Elliot

Tuesday, December 12th

"So what do you want to do with this?" Cragen asked Munch, Fin, Casey, Olivia, and I. Huang sat quietly in the corner, waiting to get a read on the situation while Cragen chomped on some Peanut M&Ms that he kept in a jar on his desk.

"If she's not interested in helping us out, should we drop her case?" Munch suggested. "We've got seventeen open cases."

Liv shook her head. "Not yet. I'm not giving up on the case just because she doesn't have a support system in place right now. She'll regret and we'll regret it if we just let it go."

"Can we do that?" I asked.

"She hasn't recanted, so technically you're still allowed to investigate her case, but it's not going to be easy," Casey told us. "And if you do find him, you may not be able to do anything about it."

"We can't justify not investigating this," Liv told them. "He's escalating. He attacked her twice in a week, and she was hurt much worse the second time. I bet there's more victims out there we don't know about."

"You're thinking it's someone preying on college girls?"

"No," Huang said softly from the corner. "This isn't random. You said she wasn't hurt last time?"

"Barely a scratch," I told him.

"And she fought this time?"

"Yeah."

"Did he hurt her when she stopped resisting?"

"No. She said he stopped as soon as she did."

"Then you're not looking for some random predator. You're looking for someone who knows her."

"Are you saying he's stalking her?" Liv asked.

"Probably not. More like she was a victim of opportunity. And unfortunately, once these rapists start, they're not likely to stop unless someone stops them."

"Would there be other victims then?" I asked.

"Maybe. But if there aren't any now, there will be. She was attacked on-campus both times, right?"

"Yeah."

"But in different places?"

"One time coming back from a bar, one time leaving her residence."

"Then you're looking for someone she knows, but probably not anyone she pays much attention to. He's managed to attack her without her recognizing him, so you're looking for someone who has regular contact with her, but limited, like a classmate or someone who lives in her dorm. Someone she would never even think of."

"She's not going to like us digging around in her personal life," I muttered.

"Well, she's going to have to accept it. I want you four on this until she tells us to stop or we're out of leads."

"So where do you want us to start?"

"Benson, Stabler, I want you to go to her professors. See if they've noticed anyone watching her. Look into school records, get her schedule and look into classmates that look good for this." The room fell silent, except for the sound of Munch digging in the M&Ms bowl.

"What are you all waiting for? Go." We did, but remained silent as we filed to our desks. Liv and I were still tense with Munch and Fin after our argument the day before, despite their attempts to smooth things over with beer, and Liv and I were both lost in our own worlds. Liv had gone to get a drink, and we were planning on leaving when I heard someone say my name.

"Detective Stabler, is this a bad time?"

I looked up to find Christine standing in front of me. She was completely put together, with her hair perfectly styled and her blouse without a crease. I was willing to bet that this was the only way she left the house. Her voice came out smooth and calm. No one who saw her would ever have pegged her as a rape victim. It was a total transformation from the girl I had seen the day before, anxious and afraid.

"Christine," I finally said, surprised. "No, it's fine. Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I just wanted to apologize for the way I behaved yesterday. I know it's no excuse but I was caught off-guard."

"Christine," I started.

She shook her head. "I know what you're going to say and no, it's not okay. You were just trying to help me and I did everything I could to avoid you. And I was horrible to the other detectives on Friday. Anyways, I've done some thinking, and I might be able to help you guys out."

I glanced upstairs at the open area that overlooked the squad room. "Why don't we go somewhere a little more private to talk?" I suggested. She nodded, and silently followed me up.

Waiting for Liv to join us, I had found myself watching Christine. She had turned down my offer for a drink twice before finally accepting some kind of new-age-zen-fair-trade-organic tea that I knew Liv had stashed in the drawer under the coffee maker. She nervously dipped the bag in and out of her cup.

"How's school going?" I finally asked. Okay, so I was the lamest detective around, at least it but at least it opened up some dialogue. I was determined to get her to trust me. Not that I had any idea why it mattered.

"It's good," she answered pleasantly, much to my surprise. I was expecting her to just answer out of obligation. "It's getting busy with the end of the semester coming up."

"I know I said it before but if you need us to arrange any time off or extended deadlines. . ." I trailed off. This wasn't part of my job. If she was seeing a counsellor they would have put those accommodations in place for her. But she wasn't, and I didn't think she would, so I felt an obligation to do something.

She shook her head adamantly. "I appreciate that, but things happen to people all the time. And they don't get time off or extended deadlines for it. And I know that the reason that you're asking me is because. . . because what happened is something people don't like to talk about. It's something that my professors would feel so uncomfortable with that they would give me the special accommodations because they felt like they had to. And I don't want that."

God she reminded me of Liv.

And I had no idea how to tell her what she needed to know. What I hadn't been able to put into words myself. The words that I had desperately wanted to tell myself or Liv. That she didn't have to take this on her own, or that it was okay to be weak. Nothing that she would ever be willing to believe. There was something so unsettling about her. Or maybe what I saw in her. Someone completely alone in this world. She had no one to go home to. No one to call when she had good news or she needed help. When she woke up screaming she didn't have anyone to talk to.

And whether it was right or not, I felt the same way.

"Sorry I took so long," Liv apologized, taking the seat beside me. "I got a call about the case I have to testify at tomorrow. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, thanks. I, um, I thought this might help you." She reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of papers. "I know I haven't really been helpful. This is a copy of my schedule," she explained, laying out a spreadsheet of her classes, meetings, and volunteer days. She pulled out another couple of papers stapled together. "This is a list of people who I interact with on a regular basis. I know you probably need to talk to them, so I've highlighted all the names. The ones in green are the ones I would prefer you go to first, they generally know me best or will respect my privacy. If you need to talk to another group of people, they're the ones highlighted in yellow. And the ones in red are the ones I'd prefer you didn't talk to unless you absolutely have to."

I looked down at the paper and found it neatly divided into sections- professors, roommates, dorm mates, associates from the Democratic party, from the office where she volunteered. She had an address, phone number and e-mail address for almost all of them.

"This will be very helpful," Liv said, looking it over with the same look on her face that I assumed I had. "But do you think you can talk me through your schedule first? I know you've given us the names and times, but it might help if we knew who or what we were looking for."

"Sure," she said smoothly, glancing over at the paper. "I'm in mostly small classes, which helps. I have Women's Studies Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings, but I don't think that there's anyone in there that could give you anything. There are about five guys in the class, and they're usually not there. Those who come, come with their girlfriends. I have a political science class next, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It's seminar class, so there are only 30 of us. It's predominantly filled with guys, but everyone's pretty serious about the class. I've had a couple of heated arguments with some of them, but nothing. . . nothing I would ever think of leading to something like this."

"What about between classes? Do you have a regular Starbucks or snack shop or somewhere you go in between?"

"I have an hour between classes Mondays and Wednesday and I usually go to Common Ground to study. It's a fair-trade coffee place on campus."

"Are you there a lot?"

"Two or three times a day. They make the best cappuccinos I've ever had."

For the next hour, she walked us through every part of her day-to-day routine. We made notes of anywhere there could have been anyone with an eye on her, who might have a grudge against her . . . any ideas that Liv or I could come up with. In the end, we came up with very little. She kept calm the entire time, answering endless questions. When we finished, Liv walked her out and I started running names through the system.

"She doing okay?" I asked when she came back to her desk. I had run several of the names through the system, with no hits coming back.

She shrugged. "You saw her, Elliot. She was raped twice last week, and now she seems more together than any college student I've ever seen."

I looked up at her. "You think she's making this up?"

"No. I think she's barely holding it together."

"Liv," I started softly, "about yesterday. . ."

"It's fine," she said, quickly looking away.

I wanted to say something more. I wanted to be able to say something not for the sake of saying it, but because I could finally come up with the right words. I wanted to apologize, but actually understand what I was apologizing for. And I couldn't. Luckily, a beep on my computer gave me an excuse to drop it.

"Did you get something?" she asked, quickly looking to change the subject.

"Yeah." I scanned the page. "One of her co-workers in Senator Martin's office has a prior charge for stalking an ex-girlfriend."

"The office would have checked out something like that. Why didn't it come up in his background check?"

"There wasn't enough evidence at the time to continue."

"When was this?"

"Two years ago." I looked down at my list. "Jesse Ross. She put him as one of the last-resort people to talk to."

"Is there anyone in the office who she's okay with us talking to?"

"The Senator's first legislative assistant. Nicholas Mooney."

Olivia

Thursday, December 14

"Thanks for coming in so late, detectives," Nicholas Mooney greeted us, meeting us outside the building to avoid us having to go through security. "I was away at meetings all week, I just got in this afternoon."

I had been surprised when I called to try and make an appointment and had been put straight through to his voicemail. He had called me back within an hour to apologize for being out of town, and offered to cut his trip short when he heard about the investigation. I had been expecting a fight with the office. Instead, he was doing everything to keep it simple for us.

"It's not a problem," I told him as he ushered us into his office. "We appreciate you taking the time to see us." He took a bottle of water out of his mini-fridge for each of us, then sat down at his solid mahogany conference table with us. The entire office was impeccably decorated. I didn't have to wonder why we begged for scraps in funding- it was all going to the politicians.

He took off his glasses and set them softly on the table in front of him, took a sip of his water, crossed his legs, then finally looked up at us. "You said this was regarding Christine Webber?"

"Yes," I told him, leaning forward slightly. "Has she mentioned anything to you?"

He shook his head. "No, but I wouldn't expect her to. She's a very private person."

"How long has she been working here?"

"Four months. She came on a recommendation from Senator Lindsey Grant in Vermont. She's been a wonderful addition to the staff."

"A hard worker?"

"She's the most dedicated worker I've had in the five years I've been here. She shows the most promise of any volunteer we've had."

"Have you noticed anything different with her the past couple of weeks?"

"Nothing. She's been putting in more hours, but otherwise, everything's been normal."

"Now you have another volunteer. . . Jesse Ross?" Elliot asked.

"Yes. He's been with us for the past year and a half."

"Have there ever been any problems with him?"

"He hasn't been a terribly popular worker. He does as much as he has to and nothing more."

"Have you ever noticed any problems with him and any of the female staff members?"

He sighed and leaned forward. "Look, I don't agree with keeping him on staff. He doesn't want to be here, and no one particularly likes him. We've had two interns transfer out of the office because of him, and he doesn't treat any of the other with any respect."

"Then why is he still working for you?" I asked.

"His father is Paul Ross. As in Ross Enterprises. They're a big supporter of the party. After the second intern quit, we suggested that Jesse might be happier at another office. His father called us two days later and told us in no uncertain terms that he would withdraw his financial support if his son left. Senator Martin was still willing to let him go, but the party put pressure on him to keep Jesse. Has something happened?"

"Christine was attacked last Monday. His name just came up in the investigation."

"Attacked? My God, is she okay?"

"She's fine. She's a little shaken up, but otherwise fine. "

"And you think Jesse has something to do with it?"

"We're looking into all possibilities."

"I wouldn't put it past him. Look, detectives, I don't know how much I can help you, but please know that you have the whole office's support. I know Senator Martin will do whatever you need to help."

Christine

Friday, December 15

I looked around me, paid the cab driver, and carefully stepped out onto the icy pavement. Overnight, the city had been covered in a sheet of ice after a particularly bad hail storm, and everywhere was a hazard. I navigated the icy sidewalks into the building where Senator Martin kept his office.

Despite having security clearance, it had become the building's policy to have everyone be checked out before going into an office. I waited in line and pulled out my vibrating cell phone. I checked the caller ID- Rick. Again. I let it go to voicemail, then dialled in to hear my messages. I had ignored four calls in the past couple of days, and didn't intend on taking any that were to come in. I didn't want Rick involved in anything with me anymore. He had been treated like crap because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he was too nice a person to cut me out of his life for that.

So I was doing it for him.

I went through the security check and walked up to the seventh floor, where, as usual, Nicholas was sitting at his desk. He looked up and seemed surprised to see me.

"Christine, what are you doing here?"

I checked my watch. "It's nine on Friday. I'm scheduled to be here."

"I know," he said softly, looking at the scar that I hadn't quite managed to hide with make-up and my new bangs. He got up and closed his door.

"What's going on?" I asked nervously.

He sat down at his conference table, and motioned for me to sit as well. I did. "Christine, I know about what happened."

He knew? He knew. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one was supposed to know. Shit. "What do you mean?" I asked lightly, with what I hoped was an easy smile on my face.

"A couple of detectives came to talk to me last night. I just want you to know that everyone here's behind you 100. And if you want time off, or if you need to take it easy for a little while, we're not going to hold it against you. You know how hard Senator Martin's been working on the sexual offenders' bill-"

An idea popped into my mind. "Oh, no . . . Nicholas, I think that you misunderstood them. What did they tell you?"

"That you were attacked."

I shook my head. "Attacked, yes. But. . . you think I was raped?" I shook my head vigorously. "I was mugged. Nothing more. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I think it's slightly misplaced."

He smiled, looking relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. Not that you were mugged, but that. . . it was nothing more." He put his hand on top of mine. I felt a cold chill run down my spine, but I swallowed and looked up at him.

"Thank you for thinking of me though," I said as calmly as I could, and slowly pulled my hand away to brush phantom hairs from my face. I knew Nicholas was only trying to comfort me, and that he was in a happy relationship- with a man no less- and didn't have any ulterior motives, but any touch seemed to be enough to make me sick.

Fuck.

Elliot

Friday, December 15

"Did the Ross kid's alibi check out?" Cragen asked when we returned.

"Security tapes prove that he was home at the time of both attacks." I dropped the folder on his desk and sat down.

"So where to now?"

"We're out of leads. No one saw anything, no one seems to have a problem with Christine. . . there's nothing," Liv replied.

"Then you know the drill."

"Captain-" she started.

"I'm sorry," he told us both. "I really am. But you know the rules. The case is officially cold. We have almost twenty other open cases, take a look at those."

"So that's it? We're going to sit back and wait for her to be attacked again?" I asked.

"Have you found any evidence that she's in danger? That she's being stalked? That this perp is getting ready to go after her again?"

"No," I admitted softly.

"Then there's nothing more we can do."

Of course not, I thought. It was easier to do this with stranger rapes. When we could wash our hands of it- when we had to wash our hands of it- and let the victim just go one without justice. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. But it was reality.

At five o'clock, completely out of character for her, Olivia started packing her stuff up. I looked up from the lab report I was reading.

"Hot date?" I asked out of habit. She didn't usually leave unless someone pushed her out the door, and she certainly didn't clock watch until she could leave. The stupidity of what I had said hit me, but she seemed unfazed.

"I've got something I have to do." She wasn't looking at me, but concentrating on looping her scarf around her neck, her voice was distracted.

"Look, Liv, I know things have been weird between us lately-"

"I don't want to get into that."

I still felt like there was too much unresolved, but I let it go. "Okay. But if you need anything. . ."

"Stop treating me like a victim, Elliot," she said, finally looking up at me. Her brown eyes were blazing. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, and I don't need you tiptoeing around me. We made a mistake, I've accepted it, and now I think it would really help if you let us just move on from it." She picked up her keys from her desk and started to walk out before she turned back to face me. "I'm going to see Christine. Do you want to come?"

"Did something happen?"

"No I just. . . I think she should hear it in person that we've had to stop investigating.

"I'll get my coat."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked as we stepped into the elevator.

"Why not?"

"You just seem to be getting awfully personal about this case."

"I'm doing what I have to do to try and help the victim. You do the same."

I fell silent. I had attempted a few conversations in the car, but she wasn't interested in talking. The building was looking more like a condo with wallpaper, carpets, lighting and paint since we had last been there. I followed Liv off the elevator and stood a good distance behind her. Like last time, the dog started barking loudly and there was the sound of locks being opened. She opened the door, but didn't look entirely surprised to see us. She pulled the dog back and stepped aside to let us in.

Her unit also looked more finished than before. She led us into the living room and offered us both drinks. We declined, and Liv asked her to sit down.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about your case. I don't know how familiar you are with NYPD protocol, but after a week, and with no suspects, your case is officially considered cold.

For a minute I thought I saw disappointment in her eyes, but she quickly nodded and looked away. "So that's it?"

"For now, yes."

She nodded again. "Thanks for letting me know." She stood up and headed towards the kitchen, her dog following closely at her heels. Liv followed her.

"Christine, understand that if anything comes up we're back on this case. We'll find whoever did this."

I felt like I was intruding by watching them. I looked away and spotted an empty wine bottle with an almost-empty glass beside it.

She turned to face Liv, and for the first time I thought I saw her actually getting upset. It was subtle, but it was there. It felt like an accomplishment to finally see something out of her, but at the same time it felt worse than usual, for the same reason. Again, she nodded, but said nothing.

"You have my cell number, right?" she asked. "Give me a call any time if you think of anything else, or if you want an update."

"I will," she said softly. Everyone in the room knew that she wouldn't. Liv excused herself to use the washroom, and in a moment of weakness, and apparently forgetting that I was sitting in the living room, Christine put her arms on the counter and rested her head in her hands, sending her wine glass skittering across the tile floor and leaving red wine covering her counter. The glass hit a pillar and broke. I quickly got up to help clean up the mess. Not realizing I was behind her, she backed up into me and jumped, before a look of panic took over and she elbowed me in the stomach. She turned around and looked at me in horror, realizing what had happened.

"I'm so sorry," she managed. "I just, I. . . I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I told her once I had caught my breath.

She backed up against her stove, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "No it's not, I'm just. . . I'm not usually like this."

Without looking at her, I started sopping up the wine and spoke softly. "You know, reacting like this isn't that uncommon."

"Don't," she said softly. "I don't need the victim rationalization."

I was more surprised than I should have been by her reaction. "Then do you think it might have something to do with that empty bottle of wine beside you?"

It was her turn to look surprised. "I don't think that's really any of your business."

Before I could come up with anything else to say, Liv returned from the washroom. "Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Christine said softly, then plastered a smile back on her face. "Thanks again for coming. I really do appreciate hearing this in person." She walked us to the door, and closed it tightly. I stood and listened to her locking all her locks.

"What's going on?" Liv asked me.

"You're right," I told her softly.

"About what?"

"She's falling apart."