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 phone rang….and rang….and rang. Nothing. Cursing, Don disconnected and redialed.
"Come on, Elliot," he breathed anxiously. "Answer….answer!"
Getting nothing again, he slammed the phone down and chewed on his lip frantically. He had a bad feeling….a really bad feeling. Getting up, he strode out into the squad room and scanned the room anxiously.
"Hey, yo!" he called to the group of detectives stepping out the door. They turned back in surprise.
"Everyone get back in here," he said hurriedly. "Stay put."
The detectives looked at each other in confusion as the captain scurried up the stairs. He peeked into the workout room and lounge, calling everyone there to come down as well.
"What's going on, Captain?" a detective named Clark called out as he came down the stairs again. The others looked at him as well.
Cragen spoke rapidly as he rushed over to Elliot's desk. He growled in frustration as he pushed papers around. "Damn it, Elliot," he mumbled. He looked up at the detectives around him. "Does any one know what hotel Sean is staying at?"
"The Hyatt, right?" another said.
Don shook his head impatiently. "There at least 13 Hyatt hotels in Chelsea…no one knows which one?"
There was a series of shrugs and negative shaking of heads. Huffing, he crossed over to Olivia's desk, in hopes that maybe the paper with the address was there.
"Captain," another detective tried again. "What's going on?"
He paused and looked up to see them all looking at him in alarm. "Sean Stabler has been lying to us," he said. "Chief Hammond never sent him down here….he's not even an ATF agent. He's been lying the entire time."
There was a minute of stunned silence. "Why would he do that?" someone said.
"It's been him all along, guys," Cragen said, desperately. "He's the arsonist."
Fin was lying flat on his back, underneath his car, trying to fix the annoying oil leak that he had discovered a week ago as he left for work. Sweat dripped down his face as he fumbled around the jumble of cables and wires, searching for the spark plug.
"Ah!" he said triumphantly, wrapping his hand around the plug. "Gotcha."
He reached for the toolbox next to him with one hand, keeping his other hand on the plug so as not to lose it again. Rooted blindly through the tools, he discarded several different-sized wrenches until he found the desired one and pulled it out.
Grunting, he tried loosening it. It wasn't budging. "Come on," he groaned, yanking hard on the wrench. Nothing. Letting out a frustrated growl, he withdrew the wrench and wiped his hands on his jeans.
Huffing determinedly, he picked the wrench back up and hooked it around the plug again. Using both hands, he twisted his body as much as the confines under the car would allow and yanked again.
"Yes!" he gasped, feeling the screws loosen finally.
The phone rang from inside then.
"Argh!" he yelled in irritation.
Every time he had made an attempt to fix his car, he got called out. It never failed…the phone would be silent all day, and the minute he was under the car- boom. It starts ringing off the hook.
Sliding quickly out into the sunshine, he got up and wiped his hands on his jeans again. The phone rang two more times. Dropping the wrench, he ran to the side door and up the steps to the house.
He skidded to a stop on the tiled floor, nearly sliding onto his back, and snatched the phone up on the fifth ring.
"Hello?" he said breathlessly.
"Fin," Olivia said, sliding into her car quickly. She started the ignition and hastily fastened her seatbelt, tucking the phone against her shoulder. "Get down to the station right now."
The urgency in her voice told him not to question. Something was wrong. "I'm leaving now," he said, and was surprised when she hung up on him.
By the time Munch had called her back, she had finished her shower and was prepared to focus on making sense of what he had been saying. It had taken her by surprise when he the first thing out of his mouth had been to ask if she had heard from Elliot.
"No," she said in surprise. "He's probably busy with the funeral plans, John. I don't want to-"
He had interrupted her hurriedly, telling her about his conversation with the captain. It had made her skin crawl.
"What?" she exclaimed in disbelief. Her eyes widened. "My God," she murmured.
It crashed down on her at once. It suddenly sense now…Sean's attitude, the circles they had been running around, the fruitless searches…her eyes slid closed in realization. How could we have missed the signs?
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. "Oh, no," she whispered, in shock. "John….you don't think….?" She couldn't get the words out. Her face paled.
He was reading her thoughts. "I'm not positive about anything, Olivia," he said. "But my gut is telling me that Elliot could be in real trouble."
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"Cragen wants us down right now," he continued urgently. "Hurry, Olivia."
"I'm on my way," she said, already slipping on a pair of jeans. She hung up and tore a shirt from its hanger, hastily shoving it over her head. She grabbed her keys and ran.
Glancing down for a brief moment, Olivia pressed the speed dial for her partner's number and waited anxiously as it rang, speeding down the expressway.
"Pick up," she breathed desperately, her heart racing. She was praying that they were all overreacting, that he was at the station and would think they were all nuts. "Pick up, Elliot."
There was no answer. Tossing the phone aside, she pressed down harder on the gas pedal.
A slicing pain shot through his skull the minute Elliot cracked his eyes open. Grimacing, he quickly shut them again.
The room was tilting crazily, making him sick to his stomach, as he tried to climb out of the broken whirlwind of confusion. What the hell was going on?
Voices. He could hear the faint sound of talking, but couldn't make out what was being said. He struggled to open his eyes again, feeling like his eyelids weighed fifty pounds.
A soft moan made the red-haired man turn his head around and stare at the limp form sprawled on the floor by his feet.
"Hey, he's awake," Elliot heard an unfamiliar voice say. A sharp pain in his ribs made him groan loudly in surprise.
The man kicked him in the side as Sean came out of the bathroom. He crouched down next to his brother and watched as his eyelids fluttered. Blue eyes looked at him, wobbly with disorientation. He reached over and slapped him roughly.
Elliot flinched at the stinging on his face, still trying to focus his eyes. Sean waited until he saw the recognition flood his brother's eyes. He grinned.
"What-?" Elliot croaked out, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. His head throbbed, and he slid his eyes shut tiredly again.
"No, no," Sean said harshly. He pinched Elliot's face hard enough for his eyes to fly open in surprise and pain. "Nap time's over."
Sean was easily able to pull his limp form forward. He hoisted him up over one shoulder and picked up the coil of chicken wire, carrying him across the room.
He sat him against the desk. Elliot slumped forward when he hit the ground, so weak that it surprised him. God, he had one hell of a headache. He felt Sean pull his left wrist forward.
"Sean," he mumbled incoherently. "What are-?"
The sharp pain slicing through his flesh woke him up in an instant.
"OW!" he yelped, sitting up straight.
His arm was yanked behind him painfully as Sean wrapped the wire tightly around his wrist.
He immediately struck at him with his right fist defensively and tried to twist his body away from him, but his brother was quicker. Sean grabbed his other hand and wrenched it behind his back, quickly coiling chicken wire around it as well. Then he wrapped more wire around both of his hands, binding them together.
The knifing pain made tears spring to his eyes, and he desperately tried to ease it, wiggling around desperately. When he couldn't, Elliot glared at his brother hatefully.
"You prick!" he snarled. "When I get my hands on you-"
"Oh, that doesn't look very likely, Squirt," Sean said cockily, twisting the wire painfully tighter. He turned his head to speak to his companion. "Hey, hand me the cuffs."
The man tossed him a pair of handcuffs that were lying on the bed. Elliot watched in panic as his brother began looping one of the cuffs through the wire that bound his hands together.
"What happened to you, Sean?" he asked desperately. "What would make you become a felon?"
Sean paused as he clicked the handcuff shut. Elliot saw a flicker in his brother's eyes that, for the briefest of moments, looked like pain. But it vanished just as quickly.
"Well, what can I say?" he said, his face deadly serious. "Some people are just born with the bad seed."
The coldness in Sean's eyes made Elliot shiver involuntarily, and it was at that moment that he realized that he was looking into the eyes of a stranger. The brother he had grown up with was nowhere to be found.
Concentrating on his task again, Sean took the other handcuff and slipped it around the slim wooden bar on the side of the desk, forcing Elliot's hands to jerk behind him in an awkward upright position. He snapped it shut and tightened it, making the wire jerk taut.
Elliot yanked against the wire as hard as he could and it didn't even move. Fire sliced through his wrists again and he hissed painfully.
Sean saw the fear glimmering in his little brother's eyes, and it made him smile. He got to his feet and walked toward the bed. The other man, who had been silent up to this point, grinned and came over to Elliot.
"So, you're the famous detective I've heard so much about," he said in amusement, standing over him. He kicked at Elliot's foot, and he wrenched it away with a glare. "Looks like you're a pretty shitty one, huh?"
"Fuck you," Elliot spat out angrily. "Go to hell."
The man got a mock-surprised look on his face. "What did you say to me?" he asked, putting a hand over his heart. "That hurts." He turned his head toward Sean. "Hey…did you hear what he just said to me?"
"Yeah, well," Sean said, from where he stood packing. "He's always had a smart mouth."
He whipped back around, continuing to mock him. "Really?" he said. He crouched down in front of him. "That true?"
A sadistic glint flashed in his eye, and the man reached into his pocket, withdrawing a bandanna. Elliot jumped when he suddenly shot forward and pressed his weight against him. He kicked out in an attempt to get him off, but the red-haired man paid no attention.
Elliot felt his head jerk back painfully, and the man jammed the cloth into his mouth, pulling it between his teeth. He gagged when the fabric touched the back of his throat. The man reached behind him and tied it tightly to the back of his neck before stepping back, grinning.
"How do you like that?" he crowed, getting in Elliot's face. "Bet you won't have such a smart mouth now, will ya?"
Sean looked over at them, laughing when he saw what his friend had done. "Come on, man," he said, chuckling. "We have to get going."
The man got up and went back to what he had been doing.
Elliot was struggling and gagging wretchedly every time he took a breath. He tossed his head wildly, trying to get the gag off, and choked again. He whimpered in panic.
They ignored the sounds at first, but their nerves were grating quickly. The two men exchanged an annoyed look.
"You might as well quit it before you make yourself puke," Sean said in disgust, looking at him. "It will only get worse the more you struggle."
Ignoring him, Elliot continued fighting against the gag. The next attempt made vomit rise up the back of his throat quickly. He choked again, tears springing up involuntarily at the panicky sensation, and he spit against the cloth.
Sean rolled his eyes. "I told you." He looked in disgust at the pathetic form of his brother, gasping and watery-eyed.
Swallowing hard, Elliot stopped fighting and sat still, realizing he was trapped.
"I haven't been able to reach Elliot," was the first thing Olivia said when she walked through the doors. "I've been trying for twenty minutes."
Don looked up at her, startled at her arrival. "I called Tom Clancy from the 3-5," he said. He paused when he saw John and Fin walking towards the doors quickly. "He says Elliot left there almost an hour ago."
John's expression was worried as he caught the tail-end of their conversation. "He should be back by now," he said. "Did you try his house?"
"We tried that," spoke up a detective named Johnson, who was standing beside Elliot's desk. He picked up the phone again. "We called his ex-wife, his oldest daughter, neighbors…no one knows where he is."
"It's Sean, guys," Fin said in anger. "It's got to be. Find him and we'll almost certainly find Elliot."
Olivia's face was panicked as she looked at Don.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with you on that one, Fin," he said. "So we have got to find Sean right now." He looked to the trio. "Do any of you know where his hotel is?"
His heart sank at the blank looks he received. They didn't have a clue.
Don squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hating the helplessness he felt. It was something he wasn't used to. "Forget it," he said quickly. "We're not just going to sit here." He quickly formulated a plan in his mind.
"Alright," he said finally. "We're going to turn this city upside down if that's what it takes." The detectives recognized the authoritative note in his voice and instantly became alert. "I want everyone back in the same teams as the other night…half go to the areas we were in during the stakeout, just in case. The other half is going to Chelsea…look for every Hyatt hotel on the map."
Olivia had a preoccupied look on her face, and didn't notice when the captain stopped speaking. John looked at her.
"Let's go, Olivia," he said urgently, shaking her arm.
She jumped, realizing the others were leaving. The three men looked at her in confusion as she dashed to Elliot's desk and opened a drawer.
"What are you doing?" Cragen asked, bewildered. "Come on! We don't have time-"
"Those notes that Sean took from the ATF meeting," she said abruptly, digging frantically into the mess of papers and files. "Elliot put them in his desk."
The captain shook his head in irritation. "Olivia, they don't matter!" he said. "He was lying, remember?" He walked to her quickly and gripped her arm gently. "We have to get moving!"
"No!" she yelled, jerking her arm away. Don looked at her in shock. She turned and continued digging madly. "Sean printed them out on hotel paper…it's got the address on the letterhead."
His eyes widened. Munch and Fin jumped next to her and began digging as well.
"Here!" Fin cried, holding up the sheets of paper. They looked up at him anxiously. He read the letterhead quickly. "Hyatt Grand Hotel….1265 Gerard Avenue."
"Go," Don said immediately, snatching the paper from him. "Go now!"
The three of them took off, with Munch hesitating long enough to grab his car keys off the desk.
Cragen ran back to his office and dialed the dispatcher. "Dispatch, this is Captain Cragen from the 1-6," he said. "Have all units on frequency C head to 1265 Gerard Avenue in Chelsea right now."
"Copy that, Captain," a woman answered.
He dropped the phone on the desk, grabbed his own keys, and bolted.
"Alright," Sean said, zipping the bag. "You got everything?" He checked his watch anxiously.
His red-haired companion checked his bag one more time, reaching on the nightstand to scoop up a handful of change and shove it in his pocket. "Yep," he confirmed.
He looked to Sean for confirmation. "You know what to do," Sean said to him. "Give me five minutes…meet me at the back entrance."
"You got it," the man said. He picked up his bag and opened the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Sean bent down on one knee beside the bed and pulled out the blow torch. He flipped the safety tab and unhooked the screw.
Elliot's eyes widened in panic when he saw what his brother was doing and he began struggling to make as much noise as he could, jerking against the wire frantically.
Hearing the muffled noises, Sean looked over at him. He smiled. "What's that?" he said, in a mocking tone. He walked over to Elliot. "I can't understand a word you're saying." He laughed, but made no move to remove the gag.
In a split second, though, his face turned hard. Elliot watched him turn the blow torch on, and terror shot through him when the blue flame burst out. Eyeing him, Sean's lips curled up into a sick smile.
He jerked the torch towards Elliot, the flame dancing inches away from his face. He jerked his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the heat next to his right cheek. His frightened whimper made his brother laugh again.
He brought the torch back up, and Elliot turned his face back hesitantly when the heat was gone. Sean began walking toward the bed.
"Oh, don't worry," he said. "That wasn't even a taste of what you're going to be feeling."
Elliot's eyes bugged out when Sean aimed the torch at the bed and the blanket ignited. The small flame quickly grew, spreading over the pillows and to the headboard.
He strolled casually around the bed, aiming at random spots on the wall and igniting them. He stepped around his brother and ignited the curtains next to his head. Elliot began shaking in terror.
Sean looked around thoughtfully and ignited the bathroom door before throwing the torch inside. He hurried back to where he had dropped his bag beside the bed and grabbed it.
Elliot cried out again, and he turned back, coming over to him. The terror on his face was visible and his eyes were pleading as he crouched in front of him.
"Don't take it personally, Elliot," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the growing flames around them. "I just can't leave any witnesses." He kissed his brother's cheek chastely, grinned, and stood again.
Grabbing his bag, Sean jumped over the burning spot on the carpet and opened the door, shutting and locking it behind him. The wood was already hot against his hand as the crackling became louder from inside. Looking around quickly, he hurried toward the fire escape. He had exactly five minutes before the alarms would go off.
Elliot looked around, in a panic. In a matter of mere seconds, three-quarters of the room were covered in flames and had eaten up everything from the walls to the carpet. The curtains beside him had melted and shriveled, flames jumping to the desk above him.
He felt blood seeping between his fingers as he jerked against the wires. He gagged hard, but kept trying to scream, sobbing in terror. No one was going to be able to hear him.