Chapter Eight

He felt nothing, not even pain, at first. He was wrapped in the soft folds of unconsciousness, scarcely aware of his own body. He was on his back, staring at the sky. Snow-blessedly cool and surprisingly soft—fell in a white stream from the black sky. "I was in a house," he thought. "I shouldn't be able to see the sky…"

And then the pain struck. It was everywhere; every cell in his body flared with it. Bobby thought that it was impossible for a body to feel so much heat and cold at the same time. He desperately tried not to move; even breathing was agony. Through the fog of pain, Bobby thought he heard someone shouting. He blinked and struggled to take a deep breath. His body shook with the effort, but he managed one breath, then another, and another until he was breathing with some regular rhythm.

"Goren! C'mon…answer me! Are you down there? Please…please answer me…" Stabler's desperate words finally formed in Bobby's mind.

Bobby struggled to speak, but only a faint gasp came out of his mouth. He swallowed, steeled himself against the pain, and forced out the name. "Stabler."

Stabler's pale, anxious, and bloodied face appeared over the remains of the stairway; his flashlight blinded Bobby for a second. Bobby realized that the bomb had destroyed the back door and the stairs to the basement. "I'm on the basement floor," he thought. "It threw me down here…Why am I still alive?"

"Goren…thank God…Stay still…I've called for a bus and backup," Stabler called to him. "I'll try to find a way to get to you…"

Bobby ignored Stabler's instructions and fought to sit up. The pain was still intense, but his body seemed to be accepting it. His right side appeared to have taken the brunt of the blast. His right leg and arm were cut and bleeding, and it was impossible to move either without pain. The right side of his chest hurt with every breath, and Bobby suspected his ribs were at least badly bruised if not broken. He felt warm blood running down the side of his face. "Well," he thought grimly. "At least no one will notice that little bruise Mom gave me now."

He moved cautiously to survey his surroundings. Directly in front of him was the wreckage of the staircase. He groped with his relatively unscathed left hand through the debris around him. To his surprise, he found his flashlight, and, to his shock, he found that it still worked. "That," Bobby thought. "Makes even less sense than my surviving…"

He swung the flashlight's beam around the basement. The bomb fortunately was a small one, with its damage confined to an area near the back door and stairs. Bobby thought he heard a muffled whimper and pointed the light in what he thought was the direction of the sound's source. In the far corner of the basement was a low table with something on it. For one, horrible moment Bobby remembered the small torture chamber where Jo Gage imprisoned Alex. He shivered and blinked and tried to drive the memory away. He heard the strange cry again.

"Is…is anyone there?" Bobby gasped.

A muffled, strangled cry was the response. Bobby found a long piece of wood and used it and the basement wall to help him get to his feet. Pain swept through his body, and it took him three tries to get to his feet. He leaned heavily on the stick and struggled to take a step. The pain again attacked him, and Bobby nearly fainted.

"Get back down, you idiot," he thought. "It's nothing…what do you think you're doing…" He heard the muffled cry again. "It's someone…someone who needs help…"

He lurched toward the sound. It was slow work, because of his pain and wounds and the debris flung across the floor. Gasping, Bobby swept the flashlight's beam across the table. What the light revealed froze and sickened him. The naked body of woman was bound to the table. A blindfold covered her eyes, and a gag muffled her pitiful cries. Slashes and bruises covered her body, and she shivered and struggled weakly against the ropes that confined her.

"Thank God," Bobby whispered. "She's alive."

He staggered forward, hope negating his pain. He reached the table and leaned heavily on it. There was a small stool next to the table; Bobby tried not to think about what the man who sat on it had done. He sat heavily on the stool, caught his breath, and tried to ignore his body's pain.

"It's…it's ok," he said. "I'm a policeman…I'm not going to hurt you…I'm going to help you…"

His words terrorized the woman. She shook violently and whimpered as he removed the blindfold. Her dark eyes were full of pain and fear as he took away the gag.

"Please," she pleaded in a terribly weak voice. "Please don't hurt me any more…I'll do anything you want…Just…please don't hurt me…"

Bobby struggled out of his leather jacket and, as gently as he could, draped it over her.

"I…I'm not him…I'm not going to hurt you." He fought to make his voice as calm and gentle as possible. "I…I'm going to cut you free…"

He found his pocket knife and opened it. The woman cried out again and pulled desperately at the ropes.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said. "I don't mean to scare you." It hurt to speak, but his words seemed to comfort her. "I know the knife frightens you…but I have to cut the ropes…"

Wincing, he reached to saw through the ropes that cut into her wrists. She stared at him in terror, but the fear slowly left her eyes as she realized he was trying to help her.

"He…he told me…He was going to help me…" she whispered. "But he…he hurt me…"

"Are you…Angela Corelli?" Bobby asked as the knife finally sliced through the rope.

"Yes," she said. She cried in pain as she slowly lowered her arms.

"Here," Bobby said gently. "Let's get this jacket around you…see if we can get you warmer…" He tenderly tucked the jacket around her.

Angela looked at him. "You're…you're not him…you're really not him…"

Bobby moved slowly to cut the ropes that held her feet.

"He hurt me…he hurt me so much," she said numbly.

"I know," Bobby said softly and sadly. "He's not going to hurt you any more…"

"Goren!" Stabler's frantic voice seemed to come from behind the basement wall. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

Angela cowered. "He's back…he's…"

"No…No…he isn't." Bobby's hand hovered over her. "It's another detective…a good guy…His name is Elliott Stabler…" Bobby's voice calmed her. "My name is Bobby Goren…We're going to help you…"

"Goren!" Stabler's voice was closer and more agitated.

"Stabler," Bobby answered as loudly as he could. "I found her…Angela Corelli…she's alive…"

"Thank God," Stabler said in relief. "I've found the door to the basement…but it's locked…I may have to shoot it…"

"Ok," Bobby said. He leaned on the table and looked at Angela. "There's going to be some very loud noise…don't worry…"

A shot and the brutal sound of a bullet striking metal followed Bobby's words. A door at the far end of the basement swung open.

"It's all right now," Bobby thought. "Stabler will help her." He slumped to the cold concrete floor.

The beam of Stabler's flashlight swept across the room, coming to rest on a small figure huddled on a table. On the floor leaning against the table was Bobby. He raised a blood streaked face to Stabler.

"Help her," he gasped in a weak voice.

Stabler quickly crossed to the table. The figure on it looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Stabler…Angela Corelli," Bobby said weakly. "Angela Corelli…Elliott Stabler."

The gentle care in Bobby's voice struck Stabler, and he noted how the sound of Bobby's voice calmed the battered woman.

"Hi," Stabler said softly. "Ok if I call you Angela?"

She clung tightly to Bobby's jacket. "Y…yes," she whispered.

Stabler studied her briefly; Angela was terribly cold and terrified, but didn't appear to be in immediate danger. He turned to examine Bobby. There was blood—a lot of it—on his face and head. He was very pale—almost as white as the snow—and Stabler didn't like the sound of his breathing. Bobby was also shivering—probably from the cold and the pain—and Stabler thought that Bobby was in worse shape than Angela.

"Help's on the way," Stabler said. He placed a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Can you walk?"

A cough wracked Bobby's body before he could answer.

"Ok," Stabler said. "That was a stupid question…Listen…" He looked from Angela to Bobby. "I think I can find some blankets and water upstairs…I'll be back in a couple of minutes…" He paused, and slipped out of his heavy wool coat. He gently draped it over Bobby. "That'll help a little until I get back."

Bobby was too tired, too cold, in too much pain to argue. "Thank you," he whispered. "Be…be careful…There might be more traps…"

"I don't think so," Angela said. "He was working on…making this…" She shivered. "Place secure…but he hadn't really started…He only mentioned the one bomb…"

"Thank you," Stabler said. "I'll still be careful…Hang in there…I'll be back soon."

As Stabler left, Bobby fought against the temptation to close his eyes and give in to the pain. "Alex," he thought. "If only Alex were here…"

"Who's Alex," Angela asked him. Bobby stared up at her. His flashlight sat near him, pointed to the ceiling. Angela leaned over the table's edge, and he could see her pale, bruised face.

"You were calling for Alex," she said. "Oh, you're hurt…terribly hurt…"

"She…she's my partner…my friend…" It hurt more and more to speak.

"My…my children…my husband…Are they all right?"

Bobby struggled against the fog that threatened to overwhelm him. "They're worried…but ok…They'll be glad to see you." Pain seized him.

"Please…please…Bobby…please stay with me," Angela pleaded.

"I'll…I'll try…Keep talking…If you can…It helps."

She slipped slowly and cautiously off the table to sit next to him. "He…he was so angry." She clutched Bobby's jacket to her body. "He said…I had no right to be a mother…" She looked at Bobby. "I…I'm a good mother…I told him…But he said I'd ruin their lives…He…he did horrible things to me…" She choked.

Bobby reached out his right hand to softly touch her cheek. "Did…did you see him?"

She nodded. "He was big…like you…He came up to me as I left work…He showed me a badge and said he was a cop…that he needed to see my registration…And when I got in the car to get it…" She shivered. "I'm not sure what happened…He hit me and shoved me down…He…He was so big…and I couldn't fight him…He tied me up and gagged me and blindfolded me…and brought me here…"

Angela began crying; Bobby found one of her hands and held it.

"I begged him…I begged him to let me live to see my children…He laughed at me…he laughed at me while he raped me…and raped me…over and over again…"

Her cries turned to sobs; Bobby wrapped his left arm around her and pulled her to him.

"It…it's ok…He's gone…He won't hurt you any more," Bobby whispered. "You'll get to see your kids…you just need to hold on…"

Stabler found her clinging to Bobby when he returned to the basement. He gently wrapped the blankets he'd found around them. Stabler handed Angela a bottle of water, which she drank quickly.

"Not so fast," Stabler said. "Too much could be bad." He unscrewed the cap from another bottle and raised it to Bobby's lips. Bobby sipped it slowly.

"Hang in there Goren," Stabler said. "I need you around to keep Eames from killing me."

Bobby tried to smile. "Only after she's done with me."

He shivered, and several violent coughs wracked his body. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Shadows filled his mind. He thought he heard a siren in the distance. He knew he heard Stabler and Angela pleading with him to hang on, telling him that help was coming, that he had to stay awake. But the pain was too strong, his exhaustion too deep, the shadows too inviting.

"I'm sorry," Bobby thought as the darkness claimed him. "Alex…I'm so sorry…"

End Chapter Eight