Victim, Chapter 4
Ok, so I know.. I'm a terrible person. Yes, I took a really really long time to get around to posting more of this story. Sue me. I think the problem is that I stopped reading what was being posted.. and that was my muse.
It's not done yet. I thought I could finish in one part, but I think it's going to take two. Also, I need to go study for my Physiology final. ;)
At any rate, here is Part 4. For those of you who don't remember where we left off, I submit:
Victim, Chapter 3
I would have posted all three parts, but I couldn't find 1&2 in the memories...
Title: Victim, Chapter 4
Pairing: Olivia/Jordan
Fandom: L&O SVU and Crossing Jordan
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Not mine and all that good stuff.
Jordan stood blinking in the gloomy darkness of the old building, her eyes having trouble adjusting to the low light. A jab in her back got her moving again, carefully. “The last thing I want to do is walk into something and break an ankle.” She wished Sweatshirt would untie her hands; it would make feeling her way easier.
A sudden tug on her arm made her jump and stumble, as her captor pulled her to her right. Her feet encountered something about ankle high, and one push sent her sprawling face first towards it. She turned her head just in time, hitting the surprisingly soft surface with her cheek instead of her nose. The way it sagged beneath her, and the faint squeaking of rusty springs told her she was laying on a mattress. A very dirty mattress. The thing smelled like it had been sitting in the building for years, musty, moldy and faintly of urine. Jordan suppressed a gag reflex and picked her head up slightly, exhaling forcefully, trying to get the smell out of her nostrils.
Sudden pain exploded behind her eyes and she collapsed back down as everything went black.
**************
The world swam slowly into focus as Jordan regained consciousness, dirty yellow light illuminating her prison. She was on her back now; arms stretched above her head almost painfully, muscles pulling slightly in her shoulders. Her head throbbed, a dull ache like someone playing drums inside her skull.
With effort she lifted her head, trying to ignore the shooting pains the motion set off behind her eyes. She jerked in surprise and winced when she realized that not only were her ankles bound again, this time to something she couldn’t quite see, but her pants were also hanging off her legs in shreds. Hard on the heels of that realization came the knowledge that her shirt was unbuttoned and open, her breasts covered only by the red lace bra she had donned that morning. Jordan suppressed a shiver, finally realizing that this situation may have progressed further than she was able to handle alone. As quietly as possible she began to shift against the mattress, clenching her teeth against the agony in her head. She twisted her body from side to side, wrists and ankles burning as the nylon ropes rubbed them raw. She wasn’t getting anywhere and she knew it, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to get away. Long minutes passed as she tried futilely to pull herself loose, tried to regain some sort of control over her fate.
A scuffling sound and a shadow were the only warnings, as a dirty hand suddenly seized her around the arm and pushed her forcefully down on her back.
“Stay there.” hissed her captor forcefully, as if she had any choice. His hand was pressing down so hard on her arm she thought she might loose circulation.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Jordan looked Sweatshirt in the face. What she saw made her stomach drop heavily and a chill settle over her already shivering body. “He’s insane,” she thought with dawning comprehension. “No sane person looks like that.”
As if to prove her thoughts, he kidnaper shifted slightly, pulling his gun out of a pocket. His eyes gleaming feverishly, he began to run the muzzle over Jordan’s bare skin, licking his lips as the cool metal made her jump when it hit a sensitive spot.
“You know,” he began, almost conversationally, “If you had just done what you were supposed to last night, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s really all your fault Dr. Cavanaugh.” He punctuated his words with a jab, pushing the gun forcefully between Jordan’s thighs.
The ME stifled a sound, her eyes going wide as the sensation of cold metal hit a very sensitive bundle of nerves. He grinned wickedly at her, eyes still gleaming.
“You had to go away with the other bitch though, didn’t you?” he asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. “It was your fault about the other one too.”
Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion mixing with fear. What about Olivia was her fault? She opened her mouth to ask, but quick as a snake his hand cracked hard against her cheek.
“NO TALKING!” he barked, his body quivering with rage. Within seconds his eyes were glassy again, as if he were looking somewhere else, somewhere normal people couldn’t see.
“As I was saying, Dr. Cavanaugh,” he continued, as he ran the gun lightly across Jordan’s ribs and around the edges of her bra. “It really is your fault. If you had come with me then, I wouldn’t have had to hurt that other woman.”
Jordan’s mind was racing. “How does he know my name? Who IS this guy? And what “other woman”? Not Olivia. It can’t be, couldn’t be Olivia.”
“You see, I was just SO. MAD.” He punctuated his statement with jabs of the gun into her cheek. “If you had come with me though, I wouldn’t have had to get mad.” He spoke patiently and calmly, like one would to a small child. Jordan shuddered as he leaned forward, bringing his face to her neck.
His breath was hot and fetid as he spoke directly into her ear. “I would have taken you back to Boston like I’m supposed to.” His voice was saturated with unnerving glee. “But you made me MAD. Now we’re going to have fun instead.”
Jordan closed her eyes as a grubby hand snaked across her chest. Roughly he yanked the lace of her bra out of the way as his fingers clamped down hard on one nipple.
Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, Jordan willed herself into a remote corner of her mind.
**************
Olivia rocketed out of the car before Elliot even had it in park. A dim corner of her mind noticed that Woody had done the same, and was also advancing on the building with his gun drawn. It was eerily silent around the warehouse, despite the fact that the lot was practically swarming with cops.
She stopped when the Captain motioned her to, grinding her teeth in frustration. “Jordan is in there, I know she is!” she thought, her mind a maelstrom fear and anger.
Finally they got the go-ahead wave, and she and Elliot began to advance on the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Cragen and Woody were doing the same to her left. The door was pushed most of the way shut, but a quick appraisal told her that they could shoulder it open without to much trouble. She and Elliot exchanged one glance; that was all it took. Years of working together had significantly pared down their need for words.
The rusted metal hinges gave way with a crash under the weight of their combined shoulders. They were through the doorway with guns drawn, Cragen and Woody hard on their heels.
“FREEZE!” Elliot and Woody shouted at the same time. As for Olivia, she could hardly work her voice. Jordan, her beautiful Jordan, lay unmoving beneath a dirty psychopath, her clothes torn and dirtied, and half of her body exposed.
At the sound of the door crashing in, the kidnapper had stopped his fondling. He scrambled in a pathetic attempt to get to his feet as two men advanced on him, guns drawn. Jordan barely had time to register that one of them was Woody before her hooded eyes caught sight of Olivia, staring with horror and fury reflected in her gaze.
A small sound escaped Jordan’s throat and it broke whatever spell was holding her captor in slow motion. In a flash he whirled back towards her, his gun swinging forward to point at her head.
BANG! BANG!
It's not done yet. I thought I could finish in one part, but I think it's going to take two. Also, I need to go study for my Physiology final. ;)
At any rate, here is Part 4. For those of you who don't remember where we left off, I submit:
Victim, Chapter 3
I would have posted all three parts, but I couldn't find 1&2 in the memories...
Title: Victim, Chapter 4
Pairing: Olivia/Jordan
Fandom: L&O SVU and Crossing Jordan
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Not mine and all that good stuff.
Jordan stood blinking in the gloomy darkness of the old building, her eyes having trouble adjusting to the low light. A jab in her back got her moving again, carefully. “The last thing I want to do is walk into something and break an ankle.” She wished Sweatshirt would untie her hands; it would make feeling her way easier.
A sudden tug on her arm made her jump and stumble, as her captor pulled her to her right. Her feet encountered something about ankle high, and one push sent her sprawling face first towards it. She turned her head just in time, hitting the surprisingly soft surface with her cheek instead of her nose. The way it sagged beneath her, and the faint squeaking of rusty springs told her she was laying on a mattress. A very dirty mattress. The thing smelled like it had been sitting in the building for years, musty, moldy and faintly of urine. Jordan suppressed a gag reflex and picked her head up slightly, exhaling forcefully, trying to get the smell out of her nostrils.
Sudden pain exploded behind her eyes and she collapsed back down as everything went black.
**************
The world swam slowly into focus as Jordan regained consciousness, dirty yellow light illuminating her prison. She was on her back now; arms stretched above her head almost painfully, muscles pulling slightly in her shoulders. Her head throbbed, a dull ache like someone playing drums inside her skull.
With effort she lifted her head, trying to ignore the shooting pains the motion set off behind her eyes. She jerked in surprise and winced when she realized that not only were her ankles bound again, this time to something she couldn’t quite see, but her pants were also hanging off her legs in shreds. Hard on the heels of that realization came the knowledge that her shirt was unbuttoned and open, her breasts covered only by the red lace bra she had donned that morning. Jordan suppressed a shiver, finally realizing that this situation may have progressed further than she was able to handle alone. As quietly as possible she began to shift against the mattress, clenching her teeth against the agony in her head. She twisted her body from side to side, wrists and ankles burning as the nylon ropes rubbed them raw. She wasn’t getting anywhere and she knew it, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to get away. Long minutes passed as she tried futilely to pull herself loose, tried to regain some sort of control over her fate.
A scuffling sound and a shadow were the only warnings, as a dirty hand suddenly seized her around the arm and pushed her forcefully down on her back.
“Stay there.” hissed her captor forcefully, as if she had any choice. His hand was pressing down so hard on her arm she thought she might loose circulation.
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Jordan looked Sweatshirt in the face. What she saw made her stomach drop heavily and a chill settle over her already shivering body. “He’s insane,” she thought with dawning comprehension. “No sane person looks like that.”
As if to prove her thoughts, he kidnaper shifted slightly, pulling his gun out of a pocket. His eyes gleaming feverishly, he began to run the muzzle over Jordan’s bare skin, licking his lips as the cool metal made her jump when it hit a sensitive spot.
“You know,” he began, almost conversationally, “If you had just done what you were supposed to last night, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s really all your fault Dr. Cavanaugh.” He punctuated his words with a jab, pushing the gun forcefully between Jordan’s thighs.
The ME stifled a sound, her eyes going wide as the sensation of cold metal hit a very sensitive bundle of nerves. He grinned wickedly at her, eyes still gleaming.
“You had to go away with the other bitch though, didn’t you?” he asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. “It was your fault about the other one too.”
Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion mixing with fear. What about Olivia was her fault? She opened her mouth to ask, but quick as a snake his hand cracked hard against her cheek.
“NO TALKING!” he barked, his body quivering with rage. Within seconds his eyes were glassy again, as if he were looking somewhere else, somewhere normal people couldn’t see.
“As I was saying, Dr. Cavanaugh,” he continued, as he ran the gun lightly across Jordan’s ribs and around the edges of her bra. “It really is your fault. If you had come with me then, I wouldn’t have had to hurt that other woman.”
Jordan’s mind was racing. “How does he know my name? Who IS this guy? And what “other woman”? Not Olivia. It can’t be, couldn’t be Olivia.”
“You see, I was just SO. MAD.” He punctuated his statement with jabs of the gun into her cheek. “If you had come with me though, I wouldn’t have had to get mad.” He spoke patiently and calmly, like one would to a small child. Jordan shuddered as he leaned forward, bringing his face to her neck.
His breath was hot and fetid as he spoke directly into her ear. “I would have taken you back to Boston like I’m supposed to.” His voice was saturated with unnerving glee. “But you made me MAD. Now we’re going to have fun instead.”
Jordan closed her eyes as a grubby hand snaked across her chest. Roughly he yanked the lace of her bra out of the way as his fingers clamped down hard on one nipple.
Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, Jordan willed herself into a remote corner of her mind.
**************
Olivia rocketed out of the car before Elliot even had it in park. A dim corner of her mind noticed that Woody had done the same, and was also advancing on the building with his gun drawn. It was eerily silent around the warehouse, despite the fact that the lot was practically swarming with cops.
She stopped when the Captain motioned her to, grinding her teeth in frustration. “Jordan is in there, I know she is!” she thought, her mind a maelstrom fear and anger.
Finally they got the go-ahead wave, and she and Elliot began to advance on the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Cragen and Woody were doing the same to her left. The door was pushed most of the way shut, but a quick appraisal told her that they could shoulder it open without to much trouble. She and Elliot exchanged one glance; that was all it took. Years of working together had significantly pared down their need for words.
The rusted metal hinges gave way with a crash under the weight of their combined shoulders. They were through the doorway with guns drawn, Cragen and Woody hard on their heels.
“FREEZE!” Elliot and Woody shouted at the same time. As for Olivia, she could hardly work her voice. Jordan, her beautiful Jordan, lay unmoving beneath a dirty psychopath, her clothes torn and dirtied, and half of her body exposed.
At the sound of the door crashing in, the kidnapper had stopped his fondling. He scrambled in a pathetic attempt to get to his feet as two men advanced on him, guns drawn. Jordan barely had time to register that one of them was Woody before her hooded eyes caught sight of Olivia, staring with horror and fury reflected in her gaze.
A small sound escaped Jordan’s throat and it broke whatever spell was holding her captor in slow motion. In a flash he whirled back towards her, his gun swinging forward to point at her head.
BANG! BANG!