AN: I tried to sue for custody on the grounds that keeping those two apart was cruel & unusual punishment for both us and them. So now I get to pay Mr. Wolf's legal fines, too. Somehow that kinda backfired…
Pater noster, qui es in caelis… Elliot recited the Lord's Prayer as Olivia slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision. Olivia's reaction was considerably less printable. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and surreptitiously crossed himself under the guise of adjusting his seatbelt. Olivia was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, still swearing under her breath. The minute she saw a clear path she darted into it.
"You won't be able to help her if we crash and end up in our very own hospital beds," he said mildly.
Olivia opted not to respond, but eased up a bit on the gas. She bit her lip, hesitated. She needed to talk to him, but didn't really want to open up this particular can of worms just yet. She opted for a compromise.
"I want to get her story as soon as possible. It'll be easier if she isn't sedated," she said.
Bullshit. Elliot was tempted to push, but thought better of it. He already had one woman pissed off at him, so why invite another to the party? The rest of the trip passed in silence and he felt reassured as they headed into the hospital.
The first thing he heard was screaming mixed with what he assumed were Russian epithets. Olivia blew by him, one hand on her holster. Oh shit! Elliot gave chase and nearly ran over her as she skidded to a stop outside one of the rooms.
"Liv?"
"I'm going to take someone's head off for this," she all but snarled. She took a deep breath and eased into the room, affording Elliot a glimpse inside.
Krystyna Sarevich was thrashing in a frenzy. Her wrists were secured to the bedrails and she'd been hobbled. The woman's cries had been reduced to mere moans, but Elliot could distinguish bits of Russian and broken English.
"No….I'll be good….please no more nomore…"
He saw Olivia's hands tremble and his own heart twisted with pity. When his partner glanced at him, he prudently withdrew beyond the victim's line of sight.
"Krystyna?" Olivia kept her voice soothing, all her focus on the young woman. She watched her jump and tug hopelessly at her restraints. "Krystyna, my name is Olivia. I'm here to help you."
"That's what they all say, then they tie me up and leave me here for the волки," Krystyna flared. "Who are you?"
Olivia was taken aback. The victim went from near hysteria to lashing out within minutes. Was she still medicated? She nodded at Elliot who went in search of a doctor. "My name is Olivia Benson. I'm a cop," seeing Krystyna's expression, she hurried on, "I'm not here to deport you. I might even be able to get you untied. Why did the staff put you in restraints?"
"I woke up and this драчево just started touching me. I punched him." Krystyna's tone was defiant, but the look she shot Olivia was one of desperation. "Please, please untie me? I can't…I need my hands free…I won't do anything, I just can't be tied up like this anymore."
The detective bit her lip, "You have no idea how much I want to, but I have to check with your doctor first." She took a seat by the bed and looked for any sign of Elliot. Seeing none, she began easing the victim into the story. "Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?"
Krystyna let out a sob and gave a half-hearted tug at her restraints. "My f-friend Sasha. Her parents were American. She taught me to speak English. She found the newspaper ad." Krystyna was speaking faster now, her words tumbling over each other. "The ad said that we could go to college in America for cheap. It also said that there were better parties and lots of rich husbands. We thought it would be a way out of Vladivostok. We wanted more than to be peasant wives. We thought it would be the way to everything." Krystyna started sobbing, and Olivia murmured comforting words until Elliot tapped on the glass. She excused herself and stalked out the door to meet her partner and the two men with him.
"Detective Benson, meet Dr. Adams and Ilya lotsky. Dr. Adams is Krystyna's attending and Mr. Lotsky has offered the NYPD his service as a translator." Elliot made the introductions, smirking as he noticed that the doctor had yet to take his eyes off his partner. Too bad buddy, you've pissed her off and you don't even know it yet.
"Is she clear to take the restraints off?" Olivia's tone was entirely too professional.
"Well, yeah, if she's done trying to beat people up." Hello Detective, I believe mutual strip-searches are in order. Me first.
"May I ask what the hell you were thinking?" Olivia was going to kill him if he didn't at least pretend to make eye contact.
"What?" He was too busy staring at her chest to register her fury.
"You don't start examining anyone without identifying yourself first, and especially not a rape victim!" Olivia stormed. "And why the hell did you leave her alone, hysterical, and in restraints!?"
The doctor finally looked up, wearing what he no doubt thought was a "come-hither" look and charming smile. "Look, lady. If you wanna read me my Miranda rights we better go someplace a little more private. I've got a Jag down-"
Elliot got between Liv and the good doctor before she could slap him. "Dr. Adams, I think we can take it from here." He took a certain perverse pleasure in crowding the suddenly nervous doctor into the wall before letting him flee. He turned back to find Olivia emerging from Krystyna's room, looking oddly triumphant.
"She's glad to be untied, but fell asleep almost immediately," she reported. "She didn't give us a lot to go on, but it's a start."
Mr. Lotsky gave a polite cough. "In that case, I will be on my way. Detective Stabler, call me if I can assist in any fashion. Thank you for a most…entertaining evening." He left quickly.
Elliot stopped a nurse on the way out and asked her to see about getting Krystyna a different doctor. When they got into the car, Liv mock-glared at him.
"You should've let me handle it, El."
"Yeah, but then we'd have to explain it away as a righteous shooting. Last time I checked, being an utter asshole doesn't count," he replied.
Olivia's lips twitched as she fought a smile. "True. But even Tucker would have justified that one."
Elliot made a face. "Please, could we not imagine Tucker getting ogled?"
Olivia gave up and laughed, causing Elliot to smile in triumph. A few minutes into the drive, he started to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. Looking sideways at her laughter, he simply couldn't do it. Instead he just drank in the sight of her happiness.
He dialed the number and waited impatiently.
"Yes?" The voice was cold, displeased.
"The cops got there before I could shut the bitch up," he said hurriedly. "But I don't think they got anything useful out of her."
"You don't 'think' they got anything useful? You идиот!" the voice thundered. "You make damn sure that they don't get any farther!"
"Yes sir. They don't seem especially bright," he paused, anticipation simmering in his veins. "One of them is a woman. Very attractive, very fiery. She might be worth paying some attention to."
"Oh?" the voice was intrigued. "Make me a portfolio of her, and we'll see."
He smiled, closed his eyes. Christ, how he would make her beg. He was getting hard just thinking about it.
"Remember Peter," the voice jerked him out of his fantasy. "No marking the merchandise."
Peter swore as he hung up the phone and threw his borrowed lab coat in the trash.
Hundreds of miles away, the cold voice was laughing.
Волки – Wolves
Драчево – Bastard
Идиот - Idiot