Victim, finished!
Ok all. I finally finished that Olivia/Jordan story I was writing.. sort of. It's worked out to be a trilogy. Visitor and Victim are finished, Vengeance I have yet to begin. I have learned, however, not to post chapters. I know you all like updates, but I am so very unreliable.. and life frequently sweeps me away to other things.
People seem to come and go in this community, so I'm posting a link to Visitor for anyone who hasn't read it, and I'll post Victim in it's entirety. Enjoy!
First: Visitor. (Oh, a note about this. At the time, I wasn't really watching much Jordan. I realized after I wrote it that I wasn't as true to her character as I could have been. I'm working on fixing that in more recent stuff.)
Now:
Title: Victim
Pairing: Olivia/Jordan
Fandom: Crossover. SVU and Crossing Jordan.
Rating: R. Maybe NC-17... but not really.
Season/Spoilers: no spoilers.. since the story is utterly made up, you can pretty much place it whenever you want.
Summary: Sequel to Visitor. Jordan's trip to NY turns out to be much more dangerous than she planned!
Author's Notes: I don't own them. I'd really like to, but I don't. Enjoy!
“It’s time to put on makeup, it’s time to dress up right…”
“It’s time to meet the Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight…” Jordan groaned. Why was she singing the Muppet Show theme song? She lifted her head from her pillow, blinking sleepily into the darkness. Glancing at the clock, she groaned again. 5:30 am. Why was she awake at 5:30? She furrowed her brow when she realized she was still hearing the music. Glancing around she tried to discern the source. Sudden movement to her left got her attention and she turned her head to see an arm slapping wildly at the bedside table. A tingly feeling washed through her body as she remembered who was lying next to her. “Olivia.” The name burned through her consciousness like lava, heating every inch of her body. She slipped her hand over a smooth tanned hip, as her bedmate pulled a now quiet phone to her ear.
“John, this had better be good.” Olivia mumbled in a drowsy voice. “Uh-huh.” she scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “Jesus. Where? OK. I’ll be there in 20. Yeah. Bye.” She snapped her phone shut and sighed into her pillow. “Just once. Just once I want to sleep until the alarm goes off.”
Jordan pressed herself against Olivia’s back. Running her hand over a toned stomach, she brushed a kiss across her shoulder blade. “Leaving so soon?”
Olivia turned in Jordan’s arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Not by choice, believe me. Why do people always seem to discover dead bodies before the sun comes up?”
“Never could figure that one out, myself.” was the amused reply.
Olivia sighed again, reluctantly pushing the blankets from her body. A beautiful woman wanted her in that bed and she was going to go join Munch and a dead prostitute. Not her best morning ever. A sleepy chuckle made her turn back towards the bed, where Jordan was propped up with a quizzical look on her face.
“The Muppet Show?”
Olivia cracked a smile, reaching for her jeans. “Only for Munch. Not that he knows…. Damn. He’s going to have a field day when I show up in the same clothes I had on yesterday.”
Jordan smiled coyly. “Would you prefer I had let you go home?”
Short hair bounced as the detective shook her head wildly. “Not a chance!” Pulling her sweater over her head Olivia scanned the floor for her hastily discarded boots. Grabbing them up she settled on the edge of the bed to lace them. She felt Jordan move behind her as arms slipped around her waist. Olivia closed her eyes briefly at the feel of Jordan’s lips brushing her neck.
“That’s not fair.” she complained breathily, reluctantly unwinding herself from lithe arms. Lowering the brunette back to the mattress she kissed her, brushing two fingers across her cheek. The other woman leaned into her touch, dark eyelashes sweeping closed. “I’m going to leave my number on the dresser, ok? Call me when you get a chance. Is Italian alright for dinner?” Jordan nodded against her hand and Olivia kissed her again before standing up.
She scribbled a note on a napkin and left it in plain view on the dresser. Taking one last lingering look at the stunning woman splayed out in the bed, she slipped quietly out the door. Striding quickly through the hotel she let her mind wander back to the previous night. She was almost surprised by how content she felt. The nagging irritability that had been creeping up on her recently was all but gone, and the muscles she was beginning to think were permanently knotted seemed to have loosened of their own accord. Her mind was so filled by Jordan and what they had shared that she barely noticed her surroundings as she left the hotel. If she had been paying more attention she might have noticed a familiar figure in a hoodie hanging around by the entrance.
************
“What’s the story?” Olivia worked her way through the crowd of uniforms and paramedics. An assistant ME was on the scene, busy with the body of a dead woman.
“Looks like your standard rape/homicide, a little on the vicious side.” the young man said without looking up. “From rigidity and body temperature, I’d say she’s been dead about 4 to 5 hours.”
“So, between 1 and 2 this morning.” Olivia said, looking at her watch. “Lovely. I was getting laid, and this poor woman was going through hell.” She shook her head; this wasn’t her fault. “I’m assuming cause of death would be those enormous gashes in her middle?”
The woman looked like she had been disemboweled. Olivia was studiously keeping her eyes on the woman’s face. She would look at the rest of the body in the morgue.
“Uh, yeah.” the ME replied. “I’m guessing that’s probably correct.”
“Wonderful.” She turned away from the body, looking for the man who had so rudely woken her from her slumber. Spotting a figure dressed head to toe in black, Olivia began to pick her way through the alley crime scene.
“Look who made the party!” Munch’s voice rang out through the early morning air. “Olivia, we’re so glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, cuz when she shows up, your bony ass gets to go in out of the cold.” Munch’s partner Fin came up behind him. “Not that I’m complainin’. It’s freezing out here.”
“Thanks guys.” Olivia replied dryly. “Where’s Elliot?”
“On his way, and he’s picking up your coffee.” Munch eyed Olivia with sudden interest. “Which seems to be a good call, as apparently you were in such a hurry you put the same clothes back on.”
Fin made a choking noise and looked away, shaking his head slightly.
“I know it was your night off,” Munch continued unwisely, “so you weren’t in the crash room... which makes me wonder where you spent the night.”
“You can keep right on wondering John.” Olivia replied, fixing him with a glare. “Lets get back to work.”
They set about bagging everything they thought could potentially be evidence. Elliot came striding up a minute later, a cup of coffee in each hand. Offering one to Olivia he surveyed the scene. Spying the sheet-covered form of the dead prostitute he raised his eyebrows. “How’d she die?”
“Someone gutted ‘er.” Fin stated succinctly.
“Excuse me?” Elliott’s eyebrows climbed further up his forehead.
“It would appear that she was raped and then disemboweled,” Munch replied. “But we won’t be sure about the rape part until Rodgers or whoever examines her. Warner is still at that conference, so we have to share.”
Munch and Fin took charge of the evidence, bringing it to the lab before heading back to the precinct. They agreed to pick up some bagels on the way since Olivia and Elliot were going to have to hang around until the body was on its way to the morgue. As the other two men got in their car, Elliot turned to Olivia with raised eyebrows.
“So. Interesting night?”
Olivia whipped her head around, eyes wide with surprise.
“Oh, come on, Olivia. I’m not blind. You’re wearing the same clothes you had on last night, and your eyes keep glazing over. What happened?”
She flashed him her trademark lopsided smile and decided he’d have to be content with that.
************
“Alright people, what do we have on this victim?” Don Cragen was pacing the floor as Elliot and Olivia walked into the squad room.
“Name’s Vikki Reynolds, 25.” Fin scanned the file on his desk. “Her purse was at th’ scene, everything still in it.”
“Which effectively rules out robbery.” Munch added. “Not that we really thought someone was trying to rob her.” he continued dryly.
“Definitely not.” Huang strode up to them, holding photos of the crime scene. “Whoever did this either had an intensely personal motive, or was acting out of extreme rage.”
“You mean because she was gutted?” Fin asked.
“Yes,” replied the psychiatrist “but not only that. Look at the bruises on her face and torso. Your perp beat her half to death before he killed her. He was angry.”
“Alright.” Cragen stuck his hands in his pockets. “Olivia, Elliot, I want you to go canvas Ms. Reynolds apartment building. See what her neighbors know about her.” He turned his head, seeking out his other two detectives. “John, Fin, pull her phone records, and follow the receipt trail from her purse. I want to know where she was last night.”
************
Three hours later they were leaving the woman’s apartment building, not having learned much of anything. Vikki Reynolds was an aspiring actress; her neighbors thought she waited tables to cover her bills. The guy upstairs said he thought her family was from Los Angeles; the woman downstairs swore she was from the Midwest. Olivia could only hope that Munch and Fin had come up with something better.
“Well, that was a bust.” Elliot sighed as he reached for the car door.
“Yeah, we’ve got an actress, waitress, prostitute from LA and the Bible belt.” Olivia’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out she flipped it open and put it to her ear.
“Benson.”
“Olivia? It’s Melinda.” The Medical Examiner’s voice sounded slightly edgy.
“Hey Doc. Shouldn’t you be lecturing somewhere?”
“Olivia, have you seen Jordan this morning?” Mel didn’t bother responding to Liv’s question.
“What do you mean?” she asked evasively. “Why would I have seen her today?”
“Now is not the time, detective. I spoke with Garret. I need to know when you saw Jordan last.”
Olivia suppressed an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Turning away from the car she lowered her voice. “I left her at a little past 5:30 this morning, she was going back to sleep. What’s going on Melinda?”
“I don’t know. I saw her before her first lecture. She said she was going to get a cup of coffee and make a phone call. She never came back in. Are you sure you haven’t talked to her?”
“I’ve had my phone on me all morning, she hasn’t called. Have you checked her room?”
“Yes, and there’s no one there. The desk clerks haven’t seen her either. I was hoping she’d come to see you.”
“I swear I haven’t seen her. Look, Elliot and I are on our way back to the precinct. We’ll stop by the hotel on the way.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby.”
Olivia snapped her phone shut and turned back to her partner, who was watching her with a worried expression on his face. “What’s going on Liv?”
“I’ll explain on the way. We need to go by the Westin. I’ll call the captain.”
************
Jordan groaned as the world slowly swam into focus. “Why does my head hurt? I didn’t drink that much.” Her rumination was brought up short when she tried to rub her temple. “I can’t move my hands. What the hell is going on?” Her hands were tied securely at the wrists, arms twisted behind her back. Her whole world gave a lurch, and she was rolled hard against a wall. She heard a motor gun, and she realized with a stab of fright that she was in the back of some kind of van.
“Where the hell am I going? What happened?” The breaks were applied with force and she slid forward, banging her shoulder and the side of her head. She took advantage of the stillness to press her back against the wall. Stretching her fingers she brushed the cold metal beneath her. She adjusted her weight, putting as much pressure on her hands as she could. She had to get herself upright before the van started moving again. She curled her knees, pulling herself into a fetal position. Her ankles were tied too, so she wasn’t going to be able to plant her feet. Shifting her weight to her hip and elbow she crunched sideways, slipping as the driver stepped on the gas. She fell and tried again, and again, until she had what was going to be a beautiful bruise on her shoulder, but she finally managed to struggle into a sitting position.
Raising her head slowly she peered into the dark around her. She was definitely in the back of a van. Swinging her legs out in front of her she looked down at her ankles. Nylon rope. There was no way she was going to be able to wiggle out of it either. “Shit. How did this happen?” Jordan thought hard, trying to remember what she had been doing. Olivia. She was going to call Olivia. Instinctively she looked down at her hip trying to see if her phone was in its clip. It wasn’t. “Well, whoever grabbed me wouldn’t be stupid enough to let me keep my phone.” She exhaled, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her. “Way to go Jordan. Alone in New York for all of five minutes, and you manage to get yourself kidnapped.” Giving herself a mental shake she firmly put that thought aside. “There is no time for self blame. Think.” She vaguely remembered telling Melinda that she was going to get coffee and make a call. Mel would notice her absence, she was sure of it. A tickle started in the back of her throat, and she cleared it few times, trying to disperse the sensation.
“Wait a minute.” She went stock still, eyes widening. “I’m not gagged. He didn’t gag me. I am such an idiot.” Not wanting to waste any more time, she opened her mouth and began to yell as loud as she could.
“HELP ME!!! SOMEBODY HELP! CALL THE POLICE!” Using all the force she could muster, she threw her body towards the doors of the van. The windows were so dirty she couldn’t see anything, but she aimed her voice at the crack in the door. “SOMEBODY STOP THIS VAN! HELP ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” Her screams were cut short when the driver stepped hard on the gas and swung them around a corner. Jordan was flung against the doors, her jaw connecting painfully with cold metal. Light exploded behind her eyes, and she could taste blood in her mouth. She gently ran her tongue along the inside of her lip, checking the damage. There were a few gashes where her teeth had dug into the flesh, but she hadn’t bitten through. She tried sitting up again, every muscle screaming in agony. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Jordan let her body go slack, closing her eyes against the pain and anger.
She felt the van shudder to a sudden stop. Ignoring the pain she tried frantically to sit up, flopping like a fish to get her back against a wall, any wall. Then drivers side door slammed shut, and Jordan could hear someone stomping around to the back. Her heart was slamming in her chest; she tried to regulate her breathing to slow it down. She had scooted as far back against the wall as she could when the door handle began to turn. The door inched open slightly and she found herself facing the barrel of a handgun.
“Don’t say a word.” A gruff voice came through the open door. “Not a sound. I will shoot you. I don’t care.” The door creaked as he swung it open, letting light into the back of the van. The man who stood there could almost have been called attractive, intriguing to Jordan if he weren’t so…..shifty looking. He was wearing a dark, tattered sweatshirt, wisps of blondish hair poking out from under the hood. A cold feeling converged in the pit of her stomach. She knew this man.
**********
“Olivia.” Warner approached the detectives as soon as they entered the hotel lobby.
The hotel was already swarming with police; they were interviewing guests and employees, making a big scene over walkie talkies. “What the hell is this?” Olivia asked harshly, more harshly than she meant to, really. She sighed. “I’m sorry Mel, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only just talked to you 15 minutes ago.”
“I know.” The doctor replied, running a hand across her eyes. “When the hotel got word that something was wrong they called the police. I told them Manhattan detectives were already on their way, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Does anybody have any idea what happened?” Elliot glanced around, trying to take stock of things.
“Not that we know of, no one has said anything yet.”
“Melinda.” A new voice got their attention, and the three of them turned to see Garret approaching from the doors. “Detective,” he greeted Olivia with a nod. “I’m glad to see you here.”
Olivia smiled tightly. “Dr. Macy, this is my partner, Elliot Stabler. Elliot, this is Dr. Macy, Jordan’s boss.”
Elliot extended his hand in greeting. “Dr. Macy.”
“Please, both of you, call me Garret. At any rate, I think there is something you should see.” He led them towards the side door; the same one Olivia and Jordan had used the night before. As they stepped into the street he began to explain. “I came out here to call back to my office. I wanted our guy at the Boston PD to keep his ears open. If Jordan ends up back in Boston, we need to know.” Olivia nodded, motioning him to continue. “Anyway, this is what I found.”
Olivia scanned the ground where Garret was pointing, seeing clearly what he was getting at. A silver cell phone lay open on the ground, partially hidden behind the same column they had used for cover the night before. Crouching down, she drew a tissue from the pack in her jacket pocket and used it to pick up the discarded phone. “Recognize it?” she asked Garret.
“It’s Jordan’s.” he replied without hesitating.
Olivia turned to an approaching officer. “Bag this. We need to get it to the lab to run prints.”
The officer nodded, taking the phone. “Detective, I thought you’d want to know, one of the desk clerks said something that could be important.”
She nodded and straightened up, turning to Elliot. “This is where we were last night. She must have figured it would be a private place to make a call. Whatever happened, she was seconds from calling me. I would have answered.”
Elliot laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t beat yourself up over it Liv. It wasn’t your fault.”
The officer led them over to a nervous looking young woman. “Detectives, this is Mary Kennedy; She was working the desk this morning. I think you should hear what she has to say.”
Elliot smiled at the young woman, wearing his sympathetic cop face. “Mary, what did you see this morning?”
“Well.. I mean, I don’t know if it was really a big deal. I see weirdoes all the time.”
Olivia patted her arm. “Really, anything you could tell us would be helpful.”
“It’s just, there was this guy hanging around outside this morning. He tried to come in a few times, but the doormen asked him to leave.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Elliot, furrowing his brow.
“Well, he wasn’t very clean. Kind of creepy. I saw him a few times before the conference started, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“Ok,” Olivia took grabbed a pen and paper from her pocket. “Mary, do you remember what this guy looked like?”
“Um, well, I didn’t see his face, but he had on, like, dirty jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. His hair was light.”
Olivia felt like she had ice water in her veins. “What color was the sweatshirt?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
“Um.. dark. Black or navy blue, maybe.”
“Shit. No. Oh-no. This is not… oh God. What did I do?” Olivia turned to the uniformed officer who was still standing off to the side. “As of right now, Manhattan SVU is taking over this case. We’ll clear it with your captain.”
“Liv..” Elliot began, but she cut him off immediately.
“Elliot, I’m not discussing it. This is my fault.”
*************
Half an hour later they were standing in the precinct, Olivia bringing everyone up to speed. Mel and Garret had left the conference (which was really only being halfheartedly conducted anyway) to give whatever assistance they could.
Raking her fingers through her hair, Olivia sighed. “The guy wandered off, and we went inside. I decided it wasn’t worth chasing down a mugger.” She dropped into her chair and leaned her forehead on her fingertips. “I can’t believe this. This is my fault. I decided I didn’t want to deal with being a cop right then, and this is where it got me.” She dropped her head against the desk. “This is where it got Jordan.”
“That’s enough, Olivia.” Cragen’s voice cut through her self-recriminations, making her crane her neck to look up at him. “You’re a human being first, a cop second. Everyone has to be human.” His voice took on a gentler tone, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Especially on their nights off.”
“OK folks, listen up. This is what we’re going to do.” Cragen turned to the group, looking from person to person. “Olivia, Elliot, start canvassing the neighborhood around the hotel. Someone else must have seen this guy, either last night or this morning, and I want to know what they saw.”
“Munch and Fin, go talk to the CSU guys. They should have been all over the scene after Olivia found the phone. If any of you learns anything, I want to hear it immediately. The Boston PD is going to be up our asses on this one, so lets get on it as fast as we can.”
Olivia pushed herself to her feet, glad to have something she could do. Nothing was going to stop her from feeling like she was responsible, but canvassing might at least keep her mind busy. She didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Jordan.
“Captain Cragen?” Dr. Warner was approaching the captain, Garret half a step behind her. “What can we do to help?”
“You’re both coming with me.” Cragen replied firmly. “We’re holding a press conference. The people of New York don’t like it when visitors get snatched. It’s bad for business.”
*************
Licking her lips nervously, Jordan eyed the gun aimed at her. Without the use of her hands, she wasn’t going to be able to defend herself against this guy, let alone get away safely. She opened her mouth slowly, preparing some sort of placating comment, when the man started waving the gun furiously.
“Shut up! I mean it! Don’t say anything!” Jordan could hear the hint of hysteria in his voice.
“Ok Jordan, go softly. This guy doesn’t have it all together.” As if she needed him waving a gun at her to know this. She knew this guy. Well, at least, she recognized him. She’d seen him from time to time, hanging around outside the morgue in the week before she left. She’d mentioned it to Bug and Nigel, but neither of them had noticed anything. She’d made the assumption he was just another one of Boston’s homeless. Obviously she’d been wrong.
He transferred the gun to his other hand, and reached into his pocket, pulling something out. Jordan’s eyes widened as he snapped open a knife and she tried to press herself harder against the wall.
“Give me your legs.” He commanded, waving the gun threateningly when she hesitated. Extending her legs slowly she braced herself against the inevitable pain. Surprisingly, he started to cut the ropes around her ankles. Jordan considered taking advantage of her good luck by trying to kick the knife from him while he was so close, but figured she’d probably only get herself stabbed or shot. If she could kick the gun away though, he probably couldn’t do much damage with that little knife….
“Get out!” her captor snapped, breaking her reverie. “Slowly, and don’t try anything. I’ll kill you, I swear!”
Jordan sighed and nodded slowly, trying not to betray her growing uneasiness. She’d just wait for the right moment. She could handle this. It’s not like this was the first time she’d been held at gunpoint. “Sweatshirt” moved aside as she scooted towards the door. Letting her legs dangle, she dropped out of the van, lurching a few steps forward to catch her balance. She stiffened almost immediately as cold metal jabbed against her back, shoving her away from the van.
“Walk,” Sweatshirt growled from behind her, pushing the gun harder into her spine. “And don’t you try anything funny. I’ll shoot you. WALK.” He punctuated the last word with another jab from the gun, shoving Jordan in the direction of a crumbling brick building with a rusting garage type door.
*************
Olivia felt like she’d been canvassing for days. In actuality it’d only been three and half hours, but she was growing impatient. Elliot had stopped talking to her an hour before, when she’d snapped at him for suggesting lunch. She regretted that now, partly because all the quiet let her think too much, and partly because she was starving.
It’s not as if they were getting anywhere anyway. Liv was certain they’d spoken to every hot dog vendor and shop owner in a five-mile radius. A few people were helpful, but they hadn’t gotten much, confirmations on the description mostly. One guy had assured them that the hoodie had in fact been navy blue, stained and covered in dirt, but navy blue.
Olivia sighed as they approached yet another vendor, this time selling sweatshirts. Raking a hand through her hair for the zillionth time, she wondered how he stayed warm out here. It had warmed a bit since she’d gotten up, but it was still quite chilly.
Elliot began conversing with the sweatshirt vendor as Liv let her mind wander. She only yanked her attention back to the men in front of her as she heard the vendor say something about the man’s eyes.
“You saw his face?” she demanded, her voice sounding unsteady even to her own ears. Ignoring Elliot’s raised eyebrows she pinned the poor man with her gaze. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist?”
The vendor took an involuntary step back, looking surprised at Olivia’s vehemence. “I think so..” he began.
“Good.” She replied with a nod. “Shut your cart down, and lock it up. You’re coming with us.”
The poor man looked too overwhelmed by her to protest.
*************
They arrived back at the squad room in time to see Cragen hang up the phone with satisfied look on his face. He nodded to them as they came though the door and Olivia headed his way as her partner got the unfortunate vendor to a sketch artist.
“Did you learn anything?” the captain asked, pouring a cup of old coffee.
Olivia made a shrugging gesture, shaking her head when he offered her the cup. “We found a guy who actually saw his face,” she replied with sigh, “El’s getting him set up with a sketch artist. How did the press conference go?”
“Not bad, considering it was a little short notice.” Cragen leaned back against a desk, making a face as he sipped his burnt coffee. “We’ve gotten a couple of calls. Apparently your girl has a set of lungs. People heard shouting coming from the back of a van that was speeding though Brooklyn, someone got a partial plate. Also, Munch called. CSU found tire tracks near where she was grabbed. They’re getting as much info as they can.”
“Good,” Olivia began “as soon as El is done with..” The sound of the doors to the squad room banging open cut her off and a voice she didn’t recognize penetrated the buzz of conversation.
“Dr. Macy? Where is Dr. Macy?”
Liv and Cragen turned to see a youngish looking man storm into the squad room, flashing a badge at everyone who stepped towards him. His eyes scanned the room, a little too frantically in Olivia’s opinion, obviously searching for someone.
“Woody?” Garret Macy came out of the captain’s office in a hurry, a look of confusion on his face. “Woody, what the hell are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What do you think I’m doing here? What the hell happened Garret?”
“Woody, calm down. The NYP…”
“CALM DOWN? Jordan’s creepy stalker grabbed her and you want me to CALM DOWN?”
Much to Olivia’s surprise, the chief medical examiner didn’t crumple under the cop’s furious gaze. Instead he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back through the doors. From inside the squad room they could hear the muffled sounds of the two men having words.
Olivia turned her head to see Melinda approaching from the direction of the captain’s office.
“Who was that?” she asked the ME, as the other woman drew near.
Taking her by the arm, Mel steered her into the nearest interrogation room. “That was Woody.” She replied with a sigh. “He’s a homicide detective in Boston.”
As Liv began to protest that they didn’t need help from the Boston police, the ME held up a hand. “He and Jordan also have a…. history.”
A blank look crossed Olivia’s face as she slowly looked in the direction of the angry Boston detective, then back at Mel. “Really.” She said flatly. Shaking her head she continued, “It doesn’t matter. What Jordan does is her..”
“It’s over, Liv.” Melinda stated, interrupting the detective again. “At least, it’s over for Jordan. She and Woody could never really get it together. I’m only telling you because I think you need to understand where Woody is coming from.”
Olivia sighed, nodded and mumbled her thanks. “What was he saying about a stalker?” she asked, as the full weight of the conversation between the two men hit her.
Mel bit her lip worriedly. “I don’t know. Jordan never mentioned anything about that.” She nodded towards the squad room where Garret and Woody had reentered. “We should probably get back in there.”
The two women headed back to the rest of the group, Olivia keeping a wary eye on the newcomer.
Garret cleared his throat as they entered the room and looked toward the captain. At Cragen’s nod he spoke.
“This is Woody Hoyt, Boston homicide. He knows Jordan pretty well, and he’s here because he has some information we don’t.”
There was a quick round of introductions, during which Liv didn’t miss the slight frown he wore when he shook her hand. With a nod to the captain, he began to speak.
“From what I’ve been able to find out, this guy who grabbed Jordan isn’t just some random New York psycho. According to a few of her co-workers, she’d seen someone matching the description of your guy hanging around the morgue all last week.” He shook his head briefly. “Why she didn’t tell the police about it, I don’t know” he finished bitterly.
“Why she didn’t tell you about it, you mean.” Olivia thought with a smirk. Her smugness was cut short when she realized that Jordan hadn’t mentioned anything about it to her either.
The ringing of a telephone shattered the uneasy silence of the group; it’s shrill sound making Liv jump.
“SVU.” Elliot answered, barely moving from his desk chair. “Uh-huh. Really? Where?” His voice took on a sudden sharpness, and he grabbed a pen and paper. He began to scribble furiously, nodding to the voice on the other end of the line. “Ok, got it. Thanks.”
He looked up, directly into Olivia’s eyes, as he hung the phone up. “A suspicious van was seen parked outside an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. The cop who found it ran the plate, and it matches our partial.” Elliot grabbed his coat as he stood, swinging it over his shoulders. “He’s staying low, waiting for us. There are uniforms on the way.”
Olivia was nearly out the door as he finished speaking, but she noticed that Cragen motioned Woody to ride with him. She shook her head as jealousy began to flare. “Now is not the time. Jordan needs you.”
She locked eyes with Elliot as they were getting in the car. One quick glance and she knew all was forgiven. Nothing mattered but getting to Jordan now.
*************
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!
**************
The world seemed to be moving in slow motion for Olivia, her arms were leaden, fingers seemingly unable to clutch the gun the way they should. The perp swung back to Jordan and the detective couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound, hell, she could hardly breathe. The deafening thunder of gunfire broke her paralysis, and a sound of negation and pain was torn from her throat as blood spattered across the warehouse.
She stumbled forward a few steps, her legs barely working, before Elliot was there, holding her up.
“It’s alright, Liv,” he began, but she shook her head wildly, straining to get away from him. “OLIVIA. Snap out of it!” he said sternly, giving her a slight shake for emphasis. “She’s fine, she’s alright.”
Slowly, terrified of what she might see, Olivia looked away from Elliot to where Jordan was lying, the bloody body of her abductor slumped over her.
She let go of Elliot’s arms with a cry and took a lurching step towards the mattress.
Woody beat her by an arms-length, and she helped him heave the dirty body off her trembling and blood covered lover. Jordan looked at them both for a moment, relief and exhaustion warring on her face, and then her eyes rolled back and she slumped unconsciously back to the mattress.
**************
Olivia tapped her pen against a coffee mug, her mind wandering while Munch rambled on about something or other; she wasn’t really listening. Her eyes flickered to her computer screen, but her inbox remained stubbornly empty. Three weeks had passed since that day in the warehouse, two weeks and five days since she’d heard from Jordan. Everything that afternoon had been a blur, from getting the battered and bruised ME to the hospital, to mechanically answering IAB’s questions about the shooting. It had been Fin who’d managed to shoot the guy when he turned, since he’d presented the detective with his unprotected back. No one felt good about a shooting, but he was cleared. Everyone had seen the gun aimed at Jordan.
“Jordan.” Liv thought about her constantly. The detective shook her head, absently running her fingers through her shaggy locks. She still didn’t understand. The ME had been hospitalized for nearly 48 hours, most of which Olivia had spent either sitting beside her, or anxiously pacing at the foot of the bed. A concussion, a twisted ankle and a lot of bruising was the extent of the physical damage, and the doctors were planning to release her. Olivia had only left for an hour or so, long enough to change her clothes and check in with the Captain. By the time she got back to the hospital, Jordan was gone. She’d checked herself out, and according to Garret, she and Woody were on their way back to Boston. She hadn’t even left a phone number.
Garret and Melinda had tried to explain it to her; that Jordan was like this sometimes. “She runs.” they’d said, shaking their heads and giving her halfhearted smiles. “It’s how she handles things.”
Olivia had managed to track down an email for a J. Cavanaugh at the Medical Examiner’s office on the City of Boston website, but so far she’d gotten no response. With the perp dead, and Jordan’s statements making him the likely link to that morning’s dead prostitute, the case was officially closed according to New York State, so she couldn’t even try to talk to her on the pretense of business.
“Olivia, Elliot.” The detective’s thoughts were broken by the sound of her name being called. Cragen was signaling them from his doorway.
With a sigh she climbed to her feet, following her partner into the Captain’s office. Shutting the door behind her, she raised a quizzical eyebrow at Cragen, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“I just got off the phone with Woody Hoyt.” he said, holding up a hand to forestall any questions from his detectives. “It seems that Jordan’s abductor was working for someone back in Boston. He’s trying to figure out who, and he wants to take a look at everything we’ve got on the guy. I told him I’d be happy to send him copies of the files, but he seems to think it’d go better if he could talk to you both in person.” He paused and looked sternly at Olivia before continuing. “You will cooperate with the Boston authorities, and then you will come back. There are plenty of cases for you here.”
With that, he dropped his gaze back to his desk and began rearranging files. “I suggest you get your stuff together.” he added, almost like an afterthought. “I told him you’d be there in the morning.”
I'll try to get started on Vengeance as soon as I can, and maybe someday I'll even finish it!
People seem to come and go in this community, so I'm posting a link to Visitor for anyone who hasn't read it, and I'll post Victim in it's entirety. Enjoy!
First: Visitor. (Oh, a note about this. At the time, I wasn't really watching much Jordan. I realized after I wrote it that I wasn't as true to her character as I could have been. I'm working on fixing that in more recent stuff.)
Now:
Title: Victim
Pairing: Olivia/Jordan
Fandom: Crossover. SVU and Crossing Jordan.
Rating: R. Maybe NC-17... but not really.
Season/Spoilers: no spoilers.. since the story is utterly made up, you can pretty much place it whenever you want.
Summary: Sequel to Visitor. Jordan's trip to NY turns out to be much more dangerous than she planned!
Author's Notes: I don't own them. I'd really like to, but I don't. Enjoy!
“It’s time to put on makeup, it’s time to dress up right…”
“It’s time to meet the Muppets on the Muppet Show tonight…” Jordan groaned. Why was she singing the Muppet Show theme song? She lifted her head from her pillow, blinking sleepily into the darkness. Glancing at the clock, she groaned again. 5:30 am. Why was she awake at 5:30? She furrowed her brow when she realized she was still hearing the music. Glancing around she tried to discern the source. Sudden movement to her left got her attention and she turned her head to see an arm slapping wildly at the bedside table. A tingly feeling washed through her body as she remembered who was lying next to her. “Olivia.” The name burned through her consciousness like lava, heating every inch of her body. She slipped her hand over a smooth tanned hip, as her bedmate pulled a now quiet phone to her ear.
“John, this had better be good.” Olivia mumbled in a drowsy voice. “Uh-huh.” she scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “Jesus. Where? OK. I’ll be there in 20. Yeah. Bye.” She snapped her phone shut and sighed into her pillow. “Just once. Just once I want to sleep until the alarm goes off.”
Jordan pressed herself against Olivia’s back. Running her hand over a toned stomach, she brushed a kiss across her shoulder blade. “Leaving so soon?”
Olivia turned in Jordan’s arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Not by choice, believe me. Why do people always seem to discover dead bodies before the sun comes up?”
“Never could figure that one out, myself.” was the amused reply.
Olivia sighed again, reluctantly pushing the blankets from her body. A beautiful woman wanted her in that bed and she was going to go join Munch and a dead prostitute. Not her best morning ever. A sleepy chuckle made her turn back towards the bed, where Jordan was propped up with a quizzical look on her face.
“The Muppet Show?”
Olivia cracked a smile, reaching for her jeans. “Only for Munch. Not that he knows…. Damn. He’s going to have a field day when I show up in the same clothes I had on yesterday.”
Jordan smiled coyly. “Would you prefer I had let you go home?”
Short hair bounced as the detective shook her head wildly. “Not a chance!” Pulling her sweater over her head Olivia scanned the floor for her hastily discarded boots. Grabbing them up she settled on the edge of the bed to lace them. She felt Jordan move behind her as arms slipped around her waist. Olivia closed her eyes briefly at the feel of Jordan’s lips brushing her neck.
“That’s not fair.” she complained breathily, reluctantly unwinding herself from lithe arms. Lowering the brunette back to the mattress she kissed her, brushing two fingers across her cheek. The other woman leaned into her touch, dark eyelashes sweeping closed. “I’m going to leave my number on the dresser, ok? Call me when you get a chance. Is Italian alright for dinner?” Jordan nodded against her hand and Olivia kissed her again before standing up.
She scribbled a note on a napkin and left it in plain view on the dresser. Taking one last lingering look at the stunning woman splayed out in the bed, she slipped quietly out the door. Striding quickly through the hotel she let her mind wander back to the previous night. She was almost surprised by how content she felt. The nagging irritability that had been creeping up on her recently was all but gone, and the muscles she was beginning to think were permanently knotted seemed to have loosened of their own accord. Her mind was so filled by Jordan and what they had shared that she barely noticed her surroundings as she left the hotel. If she had been paying more attention she might have noticed a familiar figure in a hoodie hanging around by the entrance.
************
“What’s the story?” Olivia worked her way through the crowd of uniforms and paramedics. An assistant ME was on the scene, busy with the body of a dead woman.
“Looks like your standard rape/homicide, a little on the vicious side.” the young man said without looking up. “From rigidity and body temperature, I’d say she’s been dead about 4 to 5 hours.”
“So, between 1 and 2 this morning.” Olivia said, looking at her watch. “Lovely. I was getting laid, and this poor woman was going through hell.” She shook her head; this wasn’t her fault. “I’m assuming cause of death would be those enormous gashes in her middle?”
The woman looked like she had been disemboweled. Olivia was studiously keeping her eyes on the woman’s face. She would look at the rest of the body in the morgue.
“Uh, yeah.” the ME replied. “I’m guessing that’s probably correct.”
“Wonderful.” She turned away from the body, looking for the man who had so rudely woken her from her slumber. Spotting a figure dressed head to toe in black, Olivia began to pick her way through the alley crime scene.
“Look who made the party!” Munch’s voice rang out through the early morning air. “Olivia, we’re so glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, cuz when she shows up, your bony ass gets to go in out of the cold.” Munch’s partner Fin came up behind him. “Not that I’m complainin’. It’s freezing out here.”
“Thanks guys.” Olivia replied dryly. “Where’s Elliot?”
“On his way, and he’s picking up your coffee.” Munch eyed Olivia with sudden interest. “Which seems to be a good call, as apparently you were in such a hurry you put the same clothes back on.”
Fin made a choking noise and looked away, shaking his head slightly.
“I know it was your night off,” Munch continued unwisely, “so you weren’t in the crash room... which makes me wonder where you spent the night.”
“You can keep right on wondering John.” Olivia replied, fixing him with a glare. “Lets get back to work.”
They set about bagging everything they thought could potentially be evidence. Elliot came striding up a minute later, a cup of coffee in each hand. Offering one to Olivia he surveyed the scene. Spying the sheet-covered form of the dead prostitute he raised his eyebrows. “How’d she die?”
“Someone gutted ‘er.” Fin stated succinctly.
“Excuse me?” Elliott’s eyebrows climbed further up his forehead.
“It would appear that she was raped and then disemboweled,” Munch replied. “But we won’t be sure about the rape part until Rodgers or whoever examines her. Warner is still at that conference, so we have to share.”
Munch and Fin took charge of the evidence, bringing it to the lab before heading back to the precinct. They agreed to pick up some bagels on the way since Olivia and Elliot were going to have to hang around until the body was on its way to the morgue. As the other two men got in their car, Elliot turned to Olivia with raised eyebrows.
“So. Interesting night?”
Olivia whipped her head around, eyes wide with surprise.
“Oh, come on, Olivia. I’m not blind. You’re wearing the same clothes you had on last night, and your eyes keep glazing over. What happened?”
She flashed him her trademark lopsided smile and decided he’d have to be content with that.
************
“Alright people, what do we have on this victim?” Don Cragen was pacing the floor as Elliot and Olivia walked into the squad room.
“Name’s Vikki Reynolds, 25.” Fin scanned the file on his desk. “Her purse was at th’ scene, everything still in it.”
“Which effectively rules out robbery.” Munch added. “Not that we really thought someone was trying to rob her.” he continued dryly.
“Definitely not.” Huang strode up to them, holding photos of the crime scene. “Whoever did this either had an intensely personal motive, or was acting out of extreme rage.”
“You mean because she was gutted?” Fin asked.
“Yes,” replied the psychiatrist “but not only that. Look at the bruises on her face and torso. Your perp beat her half to death before he killed her. He was angry.”
“Alright.” Cragen stuck his hands in his pockets. “Olivia, Elliot, I want you to go canvas Ms. Reynolds apartment building. See what her neighbors know about her.” He turned his head, seeking out his other two detectives. “John, Fin, pull her phone records, and follow the receipt trail from her purse. I want to know where she was last night.”
************
Three hours later they were leaving the woman’s apartment building, not having learned much of anything. Vikki Reynolds was an aspiring actress; her neighbors thought she waited tables to cover her bills. The guy upstairs said he thought her family was from Los Angeles; the woman downstairs swore she was from the Midwest. Olivia could only hope that Munch and Fin had come up with something better.
“Well, that was a bust.” Elliot sighed as he reached for the car door.
“Yeah, we’ve got an actress, waitress, prostitute from LA and the Bible belt.” Olivia’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out she flipped it open and put it to her ear.
“Benson.”
“Olivia? It’s Melinda.” The Medical Examiner’s voice sounded slightly edgy.
“Hey Doc. Shouldn’t you be lecturing somewhere?”
“Olivia, have you seen Jordan this morning?” Mel didn’t bother responding to Liv’s question.
“What do you mean?” she asked evasively. “Why would I have seen her today?”
“Now is not the time, detective. I spoke with Garret. I need to know when you saw Jordan last.”
Olivia suppressed an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Turning away from the car she lowered her voice. “I left her at a little past 5:30 this morning, she was going back to sleep. What’s going on Melinda?”
“I don’t know. I saw her before her first lecture. She said she was going to get a cup of coffee and make a phone call. She never came back in. Are you sure you haven’t talked to her?”
“I’ve had my phone on me all morning, she hasn’t called. Have you checked her room?”
“Yes, and there’s no one there. The desk clerks haven’t seen her either. I was hoping she’d come to see you.”
“I swear I haven’t seen her. Look, Elliot and I are on our way back to the precinct. We’ll stop by the hotel on the way.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby.”
Olivia snapped her phone shut and turned back to her partner, who was watching her with a worried expression on his face. “What’s going on Liv?”
“I’ll explain on the way. We need to go by the Westin. I’ll call the captain.”
************
Jordan groaned as the world slowly swam into focus. “Why does my head hurt? I didn’t drink that much.” Her rumination was brought up short when she tried to rub her temple. “I can’t move my hands. What the hell is going on?” Her hands were tied securely at the wrists, arms twisted behind her back. Her whole world gave a lurch, and she was rolled hard against a wall. She heard a motor gun, and she realized with a stab of fright that she was in the back of some kind of van.
“Where the hell am I going? What happened?” The breaks were applied with force and she slid forward, banging her shoulder and the side of her head. She took advantage of the stillness to press her back against the wall. Stretching her fingers she brushed the cold metal beneath her. She adjusted her weight, putting as much pressure on her hands as she could. She had to get herself upright before the van started moving again. She curled her knees, pulling herself into a fetal position. Her ankles were tied too, so she wasn’t going to be able to plant her feet. Shifting her weight to her hip and elbow she crunched sideways, slipping as the driver stepped on the gas. She fell and tried again, and again, until she had what was going to be a beautiful bruise on her shoulder, but she finally managed to struggle into a sitting position.
Raising her head slowly she peered into the dark around her. She was definitely in the back of a van. Swinging her legs out in front of her she looked down at her ankles. Nylon rope. There was no way she was going to be able to wiggle out of it either. “Shit. How did this happen?” Jordan thought hard, trying to remember what she had been doing. Olivia. She was going to call Olivia. Instinctively she looked down at her hip trying to see if her phone was in its clip. It wasn’t. “Well, whoever grabbed me wouldn’t be stupid enough to let me keep my phone.” She exhaled, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her. “Way to go Jordan. Alone in New York for all of five minutes, and you manage to get yourself kidnapped.” Giving herself a mental shake she firmly put that thought aside. “There is no time for self blame. Think.” She vaguely remembered telling Melinda that she was going to get coffee and make a call. Mel would notice her absence, she was sure of it. A tickle started in the back of her throat, and she cleared it few times, trying to disperse the sensation.
“Wait a minute.” She went stock still, eyes widening. “I’m not gagged. He didn’t gag me. I am such an idiot.” Not wanting to waste any more time, she opened her mouth and began to yell as loud as she could.
“HELP ME!!! SOMEBODY HELP! CALL THE POLICE!” Using all the force she could muster, she threw her body towards the doors of the van. The windows were so dirty she couldn’t see anything, but she aimed her voice at the crack in the door. “SOMEBODY STOP THIS VAN! HELP ME! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” Her screams were cut short when the driver stepped hard on the gas and swung them around a corner. Jordan was flung against the doors, her jaw connecting painfully with cold metal. Light exploded behind her eyes, and she could taste blood in her mouth. She gently ran her tongue along the inside of her lip, checking the damage. There were a few gashes where her teeth had dug into the flesh, but she hadn’t bitten through. She tried sitting up again, every muscle screaming in agony. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Jordan let her body go slack, closing her eyes against the pain and anger.
She felt the van shudder to a sudden stop. Ignoring the pain she tried frantically to sit up, flopping like a fish to get her back against a wall, any wall. Then drivers side door slammed shut, and Jordan could hear someone stomping around to the back. Her heart was slamming in her chest; she tried to regulate her breathing to slow it down. She had scooted as far back against the wall as she could when the door handle began to turn. The door inched open slightly and she found herself facing the barrel of a handgun.
“Don’t say a word.” A gruff voice came through the open door. “Not a sound. I will shoot you. I don’t care.” The door creaked as he swung it open, letting light into the back of the van. The man who stood there could almost have been called attractive, intriguing to Jordan if he weren’t so…..shifty looking. He was wearing a dark, tattered sweatshirt, wisps of blondish hair poking out from under the hood. A cold feeling converged in the pit of her stomach. She knew this man.
**********
“Olivia.” Warner approached the detectives as soon as they entered the hotel lobby.
The hotel was already swarming with police; they were interviewing guests and employees, making a big scene over walkie talkies. “What the hell is this?” Olivia asked harshly, more harshly than she meant to, really. She sighed. “I’m sorry Mel, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I only just talked to you 15 minutes ago.”
“I know.” The doctor replied, running a hand across her eyes. “When the hotel got word that something was wrong they called the police. I told them Manhattan detectives were already on their way, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Does anybody have any idea what happened?” Elliot glanced around, trying to take stock of things.
“Not that we know of, no one has said anything yet.”
“Melinda.” A new voice got their attention, and the three of them turned to see Garret approaching from the doors. “Detective,” he greeted Olivia with a nod. “I’m glad to see you here.”
Olivia smiled tightly. “Dr. Macy, this is my partner, Elliot Stabler. Elliot, this is Dr. Macy, Jordan’s boss.”
Elliot extended his hand in greeting. “Dr. Macy.”
“Please, both of you, call me Garret. At any rate, I think there is something you should see.” He led them towards the side door; the same one Olivia and Jordan had used the night before. As they stepped into the street he began to explain. “I came out here to call back to my office. I wanted our guy at the Boston PD to keep his ears open. If Jordan ends up back in Boston, we need to know.” Olivia nodded, motioning him to continue. “Anyway, this is what I found.”
Olivia scanned the ground where Garret was pointing, seeing clearly what he was getting at. A silver cell phone lay open on the ground, partially hidden behind the same column they had used for cover the night before. Crouching down, she drew a tissue from the pack in her jacket pocket and used it to pick up the discarded phone. “Recognize it?” she asked Garret.
“It’s Jordan’s.” he replied without hesitating.
Olivia turned to an approaching officer. “Bag this. We need to get it to the lab to run prints.”
The officer nodded, taking the phone. “Detective, I thought you’d want to know, one of the desk clerks said something that could be important.”
She nodded and straightened up, turning to Elliot. “This is where we were last night. She must have figured it would be a private place to make a call. Whatever happened, she was seconds from calling me. I would have answered.”
Elliot laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t beat yourself up over it Liv. It wasn’t your fault.”
The officer led them over to a nervous looking young woman. “Detectives, this is Mary Kennedy; She was working the desk this morning. I think you should hear what she has to say.”
Elliot smiled at the young woman, wearing his sympathetic cop face. “Mary, what did you see this morning?”
“Well.. I mean, I don’t know if it was really a big deal. I see weirdoes all the time.”
Olivia patted her arm. “Really, anything you could tell us would be helpful.”
“It’s just, there was this guy hanging around outside this morning. He tried to come in a few times, but the doormen asked him to leave.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Elliot, furrowing his brow.
“Well, he wasn’t very clean. Kind of creepy. I saw him a few times before the conference started, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“Ok,” Olivia took grabbed a pen and paper from her pocket. “Mary, do you remember what this guy looked like?”
“Um, well, I didn’t see his face, but he had on, like, dirty jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. His hair was light.”
Olivia felt like she had ice water in her veins. “What color was the sweatshirt?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
“Um.. dark. Black or navy blue, maybe.”
“Shit. No. Oh-no. This is not… oh God. What did I do?” Olivia turned to the uniformed officer who was still standing off to the side. “As of right now, Manhattan SVU is taking over this case. We’ll clear it with your captain.”
“Liv..” Elliot began, but she cut him off immediately.
“Elliot, I’m not discussing it. This is my fault.”
*************
Half an hour later they were standing in the precinct, Olivia bringing everyone up to speed. Mel and Garret had left the conference (which was really only being halfheartedly conducted anyway) to give whatever assistance they could.
Raking her fingers through her hair, Olivia sighed. “The guy wandered off, and we went inside. I decided it wasn’t worth chasing down a mugger.” She dropped into her chair and leaned her forehead on her fingertips. “I can’t believe this. This is my fault. I decided I didn’t want to deal with being a cop right then, and this is where it got me.” She dropped her head against the desk. “This is where it got Jordan.”
“That’s enough, Olivia.” Cragen’s voice cut through her self-recriminations, making her crane her neck to look up at him. “You’re a human being first, a cop second. Everyone has to be human.” His voice took on a gentler tone, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Especially on their nights off.”
“OK folks, listen up. This is what we’re going to do.” Cragen turned to the group, looking from person to person. “Olivia, Elliot, start canvassing the neighborhood around the hotel. Someone else must have seen this guy, either last night or this morning, and I want to know what they saw.”
“Munch and Fin, go talk to the CSU guys. They should have been all over the scene after Olivia found the phone. If any of you learns anything, I want to hear it immediately. The Boston PD is going to be up our asses on this one, so lets get on it as fast as we can.”
Olivia pushed herself to her feet, glad to have something she could do. Nothing was going to stop her from feeling like she was responsible, but canvassing might at least keep her mind busy. She didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Jordan.
“Captain Cragen?” Dr. Warner was approaching the captain, Garret half a step behind her. “What can we do to help?”
“You’re both coming with me.” Cragen replied firmly. “We’re holding a press conference. The people of New York don’t like it when visitors get snatched. It’s bad for business.”
*************
Licking her lips nervously, Jordan eyed the gun aimed at her. Without the use of her hands, she wasn’t going to be able to defend herself against this guy, let alone get away safely. She opened her mouth slowly, preparing some sort of placating comment, when the man started waving the gun furiously.
“Shut up! I mean it! Don’t say anything!” Jordan could hear the hint of hysteria in his voice.
“Ok Jordan, go softly. This guy doesn’t have it all together.” As if she needed him waving a gun at her to know this. She knew this guy. Well, at least, she recognized him. She’d seen him from time to time, hanging around outside the morgue in the week before she left. She’d mentioned it to Bug and Nigel, but neither of them had noticed anything. She’d made the assumption he was just another one of Boston’s homeless. Obviously she’d been wrong.
He transferred the gun to his other hand, and reached into his pocket, pulling something out. Jordan’s eyes widened as he snapped open a knife and she tried to press herself harder against the wall.
“Give me your legs.” He commanded, waving the gun threateningly when she hesitated. Extending her legs slowly she braced herself against the inevitable pain. Surprisingly, he started to cut the ropes around her ankles. Jordan considered taking advantage of her good luck by trying to kick the knife from him while he was so close, but figured she’d probably only get herself stabbed or shot. If she could kick the gun away though, he probably couldn’t do much damage with that little knife….
“Get out!” her captor snapped, breaking her reverie. “Slowly, and don’t try anything. I’ll kill you, I swear!”
Jordan sighed and nodded slowly, trying not to betray her growing uneasiness. She’d just wait for the right moment. She could handle this. It’s not like this was the first time she’d been held at gunpoint. “Sweatshirt” moved aside as she scooted towards the door. Letting her legs dangle, she dropped out of the van, lurching a few steps forward to catch her balance. She stiffened almost immediately as cold metal jabbed against her back, shoving her away from the van.
“Walk,” Sweatshirt growled from behind her, pushing the gun harder into her spine. “And don’t you try anything funny. I’ll shoot you. WALK.” He punctuated the last word with another jab from the gun, shoving Jordan in the direction of a crumbling brick building with a rusting garage type door.
*************
Olivia felt like she’d been canvassing for days. In actuality it’d only been three and half hours, but she was growing impatient. Elliot had stopped talking to her an hour before, when she’d snapped at him for suggesting lunch. She regretted that now, partly because all the quiet let her think too much, and partly because she was starving.
It’s not as if they were getting anywhere anyway. Liv was certain they’d spoken to every hot dog vendor and shop owner in a five-mile radius. A few people were helpful, but they hadn’t gotten much, confirmations on the description mostly. One guy had assured them that the hoodie had in fact been navy blue, stained and covered in dirt, but navy blue.
Olivia sighed as they approached yet another vendor, this time selling sweatshirts. Raking a hand through her hair for the zillionth time, she wondered how he stayed warm out here. It had warmed a bit since she’d gotten up, but it was still quite chilly.
Elliot began conversing with the sweatshirt vendor as Liv let her mind wander. She only yanked her attention back to the men in front of her as she heard the vendor say something about the man’s eyes.
“You saw his face?” she demanded, her voice sounding unsteady even to her own ears. Ignoring Elliot’s raised eyebrows she pinned the poor man with her gaze. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist?”
The vendor took an involuntary step back, looking surprised at Olivia’s vehemence. “I think so..” he began.
“Good.” She replied with a nod. “Shut your cart down, and lock it up. You’re coming with us.”
The poor man looked too overwhelmed by her to protest.
*************
They arrived back at the squad room in time to see Cragen hang up the phone with satisfied look on his face. He nodded to them as they came though the door and Olivia headed his way as her partner got the unfortunate vendor to a sketch artist.
“Did you learn anything?” the captain asked, pouring a cup of old coffee.
Olivia made a shrugging gesture, shaking her head when he offered her the cup. “We found a guy who actually saw his face,” she replied with sigh, “El’s getting him set up with a sketch artist. How did the press conference go?”
“Not bad, considering it was a little short notice.” Cragen leaned back against a desk, making a face as he sipped his burnt coffee. “We’ve gotten a couple of calls. Apparently your girl has a set of lungs. People heard shouting coming from the back of a van that was speeding though Brooklyn, someone got a partial plate. Also, Munch called. CSU found tire tracks near where she was grabbed. They’re getting as much info as they can.”
“Good,” Olivia began “as soon as El is done with..” The sound of the doors to the squad room banging open cut her off and a voice she didn’t recognize penetrated the buzz of conversation.
“Dr. Macy? Where is Dr. Macy?”
Liv and Cragen turned to see a youngish looking man storm into the squad room, flashing a badge at everyone who stepped towards him. His eyes scanned the room, a little too frantically in Olivia’s opinion, obviously searching for someone.
“Woody?” Garret Macy came out of the captain’s office in a hurry, a look of confusion on his face. “Woody, what the hell are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What do you think I’m doing here? What the hell happened Garret?”
“Woody, calm down. The NYP…”
“CALM DOWN? Jordan’s creepy stalker grabbed her and you want me to CALM DOWN?”
Much to Olivia’s surprise, the chief medical examiner didn’t crumple under the cop’s furious gaze. Instead he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back through the doors. From inside the squad room they could hear the muffled sounds of the two men having words.
Olivia turned her head to see Melinda approaching from the direction of the captain’s office.
“Who was that?” she asked the ME, as the other woman drew near.
Taking her by the arm, Mel steered her into the nearest interrogation room. “That was Woody.” She replied with a sigh. “He’s a homicide detective in Boston.”
As Liv began to protest that they didn’t need help from the Boston police, the ME held up a hand. “He and Jordan also have a…. history.”
A blank look crossed Olivia’s face as she slowly looked in the direction of the angry Boston detective, then back at Mel. “Really.” She said flatly. Shaking her head she continued, “It doesn’t matter. What Jordan does is her..”
“It’s over, Liv.” Melinda stated, interrupting the detective again. “At least, it’s over for Jordan. She and Woody could never really get it together. I’m only telling you because I think you need to understand where Woody is coming from.”
Olivia sighed, nodded and mumbled her thanks. “What was he saying about a stalker?” she asked, as the full weight of the conversation between the two men hit her.
Mel bit her lip worriedly. “I don’t know. Jordan never mentioned anything about that.” She nodded towards the squad room where Garret and Woody had reentered. “We should probably get back in there.”
The two women headed back to the rest of the group, Olivia keeping a wary eye on the newcomer.
Garret cleared his throat as they entered the room and looked toward the captain. At Cragen’s nod he spoke.
“This is Woody Hoyt, Boston homicide. He knows Jordan pretty well, and he’s here because he has some information we don’t.”
There was a quick round of introductions, during which Liv didn’t miss the slight frown he wore when he shook her hand. With a nod to the captain, he began to speak.
“From what I’ve been able to find out, this guy who grabbed Jordan isn’t just some random New York psycho. According to a few of her co-workers, she’d seen someone matching the description of your guy hanging around the morgue all last week.” He shook his head briefly. “Why she didn’t tell the police about it, I don’t know” he finished bitterly.
“Why she didn’t tell you about it, you mean.” Olivia thought with a smirk. Her smugness was cut short when she realized that Jordan hadn’t mentioned anything about it to her either.
The ringing of a telephone shattered the uneasy silence of the group; it’s shrill sound making Liv jump.
“SVU.” Elliot answered, barely moving from his desk chair. “Uh-huh. Really? Where?” His voice took on a sudden sharpness, and he grabbed a pen and paper. He began to scribble furiously, nodding to the voice on the other end of the line. “Ok, got it. Thanks.”
He looked up, directly into Olivia’s eyes, as he hung the phone up. “A suspicious van was seen parked outside an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. The cop who found it ran the plate, and it matches our partial.” Elliot grabbed his coat as he stood, swinging it over his shoulders. “He’s staying low, waiting for us. There are uniforms on the way.”
Olivia was nearly out the door as he finished speaking, but she noticed that Cragen motioned Woody to ride with him. She shook her head as jealousy began to flare. “Now is not the time. Jordan needs you.”
She locked eyes with Elliot as they were getting in the car. One quick glance and she knew all was forgiven. Nothing mattered but getting to Jordan now.
*************
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!
**************
The world seemed to be moving in slow motion for Olivia, her arms were leaden, fingers seemingly unable to clutch the gun the way they should. The perp swung back to Jordan and the detective couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound, hell, she could hardly breathe. The deafening thunder of gunfire broke her paralysis, and a sound of negation and pain was torn from her throat as blood spattered across the warehouse.
She stumbled forward a few steps, her legs barely working, before Elliot was there, holding her up.
“It’s alright, Liv,” he began, but she shook her head wildly, straining to get away from him. “OLIVIA. Snap out of it!” he said sternly, giving her a slight shake for emphasis. “She’s fine, she’s alright.”
Slowly, terrified of what she might see, Olivia looked away from Elliot to where Jordan was lying, the bloody body of her abductor slumped over her.
She let go of Elliot’s arms with a cry and took a lurching step towards the mattress.
Woody beat her by an arms-length, and she helped him heave the dirty body off her trembling and blood covered lover. Jordan looked at them both for a moment, relief and exhaustion warring on her face, and then her eyes rolled back and she slumped unconsciously back to the mattress.
**************
Olivia tapped her pen against a coffee mug, her mind wandering while Munch rambled on about something or other; she wasn’t really listening. Her eyes flickered to her computer screen, but her inbox remained stubbornly empty. Three weeks had passed since that day in the warehouse, two weeks and five days since she’d heard from Jordan. Everything that afternoon had been a blur, from getting the battered and bruised ME to the hospital, to mechanically answering IAB’s questions about the shooting. It had been Fin who’d managed to shoot the guy when he turned, since he’d presented the detective with his unprotected back. No one felt good about a shooting, but he was cleared. Everyone had seen the gun aimed at Jordan.
“Jordan.” Liv thought about her constantly. The detective shook her head, absently running her fingers through her shaggy locks. She still didn’t understand. The ME had been hospitalized for nearly 48 hours, most of which Olivia had spent either sitting beside her, or anxiously pacing at the foot of the bed. A concussion, a twisted ankle and a lot of bruising was the extent of the physical damage, and the doctors were planning to release her. Olivia had only left for an hour or so, long enough to change her clothes and check in with the Captain. By the time she got back to the hospital, Jordan was gone. She’d checked herself out, and according to Garret, she and Woody were on their way back to Boston. She hadn’t even left a phone number.
Garret and Melinda had tried to explain it to her; that Jordan was like this sometimes. “She runs.” they’d said, shaking their heads and giving her halfhearted smiles. “It’s how she handles things.”
Olivia had managed to track down an email for a J. Cavanaugh at the Medical Examiner’s office on the City of Boston website, but so far she’d gotten no response. With the perp dead, and Jordan’s statements making him the likely link to that morning’s dead prostitute, the case was officially closed according to New York State, so she couldn’t even try to talk to her on the pretense of business.
“Olivia, Elliot.” The detective’s thoughts were broken by the sound of her name being called. Cragen was signaling them from his doorway.
With a sigh she climbed to her feet, following her partner into the Captain’s office. Shutting the door behind her, she raised a quizzical eyebrow at Cragen, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“I just got off the phone with Woody Hoyt.” he said, holding up a hand to forestall any questions from his detectives. “It seems that Jordan’s abductor was working for someone back in Boston. He’s trying to figure out who, and he wants to take a look at everything we’ve got on the guy. I told him I’d be happy to send him copies of the files, but he seems to think it’d go better if he could talk to you both in person.” He paused and looked sternly at Olivia before continuing. “You will cooperate with the Boston authorities, and then you will come back. There are plenty of cases for you here.”
With that, he dropped his gaze back to his desk and began rearranging files. “I suggest you get your stuff together.” he added, almost like an afterthought. “I told him you’d be there in the morning.”
I'll try to get started on Vengeance as soon as I can, and maybe someday I'll even finish it!