A/N: And the unit's getting closer to an answer. For reference, Agent Dana Lewis is otherwise known as 'Star' from the s7 ep "RAW".

The men's bathroom was, thankfully, empty, when Olivia walked in, ignoring the stares of other officers in the hallway outside. The door swung closed behind her and she reached up to lock it, determined to make sure that there would be no one in there except for her and her partner, until the moment had passed. Elliot was sitting on the floor, right outside the last stall in the room, with a blank, unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't you dare tell me that images can be digitally altered," he said, his voice low, but somehow carrying across the room. "Don't you dare."

"I wasn't going to," Olivia replied, quietly. She remained where she was, leaning against the door as she continued. "We've gotta talk to the Feds."

"I don't want to talk to the damn Feds," Elliot replied irritably. "The minute we pull them into this, they're going to take over, and we aren't going to be able to touch this case."

"We're not going to let that happen. They want to run with us, then they run by our rules."

"You know that's not how it works." Elliot ran a shaking hand over his face, and looked away. "Any way we look at it, once the Feds get involved, we're screwed."

"They have a lot more resources than we do," Olivia pointed out, "They could help, even if it doesn't feel that way now."

"Right now, it doesn't feel like anything can help, least of all you," Elliot told her, glaring. "I didn't ask you to come in here and lecture me."

"I'm not lecturing you. I'm just saying that they could help, and I'm well aware of the fact that you don't exactly get along with the Feds. None of us really get along with them, but ten to one says that John and Fin are already on their way to the federal buildings, so there's nothing we can do about that."

Under any other circumstances, the thought of John entering a federal building of his own volition might have made both partners laugh, but considering the situation they were presently in, it was anything but funny. Olivia pushed her hair back out of her eyes and continued on where she'd left off when Elliot said nothing.

"We're going to find out where these pictures came from," she said. "It's the easiest way we've got to find some kind of answer right now."

"There's nothing easy about this. We're going around in circles, and we're going to keep going around in circles until we find Kari Applegate," said Elliot. He got to his feet, stumbling forward slightly as a sudden wave of vertigo hit. Bracing himself against the sink, he looked down, closing his eyes.

"Liv, I'm sorry," he said, almost inaudibly. "I didn't...I know you're trying to help, but I just...I can't do this anymore."

She knew what he meant. It was not finding his family that he was giving up on, but rather himself, and his ability to do so. Even so, she said nothing, having gotten the feeling that he hadn't finished. Sure enough, he hadn't.

"Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the reason why we can't seem to put anything together," he said. "I can't just walk away, though, Liv. This is my family, this is my wife, and my kids...I promised I would always come for them if anything ever happened, and now I might be the one reason why they still aren't home."

"No," said Olivia, shaking her head as she finally moved to come and stand beside him. "No, it's not you. It's not any of us. Don't start giving up on me now."

"I'm not giving up." Elliot let go of the sink and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. When he looked at her, his face was red. "I just don't know how much longer I can hold on and still believe that I can bring them home."

His voice broke on the last word, and he turned away again, but after a moment, Olivia could see clearly that her partner's entire body was shaking.

"I try to fall asleep at night, but I can't stop thinking about it," he told her. "I can't make that fear go away. And the whole time, I'm wondering if they've given up on me. I hate that, Liv. It used to be that they could trust me. Hell, it used to be that I could trust myself."

Elliot turned back again, once more rubbing the back of his hand over his still-red face. "You don't think any less of me now, do you?" he asked.

Olivia shook her head again. "Never," she said. "You know that. You might not trust yourself right now, but I trust you, all right? And I'm not going anywhere."

There was silence between them after that. Muffled voices from out in the hallway caught Elliot's attention and he looked towards the door, then back at Olivia with raised eyebrows.

"You locked us in here?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. It was better than having a bunch of guys in and out of here just so they could tell all their friends they saw you cry," Olivia replied. "Come on, let's get out of here."

She walked over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and looking up and down the hallway. It was completely empty.

"If we move now, we can leave without anyone noticing," she said, "There's no one in the hallway."

"That's not going to last long," Elliot remarked, but walked over to where she was. "How much time do you think we've got?"

"About two minutes before someone comes walking this way," said Olivia, grabbing his hand and pulling him after her, out of the bathroom and down the hallway. "You and I are going to the Bronx."

"Why are we going to the Bronx?" Elliot asked, frowning slightly, but continuing to follow her even as she let go of his hand. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to get out there?"

"Someone might have seen Kari Applegate," said Olivia, by way of explanation, pulling a set of keys out of her pocket. "That's why we're going to the Bronx. Fin sent me a text message right before I found you in the bathroom and told me, but he and John were already on their way to talk to the Feds."

"Did they tell you who might have seen her?" Elliot asked as they walked out of the precinct. Olivia reached into her pocket for her phone and flipped it open.

"One of her friends at the six-four," she replied. "Detective Kelly Martin. She was the one who called Fin to let him know."

She pulled open the driver's side door of the unmarked squad car, and looked at her partner over the top of it. "Odds are that Kari probably told Kelly more than she told her husband," she said. "This could be one of the leads we're looking for."

Elliot looked back at her for a long moment, and then nodded, slowly. "Here's to hoping."

As Elliot and Olivia made their way towards the Bronx, John and Fin found themselves only just being admitted into a conference room on the 10th floor of the federal building they'd gone to. In the room were two familiar faces, neither of them looking happy to be bothered, and it was obvious as to the reason why. Open manila folders were spread out across the table and as the two partners looked, they recognized four different school photos.

"How long have you known about this?" John asked by way of greeting, unable to keep a note of irritation out of his voice. At the far end of the table, Agent Dana Lewis looked up.

"We just found out," she said. "Your captain called us and said you'd be on your way down."

A sudden, sick feeling settled over both John and Fin at this, as they realized that in their hurry to leave the squad room after Elliot had taken off, the two of them and Olivia had left the pictures that Elliot had received lying out across his desk for anyone to see.

"Don't worry," said Dana, correctly interpreting whatever look had crossed their faces. "He said that he took the pictures off of Detective Stabler's desk and has them under lock and key in his office."

"So you know we'll be working together, then," said Fin. "We're not just going to hand this over."

"We had the feeling you'd say that." In one of the chairs closer to them, Agent Dean Porter looked up, and motioned for them to sit. "This is going to take a while."

"We've already been at it for over a month now. Anything we can get, we'll take," said John. "What do you know?"

"Not much," Dean admitted. "Like we said, we just got the case ourselves. The same pictures Detective Stabler got showed up here."

"These people sent you the pictures?" Fin asked, incredulously. "What, do they want to get caught or something?"

"I don't think that's it," Dana said wryly. "We have reason to believe that these people are part of something bigger. This case matches one that we got from upstate."

"In Albany. An entire family was abducted, except for the father. A month later, the youngest child, about a year old, was returned, unharmed, and then the pictures started coming."

"The pictures we got looked like they'd been printed from some kind of website," said John. "Do you have the pictures from the original case?"

"Yeah, we do," said Dana. "The family was found by state troopers in a small cabin near the border. All of them had been abused, but the mother showed signs of having been tortured."

That didn't bode well. John and Fin both exchanged glances before finally sitting, neither one of them all too sure of what to say, but as it turned out, they didn't need to say anything.

"Your captain faxed us copies of everything you had," said Dean, "It looks like the people who have Detective Stabler's family are determined to stay in the city."

"We've been to one place each in all five boroughs," said John. "The last place was out on Staten Island, but there was nothing there in the way of forensic evidence."

"Dispatch records disappeared," said Fin. "We have proof that Stabler's kids got a hold of a few friends to have them start calling in to get a squad car to the house, but their mother told the officers who responded that nothing was wrong. One of the officers who responded is missing."

"Have you managed to locate her?" Dean asked, but John shook his head.

"No, we're still looking. Last we heard was about an hour ago, one of Officer Applegate's friends in the Bronx talked to her. Benson and Stabler are headed out there now to find out what Detective Martin knows."

"It's a start," said Dana, and closed one of the files sitting in front of her. "Was there forensic evidence at any of the other places?"

"None. CSU went through twice, but both times, nothing turned up. The last place we went to, we found broken glass, mattresses and a stuffed animal that belongs to Stabler's youngest kid," said Fin. "There was a note inside. It said the family was being moved, but it didn't say where."

"That's the last thing we got, besides one of the kids' friends saying that when they got a hold of them, they were told that the family had relatives from Baltimore visiting."

"So it's possible that they might have crossed state lines..." Dean trailed off and got to his feet, wandering over to a map that was tacked to the wall. "That leaves us a lot of places where they could have gone in between the last place you went and now."

"I used to work in the Baltimore City Police Department," John remarked. "If I need to, I can call down there and let them know to keep an eye out."

"That might help. If they've crossed state lines, it could make them harder to find, but odds are the people who took them are going to go to a place that's familiar to them," said Dana. She closed one of the manila folders in front of her and sighed. "Detective Stabler's youngest child has been returned, right?"

"Yeah. He's been back at home for about a week now," Fin replied. "What are you thinking?"

"That the family from Albany might have just been practice," said Dean, before Dana could say anything. "Only this time, the stakes have risen. When we got the pictures from the first case, there was no indication that they'd been printed off from a website, but this time..."

"So, either it's a copycat, or these people are escalating," said John. "This couldn't have been pulled off unless it was premeditated; the family from Albany had to have been practice, but if they'd plotted it out, why would they need to do it more than once?"

"Because they would have wanted to make sure they could pull it off," said Dana, "And once they figured out that they could, nothing was going to change their minds."

"The father of the family in Albany was left lying on the floor of his home in his own blood, but he was still alive," said Dean. "If Detective Stabler had been home when his family was taken, there's a good chance that he'd have been killed."

"Knowing that he's still alive isn't going to help him much if we have to tell him that he's lost the other five members of his family," said Fin. "If these people are escalating, how much time do you think we have before they start taking lives?"

"There's no way to tell that from what we have. There's probably no way to tell at all. The smallest thing could probably set this person off." Dana motioned down to the pictures spread out across the table and went on. "Whoever these people are, they're aiming for two things: to break this family, and to humiliate them."

"Is there any way for us to find out what website these pictures came from?" John asked.

"We're working on it," said Dean. "They came to us through email, and we've got our techs trying to trace where they came from, but so far nothing. The minute we get anything, we'll have those pictures offline."

It was of small comfort, but at least it was something. Dana slid a manila folder down the table towards the other set of partners and picked up where she'd left off.

"This is the file on the family from Albany," she said. "They've moved since then, to Long Island, but they may be able to tell you something."

They'd left her blank paper, and colored pencils. It didn't help much, but it was still somewhat comforting that she was able to draw. The lights in this room never went off, which was annoying, but at the same time relieving: over the past month, she'd come to really hate being in the dark, for any reason. It was cold, though, and her hands were shaking as she poured the colored pencils out onto the table in the middle of the room, well aware that the camera was following every move she made.

"Wish they'd give my clothes back," Elizabeth muttered, and a faint laugh came from the other side of the room.

"Tell me about it. It's too damned cold in here. You'd think they'd want to keep us from freezing to death." Dickie sat up and leaned against the wall behind the mattress he'd been lying on. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Elizabeth replied, without looking up. "I'm not really in the mood to talk."

But she'd said this two nights ago, when the people who'd been holding them captive had come in for them, and she'd still talked, anyway. That was just the way things went nowadays; even if they didn't want to talk to each other, they did, because there was nothing else to do.

"You think Dad's ever going to find us?" Dickie asked, and Elizabeth looked up, glaring.

"Duh," she said. "Of course he's going to find us, what kind of question is that?"

"Just checking." Silence, and then, "I think he's going to find us, too. I'm just not sure when."

"Soon," said Elizabeth, flatly, looking back down at her paper. "I wish I'd brought a picture with me."

"Of what? Dad?" Dickie asked, and Elizabeth nodded.

"Yeah. Of Dad. I can't even draw him anymore." She trailed off for a long moment, and sighed. "I've been trying to for a week now, but I can't get it right."

Dickie already knew this, having watched his twin sister throw away multiple sheets of paper with a frustrated expression on her face, but until now, he'd never known exactly what it was that she was drawing. Now that he did know, a hollow feeling settled over him.

"Bet you could do it if you tried hard enough," he said. "You can't just forget what Dad looks like."

One of the colored pencils rolled off of the table and hit the floor with a clattering sound that almost echoed in the room, and would have, if Elizabeth hadn't started talking as it fell.

"I think I already did," she said, quietly. "We've already been gone for a month, and it's just...It's so stupid. I want to remember, but I can't, and it's scaring me."

"So what have you been drawing, then?" Dickie asked. "If you can't remember what Dad looks like, then what?"

"You, and Mom, and Maureen and Kathleen," said Elizabeth. "Tried to draw myself, but it looked like crap so I threw it out. But you know what scares me even more?"

"What?"

"I can remember what Liv and John and Fin look like. And I can see them, y'know, when I draw the unit, but...Dad's the only one I'm drawing a blank on."

"Maybe it's because you don't want to think about what he looks like," Dickie remarked. "I mean, I know I don't. Dad's probably been a mess ever since he figured out we were gone. It's kind of like when Mom left him, isn't it? Only there was no note to say goodbye."

Elizabeth snorted. "That note Mom left when she took off was a load of crap. I still don't think she should have left it."

"Well, yeah, but at least Dad knew where we were. This time, he doesn't. And Kathleen didn't know, either, so she couldn't tell him in that note she left."

Elizabeth bent down to retrieve her fallen pencil and sat up again, shaking her head. "Why does it feel like no matter how hard we try to leave something behind so that Dad can find us, it ends up backfiring on us? Mom wore that department shirt of his with our name across the back and now we haven't seen her since we moved to this place. And we haven't seen Maureen and Kathleen, either."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," said Dickie. "I mean, they could have just split us up because it was easier."

"For what? For them to get to us?" Elizabeth asked, sarcastically, as she started drawing again. "Duh. Come on now, Dickie, I know you're not that stupid."

He gave her a look. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I meant they probably split us up because they figured it'd be easier to...I don't know, break us or something."

"Yeah, well..." Elizabeth trailed off and looked down at the paper on the table. It was still blank. "I don't get it. Of all the people in the world, why our family?"

"Maybe they just figured we'd be the easiest ones," said Dickie. "Ten to one says they didn't count on us being a cop family."

"Or part of an extended cop family," said Elizabeth, wryly. She picked up a colored pencil and finally started to draw, sketching out the outline of a face as she continued. "They've gotta be regretting that now."

"That and the fact that they didn't find you and me and Eli straight off," said Dickie. "Although I do have to admit that the thought of dying is not actually that appealing."

"You scare me sometimes, y'know that? Why would you even think about dying? You're fifteen."

"Everyone dies, Liz. And you're fifteen, too. You can't tell me you've never thought about it."

"I'd rather think about how I'm going to make it through the day without making myself look like an idiot."

"You must not spend very much time on that."

"Shut up."

Up in the corner, the camera moved again, making another sweep across the room. Dickie scowled up at it.

"You know, all these lectures Dad used to give us about being careful on the computer, and now we're probably being broadcast all over the damn Internet, sitting here in an empty room wearing nothing but our underwear," he said. "This is incredibly ridiculous."

"Yeah, and it'd be so much less ridiculous if we had clothes on," said Elizabeth, distractedly. "You know, if this stuff really is all over the internet, then the unit probably had to get the Feds involved."

Dickie made a face. "I don't want to think about it, Liz. If the Feds are involved, that means Dad knows everything. He knows what these people have been doing."

The thought was disturbing enough to make Elizabeth look up again, a startled expression crossing her face. "You think?" she asked, and then, "Oh, my God. Ew. That is disgusting."

"What, the part about being plastered all over the 'net or the fact that Dad might know about it?"

"Both. That's freaking sick. Just...ew."

"You're telling me this? I know that's disgusting. You think I'm going to want to look him in the eye after all this crap?"

"He's our dad. We're not going to have a choice." Elizabeth shuddered, and frowned at the jagged line that appeared on her paper. Reaching for an eraser, she erased it and continued. "What if he starts looking at everyone different?"

Dickie shook his head. "Dad wouldn't do that," he said. "You know he wouldn't. He'll know that we were forced. He's gotta know that we were forced."

But even as he spoke, there was a note of uncertainty in his voice that scared them both.

"No, you're right," said Elizabeth, finally. "He's going to know. There's no way he couldn't know."

She reached for a blue colored pencil and finished her drawing; looking down at it in its completion, she jumped, slightly, startled by what she saw: a familiar pair of eyes staring back at her, from the first drawing of their father that she'd completed in nearly two weeks.

"What'd you do?" Dickie asked, getting up and walking over to where she was. He peered over her shoulder and whistled. "Guess you didn't forget after all."