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.

Author's Note: Sorry to disappoint anyone reading….anyone familiar with my stories should know that I am not a fan of E/O and will not ever write them as anything more than best friends. I prefer to use action scenes and emotions when writing.

Even the inebriation couldn't keep out the horror. Elliot tossed around in a drunken sleep, muttering incoherently and flailing desperately to escape. His hands clenched at his sides as he dreamed.

"What's your name?"

The boy said nothing as he huddled against the wall. When he tried to come closer, the boy yelled angrily, stopping him in his tracks.

"Son?" He tried again. "What's your name?"

The words echoed around Elliot's head, bouncing around his thoughts before fading away into a different scene.

"Can you breathe?"

He giggled hysterically, gasping for air. The fingers kept going, ruthlessly digging into his sides.

"Can you breathe?" she asked again, her face crinkled from laughter. She let up.

"Do it again!" he cried gleefully. "Do it again!"

Her face lit up with laughter as she tickled him again. His delighted squeals floated in the air.

The sounds of his own screams awakened him. He shot awake and ended up tumbling off of the bed. Gasping for air, Elliot clutched the blanket that had gone with him and sobbed painfully. The gurgling of his stomach jolted him into action. He was up and running toward the bathroom before he even realized it.

He cried as he was vomiting.

Captain Cragen was surprised to find his phone already ringing when he stepped into his office the next morning. It was only 7:30…surely the criminals had to sleep sometime. He reached for it hesitantly, praying that it wasn't the commissioner calling to summon him.

"Hello?" he answered, setting his keys and files down. He shrugged his jacket off. His face registered relief when he recognized the voice. "Hey, Elliot."

He listened, his brow furrowing as he listened to the detective. "Yeah…uh-huh." A pained look crossed his face. "Sure….no, it's not a problem….I'm sure, Elliot…I'll come up with something, don't worry about….ok, see you soon. Bye."

He felt a pang in his heart when he hung up the phone, and promised himself to keep a careful eye out for his detective over the next few days.

Elliot breathed a sigh of relief when he hung up….he had been rather reluctant to ask the captain if he could take a half-day. With that off of his mind, he went about getting ready to leave.

Munch and Fin's animated argument could be heard from the elevator. Olivia shook her head in amusement as she neared the squad room.

"Whatever, man!" Fin said. "It's not humanly possible."

Munch was grinning his famous mysterious smile. "Oh, I beg to differ, Tutuola," he said. "There is scientific evidence that proves it…some people can rub their stomach and pat their heads at the same time."

Elliot was sitting at their desk, writing a report. He was watching them with a grin. When he saw her, his grin got wider and he shook his head at her. She could read his mind: Can you believe those two?

She chuckled and took off her jacket. "How long has this one lasted?" she asked him.

Elliot looked at his watch. "Two minutes, fourteen seconds," he answered with a laugh. "Cragen will owe me five bucks if they keep going for another minute and forty-six seconds."

It was a daily routine for someone to bet on how long those two could argue. If given the chance, Olivia had no doubts that they could spend an entire shift just sniping at each other.

"Oh, yeah, brainiac?" Fin suddenly snapped, obviously disgusted. "Name one person you know that can do it."

When Munch went silent, Fin laughed. "See?" he cried gleefully. "That proves it!"

"Just because I don't personally know any doesn't mean-" Munch started to reply.

Olivia looked up to see a knowing evil gleam in her partner's eyes. He raised his eyebrows to her, and she understood his message. They both stood up, drawing the attention of the other two, and looked at each other.

At the same time, both of them began rubbing their stomachs and patting their heads.

Munch smiled over at his partner. He was watching them with disgust on his face. "God damn it, you guys!" he cried. With a huff, he turned around and began working on a report.

They cracked up. Olivia was happy to see that her partner appeared to be in better spirits than he had been yesterday. As he moved back to his chair, she suddenly noticed what he was wearing: jeans, tennis shoes, and a white hooded sweatshirt that had QUEENS COLLEGE written across it.

"What…is it casual Tuesday?" she asked him. "Why didn't I get that memo?"

He looked at her, startled, and glanced down at his attire. "Oh…no," Elliot said. "The Crown Vic is due to be serviced and Cap said it's my turn to bring it in. He said not to bother dressing up because I probably won't get back in time to do any work anyways."

He held his breath as she looked at him, and was relieved when she nodded acknowledgement. He quickly bent his head down so that she wouldn't see the telltale blush coming over his face.

"Alright, people," Cragen said as he came out of his office. "One police plaza has just notified me of a body that was found near 16th and Harlem…looks to have been sodomized."

The detectives all looked at each other with the same look of dismay before getting up.

"You know the drill," Cragen said, turning back toward his office. "Call me when you get something. Elliot, come get the keys and paperwork for the sedan."

"See you later," Elliot said to them as they left.

He walked into the office. Cragen shut the door and went back to his desk, switching gears instantly into concerned father mode. "You can have the whole day if you want…you know that, right?" he asked.

Elliot nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I appreciate it….but it's not necessary. Besides, I don't want to leave Olivia by herself all day. It wouldn't be fair."

Don nodded. He had known Elliot would refuse the offer, but had wanted to try anyway. "Listen, Elliot….you can talk to me anytime you need to," he said awkwardly. "Not just here…you know, at home, too."

The detective sighed, his eyes sliding closed momentarily. "Thank you," he said finally. He knew inwardly that he would never take his boss up on the offer. It was better off forgotten.

A minute of heavy silence ensued. Cragen broke it by clearing his throat. "Well, here you go," he said, handing over the keys.

Elliot nodded to him and turned around.

"Oh….Elliot," Cragen called, just before he got outside. He paused with his hand on the door and looked at him in question.

Don smiled mischievously. "If anyone asks…the car needs a new fan belt."

Laughter glinted in Elliot's eyes. "You got it," he replied.

Don sighed heavily when the door shut. He turned around and unlocked the bottom desk drawer of his desk, pulling a file from the very back corner. He had been shocked when Elliot had asked him for it, but he couldn't say no to him…he had never been able to deny Elliot Stabler of anything.

He only hoped that the detective would heed his advice….the last thing Elliot needed was to be alone with his thoughts after he read it.

"What've we got, Jenson?" Munch asked when they arrived at the scene.

The Asian man stood up from his crouched position beside the man lying face-down on the pavement. "Looks to have been sodomized pre-mortem," he said, pulling off his gloves. "My guess is a gang fight…look at all of the footprints."

Olivia, Fin, and Munch followed his pointing finger. There were at least four other sets of footprints besides the victim's; they stood out starkly thanks to the dusting of the CSU technicians.

"Look at that," Olivia said, bending down. She brushed her hand towards one of the sets, which were smaller than the others. "A woman?"

"Or a guy with small feet," Fin said dryly.

She shot him an exasperated look. John crouched next to her to study the body. The white man was beaten so severely that his face looked like hamburger meat. Someone had punched him so hard that a few of his teeth were lying on the ground next to him.

He moved on, his gaze raking over the man's back. The shirt he wore was torn to shreds.

"Any ID on him?" Fin asked.

Jenson nodded, handing him a plastic bag with a wallet and driver's license inside. "Antonio Morton," he said. "If it was a mugging, they didn't take very much. I'll be willing to bet that the guys who did this to him were drunk, though."

That got Olivia's attention. "Why's that?" she asked, standing to face him.

Jenson turned and pointed to his left. It was then that she realized that they were standing in an alley that connected to a street club called "The Matador". The victim was lying directly across from the fire exit.

"I don't think it was a mugging."

Olivia and Fin brought their gazes back over quickly. John's voice was grim.

"Why do you say that?" Jenson asked, going over to him. The others followed.

Munch had donned rubber gloves and had pulled the man's jeans off of his waist. They crouched down to join him.

"Good God," Olivia yelped, unable to sustain her shock and disgust.

Jenson looked appalled and bewildered. "I'd say we missed a spot," he murmured weakly.

There were few things that could make the detectives of SVU speechless…this was definitely one of them.

Antonio Morton had a long necked Heineken bottle shoved up his rectum.

Munch swallowed hard and got up, walking a few feet away. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed a number.

"Captain," he said, when Cragen picked up. "You're not going to like this one…"

Olivia had to park two blocks over from the other two. There were times when she really hated living in New York…even with her police department license plates she couldn't get a decent parking spot. At least she wouldn't get towed.

"Meet you back at the station," Fin called to her, as they walked in opposite directions.

She sighed, digging out her car keys. What is it that makes people do such disgusting things? She had thought she had seen every possible act of sexual degradation there was…today proved her wrong. Wryly, she remembered a conversation she'd had with her mother when she had first joined SVU.

"I really wish you would consider getting out of that unit!" Serena had said with conviction.

"Mother…don't," she'd responded. "Not tonight… please?"

Her mother had thought it was ludicrous to even consider taking a job working with sexual offenses. Funny…Olivia had always thought that if anyone, her mother would have been the first to support the idea. She had been, after all, a rape victim herself.

She continued to her car at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. She saw a car sitting at the end of the street and suddenly recognized it. It was the SVU unit Crown Victoria. She stared at it, puzzled. Hadn't Elliot taken that to get serviced? What was it doing all the way down here?

Panic lodged in her chest, and her concern for her partner had her running.

"Elliot?" she called, pulling her gun.

She peered inside, and then looked around the car. As she came around to the back, she saw an ornate iron gate across the street that read FAIRLAWN CEMETARY. Just beyond that, stood Elliot. She sighed in relief at seeing her partner unhurt.

She started to cross the street toward him, but stopped. Perhaps he wouldn't appreciate her presence. He was on his knees and looked to be very upset. She watched him place two bouquets down and touch the stone. Then he stood and walked toward the entrance. She darted behind a parked truck quickly, even though she knew he probably couldn't see her. She saw him wipe his face and put on a pair of sunglasses before getting in the car and driving away.

Waiting until he was out of sight, Olivia crossed the street and walked toward the cemetery. She walked in cautiously, half-expecting someone to yell that she didn't belong there. Cemeteries always made her feel like she was intruding. It felt oddly familiar, though she couldn't place why.

She walked along the stones. When she spotted the two bouquets, she knew she had found it. It was a simple white grave marker. There were no fancy inscriptions or pictures on it like the ones surrounding it, just a name etched in bold black:

E. Sanford

There was no birth or death date listed. Olivia chewed on her lip, wondering who this person was and how Elliot knew him or her. It had frightened her to see him so upset; she had never seen him that way before.

She spent the entire drive back to Manhattan pondering over what she had witnessed.