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.
"Olivia?" Elliot asked hysterically. Please be there! "Olivia?" The man snatched the phone away and slammed it shut.
"Well…that was fun, huh?" he asked casually.
Elliot watched with dread as he pulled out the roll of tape again and reapplied it tightly over his mouth. Just stay calm, Elliot told himself. They'll be getting a trace…they'll probably be here in an hour. He kept repeated the mantra to himself, trying to relax the tight feeling of apprehension that was forming in his throat.
"Damn it!" Olivia dropped the phone and whirled around to face the captain. "Tell me you got a trace," she ordered.
Cragen looked at her and bit his lip, slowly shaking his head. "He used Elliot's cell phone," he said. "All it shows us is the number that the call came from."
She dropped heavily into the nearest chair and covered her face with her hands, giving in to the desperate tears. The others in the room were looking at the floor in shock and grief over what had just happened.
The man reached up and tugged at the leather straps binding Elliot's wrists to make sure they were still tight. Nodding in approval, he stepped around to his captive's side and began probing his arm with his fingers.
Elliot watched him helplessly, fearing what the man could possibly have planned next for him. He felt his fingers graze his upper arm, and rested there. "Here it is," he crooned out.
The man came back to around to face him. He smiled and cocked his head, lightly gripping Elliot's chin. "I'm afraid I don't have any anesthesia," he said, his tone almost sympathetic. "So make sure you bite down really hard on that gag."
His eyes widened in disbelief and pure terror at the man's words. When he pulled out the knife, he began making frantic, pleading whimpers. The man's face was set in concentration, ignoring him completely as he went to his side again. Elliot felt a slight prick on his arm. Oh God…please no, please! He desperately cried out as loud as he could, praying that somebody was listening.
Slowly and methodically, the man plunged the knife into Elliot's arm and began sawing in a pattern. His captive's painful screams echoed around the walls as the blood began spattering the floor.
"That's it," Cragen said, voice husky with emotion. He stalked into his office and slammed the door. Going to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. As soon as it was answered, he snapped, "Get me Mayor Carlucci."
The officers were all staring at Olivia, hunched over at her desk.
"Alright, guys," Munch said softly. "Get back to work." As they moved away, he gestured to Fin with a jerk of his head to follow. He nodded silently, and John carefully approached Olivia.
"Olivia," he said quietly, touching her arm. She looked up slowly and shook her head.
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered painfully. "He's going to die, John. He's going to die."
Munch grimaced and cast his eyes to the floor, trying to control his own tears. "We can't give up now," he said shakily. "You told us yourself- you'll do anything to get him back. Please don't give up now, Olivia."
She swallowed, gasping in a breath. Munch was as close to crying as she had ever seen him. She realized then that she was being totally selfish. Elliot was her partner….but he was also a good friend to Munch and Fin. They were as upset as she was, but they had to hold everything together because she kept falling apart.
She wiped her eyes and rubbed a hand over her face, getting to her feet. "I'm sorry, John," she said. "You're right. We're a team; we stick together until the end."
He gave her a half-hearted smile. "That's the spirit, Benson," he said. "Let's do this."
The captain came charging out of his office just then with all the grace of a bull elephant. "Listen up," he bellowed. Activity stopped immediately. "In one hour, the entire New York Police Department will be present for an emergency press conference with the city. All of you are to attend in uniform, NO EXCEPTIONS."
Don was at his wit's end. He no longer had a battle plan; now he was relying on pure animal desperation.
The man carefully peeled away the large portion of skin that he had just spent the last ten minutes meticulously carving out. Elliot was moaning and gasping in painful breaths. He placed it into a plastic bag and walked back to the ladder, climbing up. As soon as he was out of sight, Elliot burst into hysterical sobs.
He twisted his body around, trying to see the wound. He was shaking from the blinding pain. It was useless; he was unable to maneuver himself to look. But judging from the amount of blood that he saw on the floor and could feel drenching his right arm, he didn't think he really wanted to see it.
Never in his entire life had he felt the amount of physical pain than he did at that moment. It felt like his entire arm had just been sawed off. Please God…why won't this end? He knew that suicide was a sin….but given the chance, he would gladly end his own life if it meant an escape from this hell.
He heard the clang of metal signaling his captor's return, and saw the flashlight beam coming down. He sucked in his sobs and gulped hard. The man came up to him and shined the light in his face, smiling in satisfaction at the distressed appearance.
Elliot's eyes suddenly zoomed in on what the man held in his hands: a bag of salt. He suddenly felt extremely dizzy, and his stomach lurched. Vomit rose in his throat, but was unable to escape because of the gag. He gurgled as he was forced to swallow it back down.
With a sadistic smile on his face, the man poured a handful of salt into his palm. Before Elliot could brace himself, he shoved it against his bloody shoulder. The ear-splitting howl pierced the air and bounced around the man's head as he dissolved into gleeful giggles.
Captain Cragen stood on the steps of City Hall and listened as Mayor Carlucci addressed the television camera in front of them. The entire New York Police Department stood behind him, in full uniform. His detectives were next to him. "…Captain of the 16th precinct, Donald Cragen."
The mayor handed him the microphone, and Don stared solemnly into the camera.
"We have recently been informed that one of our detectives is being held by the notorious serial killer known as 'The Butcher'," he said, gripping the microphone tightly to stop the tremble in his hands.
He paused, taking a breath as he contemplated his next words.
"This is a desperate plea to the citizens of New York," he continued. "We are asking for anyone with any information on this man or his whereabouts to contact your nearest police precinct. All calls will be anonymous." He sighed tiredly and his voice began to shake despite his best efforts to control it.
"We need your help. Without it, an innocent man's life will be stolen. Please help us save our brother." He handed the microphone back to the mayor, who made a few remarks before the camera clicked off.
The camera man set the equipment down, and the crowd gathered around the bottom of the steps dispersed.
"Excuse me, Captain?"
A hand gripped his arm. Don turned around to face a middle-aged woman wearing a red peacoat. Her face was soft and full of compassion. "Yes, ma'am?
"I would just like you to know that I am praying for your detective," she said. "Along with the entire Manhattan Episcopal Church. May God bless his safe return."
Cragen looked at her and summoned up the strength to give her a small smile. "Thank you," he said, wholeheartedly. "Thank you very much, ma'am."
She nodded with a smile and walked away. He stared after her, taken aback slightly by her words. Olivia's voice caught his attention as she came up next to him.
"What do we do now?" she asked softly.
He turned to her with an expression of tired despair and was silent for a minute. Finally, he said, "We pray."
After five days of no sleep or nourishment, Elliot began to show signs of slight insanity. He nodded off a few times only to jerk awake when he felt a creeping sensation all over his body. His mind tricked him into seeing hundreds of centipedes on and around him, swarming him.
The man stood in the darkness, watching as his captive shrieked and thrashed in terror. He rubbed his hands together gleefully. None of the others had held out for so long. This one was tough, but worth the wait. It wouldn't be long now. A few more hours, a day at most, and his prize would be ready.
Captain Cragen ordered every single officer in his squad to go home and get a full night's rest. The fact that not one of them protested told him they were at the end of their rope. He pulled the cot out from the corner of his office and stretched out.
Sleep was far from his mind. He realized with a heavy heart that he was going to have to start preparing his detective's for Elliot's death. There was nothing else he could do now. Tears dripped down his cheeks. I'm so sorry, Elliot, he thought in agony. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.
A man's voice cut through the bleak darkness, and Elliot jumped with shock as he suddenly recognized it.
"We need your help. Without it, an innocent man's life will be stolen. Please help us save our brother."
They're giving up! Elliot's stomach dropped with shock. He knew that the department never, ever made media appeals to the public unless they were completely helpless to solve a case. It had only happened twice in all of his years on the force, and both cases ended up with dead victims. He shook as sobs escaped. They're giving up!
The flashlight suddenly appeared, and the man stood next to him. He could hear classical music drifting down. The man looked at him with a soft expression. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't let anyone take you away from me."
The sudden sound of voices woke the captain from his sleep. He realized it was morning and sat up with a groan. Six days. Six days and they still had absolutely no way to rescue their friend. He was surprised to open his office door and find all 100 officers there. He was sure they would be ready to give up, as he was.
A sudden scream sounded, and Cragen recognized Olivia's voice. Munch and Fin were bolting up the stairs, and the others quickly followed them. Fin burst through the doors of the women's locker room. "Liv, what's wrong?" he asked breathlessly.
Munch skidded to a stop behind him, and they were both sickened by the sight before them. Cragen pushed through the crowd of officers and came up behind them.
"What in the-" He stopped short, his heart in his throat, and murmured, "Sweet Jesus."
Olivia's locker door was hanging open. Nailed to it was a large chunk of flesh with a familiar Marine tattoo embedded in it.