I own no one but my own people

"You're wrong."

"I'm right."

"You're wrong. I couldn't care less about her."

Olinsky shook his head as Voight drove the two Chicago officers to James Holmes apartment. "You're a horrible liar, Hank. At least when it comes to her." He ignored the glare from one of his longest friends. "I've seen the way you look at her, hell I've seen the way you talk about her. You turn into a puppy dog just at the sound of her voice."

Voight turned down the side street where Holmes was currently living, trying his damndest to ignore the Detective sitting beside him.

"You can't sit there and tell me that you don't care about Benson when it's written plain as the nose on your face."

"So what if I did?" Voight snapped at his fellow Intelligence officer. "Alright, maybe I did like her, maybe I did care about her, maybe I did want something more with her but that's over now. She's sleeping with an IAB Lieutenant, how am I supposed to forget about that? How am I supposed to trust her again?"

"You let it go because you care about her, Hank, and because the last time I saw that look in your eyes Camille was alive."

Voight turned to glare at him but Olinsky ignored it. "I know you better then you know yourself and I know for a fact you still like her, Hank. She's been the only person who can bring out that mushy side in you since your wife."

"She's a traitor," he argued as he turned onto Holmes' street.

"She's a woman that has a friend with benefits," he said with a shrug. "It just happens to be with some guy from Internal Affairs."

"You know what they did to my father."

"I do. But I'm also about one hundred percent positive Manhattan Internal Affairs had nothing to do with that."

Voight shook his head as he pulled up in front of Holmes' building. "How can you be defending her like this? You hate IAB as much as any other sane cop."

"I do hate IAB," Olinsky told his companion as the Sergeant shut off the car. "But I'm not about to let one of my best friends throw away the only woman he cares about since his wife died."

As Voight and Olinsky got out and made their ways to the front door, the Sergeant shook his head. "That's real noble of ya but it's a lost cause."

"No it's not. You're gonna cook down and forgive her. You wanna know how I know that?"

"How?"

"Because you know I'm right about not feeling anything for anyone after Camille until she showed up and you don't want to lose that."

Voight rolled his eyes but he let that be the last word on the matter. They had much bigger things to worry about then Voights love life.

The bare brick building they were standing in front of wasn't run down or decrepit by any means but it was in no way the nice brownstone in the upper end of Manhattan. It was average, uninteresting, nothing special... Just like Holmes who, after twenty one years in uniform, was still a patrolman when any other cop would have at least made Sergeant by now.

"Think he'll try to run?" asked Olinsky as they stared up at the building.

"If he's been feeding addresses to Williams then probably."

Olinsky nodded before he buzzed Holmes to tell them that the Chicago PD had some questions for him. A second or two passed and he asked where Holmes had gone before they both headed down the broken bottle littered alley to the back of the building, not even giving him the benefit of the doubt that he hadn't run.

Sure enough just as they reached the end of the alley way he heard someone running down the rickety fire escape stairs.

They both waited patiently, leaning against the brick wall as calmly as you please. That was one of the reasons him and Olinsky were such masters at undercover work, no one ever suspected cops to look the way they did. Olinsky with his ratty hair and mustache with his thrift store jacket, Voight looking more like a mobster hit man then a Sergeant with jeans and a leather jacket with his gun not in a holster but in his waistband, homeless men and thugs being in a great abundance in Chicago so no one ever batted an eye when they saw them lurking around.

Out of the corner of his eye Voight saw Holmes practically jump down the fire escape onto the ground. He started to run past Voight but the second he did Voight grabbed him by the arm and slammed him against the wall.

James Holmes was a small short man with overgrown front teeth and thick bushy eyebrows above nervous twitchy green eyes. His red hair was thinning and the comb over he had attempted just drew more attention to it.

"Get off of me, I'm NYPD!" Holmes yelled trying in complete vain to get out of Voights hold. The Chicago Sergeant raised his brow as he looked at Olinsky. "Here I thought the NYPD were supposed to be the best cops in the world."

"Well there's one in every batch," said Olinsky with a shrug.

Voight cocked his head in agreement before he turned back to Holmes who looked damn near close to pissing himself out of fright. "Calm down, we're Chicago PD," Voight told him as he held out his badge but still not letting go of him. Holmes quieted down some but still looked terrified as his eyes dashed between the two Chicago officers. "We just have some questions about Thomas Williams."

At that name, Holmes' eyes went wide for a second before he licked his incredibly dry lips. "I- I don't know anything about him," he stammered out, avoiding Voights eyes like they were infected with the plague.

"No? Then why'd you run when I mentioned his name?" Olinsky asked in his soft calm voice, the perfect opposite to Voights rough raspy trademark. But only a fool would believe that gentle even tone meant you were any safer with him than you were with his Sergeant.

Holmes swallowed hard for a long moment before he reared back and spat in Voights face, thinking that'd distract him enough so that he could escape from his iron grasp.

Unfortunately for Holmes, he simply wiped off the spit, and gave him that smile that let him know he had made the biggest mistake of his life before turning to Olinsky. "My feelings are hurt."

"Aww, why'd you have to go and hurt his feelings?" Olinsky clicked his tongue. "That wasn't very nice."

"Now we gotta take this back into your apartment instead of staying out here in the street with any possible witnesses so I can compose myself."

Holmes opened his mouth to protest but before he could even utter a sound Voight had practically dragged him back up the fire escape. "Don't!" Holmes cried as he struggled fruitlessly to get away but he might as well have been handcuffed to a tank.

Voight managed to get him back into the apartment without any problem back through the window with Olinsky shutting and locking it behind them.

Once he was safely inside his apartment Voight finally let him go. Holmes didn't waste a second as he tried to sprint to the door but Voight just stuck his foot out and sent him toppling to the floor, giving Olinsky time enough to go over and lock the front door.

"You can't do this to me, I'm a police officer!" cried Holmes as Voight grabbed him up from the floor while Olinsky grabbed a chair from the kitchen. "I will call IA on your ass so damn fast-!"

"All we're doing is having a friendly chat," Voight told him with a shrug before pushing him into the chair and handcuffing his arm to it. "And go ahead, call Internal Affairs. I'm sure they're DYING to help out the man that helped someone rape and murder their Lieutenants mother."

"Hey, I NEVER touched Tuckers mom!"

"Who said it was Lieutenant Tucker?" asked Olinsky as he worked on cuffing his other arm to the chair.

"You said you wanted to talk about Thomas Williams and you mentioned the mother of an internal affairs lieutenant, I'm not that stupid."

"Now that I have a hard time believing. You gave Holmes addresses in the past, you knew what he was doing, and now that he's back in town, you're giving them to him again." He finally found what he was looking for and turned towards him. "I'd say that's very stupid."

Holmes' swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. "Look… look, Voight, I didn't-."

"Will you look at that?" Voight interrupted him; clapping Holmes on the shoulder and making him jump so hard he nearly knocked the chair he was cuffed too over. "He knows my name and we haven't even been properly introduced."

Holmes shook his head desperately. "No! No, you…! I-!"

"Heard it through the grapevine?" Voight finished for him. "I think you're lying. I think Williams knew we were investigating so he called you." He reached over and flicked his ear, "and told him to do some research on me. That sound about right?"

There was a faint buzz signifying someone was asking him permission to come in but all three ignored it.

"Please," Holmes begged, his voice shaking. "I- I haven't talked to Williams in years! I- swear I-!"

Voight reached over and slapped him across the face before he grabbed his cheeks, jerking his head up to look at him, his brown eyes narrowed in angry slits letting him know full and well he was done playing with him. Holmes opened his mouth to scream for help but Voight quickly wrapped his hands around his neck so that Holmes couldn't make so much as a whisper.

"When I let you speak," Voight growled, looking dead in his eyes. "You're gonna tell me two things and two things only. One is the address where Williams is staying. The second is the names and addresses of any other people Williams asked you to get. Say anything besides those two things and you're gonna have to settle a bet between me and Detective Olinsky here. Nod if you understand."

Holmes nodded yes desperately as blackness began to overtake his eye sight. The Chicago Sergeant held on for several more seconds before he let go of his neck. Holmes gasped for air as he looked up at Voight. "You're a psycho!" he panted. "You're going to jail for the rest of your LIFE!"

"That wasn't one of the things you were allowed to say. Now, you get to settle a bet."

Voight looked at Olinsky and nodded and the older Detective knew immediately what he had in mind. Olinsky grabbed his left pointer finger. "My companion here thinks breaking a man's fingers is the best way to get him to talk. While I on the other hand…" Voight reached in his jacket pocked and pulled out a long thin piece of metal that had once been a shish kabob stick and held it up in front of Holmes face. "Think ripping off someone's fingernail is the best way to motivate someone to tell the truth."

Holmes shook his head, his lip trembling almost painfully hard. "You- you wouldn't do that," he told them, not sure if he even believed his words himself. "I'm a cop too; I know the- the bad cop routine!"

"Tell us where Williams is and the names of the people he wanted and you won't have to find out," Olinsky told him, his voice still as calm and cool as ever.

The man in the chair looked up at Voight, his entire body trembling unmercifully. "You're lying."

Holmes screamed as Olinsky bent his finger back as hard as he could, a sickening 'CRACK' echoing in the small apartment as it snapped at the base. He began crying, struggling to free himself from the cuffs but to no avail. Voight grabbed his face again, looking him dead in the eyes. "Tell me where Williams is and the names he wanted, now."

"Fuck you!" he sobbed desperately.

Without even a half second of hesitation Voight jammed the thin metal stick underneath the fingernail and with as me much strength as he could muster, snapped the stick back, ripping off the fingernail as he did. Holmes screamed louder this time, stomping his feet so badly Voight pushed over the chair with a loud grunt so that his feet were no longer on the floor.

"Tell me where Williams is!" Voight bellowed.

BAM! All three men turned and looked towards the sound of the commotion, the front door being kicked in. Voight narrowed his eyes in anger as he saw Olivia and Carisi their guns drawn storming into the apartment.

"Move away from him NOW!" Carisi barked as he ran over to them, gun not pointed at Holmes but at Voight.

"We were just talking to the guy," Olinsky offered, never the less taking a step away from a sobbing Holmes with his hands raised. But Voight stayed directly where he was, not turning away from his witness.

"Since this doesn't require you or your Detective, I suggest you leave now," Voight snapped at Olivia.

When she didn't say anything in response all three turned to look at her and Voight swallowed hard when he saw his NYPD equal her current state.

The SVU Sergeant was staring down at Holmes, bound to a chair and bleeding, crying out for help. Her whole body shook, her eyes were glazed and unfocused, and a cold sweat ran down her forehead while her breathing was heavy and uneven.

Voight swallowed hard as he looked over her terrified features, his heart breaking into a million pieces. Olivia had never personally told him about Lewis. When he asked about the burns and scars on her body, she had just told him he would need to buy her a whole lot of drinks before she even started opening up that can of worms. But after she had left Chicago the first time, he had Mouse do some research on her.

He knew everything that Lewis did to her, saw the crime scene photos. He may not have been in the military but he had worked with cops long enough to know about PTSD and flashbacks and Olivia, without a shadow of a doubt, was experiencing a flashback right now thanks to what he had done…

Voight held up his hands as he slowly approached her. "Olivia," he called out softly, trying desperately to get her mind back from where he knew it had gone. "Olivia, you're okay, it's me... It's Voight... Come back down, Olivia…"

Carisi, never having been around someone with PTSD in his life, narrowed his eyes in uncertainty at her. "Hey, Sarge, you okay?"

The young detective started to walk over to her but Olinsky grabbed his wrist and shook his head, silently telling him to just leave it to Voight. If Carisi spooked her with the gun in her hand b making too sudden of a move or grabbing her, someone could end up dead.

Thankfully Carisi got the message and just eyed Olivia with a nervous look, scared for his commanding officer. Olinsky eyed the gun she still held in her shaking hand wearily but didn't say anything, knowing Voight knew what to do.

As slowly as he could, Voight reached out and took the gun from Olivia's shaking hands. "Liv," he called out just as softly as before but a bit louder, hoping to break through whatever nightmare the scene had put her into. "Liv, can you hear me? It's okay… you're alright."

After a moment Olivia finally blinked. She took a step back, her lip trembling as she looked up at Voight. "Oh God…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

"You're fine, he reassured her, gently rubbing her arm. "You're okay. It's okay, you're fine."

Olivia jerked away from his gentle touch. She quickly wiped away her tears as she stepped in front of him, her cheeks turning a crimson red as she locked eyes with a still crying Holmes. "Get him out of the cuffs now," she told them, her voice barely audible but neither Olinsky nor Voight hesitated for even half a second before they did what she ordered them to do.

Olinsky helped Holmes off the ground, being careful not to touch either one of his hands before he grabbed the chair and Holmes sat down in it. She turned towards Carisi, ignoring the confused look in his eyes. He had no idea what had went on between her and Lewis. He had no idea why seeing someone bound and bleeding in a chair would affect her the way it had. "Call a bus," she told him. "Stay with him until it gets here. If they can bandage him up here, bring him down to the station house, if not call me and let me know what's going on."

"On it," he told her, already getting his radio out.

She then turned to Voight who looked heartbroken at what he had caused her to go through.

"Olivia, I'm sorry," he began as gentle as he could, meaning the words with every single ounce of heart he had. "I'd never-."

"Hank Voight, you're under arrest for assault," she interrupted, her voice flat and monotone as she walked over to him, avoiding even touching the chair like it was Lewis himself.

All three male cops' eyes went wide as she walked behind him, yanking his arms behind his back. "He knows where Williams is," Voight argued when he was over the shock of the woman who, not even twenty four hours ago had her legs wrapped around his head and was screaming his name as loud her voice cracked, was now cuffing his hands behind his back. "He has other victims."

"And I told you the first time you pulled this crap I would arrest you if you did it again," she reminded him trying desperately to get the badass to outshine the shame and embarrassment without success. "You have the right to keep your mouth shut by the way."

Olinsky and Carisi watched wide eyes and slacked jawed as Olivia led Voight out of the apartment, her voice reading him his Miranda rights fading as she walked further away from the scene of the crime…

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