A/N: This fic was my first, and was written 3 yrs ago. It was posted on SVUfiction and now I'm posting it on here, after re-writing it (the things you discover about your writing when you read your first fic…). Anyway, please note that this one is categorized under Hurt/Comfort (and Romance), so please heed to that. However, as I'm not into torturing my beloved characters, unlike a certain show runner, this won't be a torture fic despite the Hurt/Comfort.

One more thing to note about this fic - it goes back and forth in time, between 2 days - Tuesday and Wednesday - it will be marked which is which so the plot flow is clear.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Cori, who beta'd and gave this fic a lot of thought to help make it better. Her insights and heart are all here.

My thanks also go to PushTheButton for the avi for this and all my fics :)

"Blues to Browns"

Chapter 1:

Wednesday:

"Close it! Close it down, John, now! Cap needs to see this." Fin is standing over Munch's shoulder, his jaw clenches as he straightens up from looking at the laptop screen.

"Yeah, he's gonna want to handle this himself." Munch mutters, the grimace on his face slightly betraying the shock he's trying to repress.

The two men exit the video room and walk over to Cragen's office. Gaining their boss's attention, Munch then silently places the laptop on the Captain's desk as Fin shuts the office door before saying in a low voice, "Cap, you should see this."

"What is it?"

"CSU found it in the scene. It's a memory card from a camera that was hidden in the corner. It mostly shows a blank wall, but the audio is enough. It recorded everything, and I mean – everything."

"Elliot must have missed it when we got them out," Munch adds.

"We didn't go through all of it, but what we did get through told us we needed to bring it to you," Fin continues.

"If this is what I think it is, it should go to the evidence room," Cragen retorts.

"I think you need to take a look first before you file it," Munch says as he presses the play button. He and Fin then move toward the door. "We'll be outside."

The two partners sit quietly at their desks, fumbling with casefiles, unable to do any real work, as they're quietly waiting for Cragen. When his door opens, he has his coat on and he stops by them.

"Not a word about this to anyone. And not a peep to Benson and Stabler. Understood?"

They nod, looking at each other as they process the fact that Cragen's face is deadly serious and pale.

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Dr. Huang's office door is closed, but the Captain doesn't stop to knock first, he enters and finds Huang behind his desk.

"Captain Cragen, wasn't expecting you," the doctor greets him, surprised.

"We have an issue. When is Detective Benson supposed to come in and see you?"

"This afternoon, she didn't give an exact hour and I didn't push."

"She's going to bullshit you and I need your help."

"She usually tries. What happened?"

Cragen hesitates before answering. "As I said, I need your help with her. With Stabler too."

"She is a priority, he isn't. I'll start with her."

"He is now. CSU found this in the scene," Cragen says as he places the small memory card on Huang's pile of papers.

"What is this?"

"I suggest you watch this first. Then we have to talk."

Huang plugs the card to his computer and starts playing the video. A man's voice is heard while the screen only shows a dirty, scratched, white wall:

"My dear fans, a special treat awaits you today. While Starkey here and I thought we only had one piece of art to share with you, we are delighted to serve you with a second, starring NYPD's own, beautiful Olivia...Olivia Benson. Enjoy folks, till next time."

Cragen, repulsed even further by hearing the criminal's words a second time, stands up. "I'll wait outside."

One Day Earlier: Tuesday

The squad room is crowded. Every detective is there, some uniforms too, all working on a rape-murder case that started simple but turned into a triple homicide.

Three women are found raped and murdered, the same MO applying in all three cases. A week after the second body is found, footage of the first rape-murder is uploaded to the Internet with an introductory voice-over that depicts the content of the film as a piece of art. Computer Crimes and the lab are on it, trying to identify the original computer that uploaded the film, analyze the voice or any background noises, and to basically find any information that might help.

A second and a third films are uploaded, all containing horrific footage of a woman being raped by one man, whose face is shown, and then shot in the head by another, whose face is hidden. They assume that the man, whose face never shows on the films, is probably the one whose voice is recorded giving the introductions to his 'art'. The location of the films seems to be an underground professional audio-recording studio. The first film gave the 'fans' a short tour – a small soundproof room, where the rapes took place on a mattress thrown on the floor, a large glass window dividing it from a small booth that has technical equipment in it. It was as if the 'Director', as they named the voice, wanted to show his audience that he's professional.

Nights and days are spent trying to find any clue about the women, the perps, the location, the computer. They soon learn that the name of the man who's performing the rapes is 'Starkey', as the 'Director' calls him by that name on the third film, as if he's no longer afraid that they'll ever get caught. They also learn that it's probably not his real name and that he's not in any database.

The detectives checked deserted recording studios in the area and didn't find anything, though lab analysis found later what seemed to be traces of blood in two of them. This helped narrowing down their list, as despite the films they couldn't visually identify the interior of the rooms. But while they were canvassing these studios all over again, the third rape-murder took place, telling them they were clearly searching in the wrong place.

"Fin, Munch," Cragen calls above the commotion in the bullpen, "We still need to get some identification on these women. I don't want to get their pictures out to the media yet, so go back to any reports of missing females in the tri-state area. Go back three years. More if you need, just find me something!"

"Got it, Cap," Munch responds.

"Stabler, Benson, I know we've scanned them a few times, but I want you to check the two studios again. See if there's been any change there since our last visit. If these guys are planning their fourth film, they might wanna change location and they might go back to one they've used before. I hate to say it but right now that's our best shot."

"Cap, we thought to start with a visit to our old buddy, Jefferson, see if he knows something about his competition." Elliot says, referring to a convict in Rikers, serving time for a rape-murder he taped and edited as a documentary several years back.

"I don't think that shit knows anything. He's been out of the business for a long time now. Start with the studios," Cragen replies and Elliot is about to argue when the captain interjects. "I know it's a long shot, but we need to go with what we have, and right now we don't have much!"

Elliot hesitates before he nods in consent, rubbing his face with his palm, tiredly muttering "We'll be on our way as soon as Liv's off the phone." He's leaned all the way back in his chair, his feet up on his desk.

Olivia signals them both that she needs another minute. She's waiting on the line and she's running out of patience. She's been on shift for sixteen hours straight, with one short nap break. They've been on this case for weeks and they're all sleep-deprived. She watches Elliot, in jeans and a black cotton pullover, talking to their Captain and of their own accord her eyes skim his face and then glide down to his body that's now reclined, almost lying, in his chair, and it might be the sixteen hours shift getting to her, but she feels like laying her weary head on his chest, for just a minute. She snaps her eyes away from him, refocusing on the glare of her computer screen, because Elliot is her partner, her married partner, and she should probably get her head checked, or better yet - take a shower and get some sleep.

As soon as she places the receiver down, Elliot gets up, puts on his jacket and starts walking towards the exit. He stops to wait for her as she's grabbing hers from the back of her chair. "Got anything new?" he asks, referring to her phone call.

"Nothing," she mutters, pressing her lips together.

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On their way to the car, he breaks the silence. "Liv, you ok?"

"Fine, just tired, and I think I've seen enough snuff films to last me a lifetime," she says and her voice bears a hint of weary sadness. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she slides into the passenger's seat.

They drive quietly. She's leaning her head against the window, deep in thought. She is tired, if she could only go home, crawl into bed, tuck the blanket up to her chin and sleep for a week, she'd be a lot better. A repressed shred of a thought, that she never really allows to fully form, gnaws at her. How would it feel to have Elliot there with her. She shifts in her seat in an attempt to shake that shadow from her head, because he would probably like to do the same, but at his own home, with his wife, and she has no business allowing her exhaustion to mess with her head.

But it's getting harder. Because in the past year she feels like she's about to lose to herself in the long battle she's been fighting against her heart. Years and years of getting too close and pulling away, of being his partner but also seeing him as a man, of needing him and denying it, of loving him and knowing she can't.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, as he's driving, and she closes her eyes, pretending to catch a few minutes of sleep.

They stop to search the first location and find nothing. The Police yellow tape is still there, some of it having fallen on the floor, accumulating dust. As soon as they walk out, Elliot checks his watch. "I wanna make it to Rikers," he says and she feels him looking at her as they stride towards the car.

"Ok," she replies and something in his voice makes her turn to look at him.

"Liv, it's a waste of time," the impatience in his voice is clearer now. "We can stop at the second studio on our way back," he continues.

They stop by the squad car as she answers. "El, I have to agree with the Cap here, I don't think Jefferson knows anything." He looks at her questionably so she adds "we'll do it fast, I'll go in, mark a V on it, and then we'll ride to Rikers."

"Ok," Elliot mumbles and throws the car keys over to her.

She catches them and climbs into the driver's seat. She may be battling her own feelings about him, but that doesn't mean she'd let him get away with whatever he tries to pull at work.

As they're driving to the next location, Elliot's cellphone rings. "Stabler," he answers it through the speaker.

"Elliot, Olivia, need you back here, we have some new info I want you to check out." Cragen is nearly barking at them.

"We've covered one studio, one more to go. D'you want us back right now?" Elliot asks, and they look at each other.

"Cover the last one fast and get over here. The facial recognition software finally has a possible match," their Captain replies just as Olivia pulls over in the empty street that houses only a few shabby, semi-deserted industrial buildings.

"For Starkey or any of the victims?" Elliot continues to question.

"Starkey. If he's who we think he is, he's some piece of work. We're trying to look for connections, see if we like anyone for the 'Director'."

"D'you want us to pick him up?" Elliot asks and Olivia signals him that she's going to start the search without him. He nods slightly and she climbs out of the car.

She's standing in front of the wide one-story building that has a cement entrance that leads into an empty storage space. She moves confidently through the entrance and into the large, day-lit space.

Her heels click on the dusty floor and the echoing sound reminds her she's alone until Elliot finishes his conversation with their captain. She unholsters her Glock, wanting to be prepared, just in case. Shreds of police tape are scattered on the floor much like at the first studio, along with empty boxes and old newspapers. She walks over to the door that leads to the basement where the old recording studio used to be. It's on the far side of the wide space and the hinges squeak when she opens it. She leaves the door open and throws a look over her shoulder, through the entrance, and out to what she can see of the squad car from her vantage point, which isn't much.

She takes the first step down to the basement, pauses and then takes two more steps. She then hears the car door slam far behind and she knows that Elliot will be with her in no time. One more step and she feels a sudden rush of adrenaline in her body, which signals her that something is off. She realizes then that she can already see the upper part of the wall and window of the technician booth, and she freezes.

What caused her adrenaline rush was a shock wave, she realizes. Someone fired a gun inside that studio, behind the soundproof glass, and she could feel the wave, though she couldn't hear the sound. She turns her head back and Elliot is still not behind her, but she can't stop. She takes one more step down, her gun held in front of her. But before she can make any further movement, she hears the muffled sound of a silencer and a singeing pain bursts through her right arm, a cry escaping her lips at the sensation.

She stumbles the rest of the way down the stairs, her gun flies out of her hold but she manages to hear Elliot's footsteps and his voice shouting "Liv!" not far behind her, probably at the top of the stairs. Her sight blurs with stinging tears of pain, and she can hardly see the outline of a bulky figure at the foot of the stairs, before she's yanked by her feet, her head hitting the last step in the process.

When she comes to, her vision is still unfocused, but she realizes that she is bound to a chair, that her hands and legs are tied to it. The pain in her arm from the bullet wound in it is so acute that she gasps for air, but then she comprehends the worst – there's duct tape on her mouth and the much needed air refuses to fill her lungs and she suffocates. Her ears buzz and black spots spread and fill her vision. She faints again.

Muffled voices are the first things she notices when she rouses a second time, followed by the pain in her arm, which has somehow lessened. She carefully blinks her eyes open and lifts her head. A shirt is tied around the wound on her arm to stop the bleeding and the tight knot seems to be what's lessened the pain.

Her ears still buzz so she can't make out any words, but her blurry eyesight reveals two men that are standing in front of her. She recognizes one of them, a scrawny man with a long face and greasy wisps of brown hair dangling to his shoulders – Starkey. It startles her out of her stupor. Her eyes skim the room. On the floor there is a heavily stained mattress and a heap of clothes is shoved at the far corner of the small room. She knows what it is, or rather what's under it. It's the 'star' of the men's very recent snuff film, the one she walked in the middle of the last scene of.

Her eyes continue looking around the room, and at the other end, in the shadows, she sees a large figure slouched on the floor.

Elliot.

She has hardly time to register the horror of their situation, when one of the men approaches her, touching her, sending his hands to her pants, and she's still a bit fuzzy but she realizes that he's reaching for her badge. She tries to focus her gaze on him.

"Well, well, well, good afternoon. What have we here?" the bulky man mocks her and she recognizes his voice. The 'Director'. He's in his late fifties, bald, flabby, and his eyes scrutinize her with contempt. "A cop, a pretty little cop!" he continues, and with a twisted smile he turns her badge from side to side. "Detective 2nd Grade Olivia Benson," he reads. "What? You weren't good enough to be 1st Grade?" he spews.

The 'Director' then shakes his head and reaches to caress her face. She wants to scream, her eyes widen with terror and she's gasping for air through her nose. His fingers stop on her cheeks, holding her face from both sides of her mouth, and he turns her head, looking at her profile, as if he is actually scouting for shooting angles.

"Starkey," he calls to the other man, who, from the corner of her eyes she sees, is now standing near Elliot. "I'll be behind the glass, you handle her," he orders as his fingers dig into her skin before he releases her face.

Her eyes dart to Elliot, but she can hardly see him. From what she can tell though he isn't moving and her heart misses a beat in pain and fear.

The other man comes to stand near her then and Olivia shuts her eyes, tears starting to stream down her face. She cannot move, breathe, talk, scream. All she can do is wish to God that Elliot is okay. Together they still might have a chance.

She can smell Starkey before he touches her. Sweat and alcohol and blood reach her nose. She feels sick. He breathes close to her face and his finger strolls down her neck. She can't open her eyes. She can hardly breathe. Fear and disgust overwhelm her. She's been close to this several times in the past, but this is it. There's no escape. Something inside her withers and she wishes she could stop breathing altogether, just as long as she wouldn't have to smell or feel him.

Suddenly he moves away from her. She dares to open her eyes very narrowly. His back is turned to her and she can tell there is something going on but she can't see what exactly.

Elliot.

She hears him grunt with pain and a muffled cry of relief reverberates in her throat. At least he's alive. The 'Director' and Starkey both hover over him, though she can't see what they're doing. She frantically tries to move in her chair and throaty sounds come from her as she tries to shout. Starkey turns back and walks over to her again and before she knows it, his flat palm lands on her cheek. Her head jerks and bile rises in her throat.

A moment later, the two men move and she finds that Elliot is seated on the floor, leaning against a wall, his hands are bound behind his back, cuffed to a pipe that runs from the ceiling to the floor. There's duct tape on his mouth. He blinks his eyes but she knows he doesn't see her yet.

"You see, Detective Benson, I knew you people never go around alone. I hope this one's the last." The 'Director' huffs directly in her face, before he turns to exit the small room and resume his place behind the glass.

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Elliot blinks his eyes open, his head and ribs hurt, but his vision is becoming focused; and as it does, his blood turns into a scorching acid of rage and fear in his veins, erasing everything except for what he sees in front of him: Olivia tied to a chair, Starkey pacing around her, circling her, his dirty fingers stroking her face and neck and the olive skin that the collar of her shirt left exposed. She's not looking at Starkey though, she's looking directly at him, her eyes are screaming to him, her hair is wet with sweat, clinging to her face and neck, and her chest heaves with effort to breathe.

How the fuck did I let this happen? Every nerve in his body is twitching. His eyes are locked on hers, as he tries to repress his horror for her sake.

TBC