Her head lulls to one side before her dark brown eyes flutter open.

It's dark.

Water is dripping from somewhere in the dank, musty basement.

They are tightly bound to two columns with braided rope. The same rope he no doubt used to bind his three other victims.

Victims. They were going to be his victims.

Cheryl Lipinski, Brenda French, Anise Hartley…Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler.

She isn't going to have them counted among the others if she can help it. Yet, if she doesn't find a way to free them, that will be their fate.

Her shoulders burn at the effort. Her wrists are rubbed raw and red from the tug and pull of her restraints. The muscles of her body began to ache from being stuck in the same position on the cold, unforgiving cement floor.

She has no way of telling how long they've been there. She'd guess about two hours. It was just before dusk when they started out and she can see through the basement window that it has been nightfall for a while. Hopefully they'll be found or manage an escape sooner rather than later.

They're both in desperate need of medical attention.

As many times as they were punched and kicked, she should still be as unconscious as her partner. But Elliot is the one who bore the brunt of the assault. Though she can barely see him across from her only a few feet away, she doesn't doubt that he is in just as bad or worse shape. He hasn't stirred or moaned in pain for awhile.

She is glad for the reprieve. It's been torturous to hear him hurting and not be able to do anything about it. At least he's still breathing.

Olivia's lips feel swollen. She can't touch it but she knows her left eye will also probably be puffy, colored purple with deep bruising by morning. The blood from her mouth and nose has long since dried into her outer shirt, though she did spit some of it into that prick's face. It earned her another hard slap across the cheek from him.

James Allen Curtner.

Kidnapping, raping, murdering bastard, and yes in that order.

They pursued him for 72 straight hours until the leads turned cold. On a whim they decided to check out an old Victorian he inherited north of the city. It's the last address given to the dispatcher before they lost contact. They were out of range and there weren't too many cell towers in the area.

What Cragen, Munch, Fin and the rest of the NYPD don't know is that they followed Curtner into the expanse of woods behind the old Victorian.

"El," she whispers, not knowing whether or not Curtner is nearby or has left altogether.

No response.

"Elliot," she says a bit louder but to no avail. He stirs but doesn't answer.

She now feels stupid and ridiculously unprepared for having followed a suspected serial killer onto his turf, into near darkness…without backup. She feels the same idiocy for the outcome that is their current predicament which is beaten and tied up in the dank rancid basement of a house that according to Curtner…isn't on the map.

Elliot and Olivia followed him in guns drawn, where they quickly lost control of the situation. They'd separated to search the two story clap boarded, rickety, piece of crap. He swept the downstairs while she took the upper rooms.

Curtner knocked Elliot out cold after surprising him with a very solid frying pan. He then anxiously awaited the arrival of his partner as she would inevitably come looking for him.

After clearing the three bedrooms Olivia noticed Elliot hadn't joined her, nor had he responded to her calls once she returned downstairs.

When she saw him on the floor she turned to look for Curtner just in time to get hit by the same piece of cookware.

Captain Cragen currently has search dogs covering the wooded area trying to pick up Elliot and Olivia's scents. They've combed the house already and have come up empty.

"Their squad car is still here," he says to Fin. "They can't be too far," he adds, laying a worried hand on his forehead. "If they were surprised and taken elsewhere though Cap-

James Allen Curtner is a sociopath, an unaccounted for sociopath. It makes Olivia and Elliot's disappearance more of a concern.

"No," interrupts Cragen. "Curtner doesn't have the physical strength or the stupidity to try and move two cops by himself," he surmises, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I know they're here somewhere even if he isn't."

"There aren't any other buildings on the map." Fin points out. "Where else could they be?"

He turns a stern face towards the woods. "They're here," he says, confidently. "And we aren't leaving without them," he adds, getting a far-away look in his eyes.

Fin knows that means whether they're dead or alive.

It must be something about the fact that there are less buildings or people, but as she begins to shiver she can tell that it's definitely colder at night out in the middle of nowhere. With his polo shirt and jeans and her tank top, t-shirt and slacks they simply aren't dressed for it.

The frigid hard floor has really gotten to her so she gives the attempt at freedom one last shot. As she wriggles and pulls, Olivia feels the ropes give. She moves her legs beneath her and gets into a squatting position to give her butt a rest.

The moonlight illuminates the face of her partner across from her. Elliot is just as bad as she's feared. The skin beneath his eyes is discolored and partially swollen, his lips are bloody and cut. Even with his head lulled to one side she can see that his nose is broken. As many times as Curtners' foot met Elliot's body, she doesn't doubt his ribs are either severely bruised or broken altogether.

Seeing him in that condition gives her renewed strength as she begins to struggle with the rope again. After one final tug she manages to free herself.

"Thank God," she says, pulling herself to a standing position and stretching stiffened muscles. After she gathers herself she hurries over to her still unconscious partner. It's not a good sign that he hasn't woken up yet. Curtner could've given him a concussion along with his other injuries.

"Elliot," she calls out, untying his ropes. He stirs minimally as she moves to squat in front him, cradling his face in her hands trying to get him to hear her.

Olivia tries to be gentle as she pulls his arms from around the column to sit them in his lap. She rubs his muscles from his shoulders to his wrists trying to warm him and get the blood in them circulating again.

"Liv," he says faintly.

"Yeah El, it's me," she answers, carefully tilting his head to look at her. "We've gotta' find a way out of here."

"Curtner," he rasps, in a voice laden with concern.

"I don't know. I think he abandoned us in favor of a better head start," she responds, hoping that's the reason she hasn't heard any footsteps above them for a good while.

"Do you think you can stand?"

"I-I think so," he stutters out. Olivia takes both of his hands and helps to pull him up. He teeters a bit but physically tries to shake it off. The motion causes him instant nausea. Elliot manages to make it a couple of steps away from her before puking.

"Sorry," he says, coming back to her. "Felt dizzy and sick all the sudden," he continues, clutching his stomach and leaning on the column he was just freed from.

"It's okay," she responds, patting him on the shoulder before stepping away to begin feeling the walls around them. "Just help me find the door or at least a light switch."

"Okay," he answers, making his way to a wall so he can feel for an exit or light source other than the stars. They both bump into various things on the walls and other items in the room before Olivia finds the switch.

"Finally," she says, letting out an exasperated sigh before lighting the room. Elliot has gotten as far as the wall near an old hobby horse, only a few feet from where he'd started.

The room is largely filled with long discarded items. Old toys and kids' furniture line one wall. A work bench with a wall of tools behind it is on the adjacent wall. A large deep freezer is at the end of the basement. And though she doesn't want to, Olivia knows she has to look inside.

The hinges creak loudly as she hesitantly lifts the lid. She lets out a sigh of relief as the contents only consist of frozen dinners and various cuts of meat labeled from a market. Apparently Curtner planned to hole up in the out of the way place until they got tired of looking for him. She digs all the way to the bottom to make sure. The guy stocked everything from frozen vegetables to ice cream.

After clearing the freezer Olivia notices Elliot has yet to move from his spot. She approaches him taking notice of how much worse he looks in the lit room.

"You okay El?" she asks, putting a hand on his forearm. He jumps which is something he definitely doesn't do.

"Liv you found the light switch right?"

"Yeah I did. What's wrong," she questions him again, growing worried at the fact that he's frozen in place.

"I-I can't see," he reveals. "I'm blind Liv," he says, finding the hand she has on his arm and covering it with his.

Looking for the two detectives is proving more difficult because of the density of the woods. The flashlights are barely effective in lighting the search. Couple that with the large coverage area and hours of searching has yielded nothing. And to top it all off, it has begun to rain.

The local sheriff approaches the worried Captain with a suggestion he knows will be poorly received.

"Captain Cragen it's been nearly five hours and now it's pouring out here. The dogs are tired and so are the officers," he says, eying the older man compassion-lately. "I know you'd like to find them but we'll have a better chance at first light."

"They could be hurt or worse Sheriff Franklin. I'm not leaving my detectives," he responds, clenching his jaw.

Munch sees the expression on his old friend's face and joins the conversation.

"You know how resilient those two are Cap," he offers, trying to calm the man gaining his attention. "They'll be okay for another few hours until we can get the choppers with thermal up here."

"If you want to quit then quit," he says, eying the sheriff again. "We keep searching."

"In this darkness we risk someone else getting hurt," asserts Sheriff Franklin. "I'm not saying we stop looking. I'm saying we give the people trying to find them a rest and a better chance of being successful."

Cragen wipes the moisture that's now cascading down his bald head and over his face. Knowing that the sheriff has a good point, he slowly nods his acquiescence.

"Okay, but at the first sight of the sun peaking up over that damned horizon," he exhales. "We reconvene this search," he adds adamantly.

"My God Elliot," she says, putting a hand over her bruised lips. "You can't see

anything?"

"Barely," he says, tightening his grip on her hand. "Just shapes and shadows."

"I'm gonna leave you here for a second," she tells him, extracting her hand from his. "I need to check the door to see if we can get out of this hole."

"I'm not going anywhere," he says dejectedly.

Olivia makes her way to the door and tries the lock. The knob turns loosely in her hand as she pushes on the door but it doesn't budge. After trying for a few minutes she concludes that it's not going to.

"I think something's wedged underneath the knob," she advises him. "I'm gonna have to climb out of the window to go around."

"What if he's still here somewhere?" he asks, concerned. "You don't have a weapon."

She looks around the basement before her eyes land on the wall of tools behind the workbench. There above the wooden table is a very nice, well sharpened…axe.

"Neither of us did that great with our guns Elliot," she advises him. "But I still have to try."

"Okay," he says, seeing her point. "I'll just stay and guard this room," he tells her, making a mild attempt at humor.

Though it pains her a bit, she gives him a half smile that he can't see. "I'll be okay El," she says, stepping away from him. "I don't have my Sig but I do have a weapon."

After she retrieves the axe from the wall she looks around for something sturdy to stand on. Olivia sees two solidly built looking wooden end tables from the assortment of cast off furniture. She moves one away from the pile and leads Elliot over to rest on it. She drags the other beneath the window.

It easily lifts open and she pokes her head out to take a look around, getting immediately wet in the process. She doesn't see Curtner nor does she hear anything but the rain, singing of crickets, hooting of owls and what Olivia imagines to be other sounds of the country at night.

Once she's confident that their suspect isn't lurking around she grabs the axe and with great exertion lifts herself up and out of the small window.

She crawls on her belly on the newly moist dirt to the detriment of her sore and possibly broken ribs. With a bit of effort she stands up making sure to grip the axe in both hands and looks around before moving.

There's no sign of Curtner, only a generator that looks as if it's on its last legs. She hopes the rusty dilapidated machine has enough juice to last until morning.

Olivia makes pained but purposed steps towards the front of the house. As she approaches the porch she stops at the sound of a noise. She turns quickly thinking Curtner has come back.

What she wasn't expecting is the sight of a mangy, four legged creature, with two shiny night eyes, baring yellow ragged teeth at her in a low growl.

"Great" she says, thinking of how terrible her luck has been today. First outsmarted and assaulted by a psychopath, then wet and filthy from head to toe and now this.

Slowly she backs towards the porch keeping her eyes on the wolf. Olivia takes the axe in one hand and has the other hand palm up in a non-threatening way.

"Nice wolf. Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you," she says in a low voice, as calm as she can muster.

She continues backing up slowly until she feels the back of her ankle hit the first porch step. Prayers go through her mind that Curtner has left the front door open.

The nocturnal creature edges forward as Olivia edges back. When she sees it isn't buying the "let's be friends" act, she moves quickly up the rest of the steps and to the door. The wolf is so close behind her she could swear to feel it's breath on her pant legs.

Olivia throws open the storm door and wedges herself between it and the wolf. The night hound is clawing and biting at the door trying to get to her through the flimsy mesh.

She struggles with the front door for a bit before it finally gives way. To her relief Curtner has left it unlocked. There was simply no way she could've fended off the wolf and axe the front door at the same time.

Her heart beats at a hummingbird's pace as she leans against the front door safely inside the house.

She takes a look outside the window and discovers the reason for the wolf's attack on her. Two wolf pups come out of hiding and follow the adult back into the woods. Apparently, it was just protecting its young from a perceived threat.

"Too bad all humans don't have the same instincts," she mutters to herself.

After she takes a moment to get her heart rate back down to normal, with axe in hand she searches the house again. No James Curtner. He apparently has left them for a better chance at freedom. With the way the thunder roars and the lightening lights up the sky, he also wouldn't be stupid enough to stay out in the summer storm.

She checks the bathrooms and closets, very relieved when she finds a First Aid kit. At least the lunatic is practical as well.

Once she locks all the windows and doors she heads for the kitchen where the trap door leading to the basement has been left open. In his haste to leave, Curtner was no longer worried about concealment.

Olivia leaves the medical supplies on the kitchen table and descends the stairs with her new weapon. She removes the chair wedged beneath the doorknob and opens it slowly in case Elliot has moved.

On the other side, he stands up abruptly, feeling scared and defenseless in being blinded for the second time in his life.

"It's just me El," Olivia announces, reading the way his body tenses up, seeing the apprehensive look on his face.

"Liv," he says, with a relieved sigh. "I thought something happened," he adds, reaching out for her.

She closes the distance between them and takes hold of his hand.

"Ran into a bit of a snag," she says, downplaying her near mauling by the wolf.

"A snag?" he asks, allowing her to guide him slowly up the steps. "What are you talking about?"

"The kind that has pointy teeth and walks on all fours," she informs him, trying to make light of the situation.

"What?" he asks, half yelling.

"Just a wolf protecting its young," she tells him, positioning him into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Did it hurt you?" he asks, with his eyebrows pierced in concern.

"No Elliot I'm fine," she answers, hearing him sigh in relief. "I'm just a little wet and dirty from the rain and mud."

"That's good because Curtner did enough damage," he says, looking away. "And I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him."

Olivia stops rummaging through the drawers long enough to eye Elliot. And though he can't see it on her face, she hopes he can hear the sincerity in her voice.

"It wasn't your fault Elliot," she says, pulling up a chair next to him. "What were you supposed to do all tied up?"

"I don't know," he says. "Nothing I guess." Even though he can barely make out her face he looks down and away from her. In his mind she has an expression of disappointment for failing to protect her like he's supposed to as her partner. From time to time he still hears the word "useless" in his head courtesy of Joseph Stabler.

Olivia can tell there is something more on his mind, something more troubling to him other than the fact that he can't see at the moment.

"What's up El?" she dares, knowing how difficult answers are to come by from him. Though she's sure he's capable of verbalizing his feelings, he doesn't often do it with her. And she rarely pushes because she's the same way.

"Liv…" he begins, wanting to ask but not knowing if he can handle an affirmative answer. "I don't know…how long I was out for-

"What is it Elliot?"

"Did he-did Curtner-did he rape you?" he stumbles, glad it's finally out.

Elliot prays with everything he believes in that she says no. He's seen horrendous things done to people on the job and he never wants to think they'll happen to anyone he cares about.

Even if Curtner did take the time, she doesn't know that she would tell Elliot. It'd kill him to know something like that happened to her in his presence while he was powerless to stop it.

"He punched and kicked me same as you," she tells him. "But he didn't rape me El," she adds, squeezing his hand. "All of his victims weren't too long out of high school. I'm not exactly his type."

He squeezes back immediately. "Good," he says. "I mean not that you're not his type but-

"Relax. I know what you mean," she says, assuaging his guilt. "Now let's get you fixed up," she tells him, pulling from his grasp and reaching for the First

Aid kit.

She cleans all the cuts and scrapes on his face and with a bit of groaning on his part, sets his nose back into place.

Once that's done she finds the kitchen towel she was looking for and loads it with ice before putting it into a small plastic bag. She feels the goose egg he has on the back of his head and tells him to alternate it between there and his face.

"When did you turn into Florence Nightingale?" he asks, taking the ice.

"With you for a partner I get a lot of practice," she quips. "I believe you've had more trips to the ER than anyone else I know."

Olivia uses the nearby dining room mirror to clean herself up while still able to keep an eye on her partner. It's good he can't see her because she scares herself. Her hair is matted to her head, her left eye is swelling with multiple colors and she has a cut lip. After tending to her own injuries she grabs some ice, a towel and a plastic bag to hold to her left eye, hoping the swelling won't be visible by morning.

Sitting across from Elliot, they try to come up with a plan.

"I guess you didn't run into any phones looking for that First Aid kit?" Elliot asks, knowing the answer.

"No such luck," she responds. "And I'm pretty sure he took ours and threw them down the nearest well along with our weapons."

"Cragen has to be looking for us now," he points out. "We haven't checked in for hours."

"Yeah but it's dark, raining and we're in a dense wooded area that isn't exactly easy to find," she tells him. "They've probably called off any search until daylight."

"And I'm guessing trying to make it back to the car through the woods is out of the question?"

"Well let's see," she begins, "We need medical attention, the weather's bad and it's pitch black out there. We have no flashlights, no clue how to get back the way we came, there's at least one wolf and…you can't see."

"Okay, I get the point," he says, frustratingly scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Good," she responds clasping her hands together, "because we're stranded here until morning."