of the items on his desk and closed the cardboard box with a nervous sigh. His partner, Lennie Briscoe, stood across the desk and looked at him. "Well…I guess it's up to me to tame the troops, huh?" Briscoe joked weakly, trying his best to mask his sadness. He was elated for his partner- he had been trying for a Captain's position for the last 8 years. They knew the day would come when they would be separated-it's inevitable for every cop.
"Yep," Don said, his voice also weak. "You'll have your hands full with this new batch of rookies coming up. Call me if you ever need someone to help you yell at them, will ya?" He gave his best smile, hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself by crying everywhere.
"Sure." An awkward silence passed between the two seasoned veterans before Lennie finally broke it. "Aw, hell," he said brashly. "It's not like you're going off to war or something. Stop getting wimpy on me, Cragen!"
Don smiled at his partner's famous gruffness, knowing it was his way of keeping his emotions in check. "Good luck, Lennie," he said softly, sticking out his hand. Briscoe stared at him before jerking him into a quick hug. "No matter who comes next, you're my partner," Briscoe said. "Remember that." Don nodded.
They broke apart and he took one last look at the 35th precinct before heading out the doors.
At the 16th precinct in Manhattan, the detectives of the Special Victims Unit were nervously awaiting the arrival of their new captain. 27-year old detective Elliot Stabler walked in the squad room and immediately noticed the unusual quiet. He looked around with disbelief and gave a dry laugh as he went to his locker. "Who died?" he joked to his partner as he went and sat down across from him at their desk. Greg Rosetti shot him a dark look.
"Don't be a smart-ass, Stabler," he said. "This could very well be the worst day of our careers."
Elliot looked at him incredulously. "Oh, come on!" he said. "What the hell is everyone so uptight about? So we're getting a new captain…big deal!" He stood up and addressed the others in the room. "Come on, you guys," he said. "Who cares about this new guy? We own this unit…we're the life and blood of this precinct. What do you think is going to happen? It's not like he can fire all of us, he'd have no command! Bring on this Joe Schmoe…we'll show him who's really in charge here."
All of his colleagues were suddenly standing ramrod straight and had their eyes glued to a point behind him. Rosetti gave him a "You're-dead-meat" look as he stood up. Elliot turned around slowly. A middle-aged man holding a cardboard box was standing in the doorway staring coldly at him. He grimaced. 'Oh, shit', he thought.
The man walked slowly through the squad room, his shoes clicking loudly in the dead quiet, and right up to Elliot. He set the box down on Elliot's desk and stood toe-to-toe with the detective.
"The name's Don," he said, his voice quietly dangerous. "Not Joe, and the last name is Cragen." He eyed him. "You would be?"
Elliot swallowed, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. "Uh..." he stammered. "Stabler. Uh, Elliot Stabler…sir."
Don narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, Detective Stabler...I didn't quite hear all of that. Would you care to repeat it for me?" His eyes glinted in anger.
"Uh…yes, sir," he said. "I mean- no, sir. Sorry, sir."
Cragen glared icily at him before stepping around to his office. Elliot let out a huge breath, his face beet-red. He sat down quietly at his desk as the other officers looked at him in shock.
Don chuckled. First impressions hadn't been kind. He had marked Stabler on his "shit list" from that very moment. But things slowly got better after their rocky start. Elliot was a rookie, but his solve record put the veteran detectives to shame. He was very passionate about his job, and was slowly moving up the ranks.
A case had gone horribly wrong a few years after he had taken command, and Don found himself being accused of being "dirty" by the Morris Commission. He had thought for a while that he was going to lose his job. He didn't, but after everything was cleared he lost his squad. More than half of the precinct put in requests to quit or be transferred, snubbing him as untrustworthy and slimy.
He had been totally blown away when Elliot stood up one day in the squad room and verbally slammed them, calling them yellow and saying they weren't fit to wear the badge. He proclaimed that would stand with the captain even if the entire squad transferred out.
Cragen was shocked that, of all people, Elliot Stabler would choose to stick with him. But he was true to his word; for a while there were only three detectives that showed up for work, and he was one of them. His appreciation for the detective grew to astounding levels, and he found himself warming to him. After another month, they had formed a friendship.
As the squad replenished, their relationship stood strong. Don relied on Elliot's intuition and skills to get through the first few months of tough cases. When Kathleen was born, Elliot had asked him to be her godfather. It touched him in a way that he couldn't describe. He could remember a time when Elliot's father had come down to the precinct. He was smarting from his recent termination, and was appalled that his son was still on the force.
When Cragen came into the squad room, he could hear Jack Stabler's shouts before he opened the doors. He was hurling insults and snide comments at Elliot, telling him how he was an idiot to be in a job that he didn't have any business being in. He cut him down shamelessly, and all the while Elliot just stood there and didn't say a word.
Don was infuriated. He got up in Jack's face, telling him he had no business harassing one of his detectives, and that if he said one more word Don would personally see to it that he wouldn't be able to speak for a long time.
"Are you threatening me?" Jack had asked in anger. Cragen had looked at him like a snake about to strike.
"Hell yes," he had snapped. "Get your ass out of my precinct before I escort you myself." His face twisted in anger, Jack had left.
Cragen turned around to face Elliot, only to find he had disappeared. One of the other detectives pointed upstairs, which is where he found him. He was ruthlessly punching a punching bag, breathing hard in anger. From where he stood, the captain swore he had seen tears in his eyes.
"He's wrong, you know," Don said casually, leaning against the doorway.
"I don't give a damn what he says," he gasped, out of breath and still punching. "Fuck him. Fuck him!" A rapid series of angry punches followed his outburst.
Cragen sensed his presence was intrusive, and backed off.
"I know you don't," he said softly, turning to leave. "That's what makes you a good cop, and an even better man. You don't put up with bullshit." With that, he started towards the stairs.
"Hey." Elliot was suddenly next to him with surprising speed and gripping his arm. Don looked at him in surprise. The young man looked at him steadily with an intense gaze that would later become his trademark. "Thank you, Captain." Don smiled and squeezed his shoulder before going back downstairs.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and the captain shook his head to clear the fuzzy images. Fin poked his head in.
"I got a potential lead at the Fed-Ex on 12th and 43rd," he said. "Munch and I are going to check it out."
The captain nodded, and he shut the door. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead tiredly. Elliot Stabler had wormed his way into his heart, and he couldn't have loved him more than if he was his own son. "Don't give up, son," he whispered into the air. "We'll find you."
The man ascended down into the darkness two hours later to find his captive shaking violently. Elliot didn't know if it was from fear or from cold, because he was getting equal amounts of both, but the bottom line was his body couldn't take much more. He was dehydrated from almost three days without any liquid, and the lack of food was sapping his strength as well.
When the man clicked his flashlight beam on him, Elliot didn't even have the strength left in his reflexes to jump from the surprise. Helplessness washed over him as the man drew out his knife again, and he gave in to it. Bowing his head, he began to cry in despair. He no longer wished for rescue. All he wanted to do now was die as quickly as possible.