AN: Wow thanks for the kind words guys, really appreciate it. I wasn't sure what reaction this would get and in hindsight I probably should have put a disclaimer on it to warn you it was pretty dark. Whoops. To be honest I hadn't thought much beyond chapter 1 but due to your response I didn't want to disappoint. I hope this is up your alley..


She was awake. She had been the whole time.

From the moment she went limp in Elliot's arms and fallen to the ground she had been completely conscious. She had wanted it to be over, she thought she was expediting the process by making it look like he'd finished her off.

She had heard the men, the yelling, the hard thump that had silenced Elliot and it had taken everything in her not to open her eyes and rush to his aid.

Take her.

Wherever it was they were taking her she was on her way. She was lying on a stretcher in the back of a wagon, no one had checked to see if she was alive, breathing or conscious.

The voices hadn't been familiar which confused her and they had thick accents she couldn't place. Two weeks she had been undercover, she knew who operated the organisation and yet whoever ransacked the room was not a part of it.

She had already assessed the back of the truck and it could only be opened from the outside. It looked like a paddy wagon from the 1970s, old, dingy and smelt of rust.

It had to be at least two hours on the road until the wagon finally pulled to a determined stop and she heard the engine die. Her heart rate accelerated at the sound of the driver and passenger getting out of the car, slamming their doors and heading towards the back of the van.

She heard what sounded like a car pulling to a stop just outside the back of the van. Their car doors opened followed by determined footsteps.

That's when she heard the three letters that made her exhale with relief.

"FBI!"

There was scurrying, a loud thump and then two piercing gunshots. She heard one body drop to the floor and another thump against the back of the wagon before sliding to the ground.

She sucked in a breath, praying to anyone who would listen that the men who took the shots were the federal agents.

The deadbolt of the wagon clunked open and she squeezed her eyes shut against the daylight that poured in.


Elliot came charging into the precinct and made a beeline to Cragen's office.

Fin and Munch rose from their desks as if they had been eagerly anticipating his return. He bypassed them without so much as a look and pushed open Cragen's door without knocking.

"Anything?" His voice was shaky and all he could manage at that point were practically monosyllables.

He had come to in the alley adjacent to the gentleman's club and despite the gash on the side of his head he remembered everything. He had grabbed his cell phone and weapon from the car he'd parked three blocks away and immediately informed Cragen of Olivia's abduction.

Despite Cragen's strict instructions to return to the precinct he'd gone back inside the club to search in vein for any clue as to where they might have taken her. His stomach rolled when he found the whole place was empty, there was not a soul in any of the forty or so rooms he could find. The whole place had been abandoned.

"I told you to come straight back here," Cragen started in anger.

"You can pull all the resources you like from here but we're against the clock and I needed to assess the scene of the crime," Elliot defended.

"Did you find anything?" Cragen cut to the chase.

Elliot swallowed, breaking eye contact just briefly before he returned it.

"No." His voice cracked slightly.

He could tell Cragen was doing his best not to set Elliot off.

He nodded before motioning to the chair.

"Sit down and tell me everything."


She had been sitting in a holding room at the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington D.C. for what had to be bordering on five hours now.

She was losing her patience by the minute but kept reminding herself that she got lucky and could have still been driving in that dingy wagon to God knows where.

They had pulled the wagon over somewhere in South Philadelphia, uncuffed her from the stretcher, gave her the sheet to wrap herself in and led her to the back of their vehicle without a word.

They then proceeded to drive her another two hours or so to Washington D.C. despite her insistence that she was a detective with Manhattan's special victims unit involved in an undercover operation and needed to return to New York City immediately.

When she got no response from them whatsoever she gave up. She figured once they got to the Bureau she would demand to speak to someone in charge and clear this mess up immediately.

Only she'd been sitting here for five hours in a small room without so much as a look in. She'd requested countless phone calls, demanded to speak to a federal agent and had caused an absolute stir at the treatment a New York detective had received. It had gotten her nowhere.

She had resorted to sitting there quietly staring at the wall.

What the hell was going on?

Her mind had been racing for hours and she was starting to feel nauseous. She wouldn't let herself think about Elliot. She would drive herself mad imagining the numerous potentially fatal scenarios he could have endured after they knocked him out. He was fine she concluded, he had to be.

She looked down at the faded t-shirt and sweat pants they had given her once she had arrived and realised it had dramatically cheapened her credibility. She kept insisting she was Detective Olivia Benson and to contact Donald Cragen but with no ID, no credentials and no clothes she had little to no hope.

It was Oregon all over again.

That triggered a memory and she felt insanely dense for not thinking of it sooner.

She shot up out of her seat and rushed over to where the guard was flicking through some paperwork and banged on the door.

The guard rolled his eyes and slowly and unenthusiastically pulled the door open a smidge.

"Dean Porter," she said in a rush, as if that would speed up the process. "Please can you tell him Olivia Benson is here? He can vouch for me." The desperation in her voice was intense.

"I'm not going to ask you again - sit down and wait your God. Damn. Turn," the guard's harsh voice rasped.

She wasn't sure why she was waiting her turn, she was the only one they had taken from the wagon. From what she had heard and witnessed her captors had both been killed in a shoot out.

She considered pushing the matter. Surely knowing an agent would aid her case but from the attitude she had received from this guard over the past five hours it seemed nothing would expedite the process. She would just have to wait it out.

It had to have been at least another three to four hours later when she heard it. The door opening and the guard's brash voice.

"Number 39."

She had no idea that was her number but he had opened the door and was motioning to her.

She took in the two federal agents standing tall in their suits. As she stood up the younger one looked her up and down and the older one crossed his arms in front of him in defence.

She was trying to ascertain which one was the good cop.

They led her into the small, dark interview room and as the door clicked close her instincts told her it was neither.


There was a rasp at the door and Elliot looked over his shoulder. It was Fin.

Elliot had just finished describing the situation to Cragen just prior to Olivia's abduction. He had carefully omitted any of the sexual encounters and focused solely on their violent performance devised in an effort to be ejected from the club. He explained that there was a camera in the room and if they so much as looked suspect Olivia had warned they'd both be killed.

Cragen motioned for Fin to enter.

"Sorry Cap, we just had confirmation that they did a full canvas of the club and the only thing that turned up was this."

Fin held out a DVD in a thin plastic case.

"What is it?" Elliot narrowed his eyes in curiosity.

"Footage from Room 13."


"Sit down Ms…" the older one started.

"Detective Olivia Benson," she finished for them in the most professional manner she could muster.

The younger one scoffed and pulled out his own chair.

"Right and I'm Brad Pitt and this is David Letterman."

She considered having a go at his loose comparison to Brad Pitt but thought better of it.

"Like I told your guard out there and the two agents who drove me here I'm detective Olivia Benson with Manhattan Special Victims unit. I've been undercover at Sin for two weeks, my badge number is-"

The young one slammed his hand down on the table and it echoed through the small room.

"Shut your mouth, I don't want to hear anymore BS. We've just interviewed 38 women from Sin all claiming to be someone they aren't, so let's start with your real name and how long you've been selling your body."

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. They had all the women from Sin here. Who were the men that stormed their room and why were the FBI now involved? Knowing these guys wouldn't offer up any of those answers for free she tried her wild card.

"Dean Porter," she said determinedly. "He knows me, he can vouch for me."

He lent back in his chair as if he were considering the validity of the name drop. A few moments passed and he smiled, dismissing it.

"Dean wouldn't associate with someone like you," he said shaking his head.

"Please just call him," she stressed, scratching her temple with her knuckle.

"How do you know him? What, did you find his business card somewhere?" he said with scepticism.

"We used to date." She had said it before she had time to assess whether it was the right avenue to take.

The young one chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're not his type." He looked her up and down again.

"Look, one phone call and you'll get your confirmation and we can move on. I'm willing to answer any questions you have, but you need to know who I am first."

"What do you know about the men you worked for?" he said dismissing her entirely.

"Jesus Christ," she mumbled under her breath leaning back in her chair.

A few moments of silence passed as he waited for her to continue. When he realised she wasn't going to talk he lent back in his chair matching her body language.

"If you refuse to cooperate you're only going to make this worse for yourself. We can hold you here for 48 hours at a minimum, and if I think I have just cause I say the word and I can have that extended to 96. This is a federal matter, not a pissy juvenile felony. I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation and just how much power I have, so you better start talking."

What the hell was going on? This extended a lot further than she thought.

She shook her head and rested her head in her hands. Her brain was racing at just how she was going to play this. He wasn't responding to honesty. She needed more information about what was going on so she could determine how to proceed. She realised he had never actually introduced himself, nor had Letterman.

She looked up at him.

"Can I please see your ID?" she said quietly.

His eyes narrowed in on her, ready to let loose.

"As a federal agent it's protocol to identify yourself when conducting an interview or any such investigation. So," her words drifted off, "can I see your ID?"

He looked over at Letterman and once he got the nod he pulled his badge out of his breast pocket and practically threw it open on the table in front of her.

"Special Agent Lucas Silverman – International Human Trafficking."

The penny dropped.

Olivia's stomach rolled and she felt a pang of nausea hit. She glanced down at the badge for confirmation but she couldn't get her mind off those three words.

International Human Trafficking.

"Those men that took me, they were…" her words trailed off and she could feel the bile rising.

"You have no idea how god damn lucky you and the other 38 women we picked up today are, so how about you return the favour by telling us everything you know about the management at Sin."


Elliot's heart began to race.

Footage from the room. Footage of him with Olivia.

Footage of his hands all over her, grabbing her breasts, her ass, pinning her to the bed, kissing her, pulling her dress down.

Footage of him throwing her at the wall, pegging a lamp at her, strangling her with the cord.

Jesus Christ. He didn't care if it was all just for show, he knew how it would look.

He stood up and grasped the DVD from Fin's hands.

"What is this going to tell us that I can't?" The words came out in a rush and he was gripping onto the DVD for dear life.

Cragen's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's our best shot Elliot, there could be something on there that you missed. Something that could give us an indication of who took her."

"This won't tell us anything. I already told you a group of men dressed in black armed with guns swarmed the room and took her. That's it."

"How many men? What type of guns?" Cragen pushed trying to prove a point.

He felt his face getting heated and his mouth go dry.

"Six or seven men, maybe eight, machine guns." He really couldn't be sure, he'd hit the ground so fast. He was grasping at straws and he knew Cragen wasn't buying any of his feigned confidence.

"You said they knocked you out before they took her. You of all people should want to know what happened next." Cragen was looking at him like he was insane.

Elliot rubbed his eyes knowing there would be nothing he could say to stop the tape from playing.

"What aren't you telling me Elliot?" Cragen's voice was low.

When Elliot didn't respond Fin grasped the DVD from his hold and inserted it into the DVD player.


"For the last time I already told you my name." Olivia's patience was wearing thin.

Special Agent Silverman glared at her scratching at the stubble on his chin. A reminder that after 38 interviews he was probably feeling just as exhausted as she was.

She couldn't remember the last time she ate something and her head was pounding from dehydration.

"Can I have some water please," she said rubbing her forehead to alleviate the pounding.

"I'm going to call you Jane Doe, because I'm done with this charade. So Jane, I want details of the men you work for. "

Jane Doe was a name reserved for unidentifiable dead women, not her.

"I told you, I only knew them by first name, John, Richard, George and Jimmy or was it James," she tried to recall the name of the larger one who had felt her up when she first started.

She shuddered at the memory.

"So you were employed by the Beatles." Letterman spoke for the first time since they'd entered the room and both Olivia and Silverman looked over at him.

"What are you talking about, it's John, George, Paul and Ringo." Silverman corrected.

"Ringo's real name was Richard Starkey and Paul was Paul McCartney's middle name, his full name was Sir James Paul McCartney."

Silverman looked like he was about to lose his shit.

"What do the god damn Beatles have to do with anything?"

"Please I haven't had water in days," Olivia pressed.

Silverman was still shaking his head at the irrelevance of the Beatles.

"Fine, Agent Cornett, can you please get Ms Doe a glass of water."

Letterman was Agent Cornett.

Cornett, Cornett, Cornett.

She repeated the name in her head knowing she'd need this information at a later date.

The door clicked shut and Silverman pulled at his lip as he watched Olivia under a heated gaze and she felt the tension in the room shift suddenly at Cornett's exit.

"Now Jane, you look like a beautiful intelligent woman." His eyes drifted down to her lips and further down over her breasts.

"Why don't you make this easy on both of us and give me what I need." His voice had taken on a softer approach and the alarm bells began to sound.

"Then in return, I'll give you what you need. Your freedom."

Jesus Christ. This was never ending, was she reading this right? Was he really propositioning her?

She felt rusty from the dehydration.

"Oh yeah, and what exactly do you need Agent Silverman," she matched his soft tone and looked him dead in the eyes.

She just dared him to fuck with her at this point.

He watched her for a good moment, as if he were debating whether or not he'd continue down this avenue or backtrack.

She did her best not to look intimidated just followed him with her eyes as he stood up, watching as he took the few short steps to round the table and meet with the side of her face.

With one hand on the table and one hand on the back of her chair he lent in.

"You still sticking with your sex crimes story," he whispered in her ear and her stomach dropped.

She willed herself to keep it together. She turned her head to meet his eye contact, he was so close they nearly bumped noses.

"Special Victims," she corrected with assurance.

His eyes bored holes through hers before they dipped once more to her lips. For a moment she thought he was actually going to lean in and try and kiss her.

She remained perfectly still and waited him out.

"Stand up," he instructed and her heart began to race.

What were the odds that the Federal Agent in charge of her case was a sexual predator? She wondered how many of the other 38 women had received this kind of treatment.

At least she knew Silverman, his type, how to play them out.

As she stood up she noticed he was careful not to touch her, but her personal space was shot to hell. If he moved the slightest bit closer they'd collide.

He smelt of sweat and coffee.

"No ID, no weapon, no badge, no clothes - no fucking way you're a cop," he whispered to the side of his face.

She looked straight ahead unaffected.

"That's generally the perception you want to create when you're undercover," she said with sarcasm turning to face him.

He shook his head, still not buying it.

"Then prove it to me," he whispered gently.

"Call Dean. Call my precinct. Finger print me for godsake and you'll have all the proof you need," she finished off in a yell.

"No," he said gruffly, kicking the chair away from the back of her legs until it hit the wall.

"Prove to me, that you're not going to take my shit," he said loudly as he backed her up against the table.

"Prove to me that you're not some common sex worker and that you have the training, skills and intelligence to warn off a predator," he finished as her backside collided with the cold metal table.

He had her cornered but he still hadn't made contact with her body.

"Is that what you are Silverman, a predator?" She looked him dead in the eyes and waited patiently for his answer.

He looked past her towards the door as if he was expecting Cornett to come through it at any minute.

"Is that why you work for Human Trafficking, you've always had a sick curiosity for over powering vulnerable women," she jabbed. "You can't get it with your charm so you get it with your badge and your power."

It was a routine she'd pulled more times than she could ever count, pry into their personal and professional lives and accuse them of unspeakable things until they cracked.

"38 interviews Agent Silverman," she said with disgust. "How many put up a fight?" she pushed.

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, he looked stunned and a little taken aback. She was holding her breath waiting for him to respond, lash out, grab her. She was acting brazen and cocky but her heart was thumping a mile, she couldn't for the life of her read this guy and how exactly he was going to take this.

She did the only thing she could, pushed further.

"So what's the deal, they go down on you while Cornett gets them water," she said casually raising her eyebrows. "Or are you more of a home run kind of a guy," she pushed with an exaggerated smile.

She waited a few anxious seconds, expecting him to whack the smile clean off her face at any moment.

He surprised her by pulling back and stepping away from her slowly. She watched as he made his way towards the door and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

She just looked on as he clicked the door shut behind him and left her alone in the small, dark room.


Elliot shook his head as he watched the screen flicker for a millisecond before the black and white vision of the empty room came up. It was an anxious waiting game as he watched on knowing that at any moment the door to the room would open and he was about to lose his partner.

In more ways than one.

Fin started to fast-forward impatiently and Elliot stole a glance at Cragen who was watching his reaction intently.

As Fin hit play Elliot's eyes flicked back to the screen as he saw Olivia enter first, followed shortly by himself. Elliot bit into his lip as he watched her move, pushing him up against the door, pulling off his jacket and moving in to whisper in his ear.

"Fast forward it to the end," Elliot said gruffly determined not to make eye contact with either of them.

"No." Cragen dismissed him.

A few moments later she was lying on the bed and Elliot was moving on top of her.

Elliot looked away.

"It had to look convincing," he defended under his breath, embarrassed as all hell.

Before he knew it he was shirtless and she was climbing on top of him. The room was silent and no one moved, their eyes were glued to the screen as Olivia moved down his chest and attempted to undo his pants. He could sense the room holding their breath at the potential turn this could take and relaxed once they saw him pull her back up his body.

Minutes that felt like hours passed and suddenly he was kissing her, hard. His hand running over her ass, under her dress, pulling it up so far the camera caught a glimpse of her barely there lace panties.

"Seriously, can we fast forward, you get the idea."

Elliot reached out and grabbed the remote from Fin and hit the fast forward button. He wasn't going to stand there and take this, nor should she.

After a few moments Fin retrieved the remote and hit play. Olivia's dress had been removed, Elliot's pants were gone and they were in a heated passionate kiss that made Elliot's breath catch.

He could still taste her. Feel her. Hear her moaning.

"Jesus Christ," Cragen called out shaking his head. "Turn it off."

Elliot snatched the remote back and hit stop.

"Damn." Fin turned to Elliot in shock.

"Look, you don't understand, we couldn't blow our cover or they'd kill us, it had to look legit." Elliot had this defences up.

"Well you sure had us fooled," Fin responded with sarcasm.

Cragen stood up and took the remote from Elliot.

"Fin, give us a minute would you," Cragen insisted.

Fin gave Elliot a look before he left, as if he couldn't believe his eyes and it made Elliot feel like shit. If only Olivia was here to help defend the situation with him, only he knew it didn't deserve a defence because it was completely uncalled for and out of line.

Cragen waited for Fin to shut the door before turning to Elliot.

"I know-" Elliot started, trying to defuse the accusation before it started.

"We're not watching anymore of this," Cragen cut him off. "I want you to tell me how it ends and no BS this time."

Elliot opened his mouth and then shut it again trying to remember exactly what happened next or where they'd even stopped the tape. His mind was blank.

"Tell me you two didn't.." Cragen's words trailed off as his eyes pierced his for confirmation.

When Elliot registered what he was implying he was quick to act.

"No, God no." Elliot responded as if there thought were inconceivable. When really.

Fuck me.

Elliot rubbed his hand over his face.

"We didn't."

Cragen let out the breath he was holding.

"Then what?"

"I kept telling her that we should simulate and she kept telling me to hit her. That they had a no violence policy and I'd be kicked out."

"Jesus, tell me you didn't," Cragen began.

"No, God no. I didn't hit her. I just pretended to get rough with her, like I was saying before, with the lamp."

Cragen looked at the remote in his hand and turned back to the TV and with a deep exhale he clicked play.

He only had to fast forward a little until she was scrambling out beneath him and he was grabbing her, the two of them falling off the bed and onto the ground.

Then nothing.

The bed was blocking the view of the camera and for that small solace Elliot was thankful.

Cragen turned to Elliot as if he expected him to fill in the blanks but Elliot just stared ahead, anxiously awaiting what came next. His memory was shaky and he couldn't for the life of him remember what happened in which order.

They came back into view and his eyes widened when he threw her at the wall. He could see she was moments from face planting if she hadn't put her hands up in time.

She took a swing at him, he ducked and he pushed her up against the wall, seizing her writs.

Jesus.

He looked away, he couldn't watch this anymore. It made him sick. He turned around and ran a hand through his hair. He stared at the wall as Cragen continued to look on.

He heard a small noise come from Cragen and wondered if he'd just seen him peg the lamp at her head or strangle her with the cord. Both equally painful memories that he'd never be able to erase.

He turned around just in time to see the men swarm the room. It looked like a movie, not his life. Not his partner lying on the ground with a cord wrapped around her neck.

There were four men in total, not eight, all holding what appeared to be assault rifles, not machine guns. Possibly M16's although he couldn't be sure as the majority had their backs to the camera.

They were wearing unmarked black clothing with balaclavas. He realised with a pang of disappointment that hit him deep that they would have no chance of concrete IDs when all that was in view were small slits where their eyes peered out.

He looked on as his comatose body lay limp on the ground after the blow to the head. Two men then grabbed Olivia's still body and carried her out of the room.

Was it part of the act or had he pulled the cord too tight?

Cragen and Elliot looked on in disbelief as the room emptied out and it was just Elliot who was lying there unconscious. A few moments passed and Cragen pressed fast forward for what felt like an eternity. He hit stop suddenly when he saw a large man in a business suit enter the room and drag Elliot out by his ankles.

Cragen hit pause on the clearest shot of the man's face he could manage and looked over at Elliot.

Elliot nodded.

"That's the guy that took my money."

Cragen ejected the DVD from the player and put it back in it's case, handing it to Elliot.

"Get this across to Jacobson, I want firearm identification and an ethnicity ID of the four gun men."


Olivia opened her eyes and for a moment she had no idea where she was.

As she sat up she realised she had fallen asleep on the interview table. She had only meant to rest her eyes while she waited for Agent Silverman or Cornett to return.

Her body must have really needed sleep. The past two weeks had been a painful whirlwind of sleepless nights. She constantly had to have her guard up and only slept in small increments. Now, regardless of the fact that she was still held against her will, she felt a great deal safer in the hands of the FBI than the management at Sin.

She instinctively looked down at her wrist hoping to get the time from her watch but remembered with frustration that she hadn't worn it since she went undercover.

She had no idea how long she'd been sleeping but her back was stiff and her head was pounding like she had the hangover of the century. It must have been at least four to six hours.

She rubbed her face and pushed the chair out from underneath her. She moved across to the two-way mirror and took in her reflection, she had marks on her face where she'd slept against her wrist and her hair looked like a mess. She did her best to rub off the excess eyeliner that had smudged beneath her eyes.

She tried to piece together the time.

Say she was asleep for five hours just now, plus one hour in the interview room, eight in the waiting room, four and a half during the drive from NYC to Philly to DC. That's nearly 20 hours she'd been technically missing. Twenty four and it would be official.

She needed to get to a phone.

She banged on the glass window.

"Hey, can I get some water in here!" she yelled, her voice cracking she was so parched.

This was ridiculous. It was inhumane.

If this was a tactic to get her to talk by withholding water she was going to lose it.

They didn't even pull this kind of crap when interviewing perps, food maybe but not water.

The door opened and Silverman calmly walked back in holding a bottle of Evian.

Her eyes went straight to the bottle and she'd never been more thankful to see water in her life. She stepped forward to retrieve it, reaching out but Silverman held it away from her, holding up his hand.

"Sit down," he told her directly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Give it to me," she stepped forward to snatch it and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it gently and then a little harder until she recoiled.

"Sit. Down," he repeated with more anger.

"Jesus," she shook her wrist out, glaring at him. This was insane.

She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but knew better, it would get her nowhere.

She walked back to the seat and took her place and watched as he did the same, resting the water bottle right next to him out of her reach.

"The two men in the wagon, did they talk to you?" he asked her softly.

"No," she answered with a sigh.

"They didn't say one word to you?" he asked in disbelief.

"No," she repeated.

"Did you come in contact with the other two men?" he asked with a look of anxiousness in his eyes.

"What other two men?" she asked confused.

His shoulders slumped as if he had been counting on a different response.

"There were four men in total," he stressed.

She closed her eyes and tried to recall the situation in the room when it was swarmed. She was on the floor with her eyes shut the entire time, she'd heard the yelling and the footsteps. There could have easily been four men in the room, but only two men had taken her into the wagon.

"There were only two men in the wagon," she reiterated.

"So at no point did you come in contact with the other two men?" he asked again with more urgency.

She rubbed her face, she was exhausted.

"There could have been four men earlier but only two men took me to the wagon," she sighed.

"What do you mean there could have been four men earlier?" he yelled.

She could see the frustration building in Silverman's face at her off the hand remark. Her eyes returned to the water and she didn't shift her focus from the bottle.

Her mouth was so fucking dry.

"Alright," Silverman recoiled, attempting to calm himself down. "Just start at the beginning, where were you when they took you?"

"I was in one of the rooms at Sin," she began.

She thought of Elliot then, in the room with her just before she was taken. She had successfully blocked him out of her thoughts for the past 20 or so hours but now images of him beaten, maimed and killed were swarming her mind. She needed to know if he was ok, just one God forsaken phone call and she would tell her story a thousand times over.

"I need to make a phone call," she said quietly.

Silverman rubbed his face and slammed his fist on the table.

"You were in a room," he repeated prompting her to just continue.

She looked down at his wrist that remained on the table and tried to get a glimpse of the time. She couldn't see from the angle but it looked like it was ten o'clock.

AM or PM she didn't know, there were no windows in the room.

"How long did you leave me in here?" she asked in defence.

When Silverman didn't respond she tried again.

"How long was I asleep?" she pushed harder.

"About ten hours," he said casually.

Her eyes widened and she realised then that he was wearing a different shirt, had shaved his five o'clock shadow and smelt like fresh coffee. She was too out of it earlier to notice any of these changes.

She hadn't slept a full ten hours straight in years. She quickly did the math in her head.

"Look, I know you need my help in this investigation Agent Silverman otherwise you would have released me hours ago, but I need yours too. I have been technically missing for over 24 hours, I need to make a phone call, I need to drink that water and I need to use the restroom. So if you want cooperation from a New York detective who appears to be your only shot at some solid leads right now, you need to allow me my basic human rights."

His eyes narrowed in on her and he took in a breath before responding.

"Contrary to your belief you aren't our only shot at this, we've been investigating this operation for years now. You think we'd let you sleep for ten hours if you were an integral part of solving this. It's simply protocol to conduct this interview, obtain the necessary details and then you can get the hell out."

She considered his statement for a short moment before she ascertained it was pure bullshit. He didn't want to let on how much they needed her for fear that she'd put on the breaks.

He wanted her to talk for her freedom.

"You called Dean didn't you," she said calmly.

He looked away for a quick moment before returning eye contact.

"You checked my story out while I was asleep and realised I wasn't BS-ing you," she pushed.

He didn't answer her either way.

"Do you realise what my Captain is going to do once he hears about the treatment I've been receiving here. If you don't give me that God damn water right now, they will take your badge and your gun the moment he contacts your superior."

She watched his jaw click as he considered her.

He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sharp bang against the two-way mirror.

They both looked over at the mirror shaking just slightly from the rattle and she smiled internally knowing she had him. That had to be a superior or Cornett calling the shots.

It was then that Silverman slowly slid the water in her direction. She tried not to let the relief reach her eyes at the knowledge that she had him.

She reached out to grasp the bottle, he was still holding it and staring at her intently.

"Details," he told her, a warning of the trade they were about to make.

She finally pulled the bottle from his grasp and sat back in her chair considering him. She slowly began to twist the cap off, keeping her cool as if she weren't desperately craving the contents.

She took a sip and it was bliss, she took a gulp and then another and by the time she got half way through the bottle she just skulled the remainder of the contents.

He watched her with out a word until she'd drained it dry. She screwed the cap back on and placed the empty bottle next to her.

"Thank you," she said still keeping her cool.

He didn't respond, didn't acknowledge her, not even with a nod. He was still clenching his jaw in anticipation of how she'd chose to play this.

"So now it's just the restroom and the phone call and I'm all yours," she said with a polite smile.

"Listen lady-" he began in anger.

"Detective Benson," she corrected, matching his volume. She knew he had a problem addressing her by name, it would mean he was admitting fault.

"You can have your restroom break if you make it quick, but no phone call," he pressed.

"I get both or you get nothing out of me, be smart about this Agent Silverman and stop wasting your time," she pushed back.

"Agent Cornett will take you to the restroom, but this is a matter of international security and there will be no phone calls until we get this straightened out," he said definitively.

When she opened her mouth to retort and he cut her off.

"It's protocol detective, you should know all about that," he said almost mocking her.

Her heart dropped at the realisation that he was serious. She wouldn't get her phone call, she wouldn't hear of Elliot's condition and she was officially in the hands of the FBI for as long as they deemed necessary.


Elliot lay there staring up at the base of the cot above him.

Cragen had ordered him to get some sleep, they'd been working the case all through the night and apart from awaiting the results of the weapon and ethnicity IDs there was nothing they could do.

He had told Cragen to wake him up as soon as the results came in but even then, how much could that tell them?

Fin was downstairs searching for any background, history and past employees he could find from Sin and Cragen was reviewing the last scene of the tape over and over in the hope that some clue would miraculously register.

Elliot couldn't watch it anymore.

What the hell was going on? Who swarmed the room? What happened to the workers and management at Sin in the time he was unconscious. Who took Olivia?

He squeezed his eyes shut. She had seemed so worried about the fate that was awaiting them and he had no idea. Did she really know that was coming?

Fourteen dead women, raped and beaten over the course of eight months. Then suddenly forty women vanish.

He bit into his lip.

No.

She was fine. She had to be, they couldn't possibly execute forty women like that.

The deaths had been sporadic. A body would turn up every fortnight or so until they put together their common link, they all worked at Sin. That's when Cragen decided they needed someone on the inside.

Then again, that look in her eye, she knew something that he didn't. She feared for their lives to the point where she'd do anything to save them. Anything.

What if the management at Sin twigged that they were being watched and panicked, executing each and every worker and witness at Sin.

No.

Fuck, he needed to know if she was ok.

Never again is she fucking going undercover. He was sick to death of her so willingly putting herself in harms way. He had been against the Sin op from the beginning but she didn't have an ounce of hesitation when Cragen asked her if she would do it. She never did.

He clasped his hands and rested them on his stomach. He could feel the bareness of his ring finger and he exhaled into the empty room. It had been six months since he moved out and had lost count of how many times that had made it. How many times he'd given up on his wife and his family because the job got the better of him.

This time more than any other it had felt more final. He hadn't seen Kathy or his kids in nearly two months and he hated the fact that tonight of all nights he selfishly wanted the comfort, distraction and stability of his family.


He must be asleep he decided because he heard Olivia's voice.

She was whispering something in his ear as she draped herself across his bare chest.

She was pushing her lips into the crux of his neck, hitting a sensitive spot, kissing him hard.

He reached out and grabbed her hip and realised she was only wearing panties.

His fingers traced the rim of the small piece of material and she moaned into his neck.

"Take them off," she whispered seductively.

He rolled her onto her back and his lips instinctively met with hers as he kissed her gently. His lips grazing hers before he opened her mouth, sliding his tongue into meet hers.

She kissed him back, pressing her hip against his hardness with urgency.

Fuck me.

He was already naked and she was trying to draw her underwear down but he wouldn't let her.

He ran a hand over her bare breast and flicked his thumb over her erect nipple. He felt her writhe against him in frustration.

"Fuck me El," she moaned against his lips that were still nipping at hers.

He let his hand trail lower down her ribcage, over her abdomen and hover at the top of her panties.

She tried to reach out and grasp his cock but he blocked her, instead running a hand over smooth satin.

They both moaned in unison as he felt how ready she was. He rubbed two fingers against her clit over the top of the material and she called out.

He then pushed at her entrance, penetrating her slightly through her panties and she kicked him in the calf in frustration.

"Now Elliot," she wasn't kidding around anymore.

She spread her legs either side of him, his cock rubbing against her as he exhaled into her neck and she urged him to penetrate.

She tried to pull her panties down again and his hand came down to help her with the task. He got them half way down her ass before he slipped his hand between her legs and pushed two fingers inside of her.

She called out in surprise but let him slide his fingers in and out in a rhythmic motion. He watched her eyes draw to a close and her breathing heighten.

She bit into her lip as she moved with his motions, her hands grabbing at his bicep, her fingernails gently sinking into his muscle.

He quickened the pace and he saw the mounting pleasure etched in her features, she was dripping and was so tight around the thickness of his digits. He wanted so badly to replace them with his cock but he wanted to watch her come. He didn't want any selfish distractions that would take away from this moment.

She pulled her lower lip into her mouth before releasing it with a moan. He retracted his fingers momentarily to rub over her clit before plunging her fingers back inside.

"Fuck El," she let out and he felt her contract around his fingers.

She called out as she spiralled into orgasm, her fingernails biting deeper into his skin.

His lips brushed over her forehead and he felt the slight perspiration.

"Elliot," she whispered against his cheek as he sank down onto her body.

"Elliot!" Fin's voice echoed through the crib and his eyes snapped open, trying to get his bearings.

He was lying on his stomach with his face pushed into the pillow but Olivia wasn't beneath him.

Jesus.

Thank God he was on his stomach right now or Fin would be able to see the extent of his arousal.

"Sorry Man, the results came in," Fin confirmed the reason for the interruption. "You're going to want to see this."


It had been another four hours.

Olivia had been to the restroom, she was even able to wash her face and brush her teeth with a disposable toothbrush and toothpaste that tasted like powered milk.

It was at least something.

When she returned to the interview room Silverman had a white paper bag waiting which contained a burger with the works, large fries and a coke. At first her stomach turned at the smell but once she watched Silverman dig into his own burger, her appetite started to return.

Suddenly she was starving.

She had pulled open the burger and devoured half of it in moments, she then consumed a handful of salty fries and drained half of the coke in one sip.

Suddenly she was insanely full.

She sucked in a breath finding it hard to breathe and pushed the half eaten contents to the side.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"I don't remember," she said clutching at her stomach feeling the onset of indigestion.

Her stomach had shrunk dramatically and she shouldn't have done that. All the salt and sugar that her body wasn't used to in rapid succession. She had practically been living on bread, nuts, rice and water for 2 weeks. The food was so plain and sparse she learnt to do without it most of the time.

"Two days ago maybe." She didn't even know what day it was let alone when she last ate.

"You must really love your job," he commented softly.

She made eye contact with him before looking away. She wasn't sure how to answer that or if she even would.

She cleared her throat.

"About an hour before I was taken, my partner had come to warn me that our captain was pulling the plug on the operation. The only way he could reach me was to go undercover as a client," she began.

Silverman stilled his burger in his hands.

"To be clear, I was not there to participate. I was just there to take the bookings and flirt with the clients. My partner however needed to get me alone so we could warn me."

She looked away before continuing. "So he dropped ten grand for an hour of my time."

Silverman's eyebrows rose and he waited for her to continue.

"When management found out he was willing to pay that amount they wouldn't take no for an answer. There was a camera in the room and if we so much as looked suspect, we'd both be killed. I say that because about a week ago a client had come in and was asking all sorts of questions about the women, the club.." her words drifted off as she looked away. "They suspected he was a cop and broke his neck."

Silverman exhaled sharply.

"It turned out he wasn't a cop," she said softly, scratching her temple with her knuckle. "My partners a good actor Agent Silverman but the risk was too severe."

Silverman opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.

"To make matters worse the fourteen women who had died over the course of the past eight months had either broken the rules, talked back to management or dissatisfied clients. If it looked like I wasn't satisfying my partner, I'd be killed."

Silverman placed his burger down on the paper and reached for a napkin.

A few anxious beats passed until he asked her the question.

"Did you sleep with your him?" Silverman asked quietly. "Your partner?"

She watched as he wiped his hands with the napkin and felt responsible for his loss of appetite.

"No, I asked him to hit me so they'd kick him out. They had a strict no violence policy, they wanted to keep the women in top condition."

She shuddered at the reasoning that now made sense. They were going to be sold and no one is going to buy a bruised peach.

"But wouldn't that make him a dissatisfied client?" Silverman asked the lingering question.

She looked away.

"There's a good chance they would have killed you anyway," Silverman pressed.

She stared at the condensation that was dripping from the coke cup.

Maybe. She thought, but they would have kicked him out first.

When Silverman realised he had potentially hit a nerve he changed the subject.

"So did he hit you?" Silverman questioned.

Olivia shook her head.

"He got rough with me and after quite the ordeal it ended with him pretending to strangle me until I fell unconscious. It must have worked because that's when the men swarmed the room."

Silverman looked a little in shock and he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts.

"I don't think it had anything to do with your performance. I think it was just a coincidence that they swarmed your room when they did," Silverman said.

Olivia shifted in her seat confused.

"Why would you say that?"

She could sense the shift that came from Silverman as he realised he might have said too much. He reached over and took a sip of his coke, she could tell he didn't want to answer. He knew a hell of a lot more than she did about this whole ordeal and he needed answers from her, not visa versa.

She wanted answers too and wished that he could see her as an ally in this situation rather than just a witness.

"Please tell me what's going on," she said quietly. "Are you saying those men were coming to take me the whole time. Regardless of what I was doing in that room, their intention was to traffic me internationally? What was in Philadelphia?"

Silverman looked away.

"Look we're getting off track, go back to when you were pretending to be unconscious. What happened then?"

Her demeanour sunk, she had just given him a shitload of information she would have rather not shared and she realised he wasn't going to give her anything in return.

"I have a right to know what's going on too, I'm giving you all the details you need, I'm not just a random witness in this case Silverman, I'm working it too, you have to give me something."

"Detective, finish your story and I'll fill in the blanks," he said getting frustrated.

"No, fill in the blanks and I'll finish my story," she pushed. It felt childish but she wasn't going to lay all of her cards on the table just to be kicked to the curb.

He stood up then, in one quick movement and for a moment she thought he was going to lose it and sweep the table or throw something. He watched her intently before digging into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone.

He placed it on the table in front of him and her eyes locked onto it.

"Finish your story, and I mean every single detail and if I'm satisfied I have everything I need from you, I'll call your superior and tell him of your whereabouts."

Her eyebrows came together in confusion.

"How long are you intending on keeping me here?" she sounded pissed. She figured once she told them everything she thought she could go.

"As long as it takes," he told her. "Now start talking."

The fury was starting to build in her and she felt her tolerance for Silverman diminishing by the second. She had given him the benefit of the doubt and now he was walking all over her.

"This is bullshit. I can't believe your superiors are letting you get away with this crap. With holding water, restroom privileges, my freedom, making ridiculous deals for basic human rights in order to get what you want. I'd be out of a job if I pulled half the crap you've pulled with me. I need to get back to the city and I need to get back now."

She launched up then and snatched the cell phone from the table. She was quick, flicking it open as Silverman sprung into action and rounded the table. She kicked the chair in front of him and frantically dialled Cragen's number, urging her fingers not to shake.

One ring, two rings. Come on.

She made it around the table but he was hot on her heels.

"Cragen."

She heard him pick up just as Silverman grasped the back of her shirt and yanked her towards him.

"It's Olivia-" she yelled and before she could continue Silverman's arm grabbed her around the neck in a chokehold. The phone slipped to the floor and Silverman's hand went over her mouth and muffled her impending words.

She screamed against his hand in anger. She would have told Cragen her location and to send someone immediately but her words were nothing but muffled screaming.

She tried biting his hand and elbowing him in the ribs but he'd thrown off her centre of gravity, using the table as leverage and she was left kicking in the air.

She heard the door burst open then and relief flooded through her that Silverman was about to be called off by a superior. She then realised with shock that Agent Cornett had only come in to take the cell phone, close it and exit promptly.

As soon as the door shut Silverman released her from his hold and she fell immediately to the ground. Her wrist broke her fall as she fell on it awkwardly and she called out in pain.

"Just remember Detective, you did this to yourself."

With that, Silverman walked out the door and slammed it shut.

She knew then that it would be hours, possibly days until Silverman would return.


"What did you find?" Elliot asked clearing his throat.

He'd told Fin he'd be down in a minute and waited for his situation down south to pass.

He couldn't believe he had dreamt about Olivia like that, at a time like this.

Cragen shot into action with the spiel.

"The ethnicity ID showed Iranian to be the closest match, maybe Iraqi, but they were definitely of Middle Eastern decent. They were bearing SA80 assault rifles, a light-weight war weapon designed in the 70s and has been in service since the mid 80s. They were used in the Gulf, Bosnian, Kosovo and Civil Wars and more recently in the Afghanistan and Iraq war. Their rate of fire is approximately 700 rounds per minute making them extremely dangerous and illegal if possessed outside war grounds."

"So how does that help us find Liv?" Elliot asked in frustration wanting to cut to the chase.

"We've contacted the manufacturers BAE Systems and Heckler & Koch however with 350,000 currently in production we have little hope in tracking down the weapons specific origin. However coupled with the Middle Eastern ethnicity ID I'd say there is a good chance the gunmen are likely soldiers of the ongoing Middle Eastern war.

"So in other words, you've got nothing," Elliot said gruffly.

"We've got an idea of what we are up against here Elliot and as you can imagine it extends a lot further than a gentleman's club on the Upper East Side. I've been in contact with the government to see if they can shed any light on the matter and what resources they can provide and I'm waiting to hear back."

Elliot shook his head, he couldn't believe this.

"So like I said, you've got nothing," he said bitterly as he turned to leave Cragen's office.

"Wait Elliot, there's something else," Cragen said before he got too far.

Elliot picked up on the apprehension in Cragen's voice and it made Elliot's heart rate skyrocket.

This couldn't be good news.

"What is it?" Elliot tried to sound unaffected.

Cragen let a few beats pass as he summoned up the courage to tell him.

"What Captain?" Elliot pushed.

"Olivia called."


Eleven hours.

Eleven fucking hours and she hadn't seen or heard from anyone.

If she hadn't had so much sleep earlier she would have tried to sleep just to pass time. That and the coke she drank had kept her wide-awake for every god damn second of it.

About five hours ago she had needed to pee again, but she held it and tried to block it out of her mind. A bit like hunger pain, given enough time it eventually passes. Lord knows she knew how to hold it and she wouldn't cause a scene until she was desperate.

To keep track of the passing time, each approximate hour that passed she'd line up another fry to her collection. She wondered if eventually she would run out of fries.

The food was starting to stink and at one point she thought she was going to be sick. She had bent down on the ground convinced she was going to throw up. She had even held out the lunch bag as an aid. Her stomach had been running in circles attempting to digest the takeout food she'd consumed but somehow she had managed to keep it down.

Eleven hours left her a lot of time alone with her thoughts.

She thought about the case, about the gravity of the situation, about Elliot, about the phone call she'd made to Cragen and how she wasn't sure if no word from her would have been better than a scream for help.

She'd knew she had just made things worse. They probably assumed the worst, that she had called from some perverts basement screaming for freedom.

The guilt was intoxicating.

She thought about Porter and if Silverman had actually called him. She wondered what he would do had he known the situation she was in. If anything.

After their colourful history she knew she couldn't trust him but at that point Porter was the closest thing she had to her freedom right now.

She tried to devise a game plan for when Silverman eventually returned.

Threats didn't work, confidence didn't get her anywhere. The only thing left to do was succumb to Silverman's every need, do a complete 180 and give him all the information she could possibly recall. As much as it would kill her.

Effectively, she'd kiss his ass.

She didn't care at that point about the case, about the truth, about justice for the two weeks of hell she'd endured.

All she wanted was her freedom and word that Elliot was ok.

She'd then get back to the precinct and they would continue with their own investigation.

She thought about all the perps she had interrogated in the past and how she'd treated them in a similar fashion to this. Never to this extent of course but she knew all the tricks in the book - the flickering light, the wobbly chair, the heat, the cold, the boredom.

It almost felt like this was karma catching up with her.

The only difference was, she wasn't a perp.

She was impressed with her stamina at this point. She could have caused a chaotic scene, thrown furniture, thrown food at the two-way mirror. Thumped on the door incessantly until someone listened.

She knew Silverman was watching, or at least his men were and she would give them no satisfaction or indication that this was killing her.

She would continue to patiently await his return.

Five more fries later and Olivia stood up, walked over to the two-way mirror and said the words that sat sour on her tongue.

"I'm ready to talk now."

TBC