Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Olivia Benson scurried up the steps of the 16th precinct, her purse bumping against her shoulder. An older man was kind enough to hold the door for her, and she spared him a grateful smile as she dashed through it.

Not bothering to wait for the elevator, she hurried to the stairwell and began pounding up. Hopefully, Cragen was in a good mood.

The morning had been a crapshoot from the moment it started. First her alarm had mysteriously failed to go off and she had woken up forty minutes later than normal. Since she was running behind, she decided to skip the shower and washed her hair quickly in the bathroom sink.

The blow-dryer shorted out in the middle of drying her hair, and as she got dressed, she had discovered a rip in the middle of her favorite blouse.

By the time she had another blouse ironed, it was ten to eight. She was supposed to be at work by quarter after. She had thrown the blouse on quickly and dashed into the kitchen to grab a cereal bar on her way out the door.

Then she couldn't find her keys. They weren't hanging on the hook where she usually kept them, and searching all around the countertops produced nothing. Nearly fifteen minutes and almost a dictionary's worth of curse words later, she finally discovered them between the sofa cushions of her couch.

She had ten minutes to get to work by the time she pulled out of her apartment complex, and it took her thirty on a good day. As she was speeding down the road, a white Oldsmobile had decided to pull out from a side street in front of her, making her slam on brakes to avoid it. A loud cursory exclamation and a long horn blast from Olivia did nothing to appease the driver from going thirty miles an hour the entire time.

It was twenty-five after when she pulled over the curb and bounced into the precinct parking lot. She grabbed her gun and slipped it into the holster as she quickly locked the car. She had taken the steps almost three at a time into the building.

She reached the fourth floor, slightly winded, and pushed the metal bars quickly, throwing open the door.

Smack!

She barreled through the door and right into a person on the other side who was reaching for the door handle. She gasped in shock and shot her hands out to avoid the other person, backpedaling frantically to stop her momentum.

It didn't work. The force sent them both tumbling to the ground. Olivia heard a splash as she landed on top of another body, her fall cushioned while the other person hit the linoleum hard.

She gasped again, horrified, and struggled to lift herself off as quickly as she could. Her hands pressed into a cotton shirt and she heard the person underneath her groan. She froze with shock when she recognized the voice.

"Jesus Christ, Elliot," she breathed in embarrassment, looking down into the blue eyes of her partner. She quickly scrambled off of him and stooped to grasp his hand, pulling him up. "Are you alright?"

Elliot Stabler chuckled wryly as he got to his feet. "I'm okay," he said with a lopsided grin. "You okay?"

He glanced down at himself and grimaced. Following his eyes, Olivia immediately saw a large wet stain on the front of his dress shirt. She looked down to see an empty cup next to a puddle of coffee on the floor. She groaned in embarrassment again.

"I'm so sorry," she said guiltily. "I wasn't even looking." She looked at him meekly. "I'll go get some paper towels."

She turned toward the restroom. He chuckled, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I've got another shirt in my locker." He grinned mischievously. "I'll send you the bill for my dry cleaning later."

She laughed softly; relieved he was in such good spirits. He picked up the purse from where it had fallen on the ground and fell into step beside her as she walked toward the bullpen.

"Rough morning?" he asked with a sly grin.

She chuckled wryly. "You could say that."

He gave her an amused look, eyebrows raised, and looked pointedly down at his shirt. She grimaced in embarrassment. "Okay…so it's not that rough." He laughed.

"So where were you headed?" she questioned, turning her head to look at him fully.

He looked back at her with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Oh," he said after a minute when it came back to him. "We got a lead in the Schillings case…Cap told me to go ahead down there and said he would tell you to meet me when you got here."

Her interest was instantly perked. They had been working on this case for almost two weeks. An eighteen year-old girl named Jessica Schillings had run away from home and had been convinced by some friends to get into prostitution. She wasn't as hard core as a lot of the older girls were, but was surprised when one of her "customers" insisted that they go somewhere other than the hotel she was working out of. He told her that he had a place in a nearby town and would take her back the next morning.

He ended up taking her across an abandoned country road and raping her in his truck, throwing her out into a ditch when he was finished and hightailing away. She was found three hours later when the sun came up by an elderly couple driving back from a fishing trip.

Elliot and Olivia had caught the case after the girl was admitted to the hospital, and right away were wary. She had been very defiant, refusing to tell them the names of any of her fellow prostitutes or the man she had been with, and they found out a few days later that she had lied about her age: she was really only fifteen. When they asked her to describe the area she had been found in, she said she couldn't remember. They asked her where she had first met up with the man to plan the little "getaway", and she said she couldn't remember that either.

The detectives suspected that the rape story was a lie, but they had no proof. They took a composite of the man she had said attacked her and put out an all-points bulletin as required, but decided that a little more digging into this girl's background was in order.

Fin Tutuola was crossing the room from the lockers when the two detectives walked into the office. He looked at Elliot's shirt and raised his eyebrows. Elliot looked pointedly at Olivia, and Fin turned his stare to her.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't ask," she said, going to her locker.

Elliot smirked as he went toward the stairs. Captain Cragen came out of his office and looked at her warily.

"Sorry, sir," she said quickly. "I had a few problems this morning."

He eyed her for a minute before shaking his head in defeat. "Don't make it a habit, understand?" he said sternly.

She shook her head quickly as Elliot came back down wearing a new shirt. Don looked at him quizzically, but shook his head and didn't comment.

"Fin, Munch," he said, turning toward their desk. "Novak wants you two for trial prep."

Munch scowled. "They've got Balfus for the defense," he said sourly. "I'm going need trial meditation to keep from slapping someone." He got up from his chair.

Elliot grinned. "I see you two are still good buddies."

It was a well-known fact that John Munch and defense attorney Rebecca Balfus butted heads every time they came within two feet of each other. He couldn't stand the woman, and she returned the affection in equal measure.

He glared at Elliot, making him laugh. Fin shook his head in annoyance as he followed his partner out the door. The captain just rolled his eyes and headed back to his office.

"….so he stopped the truck. I was getting out and that's when he…he…."

Jessica couldn't finish the sentence. She broke down into tears.

Elliot got up from where he was sitting beside the hospital bed, unable to bear the sound of the girl's sobs. He leaned down and placed a comforting hand on the side of her face.

When she opened her eyes, his heart stopped. For a moment, his daughter Lizzie was looking up at him.

He swallowed hard. "Jessica," he said softly, running his hand down to her cheek. "Calm down, honey." He reached for her hand and felt her clutch it frantically. "It's alright. We won't talk about it anymore."

He ran his hand over her forehead the same way he was used to doing for his daughters. It was an instinctive reaction and he couldn't help it. She closed her eyes and began to calm down, seeming to draw comfort from his gentle touches, so he kept it up.

Olivia couldn't speak as she watched her partner comfort the distraught young girl. It had surprised her, the way he had moved so quickly when she started to cry, but she had been touched when she saw how he acted. She heard him sigh heavily and was jolted out of her thoughts, realizing that Jessica had fallen asleep.

Elliot closed his eyes quickly against the emotion that came rushing up and took a deep breath to compose himself. He kept his hand resting on her forehead for a moment before reluctantly removing it.

She met his eyes and could see in the crystal blue exactly what he was thinking about. He blinked harshly, shaking his head. His face was tight.

"You ready?" he asked softly, his jaw clenched.

She looked at the sleeping girl sympathetically. "Yeah," she said, just as softly.

Cragen glanced up from where he had been standing talking to Munch when the doors opened.

"Did you get anything?" he asked them.

Olivia sighed and blew through her cheeks. "Yeah, we got something," she said tiredly, dropping down into her chair and folding her arms across her chest. "A headache."

He looked at her in confusion. Elliot came around to his side of the desk and began looking through the papers scattered on top.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Cap," he said, sounding equally as tired. He glanced at his superior and shook his head. "Yesterday I was ready to drag that girl in for lying to us and making us spend all this time on a false accusation…." His voice trailed off and he shook his head again after a minute. "She's either a very good actress or she was brutally raped." He shrugged helplessly and sat down. "I just don't think she could fake that kind of reaction."

Cragen furrowed his brow and looked silently over at Olivia for her input. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "I don't either," she said after a pause. "There's something going on here. It's like she wants to protect her rapist."

The captain looked at them silently for a minute. "Alright," he said finally. "Then we'll find out what her story is." He looked at each in turn. "Have you talked to anyone from Vice? Maybe they can shed some light on any past cases like this involving prostitutes."

Olivia looked over at Elliot, who in turn was looking back. He shrugged, and so did she. "I guess we'll pay them a visit," he said for the both of them. He began to stand up.

"We can't yet," Olivia interrupted. "They just went to lunch. What time do they get back?" Both looked questioningly at the captain.

"1:30," Cragen answered. "In the meantime, I want you two to dig up information on one Arthur Willis." Elliot looked at him questioningly.

"He was convicted in 1997 for three counts of rape and two counts of sexual misconduct involving a minor," Munch interjected. "Novak informed us this morning that he missed his scheduled parole hearing and no one knows where he is."

"Lovely," Olivia sighed, pushing aside the Schillings file. "Another rapist on the loose." She fired up her computer and then stood, walking over to the coffeepot.

The captain began walking back to his office, then stopped suddenly and turned back. "Oh, Elliot," he said. "Before I forget…." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink slip of paper. "Kathy left a message for you."

His head shot up. "Kathy?" he said quickly. "My Kathy?" He stammered, flushing. "I mean my.-my ex Kathy?"

He hadn't heard from her in almost two months, give and take the stiff "hellos" and "goodbyes" exchanged when picking up and dropping off the kids every other weekend. She rarely ever called him at home, and certainly had never called him at work since the divorce. Why would she call him? Had something happened?

"Elliot."

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized Cragen was still holding out the slip of paper to him. He took it and looked at it.

Date: 7/14/06

Received at: 11:23 am

For: Elliot Stabler

From: Kathy Stabler

Message:

Please call as soon as possible. 515-2343

He looked back up at the captain. "Did she say if anything was wrong?"

Don shrugged. "No," he answered. "Just that she needed you to call her back as soon as you could." Seeing the worried look on Elliot's face, he added, "She sounded fine as far as I could tell."

Olivia glanced discreetly at him as he got up, pulling out his cell phone as he walked toward the stairs. A click diverted her attention back to her computer screen as the results of the data base she was searching came up, and she focused on her task again.

He came back down about fifteen minutes later. He didn't appear angry or upset, which Olivia took as a good sign.

"Vice called," she informed him as he was coming down. "Captain wants us to head over there."

"You get anything on that Willis guy?" Elliot asked.

She shook her head. "I gave it over to Fin," she answered. "He and Munch haven't caught anything pressing." She looked at him carefully. "Everything alright?"

Her tone was hesitant, and it wasn't lost on him. "Yeah," he said immediately. "Her attorney has some family crisis out in the sticks and needs to move our meeting we had set up for next Friday. So I have to drive up to some town in God- knows- where to meet on Monday instead."

She grimaced. "Sounds fun," she said lightly.

He rolled his eyes in reply. "It'll be even more fun explaining to Cragen," he said wryly.

Olivia chuckled sympathetically as the phone rang.

"Benson," she answered, picking it up. Her eyes met Elliot's. "Yeah….okay, thanks Eddie….yeah, we'll see you in about fifteen." She hung up.

"Vice back?" he guessed.

She nodded, getting a notepad out of a drawer in her desk. "Said they might be able to spare us a few minutes after they finish with their DD-5's," she said sardonically. She scoffed lightly. "How nice of them to fit us in, huh?"

Elliot looked at her in disgust. "Oh, yeah," he said disgustedly, as she got up. "They're a bunch of regular saints."

To say that the detectives from the 1-6 Special Victims Unit and the 1-3 Vice Unit didn't think too highly of each other was putting it nicely. The 1-6 thought the squad from Vice was full of arrogant, glory-hungry assholes, and in turn Vice felt that SVU was vigilante and self-righteous.

The two squads almost never coincided, and made it a point to stay away from each other unless absolutely necessary. It usually wasn't a problem, but certain cases sometimes managed to overlap. When that happened, things were always done professionally but with as little amicability as possible.

The pair arrived at the 1-3 precinct in Brooklyn at quarter to two. They knew right away that they were in for a good time when they walked into the bullpen and saw twenty detectives watching for them. Little comments, subtle and non-subtle alike, began flying as soon as they stepped through the door.

By some miracle, both Olivia and Elliot held their tongues while they waited for the detective who had called, Edward Jackson, to finish his telephone conversation. The man seemed to deliberately take his time concluding his call, hanging up and spinning slowly in his chair to face them.

"Look'ee here," he said in a thick New York accent. He stood up to stand almost to Elliot's height. "The dream team in the flesh." He grinned slyly and looked Elliot up and down. "Thrown anyone through any windows, lately, Stabler?"

Elliot fixed him with a cold glare, as did Olivia.

Gossip was an unfortunate certainty among the police, so it had come as no surprise to Elliot when word had hit the wire about the case with Gordon Rickett last year. It did surprise him, however, to find out that precincts as far away as Staten Island had heard the details. He couldn't even keep count of the number of smart-ass comments he had received from other detectives, some from people he had never even seen before.

They all seemed to be chomping at the bit to piss him off. He didn't know who it was who coined the "UnStabler" phrase, but it had spread like wildfire among the department. No one was dumb enough to say it to his face, but knowing it was going on behind his back infuriated him.

"Could we get on with this?" Olivia interrupted before her partner had a chance to gather any steam. She looked at Jackson warningly, who glared right back at her. "We don't have all day."

He walked past them to the file cabinet across the room, and they followed him. They stood right next to the drawer as he rifled through the massive archive inside.

"Careful, Eddie," Elliot said snidely, unable to resist. Jackson glanced up at him coldly. He smirked. "Wouldn't want to run the risk of a paper cut…I don't know how you guys manage such a high-profile job."

Eddie snatched up a file and slammed the cabinet shut loudly, fixing them with a raised eyebrow. "Do you know how many dead prostitutes we get every day?" he said in annoyance. "You guys are asking us to dig through a haystack the size of Texas to find a fucking fly's egg."

"We don't have a dead prostitute," Elliot interrupted. "We've got a runaway who was dipping her toe into selling herself out and ended up raped."

"Allegedly raped," Jackson corrected snidely. He smirked at the look that flashed over Elliot's face for a split second. "You think we weren't notified about this one? A raped prostitute… are you kidding me? This has our name all over it."

"I didn't see you at the scene," he said coldly.

Olivia heard the challenge in her partner's voice, and could feel him tightening his stance next to her. She stepped slightly in front of him and pressed her elbow lightly into his hip warningly. He was purposely spoiling for a fight.

"It should be ours," Eddie said. "But you know how busy we can be…with our 'high-profile job' and all." He narrowed his eyes as he mocked Elliot's words. "Should we bow to the almighty Sex Crimes Unit now or later?"

"Look," Olivia interjected angrily. "At this point, we'll take whatever you can give us. We're at a dead end."

Jackson scoffed. "There's a surprise." He slapped the file against Elliot's stomach. "Knock yourself out," he said rudely, brushing past him. "If that's all…some of us have actual suspects to go after."

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia elbowed him hard.

"Thanks," she said with deliberate professionalism. "We'll get this back to you as soon as we can."

"You do that," Jackson said, smirking condescendingly.

She shot her partner another warning look as she pushed past him and walked toward the door. Elliot grudgingly followed.

There was a dramatically loud cough and someone muttered, "UnStabler" before quickly coughing again. Snorts of laughter followed.

Elliot whipped around instantly, his posture challenging. He was at his wit's end with them and wanted more than anything to bust someone upside the face. Dead silence fell immediately as the detectives quietly snickered.

Olivia came back toward him, grabbing his arm roughly. "Let's go, Elliot," she said, pulling him toward the hallway.

He glared at them as he broke from her grasp and left the building. Olivia held out her hand for the file and he passed it to her as they got into the car.

The car was silent as they began driving back to Manhattan. Olivia spread the folder open on her lap and began looking through it.

"Man I can't stand Eddie Jackson," Elliot burst out suddenly, making her jump. "God."

"I didn't notice," she said with a smirk. "Did you ever think that maybe he was trying to make you mad, Elliot?"

He paused for a minute, seeming to be thinking about it. "Yeah…you know what? You're right," he said, sounding surprised. His eyes narrowed after a second. "That makes me madder!"

She rolled her eyes, sighing. Elliot grinned at her reaction, reaching down to switch on the radio.

"I'm starving," he announced. He turned toward her. "Want to grab some lunch?"

Olivia shrugged. "Sure," she said, not looking up from the file. "You're buying."

She grinned, seeing the indignant look cross her partner's face without having to look at him.