Author's comments: Bensler (aka E/O). I started writing this right after the Christmas Episode, before everything ramped up with the Wheatley story. I know I take things to extremes, but…I have a feeling the show will turn in the direction of Wheatley using Olivia against Elliot.

Spoilers: Law and Order: OC "The Christmas Episode," and pretty much any crossover involving Wheatley. Trigger Warning: There are some brief scenes of sexual assault, but no r*** scenes or anything near as brutal as some of my other stories. But there is torture, as usual.

Better Days

Part One

Olivia shook her head slowly, studying the coffee machine with occasional sadistic thoughts. She slapped the side of it, as if that would magically fix it.

"Everything okay, Captain?"

Fin didn't have to call her by her title, and he knew this. She appreciated the show of respect—things had not been going well lately.

"Stupid coffee machine won't work right."

"Here, let me…"

Fin fiddled with some unknown piece of the machine, and mysteriously it fired right up.

She slammed the cup down on the counter. "Dammit."

"What's up with you?"

Leave it to Fin to cut right to the chase. "Nothing, I just—" She shook her head and watched the machine percolate and drip slowly, willing the damn thing to hurry up. "The whole Wheatley thing."

"Yeah, I hear you. Sucks."

"I mean…Barba? And now he walks? After killing a detective's wife?"

"Yeah, I get it. Brutal."

Her voice grew softer. "And Elliot's son. I just can't believe it. It's like Wheatley will stop at nothing to get at Elliot."

"I know." Fin touched her arm. "Listen, Liv, it's been really rough lately. Maybe you should take a day off tomorrow."

"Nah." She was finally able to pour the barely-palatable liquid into a cup. "I'll be fine. I just wish we could work on taking down Wheatley. But I know that's not our territory, so I have to just let it go."

Fin nodded knowingly. "Just don't take it too hard, Liv. I know how you hold onto these things."

She cast him a grateful glance. "I won't. I can't. I've got way too many other things to take care of." She glanced down at her phone and winced. "Oh! Crap, I almost forgot. I have to go to Noah's dance recital."

Setting down the untouched cup of coffee, she grabbed her coat and headed to the elevator. She took a cab to avoid being late, but rush hour traffic was bad tonight, and she had plenty of time to obsess over each source of anxiety. The worst thoughts, the ones she just couldn't distract from, were those about Elliot. She'd blown him off at Christmas, and had checked her phone non-stop afterwards, trying to come up with a reason if he did call. Things had not gone well since he'd been back, especially since Kathy's death. And now Olivia was torn, because she knew—knew so well by now—that any kind of relationship with him was going to be fraught with landmines. And probably toxic.

But then there was what her heart wanted. She brushed aside her stupid heart—she didn't work solely by instinct and feelings. Still, she kept remembering his expression as she'd told him they could have a friendship—the twinkle of hope glimmering bright in his eyes.

As the taxi approached Noah's dance school, where Noah was undoubtably warming up by now, the traffic slowed to a complete stop. Sighing deeply, she threw some money at the cab driver and got out to walk. Passing an unmarked white delivery truck stopped in the middle of the road, she realized it was what had caused the traffic jam. After she passed it on foot, she was absorbed in quickening her pace, seeing the school's sign up ahead.

She didn't notice at first the white van that parked next to her. It was New York—people parked cars and it usually wasn't a remarkable occurrence. But before she could even take note of the hairs standing up on the back of her neck, two men threw the door open and grabbed her from behind, dragging her backward into the van.

She struggled, of course, but couldn't get a good move in before they slammed the door shut, and then they had her pinned to the floor. They both had on masks, and soon they threw a hood over her head so that she couldn't see where the van was taking her. It whisked her away, nearly making her nauseous with the blind, jerky movements.

"Who are you?"

She knew she wasn't likely to get an answer, but if even one person spoke to her, she might be able to identify the voice in a line-up later. They put her hands behind her in zip ties, and she sighed at the helplessness of her situation. Trying to keep her trembling to a minimum, she slowed her gasping breaths so she could at least listen to the sounds outside the vehicle. It might help later if she was able to somehow communicate a general sense of her location.

At first, she tried to count the seconds as they went by, so she could get a sense of how far they were travelling. But thoughts of Noah's desperate face searching for her in the audience quickly consumed her mind. He would be frantic when she never showed up, probably furious at first, but terrified later when he realized she hadn't just worked late and forgotten about his performance.

Her thoughts scattered around like bird-shot, and now she thought of Elliot. Where was he tonight? How long would it take for the news of her disappearance to reach him, and how long before he began a frantic search for her?

She knew he would. Search for her, that was. This time there was no excuse, like being out of the country.

Now she remembered her non-commital response to his Christmas invitation. She hadn't gone to his place. She had her own life now. And she had meant it when she had told him he wasn't stepping up for her the way she had for him, but she still had the impression that he didn't fully understand why she was so pissed at him.

Boundaries. It was all about establishing the boundaries she'd ignored when they had worked together, when she was younger and her self-esteem needed all Elliot all the time to fill her vanishing ego.

She startled to attention when the van jolted to a halt.

Oh my God. Why had she been thinking about Elliot when she should have been putting her full attention on surviving?

Part Two

Elliot struggled against the duct tape for the umpteenth time, knowing that it would be fruitless to continue but needing to do anything to feel like he was at least trying. Wheatley had strapped his arms and feet to the chair personally, reveling in the act by excessively wrapping until there were thick chunks of it tightly holding each limb.

Elliot didn't know where he was, but from the looks of the interior, it was some sort of abandoned warehouse. The walls were as gray and stark as the floor, the room so enormous that it echoed. Upon closer examination, Elliot caught a glimpse of a meat hook ahead of him and realized this must be an old meat processing plant.

Wheatley never left the room, preparing another chair behind Elliot with flourish. Elliot still struggled with the idea that Wheatley could be brazen enough to kidnap an NYPD detective. Apparently, his release from prison, followed by his consulting work for the authorities, had emboldened him. Obviously, he though he could now do whatever the fuck he pleased.

It had been a quick abduction—Elliot had been taken from behind while walking down the street to get a coffee. They had nabbed him while he cut through on a side road. The neighborhood was usually safe—he'd had no warning that something was up until he was dragged from behind into a waiting van. And now he was here.

He had no idea what Wheatley was going to do to him, but he felt it couldn't be much worse than what he'd already done. Had his wife killed, tried to frame his son so that he became suicidal. And if all that wasn't bad enough, Elliot had gotten the news that Wheatley had been released from jail just when Olivia had stood Elliot up for Christmas.

At least the asshole hadn't gotten to Liv—yet.

No sooner had the words entered his mind than two of Wheatley's men entered a door, escorting a bound Olivia between them. She had a hood over her head, as had he when he'd first arrived, but he knew it was her by the long legs and heeled black boots and the way she strode as if trying to maintain her dignity.

But she was scared. He could tell by the way her body sagged in the center, and the jerkiness of her walk.

Well, crap. This just isn't my week. Or month. Or year, for that matter.

He immediately squirmed against his restraints. "Wheatley, let her go. You want me, not her."

"You're really going to waste your breath on that tired trope?" Wheatley approached Elliot from the side. "You know, that I know, that the best way to hurt you is to hurt the people closest to you. And now that I know how much she means to you—"

He never finished the sentence, just waved at the men to bring her to the chair directly behind Elliot.

"Elliot?"

The sound of Olivia's muffled voice resounding underneath the hood made Elliot's heart break into tiny pieces.

"It's okay, Liv. I'm going to get us out of here."

He knew it was a lie. He had no plan.

As they forced her into the chair, she said, "Can someone please explain what is going on here?"

Elliot and Olivia's chairs were back to back against one another, so Elliot could only see the hood being whisked off her head out of the corner of his eye. "It's just this idiot Wheatley. He's even dumber than I thought, kidnapping two detectives, one of them the Captain of SVU."

Wheatley snickered. "Aw, come on. You gotta admit it's kind of funny though. Besides, once I dump the bodies they'll never trace your murders back to me."

Elliot restrained a shudder. He didn't care what happened to himself, but Olivia… "C'mon, Wheatley. I saved your life. Don't you owe me her release?"

"It's not pretty when you beg, Elliot." Wheatley's voice came from just over Elliot's shoulder, and he could hear Wheatley joyfully at work wrapping Olivia's hands with duct tape. "Besides, I didn't bring you both here just to kill you. I want to see you squirm."

Elliot could feel heat rising from his chest into his cheeks. "Why do you hate me so much? Huh? Is it because I'm the only one who's gotten this close to bringing you to justice?"

Wheatley snickered. "Nah. It's just so much fun to get under your skin. And now I know exactly how to do that." Almost as an afterthought, he said, "And yeah, I do hate you. You ruined the good thing I had going on."

"Ah, c'mon, Wheatley, what did you expect? You killed my wife, and now you don't even have to pay for it. I'd say if anyone owes anybody…"

"You can save it, Stabler. Obviously I'm not letting anyone go." Wheatley stepped away from Olivia now, admiring his handiwork. Elliot felt the brush of something against his hand. Now he realized that Olivia's hand was almost close enough to touch, and he could feel the heat of her body from here. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that she was just a hair's breath away, even if they were both doomed.

"So let's talk," said Wheatley, stepping in front of Elliot so that he could be seen in his full, sadistic glory.

"About what?"

Wheatley wagged a finger at him. "Do you have any idea what you missed when you left to tromp around Italy with your wife?"

Elliot had a hard time exhaling his words. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you even asked her?"

"Asked who what?" But he knew exactly who Wheatley was bringing up. She was sitting right behind him. "Get to the point, Wheatley."

Wheatley turned on his heel to pace, like a professor about to school a student. "You have no idea what she's been through since you've been gone, do you?"

A sharp realization smacked Elliot in the face. Hadn't Olivia said nearly the same thing just a few days ago—had Elliot even asked her about her life? Had Wheatley been listening in? If so, how had he bugged Elliot without his knowledge?

"I'm not answering your questions, Wheatley. This is between me and Olivia, and none of your business."

"Oh? Did you ask her if she wants to share?" He leaned to look at her. "Olivia?"

Liv's voice came in a strained whisper. "Fuck off."

Wheatley showed no reaction to her insult. "Anyway, Elliot, I just thought you might want to know what you missed out on. Did you even know she'd been kidnapped by a sadistic psychopath?"

All the blood drained from Elliot's face. He had heard about William Lewis—that the man had kidnapped her, keeping her for four days. But he had tried not to think about it, because Fin had told him that ultimately, she had escaped on her own, and that she had escaped the worst of fate, but that she'd gone through some things, and he'd left it at that.

"What is the point of this, Wheatley? Because if you're trying to make me feel guilty for not being here, it's not—"

He shook his head, catching his mistake before he made it. Olivia was right here in the room with him, listening to everything he said. If he said he didn't feel guilty for not being here for her in her greatest time of need, he wouldn't just be lying, he would basically give her the message that he didn't care.

"Well, I just thought you should know, since you're getting closer to her again after being gone for so long. But I didn't want you to hear it from me. So I'm going to let her tell it to you."