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 first thing Elliot did when he got home was go straight to the medicine cabinet. He wasn't planning on sleeping, but needed the high now more than ever. After popping the muscle relaxers, he carried the bottle of Jack Daniels with him back out of the apartment.

The building was quiet, as it should be a 1 am. He locked the door behind him and took the elevator to the basement.

The atmosphere changed drastically when the doors opened. He hadn't been down here since….hell…he hadn't come down here before. He had been in the one at his old building, but after he moved to this one there hadn't been a reason to. It wasn't as cared for as the one in his old building, that was for sure.

Elliot wrinkled his nose at the dust that was visible in the air around him. Lord…who maintains this place? He moved to the end of the corridor and opened the junction box, praying he didn't screw something up and turn off the power in the whole building. He found the switch for the basement and flipped it on.

He was dismayed when only about a quarter of the light bulbs hanging from the ceiling responded, and even those were flickering. "Figures," he muttered, shaking his head.

But he really wouldn't have cared if it was pitch black down here. He had a mission in mind, and nothing was getting in his way. Continuing down the hall, he looked all around for what he was looking for. He came to the end of the hall and was forced to turn around. Retracing his steps, he came past the junction box again and turned right. After walking past the boiler room, there were no other rooms that way.

Frustration was starting to make his fingers twitch. He balled his hands into tight fists, clenched them at his sides, and went in the opposite direction again. Finally, at the end of this corridor, he spotted the door marked STORAGE.

The tension evaporated as his heart began beating wildly in anticipation. He practically ran to the door and turned the knob, only to find it locked. Oh, hell no. Locked doors had never stopped Elliot before. He took a few steps back and prepared to kick it in. Thankfully, his common sense caught up to him then. He really didn't need to have the super on his ass for destroying this door.

Elliot stopped and took a calming breath, forcing himself to focus. There has to be another way to get inside, he reasoned. Not everyone is strong enough to kick down doors anyway, right?

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Extracting a credit card, he went back up to the door and wriggled the plastic into the tiny sliver of space between the door and the wall. Sliding it down toward the doorknob, he planted his feet and gave the wood a few strong jerks with his shoulder. He grunted in satisfaction when it popped open.

Sliding the card back into his pocket, he slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind him. The spacious room was filled with large storage lockers for each apartment. Scanning the ones closest to him, he figured out the order they were going in and started trolling the area for his. He pulled out his keys and unlocked it.

His eyes narrowed in concentration as he went inside, quickly flickering over the contents. He bit his lip. Where the hell is it? He began kicking aside boxes, most of which had been put there just a few days ago. It has to be here….there. He pushed through piles of boxes and old furniture and made his way to the back corner.

The small tub was sealed tightly with duct tape so old that it looked to be crumbling. Elliot had forgotten all about it until he discovered it buried under a pile of insulation one summer, years before the divorce. He had written "Elliot's college stuff" on it to keep anyone in his family from wanting to open it. It worked….he hadn't given it a second glance when he had found it.

He tore the tape away easily and popped the lid. His hands had suddenly started to shake, and he stopped as he got ready to lift it off. Elliot hadn't looked at any of this stuff in almost three decades…he had wanted to burn it, to tell the truth. But his heart wouldn't let him go through with it, and so here it sat in all its tortured glory.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, shakily bringing his hands down. Blindly, he reached for the bottle of alcohol, suddenly thankful he had brought it. He tipped his head back and began sucking the liquor down, ignoring the burn. Taking one more deep breath and trying to choke down the bile that was creeping up the back of his throat, Elliot grasped the lid again and slid it off of the tub.

Olivia was pissed. She had gone to bed two hours ago, and was so exhausted that she couldn't see straight. But no matter what she did, her body just wouldn't shut down. She had tossed, turned, and stared at the clock for what seemed like forever before finally giving up.

She sat on the couch with a mug of hot tea and aimlessly flipped through the television channels for a few minutes, finding nothing of interest. Sighing, she switched the set off and curled her legs up under her, reaching beside her into the drawer of the coffee table.

As her hand curled around a book she had stashed there, her gaze fell on the picture frame sitting beside the lamp. The photo was large enough to fill a good-sized frame, but small enough for her to walk past it a hundred times a day and not really look at it. Taking her hand out of the drawer, she picked it up and brought it closer to her.

It was a picture of Elliot that had been taken at her mother's funeral. Olivia remembered the day well. The viewing had been crowded with friends and colleagues of both she and her mother, but Olivia had requested that only a small number of people attend the funeral.

The SVU squad had been right there with her the whole time, and she was incredibly touched and admittedly surprised. She had only been on the team for a little over a year when her mother had died, and while she expected that they would be sympathetic, she'd been blown away when the four of them dropped everything immediately to help.

They had all been fantastic, but Elliot had gone above and beyond the call. He had asked her to stay with him and his family until after the funeral, but she had refused, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with her grief. That night, he had shown up at her door with dinner and begged her to eat something before she made herself sick.

Olivia's face flushed with shame as she recalled how mean she had been to him. Her emotions were everywhere, and she had lashed out at him to leave her the hell alone before slamming the door in his face. She had stayed in her room and cried for two days. When she finally came out, she found two day's worth of breakfast, lunch, and dinner sitting on her kitchen table, along with a note from Elliot telling her that he was sorry about using her spare key to get inside.

She had grabbed her keys and flung open the door, preparing to go to Queens. When she saw him asleep against the wall next to her apartment, she had started to cry. She knew that he had been there since that night she had yelled at him. The next thing she knew they were in her apartment and he was hugging her as she fell apart. He had stayed there for two straight days, listening when she wanted to talk and holding her when the grief became unbearable.

They had been close before as partners, but those two days were what made Olivia deem him her best friend. The four men had volunteered to serve as pallbearers at the funeral, and someone had snapped a picture of the gravesite for the funeral home's records. The photographer had angled the shot just enough to catch a bit the left side of the casket, where Elliot had been positioned.

When Olivia saw it, she had been overwhelmed by what a beautiful candid shot it was. Elliot was standing at parade rest, one hand crisply saluting in respect. He was dressed sharply in full dress uniform, identical to the others' except for the United States Marine Corp patch that stood out proudly on his right shoulder.

But what touched her most about the photo was his face. He'd kept his expression firm and professional, but his blue eyes were bright were tears of sorrow and grief….for her. His eyes alone told Olivia how much it was hurting him to see her hurting.

She had snuck it out of the funeral home record book and copied it, cropping the surroundings out and enlarging his pose before framing it. She hadn't told Elliot about it, and likely never would, but it was her favorite of all the ones in her house. It reminded her of how lucky she was to have such a wonderful person in her life.

She brought the frame back to its resting place. Her thoughts drifted back to what she had seen earlier that day. Something had seriously upset him, but she had no clue what it was. This time he was refusing to let her in.

Elliot had been combing through the tub for three hours, and in that time had uncovered things that he had hoped to never see again in his lifetime. A pile of photographs was lifted out next. He pulled the rubber band off with trembling fingers and began slowly flipping through them.

The images captured raw carnage and brutal death. Each Polaroid was carefully labeled with the date and name of the crime scene technician who had been at the scene. His throat closed when he recognized the background amidst the blood and macabre.

He pulled out stack after stack of pictures- even the tiniest speck had been photographed as evidence. Finally, all that was left was a file at the very bottom of the tub. He caught a glimpse of his watch as he reached down for it, and saw that it was now 4:15 in the morning. Exhaustion had long since passed; he was so tired now that he was almost loopy.

The file was so old that it fell apart in his hands, its contents scattering everywhere. He reached down and retrieved the first one he could reach. When he saw what it was, his restraint broke. He slumped roughly against the wall, his body going limp.

He wrapped his arms around his middle and sobbed so hard that he couldn't catch his breath. Rage, frustration, and pain assaulted him all at once. When combined with extreme fatigue and too much alcohol, there was little his body could do to fight back. He ended up falling into an exhausted sleep right there on the floor of the basement.

The paper he was clutching fell from his limp grasp and fluttered slowly to the floor, landing beside the photographs. It was crinkled and yellowed with age, but the words had the same effect now that they did all those years ago:

Certificate of Death

Elle Julia Sanford

April 12, 1974

10:34 PM

Cragen was immediately on alert when he saw that only three-quarters of his team had arrived at work by 9 am. He had noticed that the file he had placed on Elliot's desk was now gone, and it worried him.

The ringing of the phone on his desk distracted him, and he went to get it.

"I love you," she said, looking into his blue eyes. She stroked his cheek lovingly. "More than anything else in the entire world."

She seemed sad, and he wondered why.

He sat on the edge of the canopy bed and brushed the hair tenderly from his daughter's eyes. Six-year old Maureen looked up at him tiredly, smiling that special smile reserved only for her father.

He smiled at her. "I love you," he whispered. "More than anything else in the entire world."

"I love you too, Daddy," she answered.

Elliot jumped awake with a gasp. His heart pounding, he looked around wildly, not recognizing his surroundings. A second later, realization crashed down on him as he remembered where he was.

He eased away from the wall, groaning instantly at the knots in his back. "Damn it," he muttered, stretching in a vain attempt to ease the horrible ache that had wrapped around his bones.

His arm popped when he reached up to rub his face. He looked at his watch.

"Oh, shit!" he cried, instantly awake.

He gathered up everything around him and hastily shoved it back into the tub, throwing the lid back on. He shoved it back into the mass of junk and took off out of the storage area.

The phone on her desk rang at 9:15. Olivia paused in writing out her report and reached for it. "Benson," she said.

"Liv," Elliot said. "Tell Cragen I'm on my way right now."

"Where are you?" she asked, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Don't tell me you had a hangover."

He rolled his eyes as he sped toward Manhattan. "Please," he scoffed. "You had more to drink than I did."

She said nothing, and he imagined her sitting there, rolling her eyes and pretending to ignore him.

"Just tell him I'll be there in five minutes," he said, and hung up.

"Olivia."

She looked up as she was hanging up the phone. Cragen was standing in front of the desk with a stern expression. "Have you talked-?"

"He's on his way," she interrupted, anticipating his words. "He just called….said he'll be here in five minutes."

Two minutes later, Elliot flew through the squad room doors. He threw his things down on the desk, making her papers fly everywhere.

She looked up at him in annoyance and began to scold him, but suddenly noticed that he was wearing the same jeans and sweatshirt that he had been wearing the day before.

He noticed her quizzical look as he was dashing for the stairs.

"Don't ask," he said quickly, taking the stairs two at a time.

He pulled out the spare work clothes that he kept in his gym locker and dressed in a hurry, coming back down the stairs just as Cragen was coming out of his office.

"I don't have time to wait for-" he began saying as he handed files to the three detectives.

He looked up and stopped talking. Elliot flushed under the glare he fixed on him.

"Sorry, sir," he said, striding back to his desk. "Overslept."

Olivia saw Cragen's mouth twitch as he stood silently. "You guys look these over for a minute," he said finally. He turned and got face-to-face with Elliot just as he was getting ready to sit down. "My office, Elliot. Now."

The other three went silent, watching Elliot walk into the office. Cragen pulled the blinds on the outside of the door before following him inside and shutting the door.

"Uh-oh," Munch muttered, grimacing. He picked up the file. "This could get messy."

"Captain, I was-" Elliot said as he came into the office.

"Shut up," Cragen barked, making him jump in surprise. He clamped his mouth shut instantly and swallowed hard. His boss looked pissed.

Don got up in Elliot's personal space, his face stormy. "This is going to stop right now," he growled angrily. "Either you take sick leave until you're done with this or you straighten your ass up before I suspend you."

"What?" Elliot exploded, appalled. His face twisted in confusion.

"I'm not going to have my team jeopardized because of your personal life," Cragen barreled on. "Now, you're either here or you're not. This halfway participation thing is going to end up getting somebody killed. You've got a job to do…. do it or go home."

The detective's face reflected anger, frustration, and finally helplessness. He began to speak, bit his lip, and shook his head. His eyes fixed on the ground.

After a minute of tense silence, Cragen sighed. He hadn't meant to lose his temper as much as he had. "Look, Elliot," he said, his voice softening. "I'm doing this for you. I'm worried about you."

Elliot raised his eyes to meet his. His voice shook. "Captain," he said. "You know this-"

"Yes, Elliot," Cragen interrupted. "I understand what you're feeling right now, and I sympathize with you a hundred percent. That's why I'm offering you leave so that you can get yourself together. It's not a punishment, son."

Elliot sighed and rolled his neck, popping the tense muscles. "I'm sorry," he said finally, closing his eyes momentarily. Like it or not, he had to suck it up and start concentrating. "I promise… no more distractions."

Don eyed him carefully. "You know you can talk to me," he reminded him. "I really do mean that."

He nodded quickly. "I know, Captain," he said. "I appreciate it, really...but let's just get to work, ok?"

Cragen sighed inwardly in annoyance at the avoidance tactic, but let him off the hook. "Alright, then," he said. "I got some information on this latest case…and you're going to have to be our key player in this. You ready for that?"

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'm ready, Cap," he said.

Nodding, Cragen said, "Let's get to it."

He followed Elliot out of the office and prepared to put the plan in motion.