1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Here it is! The sequel to "A Million Pieces"! Hope ya'll like it. It's a good deal longer and (I think) a good deal more intense than its predecessor, but you're the only people that can tell me whether I'm on track. I try to explain as much as I can within this story, but it would probably behoove you to read the first one, if you haven't already. As always, leave a review! Oh, and I'm pretending like "Cold" never happened. It's my world, and I can do that.

**Disclaimer:** I barely have enough money to buy Season 7 in two weeks. So obviously, I don't own any characters you recognize from the show.

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**Chapter 1**

The night lights of New York City shimmered brightly off the skyscraper windows as he made his way down the relatively empty streets. But he didn't really care. He wasn't interested in sightseeing. He was a man on a mission.

He discreetly turned into an alley across from One Hogan Place and quietly opened a side door leading to a darkened stairwell. Some of the windows across the street were still brightly lit, even at this late hour. Including hers. It was a dangerous job—spying on a member of the Manhattan DA's office. They were generally well-protected by the cops, who, for the most part, considered them their own. But this wasn't the first dangerous job he'd ever had. In fact, this part was easy. All he had to do was watch. And wait until she made a move. Like a game of chess.

Finally he reached the top of the stairs and opened the door to the roof. From here he could see clearly into her office, even without the binoculars he'd brought. But he took them out of his black backpack anyway. In one expert flick of his wrist he brought the window into focus. Her head was bent over a manila folder, her reddish-blonde hair falling softly over her shoulders. He smiled. It was a shame that she'd chosen to associate with the wrong people. She was actually quite pretty.

He sighed and sat down on the ledge in front of him. It would be a long wait.

* * *

ADA Casey Novak groaned and let her head whack her desktop hard. Sometimes she just hated her job. She hated the constant pictures of the depravity of mankind. She was more than happy to put those murderers and rapists and child molesters behind bars, but at times she'd wake up in a cold sweat when her job invaded her dreams. She held up another photo of a raped and murdered little boy and grimaced at the blood-covered body. When she started the job, she'd thought she'd get used to it. But she never did. It didn't help that the defendant was barely eighteen years old. So young, and already on trial for his life.

For the twentieth time that day, she allowed her mind to wander to Jack Calhoun, her boyfriend living somewhere in the southern United States. She didn't know where, and she couldn't know where, for her safety as well as his. It had been four months since the FBI agent had entered witness protection for his testimony against a mob hitman. Every day for the last four months, he called her from a different disposable cell phone, just to talk. Though their talks weren't long enough for her, they were better than cutting off all contact with him. Casey couldn't bear the thought of never speaking to him again.

She glanced at her watch. Half past eight. He would be calling soon.

Sure enough, her cell phone chirped at her from the corner of her desk. An unconscious smile crept over her face, as it always did when he called. Casey reached for it and deftly flipped it open. "Novak."

"Well, if it isn't the prettiest ADA in New York and the love of my life."

Casey grinned. "Hey Jack."

"Hey yourself. How are you today?"

"Missing you," she sighed. "I think my day would be much better if I could come home to you."

"I know, honey." Jack's voice took a sympathetic tone. "I wish I could take you in my arms and kiss you and make love to every inch of your glorious body…"

"God, Jack," Casey groaned, feeling a flush creep over her face. "I'm still at the office."

"So I guess it's not a good time for phone sex, huh?" His voice was deep and seductive, and she could just picture the cocky grin he probably had on his face. She had to laugh at the way he could turn her on with just his words.

"Definitely not. I think phone sex on office time would be a great way to get me fired."

"I guess so, but at least if you got fired you could come live with me."

She smiled. "Believe me, babe, there's nothing I would love more. Even hearing you snore all night long would be amazing."

"Hey, I do not snore." Casey smirked at his defensive tone. "What are you still doing at the office anyway? It's late. Go get some sleep."

"I wish I could." She leaned back in her chair. "I'm working on a summation I have to give tomorrow."

"Big case?"

"Yeah. A little boy was raped and murdered in Central Park a couple of months ago. We caught the guy, but the trial's tougher than I thought."

"Wow. No wonder you're tired."

"I'm just ready for it to be over. The guy that did it is just a kid, Jack. Barely eighteen. And it looks like it could go either way. Juries don't like putting kids behind bars for life." Casey sighed.

There was silence on the other end of the line for just a moment. "What's really bugging you, Casey?" Jack finally asked.

"Oh, I don't know." She sighed again. "Sometimes I get so tired of everything I see. All the worst of mankind. Especially this kid. I've prosecuted so many just like him, kids that could've really done something in life. But then they screw it up, and we're left to clean it up."

Jack paused, and she knew he was trying to think of the right words to say. "I know, Case. But you're so good at what you do. What about that serial rapist you convicted last month? People are safe because of you. It sucks, but I know you're doing the right thing with this kid. He shouldn't be free to do it again to another little boy. That kid deserves justice, regardless of his murderer's age. And that's the law."

Casey smiled. Finally, a man that understood her. "Have I ever told you I love you?"

"Yes, but I like to hear it anyway."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Thank you for the refresher course on why I love my job. Is that part about the little boy deserving justice copyrighted?"

Jack laughed. "You're more than welcome to use it in your closing argument."

"Thank you." Suddenly a soft knock sounded at her door, and Detective Olivia Benson slowly opened it, a questioning look on her face. Recognizing that expression, Casey waved her into the office, and Olivia quietly closed the door behind her. "Hey, Jack? Olivia just got here. I have to go."

"Detective Benson? Tell her I said hi."

Casey grinned. "I will." She turned her body slightly so she was facing away from Olivia. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Casey. I'll call you tomorrow morning."

"Can't wait. Good night, love."

"Good night, sweetheart."

Casey sighed again and flipped the phone shut. She stared at it for a moment, lost in thought, until Olivia cleared her throat. She jumped and whipped around, startled. "Oh, hey, sorry, Liv. What's up?"

"We, uh, need a search warrant for Lucas Davidson."

"The shrink?" Casey sat down in her chair and pulled out a blue-backed legal document. "What's the evidence?"

"His DNA in the victim. Lab matched it about an hour ago. If we can find evidence in the house and office of the ropes he used to tie her up…"

"We can corroborate the victim's story," Casey finished. She sighed. "Right. I'll get this typed up for you and try to track down a judge."

Olivia smiled. "Thanks, Case. So," she gestured toward the phone, "was that Jack?" Olivia was the only person who knew that Casey was still in a relationship with him.

Casey glanced at her phone and looked back at Olivia. "Yeah. He said to tell you hi."

"So how is he?"

"He's doing great. I think he misses the city and he misses me, but he's doing good. He got a job, working at a travel agency. Not quite the same as undercover FBI work, but he says it's all right."

Olivia gave her a sympathetic look and say down in one of the chairs across from Casey's desk. "I gotta hand it to you, Casey. It takes a lot of patience to do what you're doing."

The younger woman leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. "You know when there's something that you want, that you know is going to change your life, and you want it so bad you're willing to wait as long as it takes to get it?"

Olivia nodded once.

"That's how I feel about Jack. I miss him like crazy. I miss being able to curl up next to him in bed and feel his arm tighten around me. But I understand that he wants to stay safe, and he wants to keep me safe, and this is the only way to do that. So we're getting to know each other in a less-than-conventional way? It'll be that much sweeter when it's safe for him to come back." Casey gave her friend a wan smile. "When you truly love someone, you have to think of them before yourself."

The detective shook her head and smiled. Four months ago, she had met Jack Calhoun, when his name was Jack O'Brian and his profession questionable. Though she had had her doubts, she had seen the way he had treated Casey after his true identity had come out. More importantly, she knew Casey loved this guy, and she trusted her judgment. She also knew how hard it was for the young attorney to feel that way about a man, since Casey had opened up to her about her mentally-ill ex-fiancé. And that was why Olivia didn't want to see her colleague—her friend—hurt. "I'm happy for you, Casey. Really I am."

"I know."

"Get that search warrant for us?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving soon. I'll drop it by the station."

Olivia stood. "Great. I'd really love to get this son of a bitch in jail so he can't rape any more of his patients. You're giving your closing tomorrow on the Sanderson case, right?"

Casey groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm still not done."

"I'm sure you'll finish, and you'll blow 'em out of the water." Olivia grinned as she crossed the room and opened the door. "You'll get that warrant?"

"I'm on my way out right now," she replied, emphasizing the statement by stuffing a couple of file folders into her briefcase.

Olivia grinned. "Make it snappy." With that, she shut the door and disappeared into the darkened corridor.

* * *

He sat straight up and focused the binoculars. She was crossing the room and reaching for the light switch. Quickly he grabbed his backpack, stuffed the binoculars inside, and dashed toward the exit, punching numbers into his cell phone as he ran. It was time to make his move.

The phone rang once in his ear before a familiar voice answered. "She's leaving the building now," he said into the microphone.

"Good," the deep bass voice replied. "You know your job."

"Yes sir," he confirmed. A click followed by a dial tone sounded in his ear just as he reached the last flight of stairs. He snapped it shut and gracefully jumped down the last few steps. Yes sir, he knew his job. And he was good at it.

* * *

Casey stepped off the elevator into the lobby. The night guard waved good night, and she smiled and returned the wave. She shifted her briefcase into her other hand to push open the door and inhaled deeply as she stepped out into the cool night air. _Friday night. Guess I'll have to interrupt Judge Terhune's poker night… again_, she mused as she walked down the street to where she kept her bicycle locked up. Casey cursed under her breath at the thought of reliving that nightmare.

As she approached her bike, leaning naturally against the brick exterior of her office, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood straight up, and Casey shivered. _Probably just the wind_, she thought. After all, it was February.

But the thought wasn't comforting. Something wasn't right.

She was so focused on getting out of there that she didn't look down the alley between her office and the neighboring building. She didn't notice the shadowy figure sneaking up on her from the alley. She didn't see the black, unmarked van pull up next to the curb a couple of yards away. And she didn't smell the telltale aroma of the chloroform on the handkerchief the figure carried in his hand.

But Casey did feel the arm wrap around her shoulders as she was dragged into the alley, away from roving eyes on the street. She managed a surprised _oof_ as her attacker's gloved hand came around and roughly clamped the kerchief against her mouth. Casey had never smelled chloroform, but she could figure out what it was easily enough as the alley started spinning. _Oh shit_, she briefly thought before panic mode took over.

Her elbow jerked back and connected with something solid, and a hot whoosh of air whistled past her ear. But his grip never loosened, and the drug worked fast. In a last-ditch effort before the darkness took over, she reached up behind her and raked her nails across his face. He grunted in pain, but his grip over her mouth was just too strong. Finally, the ever-threatening blackness closed in on her.

* * *

He sighed as her body went limp in his arms. It was about time. The bitch had fought harder than he anticipated. He had to admit, she had balls. And incredibly sharp nails, he thought ruefully as his face stung like hell.

He reached down and gathered the unconscious attorney into his strong arms. Two guys jumped out of the van next to the curb and quickly opened the back door. He gently laid her in the back of the van, careful not to bruise her. The Boss would not be happy if she came to him injured more than necessary. The two thugs closed the doors, nodded at him, and quickly sped away. He checked his watch. Nine o'clock. The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

A sticky substance trickled down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. He knew it was blood, even without looking. Damn, she had gotten him good. He wiped his cheek and turned to head right into the DA's office. It was a gutsy move, but then, he was a gutsy guy. Risks gave him an adrenaline rush, and there was nothing more risky than waltzing into the DA's office after what he'd just done.

The night guard looked up as he walked into the marble lobby. The old fellow flashed a quick smile at the visitor. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually you can. I'm here to see ADA Novak. Is she here?"

"Sorry, sir, but you just missed her. She left about five minutes ago."

"Oh." He feigned disappointment and pulled out the piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "Could you give this to her the next time you see her? Or maybe one of those SVU detectives she works with. They seem like they could help."

The guard's eyes narrowed slightly. Something was off about this guy. He had a thin stream of blood making its way down his cheek from a few scratches. But he took the card anyway. He'd be sure to ask Ms. Novak about it the next time he saw her. "Sure thing."

He smiled. "Thank you." Quickly he turned on his heel and went out into the night air again. Finally, he let a little smile spread across his face. It was going well. Right on time.

* * *

"Where the hell is she?" Olivia growled for the third time that night. She glanced quickly at her watch. It was already nine-thirty.

Her partner, Elliot Stabler, bit back an amused grin from his desk as he watched his livid partner pace around the squad room. "Liv, relax. She probably got hung up in traffic."

"At this time of night?" She turned on her heel to resume pacing. "It's been an hour. She should've gotten it by now."

"Maybe it took a while to track down the judge."

"Bull crap, Elliot." Olivia grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. "Let's go to her office."

Elliot opened his mouth to protest, but he changed his mind when he saw the look on his partner's face. Silently grumbling, he shrugged on his jacket and followed her out the door.

As they approached Casey's office, something next to the building caught Olivia's eye. She squinted slightly. "Hey, Elliot." She nudged Elliot and pointed out the window. "Isn't that Casey's bike?"

He risked a glance. "Sure is." He jerked the wheel sharply and did a typical cop's job of parallel parking. "She must be in her office."

"She was on her way out when I left." Olivia opened the door and practically jumped out of the car with Elliot hot on her heels. She yanked open the door, not even bothering to make sure it didn't slam shut on her partner, and strode up to the front desk. "'Scuse me." Her badge flashed in the fluorescent lighting.

The night guard glanced up and smiled. "Detective Benson. What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for ADA Novak. Have you seen her?" Behind her, Elliot dialed Casey's cell phone number and stood off to the side.

He shook his head. "Sorry, Detective, she left about forty-five minutes ago. But since you're here, could you give this to her the next time you see her? Some guy brought it by a little while ago, right after she left." He handed her the slip of paper.

Olivia sighed, frustrated. "Sure thing." She joined Elliot by the door just as he shut his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "She left about forty-five minutes ago. She should have been at the station by now."

"She's not picking up her phone." Elliot gestured to the paper in her hand. "What's that?"

She glanced down, suddenly remembering it. "I don't know. The guard said some guy brought it by for Casey right after she left."

"Open it."

Olivia did just that. Her eyes widened as they scanned it. _No. It can't be._ She read it again, just to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. _Oh God._

"What is it?" Elliot asked, suddenly concerned. Olivia's eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock. "Liv?" He placed a hand on her shoulder gently.

Wordlessly she handed him the slip of paper. He felt numb as he read it three times, just to make sure.

_Bring me Jack Calhoun by 6:00 p.m. Saturday evening. No Calhoun, she dies._

**A/N2: **So... whatcha think? Let me know if you're interested!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow! Thanks so much for all your very kind reviews. I'm excited that you like this... especially since I really like it. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter 2**

**10:13 p.m.  
Friday, February 7**

The red and blue flashing lights nearly blinded Elliot as he pushed open the door to One Hogan Place and walked out into the cold night air. The NYPD was out in force, as expected for a kidnapped ADA. Kidnapped ADA. It still hadn't completely sunk in for him. He was in cop mode now, distant and emotionally detached. He couldn't let himself get emotionally involved on this one.

"Elliot!"

He looked over to see Olivia standing a few yards away, in front of an alley only illuminated by the lights of the police cards. In a few long strides, he arrived at her side.

"CSU found blood," Olivia said, her own voice emotionally distant.

"We'll get it to the lab, see who it belongs to." The CSU tech bent down a couple of feet away and took a swab of the dark liquid.

"Sure hope it's not Casey's," Elliot said quietly.

"You and me both," Olivia replied. She gestured toward Casey's bike, still leaning against the edifice. "They found Casey's briefcase too. Doesn't look like anything's messed up, so the guy obviously wasn't after any of her information."

"No, because we already know what he wants." They shared a knowing look, and he grimaced.

"Acceleration marks on the pavement lead down Centre Street, heading north."

"Going uptown."

A familiar face caught Olivia's eye, and Elliot followed her gaze. "There's Cap," she said quietly.

Captain Don Cragen hurriedly approached his two star detectives. His face was harried and worn. "What the hell happened?" he practically shouted.

"Looks like she was grabbed from that alley over there," Elliot said, punctuating his words with a gesture. "CSU found blood and Casey's briefcase."

"Who the hell could have done this?"

Elliot and Olivia shared another look. "Could be Sullivan," Olivia replied with a sigh.

"Sullivan?"

"The night guard handed us a note demanding Jack Calhoun show up by six tomorrow night, or they would kill Casey," Elliot said quickly. "The only guy we can think of that wants Jack Calhoun dead is Philip Sullivan."

"The Irish mob don." Cragen nodded. "I remember. He went off the radar when Jack testified."

Olivia nodded. "He's been seeing Casey for the past four months while he's been undercover. Fortunately," she hastily added, seeing the furious look that crossed her boss's face, "the night guard can give us a positive ID on the guy that gave him the note." She nodded to where the night guard was speaking with a uniformed officer. "We can get him with a sketch artist."

"Good." Cragen looked back and forth between his two detectives. "Now what are you going to do about Jack Calhoun?"

"Oh, shit," Elliot muttered, looking past Cragen.

"What?" Olivia asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"DA McCoy, ten o'clock."

Cragen turned to see none other than District Attorney Jack McCoy walking toward them. His shoulders were bent, and his face looked haggard. McCoy was pissed. That was perfectly obvious. "Mr. McCoy," Cragen called as the DA got closer.

"Captain Cragen. Can I talk to you over here?" McCoy stopped a few feet away from the group of cops.

Olivia and Elliot looked at each other, then back at Cragen. Elliot shrugged and took his partner by the arm, leading her away from the two older men.

Cragen turned to face McCoy. He hadn't worked with the former Assistant District Attorney in years, but his reputation as a hard-ass was well-known in the department. He knew from the rumors that McCoy occasionally bent over backward to allow the cops to do their jobs, and he'd bent over backwards several times for Cragen in the early years of his control of SVU. He respected that. "We're doing everything we can, Jack."

"I know." McCoy ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. Since the last time Cragen had seen him, his hair had become more salt than pepper. Oh, the price of getting old. "Any leads?"

"The night guard can make a positive ID on the guy that handed us the ransom note."

McCoy's head jerked up. "What ransom note?"

Cragen mentally kicked himself. "The kidnapper delivered a ransom note around the time she was taken."

"What did it say?"

He hesitated and looked away, trying to avoid McCoy's piercing blue eyes. Finally he sighed. "They want Jack Calhoun."

"Who?"

"Jack Calhoun. Former FBI agent, testified in a triple homicide case about four months ago. He's in witness protection now."

McCoy nodded. "And is he going to come?"

"That's not up to us." Cragen sighed.

"Why exactly would they want him?"

Cragen rubbed his hairless forehead tiredly. "Calhoun knows sensitive information about the workings of an Irish organized crime group. He's prepared to testify against their boss in a federal RICO case. And, from what I understand, he was seeing ADA Novak."

McCoy nodded and looked off into the distance. Cragen could tell he was starting to process everything like a prosecutor.

"Trust me, Jack. We'll figure out some way to get her back."

A slight smile appeared on McCoy's worn face. "I know." He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Cragen. "I want your people to handle this. You're the best, and I know it." His blue eyes caught Cragen's. "Pull out every stop on this. I don't care what you do. Just get her back."

All the Captain could manage was a stunned nod. McCoy nodded too and turned on his heel, and in a matter of seconds he disappeared around the corner. Cragen sighed. This was going to have a hell of a fallout.

"What was that all about?" Olivia's voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned to see Olivia and Elliot walking up to him.

"We have McCoy's blessing," Cragen replied with a sigh.

"That's good to know," Elliot said, shooting his partner a quick look.

"Look, Cap, I'm wondering how this guy knew Casey was still seeing Jack," Olivia said, glancing back toward the building. "She never told anyone about it."

"Except you," Elliot said quietly.

Olivia ignored her partner. "She said he always called from a disposable cell."

"Good question. I'll get Munch and Fin down here. We'll go over her office and apartment," Cragen ordered.

"What about the ransom note?" Elliot stuck his hands in his coat pocket. "Jack needs to know about this."

"Right. Go wake up some Feds."

* * *

**10:32 p.m.  
Office of ADA Casey Novak**

"Never thought I'd actually be processing this office." Detective John Munch picked up a file folder from Casey's desk.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." His partner, Detective Odafin "Fin" Tutuola pulled out a thick law book from her bookcase and looked behind it.

"Hey, guys." TARU tech Reuben Morales held up a small, beeping black box. "I think I have something."

"What?"

"I think I found the bug."

Munch and Fin quickly crossed the room and joined Morales. He pulled out a couple of books and reached to the back of the bookshelf. "Got it," he murmured. Slowly, he pulled out a tiny microphone.

"That's the bug?" Munch squinted behind his dark glasses.

"Yep." Morales flipped a tiny switch on the side of the microphone and slipped it into a bag. "This specific brand is pretty expensive and damn hard to get. Shouldn't be too hard to check out."

"How long was it there?" Fin asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"No telling. This one has a pretty long battery life. Maybe a week?" He slipped the plastic evidence bag into his pocket and left Casey's office.

Fin exhaled. "So. Guy bugs Casey's office, gets information that she's still seeing Jack Calhoun."

"And this guy's got a helluva lotta money. Guess the office is easier to bug than her apartment."

"Well, how the hell did he get in here? DA's office has a lot of security, especially after that attack on Casey a couple of years ago."

"Yeah." Munch sighed. "They have cameras at the entrance and at the elevator. And he'd have to sign in."

"That's a lot of people, especially if it's been here a week."

"Boy, Morales is gonna love us."

* * *

**10:58 p.m.  
Apartment of FBI Agent Andrew Russell**

Elliot lifted his hand to knock one more time on the dark green apartment door in front of him. "He's gotta be here," he mumbled.

"It's after eleven. He's probably asleep," Olivia suggested.

He didn't reply. He just raised his hand and rapped harder on the door. "Agent Russell?" he shouted.

A muffled voice from inside the apartment shouted, "Coming!"

Olivia stifled a grin when she heard muttered curses from inside the apartment. "Guess we woke him up."

The door flew open to reveal Agent Andrew Russell, dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt, hair mussed like he had just woken up. He rubbed some sleep from his eyes and stared, slack-jawed, at the detectives. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.

"We need to talk to you," Elliot replied.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's about Jack Calhoun," Olivia answered. The agent's jaw dropped even further. "It's urgent."

Russell sighed and ran his hand through his blonde hair. "Fine." He stepped aside. "Come in."

Elliot followed Olivia into the relatively spacious living room. It was sparsely furnished, indicative of a man who didn't spend much time in his apartment. That was typical of an FBI agent. Long hours, tough cases. He understood.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Russell's voice broke into Elliot's thoughts.

"No thanks," Elliot answered. Olivia shook her head too, and smiled. They sat down on Russell's couch as the agent entered the adjoining kitchen.

"Mind if you tell me what's going on?" Russell asked as he punched some numbers on his coffee maker. "Or are you going to keep me in the dark?"

"Seems to me that you were the one that kept us in the dark four months ago," Elliot replied with a grin.

Russell chuckled. "So you're going to hold that over my head?"

"No," Olivia answered. "We'll be forthcoming. Provided that you're forthcoming."

"I'll tell you anything I can. You mentioned that this is about Jack Calhoun?"

Olivia shot a quick glance at her partner, who shrugged. "We need to get in touch with him."

"No way." He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out some cream.

Elliot leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Russell, ADA Novak was kidnapped tonight."

Russell's jaw hit the floor again, and he stared at the two detectives. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"The kidnapper is going to kill her in about twenty hours if we don't get Jack here."

"I'm sorry, I can't do anything about that."

"Russell, he's going to kill her!" Olivia struggled to keep her emotions under control. Casey was one of her best friends. "Do you really want that on your head?"

"And do you really want Jack Calhoun's death on _your_ head?" Russell sighed. "I'm sorry. You'll have to get her back without Jack."

"Damn it, Russell!" Elliot's shout startled both the agent and his partner. Olivia turned to see her partner's fists clenched and his eyes blazing. She knew that look. "We can't do it without Jack. Can't you get him here so we can do our jobs and save his girlfriend?"

"By getting him here, I won't be doing _my_ job!"

"Screw your job! Because if she dies, who do you think Jack will blame? Especially once he figures out that he could have helped stop it, and you wouldn't get him here. You won't have a job once he gets a hold of you. You'll be lucky to have a life."

"Are you threatening a federal agent, Detective?" Russell took a step closer to Elliot, his own fists clenched.

"No. I'm making a promise. He needs to know. Are you actually concerned about his life? Or are you just worried that his coming back is going to ruin your case against Sullivan?"

Russell sighed. "This case is the last thing on my mind. Jack Calhoun is a friend. I care about him."

"Then care about his feelings. This son of a bitch has his girlfriend, and is doing God knows what to her right now. And if he doesn't get here in the next twenty hours, she'll die." Elliot watched as Russell's gaze dropped to his feet. "Look, Jack loves her. He'd do anything he could to get her back, even risk his life for her. Don't you think that Jack should have a say in what you do with his life?"

"Jack forfeited his life when he entered witness protection."

"Somehow I doubt he'd agree. Casey Novak is one of the best ADA's we've got. He loves her. Shouldn't it be his choice whether he wants to sacrifice his life for her? Do you honestly think that he would care about the risk?"

"No, and that's what scares me." Russell sighed again. "I don't want your ADA to die. And I don't want Jack to die either."

"Then he needs to come back and help us find her." Elliot sighed. "Look, if he has to find out about this in the papers tomorrow, he's going to come up here anyway. And he'll be more pissed if he has to find out about it in the news than if you tell him. Especially once he finds out that he could've been here sooner to help find her."

Russell sighed again and ran his hands through his hair. Olivia watched him carefully as his face contorted in thought. She silently prayed that he would say yes. She didn't want to see what Elliot would do if he refused. Elliot had already controlled his temper a lot more than she had thought he would. Hell, she didn't know what she would do if he said no. Seeing Casey dead was something that haunted her nightmares, something she definitely didn't want to think about, especially after Alex.

"Fine."

Olivia shook her head, not totally sure of what she'd heard. "What?"

"I'll call him." Russell exhaled and rubbed his tired eyes. "I'll get in touch with the agents in Dallas. We'll get him on the next flight here."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks to all those that left me reviews! I had to admit I was a little surprised... so many hits, and only two reviews?! Last chapter and this chapter are sort of fillers, to establish Jack's return and some of the physical evidence left behind. But, I still hope you like it! Leave me some lovin' or hatin' at the end!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**1:24 a.m.  
Saturday, February 8  
Somewhere over Tennessee**

Jack Calhoun sighed again and stared out the window of the plane. The world was dark below him, just like the cabin of the small Gulfstream. He glanced at the U.S. marshal seated across from him. The poor guy dozed quietly, head back against the seat. Jack felt bad for him. It wasn't easy being rousted out of bed at midnight just to escort him back to New York City. The marshal had insisted that this was his job, and he was okay with it. But his assurance didn't help Jack's guilt.

He'd been feeling so much guilt for the past two hours, about so many different things. His mind whirled. And that was why he couldn't sleep. _Casey. The marshal. Casey. Casey. _This mess was his fault. He knew it, and he suspected her friends knew it. If he hadn't contacted her, if they hadn't kept up this secret relationship, if he hadn't fallen in love with her, if she hadn't fallen in love with him… none of this would have ever happened. He would be safe in Texas, she would be safe in New York.

But they couldn't resist. The fact that Casey had gone along with this ludicrous plan did nothing to assuage his guilt. She'd been taken. And it was all Jack Calhoun's fault.

Jack shifted a little in his seat and faced the darkened cabin. With another forlorn sigh, he laid his head back against the seat and folded his arms across his chest. He pulled out his FBI identification and fingered the gold-plated badge. He wasn't on active duty, but his agent status was still intact. He hated the thought of never returning to law enforcement. It was his life. After Casey.

A slow smile spread across his face as he remembered that night in his hotel room before he left. Casey had rested her head on his chest, and his hand had absentmindedly stroked her hair. She had told him that she loved him. He'd gently smiled and kissed her, and then had told her that he loved her too. He remembered the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his, the way she smiled, like it was yesterday.

If he was going to get through this and get her back, he would have to hold onto that memory and let go of the guilt. He'd have to stay focused.

* * *

**3:20 a.m.  
LaGuardia Airport**

Elliot impatiently tapped his toe as he waited for the Gulfstream to finish unloading. It had already been five hours since Casey had disappeared. They were running short on time.

He glanced over at Olivia, who was standing a couple of feet away on her cell phone. Five minutes ago, she'd told him it was the lab. Elliot could only assume that they were giving her the results of the blood analysis. From his vantage point, he heard her sigh and watched as she thanked the person on the other end and hung up the phone. "What'd the lab say?" he asked as she rejoined him.

"The blood type from the alley isn't a match to Casey's. They're going to run it through CODIS, see if they get any hits."

"Munch called while you were talking to the lab guys. They're running the bug they found in Casey's office. Explains how they knew Casey was still talking to Jack. Morales thinks it was planted about a week ago. Munch and Fin are going over the tapes from the DA's office. And they got a good photo from the guy tonight. Matches the sketch from the night guard."

"But we don't have an ID on him yet." Olivia sighed. "Too many dead ends, not nearly enough time."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe Jack'll be able to identify him."

"If he's a muscleman for Sullivan, maybe."

Elliot glanced up and saw a familiar figure walking toward them. His dark hair was a little longer than it had been four months before, but the tired blue eyes were still the same. "Hey, Liv," Elliot nudged his partner.

Olivia turned to see Jack Calhoun a few yards away from them. She gave him a small smile as he approached them, walking slowly with exhaustion. She couldn't help but think of how tired and haggard he looked. Jack was a little over six feet tall, but his shoulders were hunched over, like he had the weight of a thousand cares resting on them. "Welcome back," she said when he got within a few feet of them.

He smiled wearily. "Thanks. I wish I could say it was good to be back."

"Do you have any more bags?" Elliot asked, glancing down at Jack's small backpack.

Jack shook his head, some tendrils of brown hair falling into his eyes. "No. Thanks. We should get moving."

"Right." Olivia took him by the arm and gently pulled him toward the exit.

"What do we have so far?"

Elliot sighed. The younger man was slipping into cop mode. "Drops of blood outside the office that don't match Casey's blood type. We're running them through CODIS now; we'll probably get an answer in a couple of hours. Night guard provided a detailed sketch of the man that delivered the ransom note. Casey's office was bugged-"

"Bugged?" Jack whipped around to stare at Elliot.

"Yeah. Our Technical Response Unit is running the bug," Olivia interjected, gently grasping Jack's arm. "We should probably keep moving."

Jack exhaled and nodded, allowing Olivia to lead him toward the door. "What else?" he asked, his exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Our two other detectives are going over the video from the security cameras in the DA's office, to see if they can track down the person that planted the bug. You'll go over it with them, to see if you recognize anyone from Sullivan's outfit."

"Fine." He said nothing more. His thoughts were whirling around in his head. He couldn't shake the guilt.

Olivia stole a quick glance at her partner as she opened the door and they stepped out into the brisk night air. Elliot returned her glance in their typical unspoken communication. Jack was blaming himself.

Elliot took Jack's backpack from his hand and placed it in the trunk of the car. He got in on the driver's side and waited until Olivia opened the rear passenger door to let Jack in. As she got in the front passenger seat, he turned the ignition, and within minutes they were on their way back to Manhattan.

Jack stared out the window of the car as they passed the buildings and houses that lined the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. At this time of night, it was fairly easy to pass over the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan. He'd forgotten how the city stayed so lit up, even at night. After four months of living in the country near Dallas, he'd gotten used to seeing stars light the night. So it was true. There was no such thing as going back.

Olivia looked back to see their charge leaning against the door, staring out the window at the city. She'd expected him to blame himself, even though she and Elliot had come to an agreement that they wouldn't blame him. "Jack," she said quietly, trying to get his attention.

He just sighed and slowly turned his head to face her. His piercing blue eyes connected with hers.

"I know what you must be feeling."

That got a reaction. Jack snorted. "Right. So you believe it's your fault that your girlfriend got kidnapped. Is that what it is, Detective Benson?"

"It's Olivia. And this is Elliot. If we're going to be working together on this, and if you're going to be dating Casey, you'd better call us by our first names."

"And we don't think it's your fault," Elliot interjected.

"Why? Because you're just the forgiving type?"

"Actually, we forgave you for what happened four months ago," Elliot replied with a smirk. The comment earned him a snicker from Jack and a glare from his partner. "Look, maybe you should've been more careful. Maybe you shouldn't have kept in contact with her. But we can't operate on maybes. You're our best shot at finding her, and you need to stay focused."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I know. But… I can't get it out of my mind…"

"I know, Jack," Olivia said, her voice growing gentle. "But you're smart. You survived three years undercover in the mob. And you love her. The point is that, here and now, you have to stay strong. Get it out of your mind that it's your fault. You're a victim here too; it's never the victim's fault. You know that."

She didn't get an answer. He turned his head slightly to stare out the window as they crossed over the Williamsburg Bridge, and silence enveloped them. Finally they heard a sigh from the backseat. "Tell ya what, _Olivia_," he said, emphasizing the use of her first name. "If you let me blame myself in private, I'll stay focused when I'm around you."

A slow grin spread across Elliot's face, and Olivia bit back a chuckle. "Fair enough," she answered.

"I kinda like this guy," Elliot said with a smile.

* * *

**3:25 a.m.**

Casey groaned and tried hard to open her eyes, but her lids seemed like they were glued shut. Her head felt like it was split in two. Finally, she managed to pry open one of her green eyes through sheer willpower. But the room looked like nothing she'd ever seen before.

_Where the hell am I?_ she thought as her tired brain tried to get moving again. It was dark in the room. She was on a bed. A very unfamiliar bed.

_Oh God_, her brain screamed at her. She knew what sometimes happened in situations like this. Her hands immediately went to her clothes, patting down her body to make sure nothing had been disturbed. She checked the inside of her thighs. No bruises, no telltale stickiness between her legs. Casey breathed a sigh of relief. At least they didn't rape her.

After a few minutes, the headache started to subside, and she got up the energy to look around the room. It was nicely furnished, with a dresser and a vanity, and a large queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. Her brow furrowed in confusion. It didn't exactly seem like the ideal place to hold a hostage.

Her eyes traveled to the window on the opposite side of the room. _Maybe…_she mused. Casey got off the bed and stumbled toward the window, still a little shaky from the chloroform. She finally managed to get there and cursed under her breath. It was barred and locked. Feeling a little woozy, she leaned forward and looked down to the ground below. _Gotta be about three stories up,_ she thought.

A knock sounded at her door, and she whirled around. It slowly creaked open to reveal the shadow of a man standing in the hall. "You won't get out that way, lass," the man said in a soft, deep Irish brogue.

Casey squinted to make out some kind of facial features, but he was silhouetted by the light from the hall behind him. "Who are you?" she challenged in the toughest voice she could muster.

"You'll find out soon enough," he answered, still speaking softly. "I'm glad t'see you're awake."

She didn't answer.

"Are ya comfortable?"

"What do you care?" she snapped.

"Relax. I'm not a 'bread'n water' type a' guy. If all goes well, and your boy shows up in time, there's no reason to be harmin' ya."

Casey opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but what he said suddenly clicked in her brain. "My boy?"

"Jack. I have ev'ry confidence he'll be showin' up in time t'save your life. Ya see, lass, it's not you we want. You're a means to an end. So it'll do us no good to make your life miserable here."

"Means to what end?"

"You'll see. Need anythin'?"

"No," she replied vehemently. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to be mean to her kidnapper, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of making her polite.

"Good. Breakfast'll be delivered in the mornin'. Sleep well, darlin'." With that, he closed the door, leaving Casey in the dark confines of her comfortable prison. But even a comfortable prison was still a prison. Exhausted, she sat on the bed and quietly cried herself into a restless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thanks again to those who are so faithful to review after every chapter! I greatly appreciate you... especially Clarissa and zero-zip and crysbabee. Thanks so much for letting me know ya'll are still interested. On to the story!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**3:38 a.m.  
Precinct 16, Manhattan SVU**

"Here, take a seat." Elliot pulled out his chair and let Jack sink onto the semi-soft surface. Olivia sat at her desk, giving Elliot another look. The younger man sighed and rubbed his eyes. Elliot stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Jack, how long has it been since you slept?"

"How long has it been since _you_ slept?" Jack countered with a small smile.

Elliot chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man."

"We went through all of the security video from the DA's office," Munch announced as he entered the squad room, followed closely by Fin. "Too much traffic in and out to make a positive ID on the guy that planted the bug. Morales is still trying to track down who bought it."

Fin's gaze landed on Jack. "Who're you?" he practically growled.

"Fin, this is Jack Calhoun," Olivia answered before Jack could say a word. "Jack, this is Detective Tutuola."

"So you're the guy that got us into this mess," Munch said in his usual sardonic tone.

"Munch…" Olivia began.

"And you're the conspiracy theorist Casey's always telling me about," Jack retorted, promptly cutting Olivia off. "Pleasure's all mine."

Munch peered over his dark glasses at Jack for a moment before a rare grin broke out over his face. "Casey's got good taste."

"Glad to know you approve," Jack replied tiredly.

A door opened and closed behind him as Cragen joined them. His blue eyes fell on Jack. "Didn't think I'd see you again," he said softly.

Jack stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wish it were under different circumstances," he replied.

"Have you been briefed?"

"On the phone just before they loaded me onto the plane."

"Good." Cragen handed Jack the sketch that the night guard provided. "Do you recognize this guy?"

Jack studied the sketch for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "Doesn't look familiar. Is this the guy that grabbed Casey?"

Cragen shrugged. "He's the guy that delivered the ransom note. He could be the guy that kidnapped Casey."

"What's the timeline for this?"

Olivia gently took the sketch from his hands and went to the bulletin board. She tacked the picture to the board, picked up a marker, and drew a horizontal line across the surface. "You spoke with her at what time?"

"Eight-thirty."

"Okay." She drew a short vertical line at the beginning of her horizontal one and labeled it _8:30_. "I left her office at about eight forty-five." She drew another line and labeled it.

"The security tape shows her goin' out the door at just before nine," Fin interjected. Olivia nodded and drew a corresponding line.

"And the guy comes in at just after nine," Munch added.

"So the whole thing goes down in less than five minutes," Cragen observed, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"CSU found fresh acceleration marks on the road near the alley," Elliot mused aloud.

"We talked with the lab about twenty minutes ago," Fin replied. "Said they're used exclusively on GMC vans, made after 2005."

"Find the van, one step closer to finding Casey," Olivia said, glancing at Jack.

Cragen nodded. "The streets around the DA's office have red light cameras. Check 'em out. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Elliot's phone chirped at him, and he turned away from the group to answer the call. Within seconds, he rejoined them. "The lab found a match to the blood from the scene."

"Go. Munch and Fin, get with Morales in TARU and have him check red light cameras within a five block radius of One Hogan Place."

Elliot grabbed his jacket and practically ran toward the elevator. Olivia jerked her head toward Jack, who was still standing in front of Elliot's desk. "Let's go," she said softly. Jack gave her a small smile, grabbed his jacket, and followed her toward the elevator.

* * *

**3:45 a.m.  
Crime Lab, One Police Plaza**

"We found a match for your perp," the DNA tech said as he crossed to the other side of the lab. The printer on a desk hummed softly.

"Great. Who is it?" Olivia asked.

The tech snatched the printer's output from its tray. "Peter Jackson." He handed the paper to Elliot.

"Check out that photo," Elliot said as he showed the printout to Olivia.

She frowned as Jack leaned in over her shoulder to take a look. "The night guard's got pretty good memory."

"That's the guy that turned in the ransom note," Jack spoke up. "If his blood's in the alleyway where Casey was kidnapped, he must be the guy that grabbed her."

"He's got a sheet too. Did fifteen years upstate for manslaughter. Released on parole about a month ago." Elliot's blue eyes widened when he saw the next notation on the rap sheet. "Guess who his cell mate was in Attica for two months?"

Jack's jaw clenched and his fists tightened. "Connor Miller."

"Bingo."

"Damn it."

* * *

**3:54 a.m.  
TARU Lab**

"Boy, you guys sure are keeping me busy," Morales said with a huff.

"C'mon," Munch cajoled. "At least you're earning your salary."

"Yeah, since it's so big." The TARU tech turned back to his computer and hit a couple of keys. "You know, you two could help me out here."

"Now why would we wanna take away your fun?" Fin deadpanned.

"You're sadistic sons of bitches?"

"Funny. Just find the damn vehicle."

Morales stifled a grin and hit a couple more keys on his keyboard. "What did you say the time frame is?"

"Nine to nine-fifteen tonight. GMC van."

"Model year?"

"After 2005," Fin answered.

The TARU tech keyed in the parameters and hit enter. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. Finally the machine blipped at him, and he furrowed his brow a little. "We got lucky," he said.

"What? Whatcha got?" Munch leaned forward in anticipation.

"Black late-model GMC van, heading north on Lafayette at 9:08 p.m."

"Right direction," Fin muttered.

"Any way you can pull up that license plate number?" Munch asked.

Morales turned and grinned. "They don't call me the Magician for nothing."

Fin cocked an eyebrow. "Since when do they call you that?"

Morales clicked on the freeze-frame of the van and hit a couple more keys. He isolated the back of the van and hit another key. The blurry picture soon cleared up to reveal a New York license plate. Both detectives could see the numbers and letters perfectly.

Munch pulled out his notepad and scribbled down the numbers. "Thanks," he said, clapping Morales on the shoulder.

"Well, before you thank me too much, check this out." He moved his mouse a little and clicked on the rear window of the vehicle. Munch and Fin both squinted at the screen.

"Is that a rental sticker?" Fin asked.

"Yep. The Vukovic Car Agency."

Fin checked his watch. "It's four a.m. now. Place probably doesn't open until eight."

"Back to the house until it opens?" Munch asked.

His partner nodded. "Let's see what Elliot and Olivia came up with."

"Oh, hey, before you go, I got the info back on your bug." Morales slid his chair across the room and grabbed a folder from one of the tables. "Luckily it had a serial number, made it easier to trace."

"Maybe this bastard's not as smart as we thought," Fin said, giving his partner a look.

"Maybe." Munch flipped open the folder and quickly scanned the content. "Purchased three weeks ago by one Peter Jackson."

* * *

**4:15 a.m.**

Peter Jackson took another sip of his scotch and swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. He almost couldn't believe that the mission went off so well. He was forever indebted to Connor for giving him this new start, this new beginning with Connor's old boss. And with this latest success, Jackson would certainly be at the top of Sullivan's list of favorite employees.

Gingerly he touched the side of his face where the girl had scratched him. He had to give her credit—she was a fighter. Connor had told him all about her and that rat bastard who turned him in. He had told him that one of his buddies had seen her go into Calhoun's hotel room the night before he disappeared, and that she hadn't come out until morning. Jackson shook his head. Figures that a rat like Calhoun would get such a fine piece of ass. Sometimes this world just isn't fair.

When Connor had discovered that Jackson would be released, he had given him Sullivan's number and told him that his former boss was always looking for bright men to do his dirty work. The day that Jackson was released from Attica, he had walked into the bright winter sunlight with only that number and ten dollars in his pocket. He had gone straight to the nearest payphone. And when Sullivan had heard Connor's recommendation, he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to exact revenge on his former right-hand man.

Jackson had to smile at his most brilliant move. Planting the bug in her office had been as easy as taking candy from a baby. All he had to do was buy a police officer's uniform from the Internet, flash his fake badge at the security guard up front, and find her office. No one had ever suspected. He'd outsmarted them all. And that was what really impressed Sullivan, who'd called him the next day to congratulate him on his success. He'd said it had been some sort of trial, and Jackson had passed with flying colors.

A knock sounded on the door of his apartment. Jackson got off the couch, scotch still in hand, and crossed the room toward the door. He peered through the peephole and nearly dropped his glass when he saw who was on the other side. Quickly he reached for the doorknob and pulled it open. "Mr. Sullivan?" he croaked.

Philip Sullivan smiled one of his most charming smiles. "I'm surprised you're still awake, Peter," he said in his Irish lilt. "After all th'energy ya used tonight."

"Can't sleep," Jackson replied. "Come in." He stepped aside to let his boss into the tiny apartment. Sullivan stood in the center of the living room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Can I get you something to drink?" Jackson moved toward the kitchen.

"No, thank ya," the older man answered. "But I would like ya to do something for me."

Jackson's pride swelled, and he resisted the urge to puff out his chest. "Anything, sir," he replied as humbly as he possibly could.

"Take a ride with me."

_Huh?_ Jackson frowned. "Sir, it's four o'clock in the morning."

"I'm aware of that, lad." Something flashed behind Sullivan's dark eyes, and Jackson almost cringed. He didn't like whatever that was. "It's not a request. You can either go quietly, or…" He shrugged.

Jackson's mind whirled. He definitely didn't like where this was going. But he was smart enough to know that he really didn't have a choice. He lifted his glass to his lips and quickly downed the rest of his scotch. Placing the glass down on the counter, he grabbed his coat and keys and followed Sullivan out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Sullivan's driver and bodyguard opened the back door of his dark, black sedan to reveal an increasingly nervous Peter Jackson. Jackson's hands rested in the small space between his tightly clenched legs, for the sheer purpose of trying to keep them from shaking. "Out," the muscular man growled.

"I think I'd rather not," Jackson mumbled, not daring to look up.

"I said out!" The burly bodyguard reached into the car, grabbed Jackson by his shirt, and pulled him from the car.

Jackson fell hard onto the wet concrete, soaked from the frost. "What the hell is this?" he spat out, glancing up to see Sullivan and his body guard looming over him. "I thought you said I did good."

"You did, boyo," Sullivan said softly. "It's just that you've done your job. I have no more use for you."

The hapless man's eyes grew wide as the words registered in his brain.

Sullivan shrugged. "It's like I told Connor so long ago. Everyone is expendable."

Jackson never saw the shot coming. All that could be heard was the high-pitched whisper of the silencer. As the body crumpled to the pavement, Sullivan slowly replaced the revolver in its shoulder-holster. "Shame," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N:** Ooo... cliffhanger! What's going to happen next? Please review, so I know if you're still interested!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks again for the reviews for the last chapter! A couple of questions are gonna be answered in this one, including what happens to their one lead on Casey's kidnapping. Please, let me know if ya'll are liking this! And leave your reviews at the end... remember, weeks to write, seconds to review. I hate leaving guilt-trips, but I'm not too proud to drop hints every once in a while!

Oh, and for the purposes of this fic, Elliot and Kathy did actually divorce. No "Cold", no Elliot and Kathy... oh, if this was a perfect world.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**5:04 a.m.  
Precinct 16**

Olivia sighed and stretched her arms over her head. She could feel exhaustion starting to creep up on her, but she tried to push it out of her mind. Finding Casey was the most important thing at the moment.

Her eyes fell on a mop of dark hair spread across the file folders on Elliot's desk. Jack was snoozing fitfully, his head resting atop his folded arms. He had fallen asleep within minutes after Munch and Fin had announced that Peter Jackson was indeed the buyer of the bug in Casey's office. The two detectives were taking a short nap in the crib, and Elliot was trying to track down a current address on Jackson.

She couldn't help but like Jack Calhoun. He was funny, smart, and obviously cared deeply about Casey. A man who would risk his life to save the woman he loved… well, that was the stuff that fairy tales were made of. Though she didn't usually admit it, Olivia still believed in true love, and she was convinced that Casey had found it. She could still remember the look he had given them just before he left. Though no words were spoken, his wishes were clearly communicated. _Keep her safe._ She suddenly felt a pang of guilt. They hadn't done that. And now she was missing.

Suddenly Jack stirred. She cocked her head a little and watched him intently. His eyes slowly and unwillingly opened, and he suddenly jerked into a sitting position. Jack rubbed his eyes groggily, and soon they came to rest on Olivia, who gave him a small smile. "What time is it? How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice laden with exhaustion.

"A little after five. You've been out about half an hour."

He shook his head and pushed a stray strand of dark hair out of his eyes. "I shouldn't have gone to sleep. I should be working."

"You're exhausted," Olivia said gently. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Jack sighed. "I've been up for about a full day." He glanced around the empty squad room. "Where is everybody?"

"Elliot's trying to track down a current address on Peter Jackson. Munch and Fin are catching some sleep in the crib, and I'm pretty sure the Captain is snoozing in his office."

"We should try to find a connection with Sullivan. I know he's behind this."

"I don't doubt it, Jack, but we have no probable cause to go after it. Your gut's not admissible in court."

Jack smiled the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since he arrived in town. "That sounds like something Casey would say."

"She did say that, actually. To Elliot, not too long ago."

"I'm sure he appreciated that."

"He got over it. We always get over it. We fight sometimes, about cases, but we all have a good professional relationship."

"She told me you were one of her best friends."

Olivia smiled. "I'm glad she thinks of me that way."

Jack sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Then, tell me something, Olivia. Do you think…" He chuckled nervously. "God, I don't… What if she… blames me for this whole thing?"

Olivia's eyes grew wide. "What makes you think she'll blame you?"

He shrugged in answer. "I don't know… It's just this damn nagging suspicion I have, and I can't shake it. I keep having these visions of her either dead or turning her back on me." His eyes caught Olivia's. "I can't lose her, Olivia. She means more to me than my own life."

Hesitatingly, Olivia reached her hand across her desk and gently grasped Jack's. She sighed, searching her brain for the right words to say. "You know, a couple of months ago, Casey told me that you make her feel more loved than she's felt in a long time. She loves you, Jack. She knows it's not your fault. You've gotta shake that thought, because it's gonna destroy you."

She smiled as Jack nodded. "She really does love you. I've never seen her like this before."

Jack grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah." Olivia squeezed his hand and got up. "Want some coffee?"

"That sounds wonderful," he yawned.

Olivia smiled and went over to the squad's coffee pot across the room. "Black?" she called over her shoulder.

"Yeah." Jack put his hands behind his head and interlaced his fingers, an amused smirk appearing on his face as he watched Olivia brew the coffee. "So, has Elliot made his move yet?"

Olivia was so shocked she almost dropped the pot. "Wh-what?" she sputtered, not wanting to turn around.

"Oh yeah. Casey told me all about that too." Olivia turned to see Jack grinning mischievously.

"I'm gonna kill her," Olivia muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said louder. "Where would she get an idea like that?"

"She said it's perfectly obvious you two are gonna hook up at some point." Jack's grin widened at Olivia's blush. "Why don't you make a move? I mean, the man's divorced, right?"

Just then, Elliot walked into the squad room, carrying a file folder. Olivia had never been so happy to see him before in her life, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to see Jack's grin just widen even more, and she glared at him. "Finally tracked down Jackson's address," Elliot said, waving the folder. He stopped short when he saw his partner's blush and the younger man's ever-widening smile. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Olivia replied, her flush deepening. She poured a cup of coffee and practically slammed the mug down in front of Jack. "What took so long?"

"He's a sneaky, sneaky bastard." Elliot reached into one of the drawers and pulled out his gun. "Apartment's in Alphabet City. We've got probable cause to at least bring him in for questioning. I called one of the junior ADA's in Casey's office. He'll wake up a judge."

"Hey, Elliot." Jack stood up. "Mind if I come along?"

"You're unarmed."

"You can fix that. I have a license to carry a gun. I know how to use it. And I'm still an FBI agent. They never terminated my agent status."

Elliot glanced at Olivia, who shrugged. He sighed and pulled out another gun from his desk. "You have your badge?" Jack nodded, and Elliot handed him the gun. "Let's go."

* * *

**5:45 a.m.  
541 Avenue B  
Apartment of Peter Jackson**

"Peter Jackson!" Elliot banged on the door, chipping even more of its ugly green paint. Behind him, Olivia and Jack drew their weapons, barrels pointed at the floor. Behind them, four black-clad cops in full gear held their own automatic weapons at the ready. "Peter Jackson, open up, police!"

"Guess he's not home," Jack muttered.

"Or he's a hell of a heavy sleeper," Olivia replied. She motioned to the one of the officers behind her, who was holding a small battering ram. The officer moved in front of the door, brought the ram back, and quickly brought it forward. The door gave in with a resounding crack, and the four officers dashed into the apartment with their guns ready. Elliot, Olivia, and Jack were right on their heels. Within seconds, shouts of "Clear!" echoed through the room.

"No sign of Casey," Olivia sighed.

"Looks like he left for the evening," Elliot said as he replaced his gun in his shoulder holster.

"Who leaves at five o'clock in the morning on a Saturday? Did his PO say he's got a job?"

"Nope," Elliot replied.

"Well, he must've been here." The two detectives turned to face Jack. He was standing by the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Jack held up a liquor glass with one gloved hand. "He didn't pick up his glass. Looks like scotch."

"What significance does that have?" Elliot asked.

"Look around." Jack gestured toward the kitchen with his free hand. "Do you see any dirty dishes in the sink or on the other counters?" He stepped over to the automatic dishwasher next to the kitchen sink and opened the door. "The dishes in here are clean. The dishes in the cabinet are perfectly organized." He gestured toward the entertainment center. "The DVD's are alphabetically organized. This guy has to have order in his life. Nothing out of place."

Olivia cocked an eyebrow at him. "Were you a shrink in another life?"

"I minored in psychology in college. And I took a profiling course for my FBI training. Trust me. This guy is probably an egotist, a control freak. Everything has to appear just right."

"So where is this guy?" Elliot asked, glancing around the room again.

"Maybe he's wherever Casey is," Olivia said with a shrug. "We know he grabbed her."

Jack shook his head. "Something made him leave in a hurry. If he'd planned it, he'd have picked up his glass. It's a compulsion. OCD."

"I don't know about you, but I'd love to find some kind of motive as to why he would grab Casey," Elliot said, running his hand through his military haircut.

"I'd love to find some connection to Sullivan," Jack added, replacing the glass on the counter.

"We've got probable cause to pull his LUDs and his financials." Elliot motioned to Olivia. "Call Munch and Fin. Get them moving on those documents."

* * *

**6:30 a.m.  
Precinct 16**

Jack groaned as he checked his watch again. They had less than twelve hours to track her down, or he would be most certainly be facing his own death. He tried to focus his tired eyes on Jackson's financial report in front of him, but the words on the paper kept blurring.

A sigh from the other side of the room made him look up. Munch was sitting with his feet up on the corner of his desk, a yellow highlighter in one hand. "Nothing suspicious on this end." He threw the papers down on his desk. "I've got a couple of repeated numbers."

"Could just be telemarketers," Elliot said. He trained his blue eyes on Jack. "Anything in those financials?"

"Three weeks ago he had twenty thousand dollars transferred into his account. Then he wrote a check for five hundred dollars from that."

"Transferred from where?" Olivia asked, sitting up a little in her chair.

"From an offshore bank."

"Great. Untraceable," Fin muttered from his desk across the room.

"Those offshore banks are great ways for people getting money under the table to avoid reporting it to the IRS," Munch interjected, ignoring Fin's eye-roll. "High security, tight-lipped, no background checks. The FBI complains that it's a way to circumvent the law, but even the government uses offshore accounts to confuse the public."

A chorus of groans echoed around the room, and Jack shook his head. "And I thought Casey was exaggerating."

Elliot grinned and glanced at the younger man. "What day was the transaction?"

"January 18th," Jack answered.

Munch leaned down, his hand resting on the back of Jack's chair. "Check this out. One incoming call from an unlisted number on that same day."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "From Sullivan?"

Jack gently took the paper from Munch's hand and looked at the marked number. "I don't recognize this number," he said glumly, shaking his head. "It's a Queens area code, but he's got a number of houses and warehouses throughout the Five Boroughs, including Queens. He's probably changed them since I left."

"So is it an advance on the kidnapping, or a payment on planting the bug in Casey's office?" Elliot queried.

"It's gotta be the payment on the bug," Jack answered. "I've got another payment from the same account two days ago. Fifty large."

Fin gave a low whistle. "Damn. That's more what I'd expect for the kidnapping of an ADA."

"I'd sure like to know who owns that phone number," Olivia said dourly.

"Maybe Morales can track it down," Fin suggested.

"Aw, give that poor guy a break," Olivia said.

"He might start thinking we're in a conspiracy to drive him crazy," Munch deadpanned. The comment earned him a soft chuckle from his colleagues.

Grinning broadly, Elliot reached for his desk phone. "I'll see if he can come in early this morning."

"Do that later." They turned as one to see Cragen slowly approaching them from his office. "A construction worker called the Two-Seven about a dead body near the East River, under the FDR. First respondents recognized the guy from a sketch we passed around the department last night." He paused. "Peter Jackson's been murdered."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Ya'll wanted to know how Casey was doing, and this chapter will talk about that a little. I hope ya'll like it. Special thanks to zero-zip. for keeping me on this!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**7:14 a.m.  
South Street Seaport**

Jack pulled his coat closer to his body and shivered. The February air in New York was much colder than in Texas. He exhaled deeply, his breath appearing in the air as a puff of steam, and followed Elliot and Olivia toward the sea of uniformed officers and CSU techs.

"One of the construction workers pulled up to work this morning, saw the body, and freaked," a uniformed officer was saying to Elliot and Olivia. "We recognized him from the sketch you guys sent out, about that DA that was kidnapped. That's why we called you."

"We appreciate it. You take the worker's statement?" Elliot asked, his voice all business.

"Yeah. You wanna talk to him?"

"Yeah, make sure he sticks around." The officer nodded and disappeared.

A CSU tech intercepted them as they approached the body. "No tire treads, but we did find this shell casing." He held up the bagged piece of brass. "Looks like a twenty-two. We'll dust it for prints back at the lab."

Olivia nodded. "Put a rush on it. We've got less than eleven hours." The tech nodded once and ran off toward the far corner of the area curtained off by the yellow police tape. She sighed and glanced at Elliot. "I sure hope Warner can give us something."

They drew closer to the dark-haired woman bent over a sheet-covered body. She glanced up and quickly stood when she spotted them. "Any news on Casey?" she asked softly.

Elliot shook his head. "We were hoping this guy could give us something." He gestured at Jack, who was standing behind him. "Jack Calhoun, this is Melinda Warner, our ME."

Jack smiled tightly and nodded cordially. "Pleasure to meet you."

Warner returned his smile. "Likewise." She looked down at the body and sighed. "No wallet on him. Take a look?"

Olivia gave a quick nod, and Warner pulled back the sheet. His eyes were wide open, frozen in a look of sheer terror. Whoever killed him scared the hell out of him before he blew his brains out. "That's Peter Jackson," she murmured.

"Time of death?" Elliot asked.

"He's just going into rigor, so I put time of death at two to three hours ago."

"Damn. We just missed him," Jack groaned.

"Cause of death is pretty obvious," Warner said as she bent down. She grabbed the head and gently turned it to the side. "Gunshot wound to the back of the head."

"Execution style," Elliot muttered. "Any chance that bullet's intact?"

"I can't be sure until I perform the autopsy. There's a chance that it is, and we might be able to get a ballistics match if you get me the gun."

"Slim chance of that," Olivia answered. She ran her hands through her short brown hair. "Put a rush on that autopsy, Doc?"

Warner nodded. "Absolutely."

Elliot and Olivia turned around to face Jack. Elliot sighed, feeling even wearier now that their lead was dead. "We should see about getting a search warrant to tear apart Jackson's apartment."

"There's no way he's not involved with Sullivan," Jack said with a shake of his head. "He must've outlasted his usefulness. Sullivan doesn't keep anyone around unless he needs them, and he makes them disappear when he doesn't need them anymore."

Olivia stuck her gloved hands in her coat pockets and hunched her shoulders, trying to ward off the cold. "If he was smart, there's no way he left anything in his apartment linking him to Sullivan."

"If he was smart, he wouldn't have left his face on candid camera," Elliot reminded her gently.

"Or maybe he was following orders," Jack interjected. The two detectives' eyes widened simultaneously. "He bugged a DA's office, he snatched Casey off the street, and yet he left behind his face for us to identify?"

"That sneaky son of a bitch," Olivia muttered, eyes wide. "He was set up."

"And then eliminated." Jack shrugged. "Sullivan's style."

"Let's find some cold hard evidence to nail this bastard to the wall," Elliot growled just before he turned on his heel and marched back to the car.

* * *

**7:42 a.m.  
541 Avenue B  
Apartment of Peter Jackson**

"I don't see a computer, do you?" Elliot shouted from Jackson's bedroom.

Olivia looked up from his desk, a sheet of paper in either hand. "No!" she called back. "He must not have one."

Jack softly knocked on the front door to let them know he was in the room. "I talked to the neighbors," he said as he moved toward the couch. "The guy next door said that he kept pretty much to himself, though he did hear the front door slam this morning around four. He thought that was pretty weird, but he didn't see anything."

"How many people do you know that leave their apartment at four in the morning?" Olivia quickly scanned the two sheets of paper and threw them to the desktop. "He's got so much paper in here, it's a wonder this place didn't burn down years ago."

"The crack addicts downstairs would be awfully pissed if that happened."

Olivia chuckled and pulled out another piece of paper. "He's so organized it's ridiculous. Everything's loose, but it's all organized into addresses, bank statements, phone numbers."

"OCD manifests itself in a lot of different ways," Jack replied as he joined her at the desk. "Most of the time it's in counting or cleaning. This guy's obviously a cleaner, a perfectionist."

"You're starting to sound like our shrink. He's FBI too," Olivia teased.

"They recruit the best of the best," Jack retorted with a grin.

Elliot suddenly appeared behind Olivia, pulling off his rubber gloves with two quick snaps. "Nothing in the bedroom," he said glumly. "Find anything?"

Olivia held up her stacks of paper. "There might be something in here, but it'll take forever to go through it all."

Her partner reached out and took one of the stacks out of her hand, his fingers brushing ever so slightly against hers. Olivia inhaled sharply from the sudden contact and immediately chastised herself for reacting like that. But he didn't seem to notice. Jack, on the other hand, did, and she glared at him when she saw his snarky grin. "We should take these back to the precinct," Elliot said suddenly, breaking into Olivia's thoughts. "We'll go through them there."

"Sure," Jack replied. Elliot took a couple of stacks and left the apartment, leaving Olivia and Jack to gather the rest. "You're so busted," Jack said with a smirk.

"Shut up," she growled.

"Just wait until I tell Casey."

"Not if I tell her first."

"Yeah, right." Jack grabbed his stacks and winked at Olivia before he disappeared out the door and down the stairs.

Olivia shifted the weight of the paper in her arms and rolled her eyes. "Men," she grumbled.

* * *

**8:02 a.m.  
Vukovic Car Rental Agency  
****3451 41****st**** Avenue, Queens**

"Can I help you?" The young man barely looked up as Munch and Fin walked into the tiny, very uncomfortable lobby.

Fin pulled out his badge and held it under the boy's nose until he looked up. "NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Whoa. You're real cops?" His brown eyes grew huge.

Munch shared a look with his partner before replying, "Yeah, we're real cops. What's your name?"

"David Vukovic."

"Okay, David, you run the front desk every day?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Just until I can start grad school next semester. What happened?"

"Who rented this van yesterday?" Fin pulled out a still Morales had made of the black van on the red light camera.

Vukovic studied the picture for a minute. "Black GMC, license plate VFG-873. Hang on." He turned to his computer and hit a few keys on the keyboard. It beeped at him, and he frowned. "Name is Kevin O'Donnell."

"Can you describe this guy?"

"Sure. Big."

"Big?" Fin's eyebrow went up. "How about height, weight, hair color…?"

"Maybe six foot three, over two hundred pounds. Blonde hair, cut real short."

"Do you have a picture ID of this guy?"

Vukovic nodded. "Sure thing. I'll print it off for you."

"Thanks," Munch said, watching the young man closely as he moved toward the printer on the other side of the room. "I don't suppose the van is here, is it?"

"Sorry. Hasn't been returned yet." He rejoined the two detectives and handed Munch the piece of paper. "He didn't say how long he needed it."

Fin leaned on the counter, his eyes never leaving the young man. "When exactly did he pick up the van?"

"Yesterday around four in the afternoon. He asked for a big van. That's the biggest one we got."

Munch looked at Fin thoughtfully. "When you rent a car, you have to put down a current address. Did he give you one?"

The young man looked at his computer screen and nodded. "Yep. I'll print that off for you too."

* * *

**8:21 a.m.  
815 Lorimer Street, Brooklyn**

"I can't, for the life of me, figure out why a guy would drive all the way to Queens for a rental van when he's got an address in Brooklyn." Munch pushed his dark glasses farther up on his nose as he turned to his partner.

"Maybe he's got something to hide," Fin replied as he changed lanes on the busy Brooklyn street.

"Yeah, like the fact he's working for a mob don?"

"Yeah. That'd certainly be on my top ten list of things to hide."

"Or maybe he's leading us on a wild goose chase."

Fin looked at Munch sharply. "He'd better not," he said quietly.

"Wouldn't be the first time. This whole case seems like a wild goose chase."

"I know." Fin sighed. "Spend so much time chasing our tails, and he's doing God knows what to Casey."

Munch grew silent. He hated even the thought of something like that happening to Casey. She was part of their family, and she'd stuck her neck out for him more than once. He respected that. "So," he said, interlacing his fingers behind his head. "Whatcha think about Jack?"

Fin's brow furrowed a little. "Seems like an okay guy. Olivia and Elliot seem to like him all right. What'd ya think?"

"I like him."

"That's only 'cause he stood up to your bony ass."

Munch chuckled. "Damn right. Seriously though. He seems to really care about her. I wish she'd told us she was seeing him though."

"Her business is her business. She's an adult." Fin looked at the address in his hand, then looked out the window and put on the brakes. "We're here."

"Damn," the older man swore.

There was nothing at the address given to the rental agency. No apartments, no houses, not even a building. Just a grassy, overgrown lot.

"I'm really starting to hate this guy."

* * *

**8:32 a.m.**

Casey groaned and reluctantly opened one green eye. Tendrils of morning light crept through the curtains and created a spectacular display on the carpet in front of the window. _Please let it just be a bad dream_, she prayed to no one in particular as she opened her other eye. She glanced around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings of her prison. _Nope. It's real_, she thought dourly.

Her body creaked as she sat up, and she groaned again. Her dreams had been fitful, filled with monsters creeping up on her in alleys and Irish mobsters chasing her through New York. In the last one, a hero who looked an awful lot like Jack Calhoun had chased them away. A smile spread across her face when she thought about that.

She'd been in love before, with a completely different man. Charlie was like her—brash, funny, brazen at times. They'd fallen in love almost immediately, and were engaged after just months of dating. Charlie had talked about staying in New York, becoming a corporate attorney. Casey had just wanted to be a prosecutor, especially after watching all the criminal trials while clerking for Mary Conway-Clark. After graduating, they'd moved in together to prepare for their wedding. But then Charlie got sick. And it had been awful. They fought like cats and dogs, with Casey screaming at him to take his medication and Charlie screaming at her in the midst of his delusions. It broke her heart when she had to end it, for her protection. That night that he'd beaten her, she had realized that there was no way she could help him if he refused to take his meds. So she left, got a new apartment, and threw herself into her work.

Then there was Jack. It amazed her how different and alike the two men were. They were both smart and funny and stubborn, but Jack made her feel something she thought she would never feel again. In fact, he made her feel like she had felt with Charlie so long ago. After just one night with him, she knew that it would never be enough. In the four months that he was away, he had asked her more than once if she was sure that she wanted to risk her life like that. And she'd said yes.

Casey rubbed the back of her neck absently, lost in her thoughts. She got off the bed and slowly moved toward the window. "Where are you, Jack?" she mumbled to no one in particular as she looked at the world around her.

A knock at her door startled her, and she whipped around to see a good-looking, older man in his fifties carrying a tray of breakfast foods. "Who're you?" she challenged, her voice much more brazen than she felt.

The man held up the tray and smiled. "Good mornin' to you too," he said in a very familiar Irish brogue. "I brought ya some breakfast. Got to be keepin' your strength up."

Casey stared at him, ignoring the rumbling of her stomach. "Didn't I meet you last night?"

"I'm surprised you remember."

"Some things I never forget."

He chuckled and set the tray down on the bed. "Eat up."

"How do I know you didn't put anything in the food?"

"Like I said, there'll be no good in hurtin' ya now."

Casey gave him a suspicious look, then picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. She didn't want to admit it, but she was really hungry. She hadn't eaten anything for a good twelve hours. She kept one eye on her captor, who was still sitting next to her on the bed. She'd seen him somewhere before. In a photo, maybe… Suddenly Casey dropped the toast, her green eyes wide. "You're Philip Sullivan, aren't you?"

An impressed smile spread across his face, illuminating a couple of wrinkles next to his mouth. "I'm impressed, Miss Novak. Jack has a helluva smart woman. How'd you recognize me?"

"From your mugshot."

Sullivan nodded. "From the Callahan case. You did quite a job prosecutin' Connor."

"How'd you know I was seeing Jack?"

Another smile played at the corners of his mouth. "From you. Your office. Jack's not a man that falls lightly, even for a beautiful woman like you. I never saw him with a woman in the three years I knew him."

_The son of a bitch bugged my office. _Her heart raced in anger. Casey narrowed her eyes at him as a sudden idea struck her. "You sound like you're fond of him."

His brown eyes hardened a little, and his brow furrowed. "You're too perceptive for your own good."

"So why do this to him? Why hurt him like this?"

Now his eyes flashed with anger. "Betrayal, Miss Novak. I don't take betrayal lightly." The bed creaked as he stood. "Ta tell you th'truth, I don't know Jack Calhoun. I knew Jack O'Brian. A man like me."

"You're right." Casey sat up straight and crossed her arms. Her expression was the one she used when she was zeroing in on a perp. "You don't know Jack Calhoun, because he's nothing like you."

Sullivan smiled. "We'll see 'bout that." He turned on his heel and stomped toward the door. "One of my men'll be back for your tray," he called over his shoulder.

Casey sighed as the door opened and slammed shut behind her kidnapper. Suddenly, she didn't have much of an appetite.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks again to my faithful reviewers! Ya'll have no idea how much I appreciate you. On to the story!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**10:40 a.m.  
Precinct 16**

Olivia tossed yet another piece of paper on the floor by her desk. The normally-clean floor of the precinct was littered with papers, particularly in the area between her desk and Elliot's. They had no choice but to go through every scrap of paper they pulled from Jackson's desk, in the slim hope of finding something that connected him to Sullivan. They'd been working for more than two and a half hours, and she could almost hear the precious seconds ticking away. They had to find something—fast. Casey's life and Jack's life rested on it.

"Damn it."

A small smile spread across her face at Jack's muttered curse. He was getting impatient. Not that she could blame him. They only had about eight hours to find her, and no solid leads. Correction—their one solid lead was lying on a metal slab in the morgue.

"Too many pieces of paper."

She looked up in time to see Elliot toss yet another piece of paper on the floor. "You know, Cragen's gonna be pissed when he sees this," she pointed out.

"Tell him it's in the interest of justice," her partner retorted.

"I don't think that'll work." Olivia sighed and threw another sheet on the floor. "I've been through this bank statement from the past month, ever since he got out of the joint. He only had about two hundred bucks in the bank until a week ago."

"When he got the twenty grand for planting the bug," Jack finished.

Olivia nodded. "Right."

Jack shrugged. "Explains why he did it. But it still doesn't tell us who did it or where the hell Casey is." He pulled another sheet of paper from the top of his stack and stared at it for a minute. "What the…"

Elliot's head jerked up immediately. "What? What'd you find?"

"I know I've seen this address before."

"Where?" Olivia sat up straight and stared at him intently.

"I don't know." Jack rubbed his eyes and then ran his hand through his hair. "It looks so familiar… I can't think of where, but I think I might have been there before."

He looked up at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Elliot stopped in front of the map on their case board. "What's the address?"

"659 Waverly Avenue, Seaford."

Elliot traced the map with his index finger until he found the town. "That's on Long Island." He turned to face the younger man seated at his desk. "Why do you think you've been there before?"

"I have no idea." He rubbed his head quickly. Never before in his life had he felt so incredibly drained of all energy. Suddenly an idea struck him. He reached for Elliot's phone and quickly dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Andy? It's Jack… Jack Calhoun, you idiot! Yeah, I know… It's an emergency. Do you still have those files from the last three years? Yeah, the ones on Sullivan. I need you to bring them down to the 1-6 ASAP. All of 'em… No, I'll go through 'em here. Thanks man." He replaced the phone on its cradle and rubbed his temples with the heels of his palms. "He'll be here in about two hours."

"I hope you're right about this, Jack," Olivia said quietly.

He looked at her, a pained expression in his blue eyes. "Me too," he whispered.

Just then, Munch and Fin entered the bullpen, looking very pissed. "Hey," Munch growled.

"Hey," Elliot replied. "What took you guys so long?"

"Accident on the Brooklyn Bridge," Fin answered as he sank into his chair with a sigh.

"What were you doing in Brooklyn?"

"Following a crap lead," Munch replied angrily. "The guy that rented the van gave us a vacant lot." He marched to the case board and tacked up the picture they got from the rental agency. "Meet Kevin O'Donnell."

Jack leapt out of his chair excitedly. "I know him! He works for Sullivan!"

Olivia's eyes grew wide. "You're sure?"

"Positive! I've seen him several times. He's one of Sullivan's bruisers, likes to rough people up."

"Is this enough to go after Sullivan?" Elliot asked.

"No." The five turned to see Cragen standing in front of his office. He'd been listening with interest to the entire conversation. "Sullivan's lawyers can always claim O'Donnell was a maverick, acting outside his boss's orders. We need something more solid."

"We need to flip him somehow."

Cragen nodded. "Pull his jacket, find his address. I don't care how, but get him in here. We're running out of time."

* * *

**11:50 a.m.  
****752 W. 52****nd**** Street**

Elliot followed Olivia up the six flights of stairs leading to the only apartment O'Donnell had on record. "You're sure this is the right place?"

"Cap pulled his arrest records, and this is the only apartment he had on record. Morales traced the cell to a disposable purchased at a bodega two blocks from here."

"Why the hell would a guy that worked for someone like Sullivan have a place out here in Chelsea?"

"Maybe he's a freelancer. Jack didn't say much about him." Their charge was waiting back at the precinct for Agent Russell to bring his files down.

"You've really grown to like him, huh?"

Olivia turned her head slightly so she could look at him from the corner of her eye. "Yeah, I have. He's a good guy."

Elliot smiled. "Yeah, he is. He impressed me before, and he keeps on impressing me." He paused and let his eyes meet his partner's. "Casey picks 'em good."

She chuckled. "I'll be sure to tell her that." She turned and climbed up the last flight of stairs, stopping at the door marked "C."

Elliot made a fist and knocked sharply on the wooden door. "Kevin O'Donnell?" he shouted. Nothing. "NYPD, we'd like to ask you a few questions." Still nothing.

"You're looking for Kevin?" a voice behind them asked.

The two detectives turned to see an elderly woman standing behind them, the door to her apartment opened just wide enough for her gray-capped head to stick out into the hallway. "NYPD," Olivia identified them, quickly flashing her badge. "Do you know where he is?"

"I think he went down to the bodega on the corner," she replied. "What's he done this time?"

Their ears perked up at that. "This time?" Elliot asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding overly interested.

"Kevin's been in trouble with the law a few times, what with those strange men coming in and out of his apartment at all hours of the night."

"Strange men, ma'am?" Olivia asked, shooting Elliot a quick look.

"That's what I said, young lady. Are you deaf?"

The corners of Olivia's mouth twitched as she struggled to hold back a grin. "No ma'am."

"Would you be able to recognize these men?" Elliot asked.

"Of course. I'm not blind, young man, and I'm certainly not senile."

"No ma'am." Elliot reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a couple of photos. First he showed her a photo of Peter Jackson.

"Sure. He was here a couple of nights ago."

Then he showed her a picture of Philip Sullivan.

"I'd recognize that face anywhere. He always made me nervous. Something behind those eyes. He's been coming around for the past couple of weeks."

Olivia nodded and gently grabbed Elliot's arm. "Thank you, ma'am. You've been a big help."

"Any time, dearie." With that, the door slammed, the bang echoing through the hallway.

Elliot looked at his partner with a smile. "Eyewitnesses are good for cases."

"We have our connection to Sullivan. But I guarantee the DA's gonna want something more substantial."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm feeling a little hungry. You?"

Olivia grinned. "Famished."

* * *

The two detectives rounded the corner from O'Donnell's apartment building, simultaneously stuffing their hands in their pockets to ward off the cold. They had barely gone a block when they spotted a very familiar face walking toward them. He carried a paper bag in one beefy arm.

"There's our guy," Elliot whispered. His hand moved to his side, resting on the butt of his gun. "Kevin O'Donnell?" he shouted.

O'Donnell glanced up, and his eyes widened when he saw the two detectives coming toward him.

Olivia saw him shift the bag in his hand, and she caught a glimpse of something large, black, and metal under his thick jacket. "He's got a gun, El," she said quietly as they came within a few yards of their suspect, and her own hand went to her side.

As soon as the words left her lips, O'Donnell threw the bag at them and took off running. Elliot and Olivia sprinted after him. "Stop! Police!" Elliot shouted.

The suspect weaved in and out of the pedestrians, who leapt to the side. He yanked his gun out of his pants as he turned right into an alley.

"Police!" Olivia shouted. Another alley appeared in her peripheral vision, and she skidded to a halt before she passed it. Quickly she turned and dashed down that alley, leaving Elliot to continue in hot pursuit.

Elliot quickly gained on O'Donnell. He willed his legs to move even faster and kept his head up as he ran. O'Donnell looked behind him and stopped. Elliot's eyes grew wide as he saw the suspect level his gun at him, and he dove to the side just as O'Donnell pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

He tumbled into a pile of garbage bags, and the shot echoed through the alley. "Crazy bastard," Elliot muttered as he picked himself up and took off after the fleeing suspect.

O'Donnell looked behind him again. He'd missed, but the cop was far back. There was no way he'd catch him now.

That was his last thought before something slammed into his body—hard. His breath rushed out of him in a _whoosh_ as he fell to the ground, his pistol skittering across the pavement. He looked behind him and up, and he saw the pretty face of the female cop through his blurring vision.

Olivia picked herself up off the ground and grabbed O'Donnell's wrist, still trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her in the tackle. She twisted one arm behind his back, straddled him, then twisted the other. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to run from the cops?" she asked as she slapped the cuffs on him.

"I didn't do nothin'," he muttered.

"You took a shot at my partner. That's assaulting a police officer," she answered.

Elliot ran up behind her. "You okay, Liv?" he called. "That was one helluva tackle."

"I'm fine," she answered. "You okay?"

"Sure." Elliot went over to where O'Donnell's gun lay innocently on the pavement. "Not smart, Kevin."

"I didn't do nothin'," he repeated.

"Now why don't I believe you?"

Olivia grabbed his jacket and pulled him up. "You've got a lot of 'splaining to do, Kev."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews for last chapter! Sorry it was so short, but hopefully I make up for it in this one. By the way, this story will have 10 chapters total. Longest story I've ever written. Whew! On to the chapter!

**Chapter 8**

**2:45 p.m.  
Precinct 16**

Cragen folded his arms and watched O'Donnell's interrogation through the two-way mirror. Elliot had been in the guy's face for the past three hours, red-faced and shouting at him about assaulting an officer, and O'Donnell had barely blinked. The captain sighed. They had an eyewitness placing him with Sullivan and Jackson, but it still wasn't enough. They needed something hard. And he was turning out to be harder to flip than they thought.

He turned around as the door opened behind him and he sighed again as Munch joined him. "Warner called," the detective said. "The bullet from Jackson's brain was intact. She said ballistics can match it if we find the gun."

"His gun wasn't the murder weapon?"

Munch shook his head. "Nope. They're running his gun through the database to see if anything comes up we can use as leverage."

"They'd better hurry. We've only got three hours."

"I know." Silence settled over the room as they listened to Olivia tell O'Donnell that if he didn't talk soon, he'd be facing twenty-five years for kidnapping. The guy didn't say a word. "Calhoun's still going over his notes to find that address," Munch said, breaking the silence. "He's getting frustrated."

Cragen snorted. "Aren't we all."

On the other side of the two-way, Elliot leaned against the dingy green wall of the interrogation room and crossed his arms. He was getting ticked. They had three hours to flip this guy, and it wasn't working.

"Look, Kevin, we've got you on the van. We know you work for Philip Sullivan. How's holding out gonna hurt you?" Olivia asked, leaning forward a little in her seat.

O'Donnell's brown eyes flashed as he put his handcuffed hands on the table and leaned forward, getting just inches from Olivia's face. "Look, lady, I rat him out now, and I'm dead in prison. Frankly, I'd rather cut my losses and take the jail time."

"You'd throw your life away for a bastard like him?" Elliot said incredulously. "You're dumber than I thought."

His face grew red at that remark, but O'Donnell said nothing.

"Doesn't it matter to you that a woman's life is at stake here?" Olivia asked. O'Donnell just looked at her.

Elliot shook his head and walked out the door. Cragen and Munch stood in the center of the observation room, arms folded across their chests and defeated expressions on their faces. "Unless we come up with something fast, he's not talking," Elliot said quietly.

"Yeah, I know." Cragen sighed. "Let him sweat for a little while. Go help Calhoun."

In that moment, the door opened, and Fin stuck his head inside the room. "Hey, ballistics called. They got somethin' they want us to see."

Munch glanced at the captain, then followed his partner out the door. Elliot shook his head again and glanced at his captain. He hadn't seen Don Cragen look so old in the longest time. And it scared him. It scared him more how old he'd look if he had to attend Casey's funeral. "Look, Cap, we're running out of time here."

"I know, Elliot, but if you go in there and start roughin' him up, he'll walk." Cragen jerked his head toward the door. "Go help Calhoun."

Elliot sighed and crossed the room in two long strides. He flung the door open in frustration. Jack was seated at his desk, surrounded by file folders. The young man looked exhausted and frustrated, which did nothing to assuage Elliot's temper. "Found anything yet?" he growled.

Jack shook his head and threw another folder down in disgust. "Not a damn thing." With a forlorn sigh, he rested his elbows on his knee and let his head flop into his hands. "I failed her," he whispered.

"Don't talk like that!" Elliot demanded harshly, a lot more harshly than he intended. He took a deep breath and gently touched the younger man's shoulder. "Look, it's three o'clock. We got three more hours to find this guy."

"Yeah." Jack sat up with a sigh and rubbed his forehead.

"Hand me one of those folders."

He wordlessly picked up one of the folders on the desk and passed it to the detective, who plopped down with a sigh into Olivia's desk chair.

* * *

**3:35 p.m.  
Crime Lab, One Police Plaza**

"Find something on the bullet from Jackson's skull?" Fin asked the ballistics tech.

He swung around in his chair with a big grin on his face. "Not exactly."

"Well, then why the hell did you call us down here?"

"Because I did find something on the bullet from your current perp's gun." The tech swiveled back to his computer and hit a couple of keys, his fingers moving like lightning over the keyboard. "Here's the bullet from your guy's weapon."

Munch leaned in closer to peer at the computer screen. The striations showed up clear as day. "Yeah, Beretta nine-mil."

"And here's a bullet from a bank robbery in Texas a couple of months ago. Manager was killed in the crossfire, and the perp was never caught." He hit a couple more keys and the magnified photo of another bullet popped up on the screen.

Fin's eyebrows shot up, and Munch gave a low whistle.

"The striations match," the tech said with a triumphant grin.

"I think this qualifies as leverage," Munch said quietly as he reached for his cell phone.

* * *

Elliot wordlessly flipped his phone shut and sighed. They had him. Oh, God, they had him. He glanced quickly at his watch. Just after three. They'd have to move fast.

"What?"

A voice broke into his thoughts, and he looked up to see Jack staring at him.

"What do they have?"

"Leverage," Elliot replied. Suddenly a familiar face standing behind Jack caught his eye, and he practically leapt to his feet. "Mr. McCoy," he said, startled.

"Detective Stabler." The District Attorney nodded his greeting. "Any news?"

"We, uh, just caught a big break, sir. I'm about to tell the Cap about it." Elliot's eyes widened as an idea struck him. "Actually, sir, it might be good you're here. Follow me."

McCoy wound his way around the desks before he stopped briefly next to Elliot's. His blue eyes connected with Jack Calhoun's blue eyes, and Jack stood, file folder in hand. "You must be Jack Calhoun," McCoy said quietly.

"Yes sir." Jack stuck out his hand, and the elder man shook it politely.

A smile played on the corner of McCoy's lips. "Take good care of her when we get her back."

Jack smiled. "I will, sir," he said sincerely.

"Sir." McCoy turned to see Elliot standing by the door to the observation room, his hand on the doorknob. He silently followed the detective into the room.

Cragen's surprise at seeing McCoy was perfectly evident, but he recovered quickly. "I'm afraid we don't have much yet, sir."

"Actually, Cap, John just called me, and I think you'll wanna hear this."

* * *

**4:08 p.m.**

Jack sighed again as he flipped through yet another folder. He was having trouble concentrating on the task at hand. A clock kept ticking in his head, taunting him, reminding him that time was slipping away from him. They had less than four hours to come up with an answer. Less than two hundred forty minutes. The pressure combined with the lack of sleep was getting to him.

Suddenly something caught his eye, and he started forward. His eyes grew even wider as they skimmed the page, and his heart raced with excitement. "Yes!" he shouted, jumping up from his chair.

Quickly he sprinted across the room to the observation room. He flung open the door, startling McCoy, the Captain, and Elliot, who were conversing in a small huddle. "I found it," he said breathlessly.

"Found the address?" Elliot asked, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

"Yeah. I knew I'd been there before. We've got him. We've got the link to Sullivan. A solid lead. He took me to this house when I first joined him, kind of an initiation. I think she's there."

Elliot sighed and folded his arms in front of his chest, his gaze flickering back and forth between the three men with him. "Now we just have to prove it."

* * *

**4:20 p.m.**

Olivia followed her partner into the interrogation room and wordlessly sat in the seat across from their fidgety suspect. After what Elliot and Jack had just shared with her, she could hardly keep her joy contained, but she forced herself to sit quietly and let Elliot take the lead.

"You've been a bad boy, O'Donnell," Elliot said as he pulled out a seat at the end of the table. He flipped it around and sat in it backward, his long legs draping over the edge of the chair.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Detective," O'Donnell answered.

"Well, before we go into that, there's someone I want you to meet." He waved toward the two-way.

The door opened, revealing Jack. He trained his cold blue eyes on O'Donnell, who was visibly startled to see him.

"I see you recognize Jack O'Brian," Elliot said with a smile. "Or should I say, Jack Calhoun?"

"Hey, Kev," Jack said icily, shifting the file folder in his right hand to his other hand. A new emotion had replaced the guilt he'd been struggling with hours ago. Anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" O'Donnell growled.

"You asked for me, remember?"

Something flickered behind the big man's brown eyes, but it disappeared quickly. "You're crazy," he mumbled.

Jack threw the folder down on the table with such force that the thud echoed through the tiny room. "Enough crap," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Where is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He's talking about the ADA you helped kidnap for Philip Sullivan," Olivia interjected. "Gutsy move, Kevin. Gutsy… and stupid. The District Attorney doesn't like it when he has to replace ADA's for no reason."

"Yeah," Elliot said. "You know, we've got you dead to rights on assaulting a police officer and kidnapping. We know you rented the van that hauled her off. But now we got you for murder, too."

O'Donnell's eyes widened even more at that. "But she's not—" He quickly shut his mouth, but not before the damage had been done.

Elliot's eyebrows went up. "Dead?" he finished. "No, we know ADA Novak isn't dead yet. Your boss isn't that dumb. We're talking about that bank robbery down in Texas a couple of months ago. Remember that?" He could tell by the way O'Donnell blanched that he certainly did.

"We did some checking, Kevin," Jack said, his tone still threatening. "Turns out that you bought a two-way ticket to Dallas just days before the robbery took place. And you left just two days after."

"Coincidence," O'Donnell said, trying to recover.

"I doubt the jury'll see it that way," Olivia said. "Especially once they take a look at the ballistics test we ran on your Beretta." She reached across the table and flipped open the folder Jack had thrown down. She pulled out two different photos of a magnified nine-millimeter bullet and laid them out side by side. "The one on the left's from your gun. The one on the right's from the bank robbery. Our lab confirms that they match."

O'Donnell's face was completely ashen, and his jaw was slack.

"Juries convict fast down in the Lone Star State," Jack said menacingly. "You killed someone in the commission of a felony. That's murder one down there. They give the death penalty out like candy. You'll go through a couple of appeals, but they'll be denied. And then, in a year, maybe two, they'll strap you to that gurney, hook you up, and pump potassium chloride through your veins." He leaned down and got right next to O'Donnell's face. "And I'll be there watching," he whispered.

"Unless you tell us where she is," Elliot interjected. "We've got the District Attorney himself right in that room." He pointed to the two-way and watched as O'Donnell's fear-filled eyes followed. "He's willing to talk to the Dallas District Attorney and see if he can get the death penalty off the table down there."

"What about the kidnapping and assault?" O'Donnell asked quietly.

Elliot shrugged. "The DA told me that he's willing to offer ten-to-twenty on both, served concurrently."

O'Donnell was quivering now, partially because of Jack's close proximity to him. He could feel the younger man seething. "I'll be branded a rat and killed," he whispered.

"We could leave you in here with Calhoun for a while," Olivia suggested.

"No!" His eyes went wide. "Okay, okay, I'll talk." He took a deep breath.

Jack pulled out a piece of paper out of the folder and shoved it under O'Donnell's nose. "Sullivan took me here when I first joined him. Is that where he is?"

The other man looked at it for a second, then nodded slowly.

"Is that where she is?"

Again, another nod.

Jack grabbed the other man's chin roughly and forced him to look into his eyes. "She'd better be okay," he seethed. "Or I swear to God you won't have to worry about being branded a rat."

"Jack."

He looked up to see Elliot and Olivia standing by the door. He shot another glare at the pathetic man before him and let go of his chin.

Elliot reached out and grasped the younger man's shoulder. "Let's go save your girl," he said quietly.

Cragen and McCoy met them in the squad room as the three grabbed their guns out of their respective drawers. "Seaford P.D. will meet you at the house," Cragen said quietly.

"It'll take us about an hour to get out there," Elliot said, slipping his Glock into his shoulder-holster.

"You'd better move it, then," McCoy said. "I'd hate to bury another ADA."

Olivia and Elliot looked at each other. They knew he was referring to Alexandra Borgia, the ADA that had been killed three years prior. They didn't even want to think about that mess. "Let's go," Elliot said quietly as he ran out the door, Olivia and Jack close on his heels.

* * *

Whew! Another cliffie! I'm sorry I'm evil like that. Are they gonna make it in time? Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thank you again for all the reviews... particularly zero-zip., Clarissa, and LittleMiszCaseyNovak. Ya'll are awesome for reviewing every single chapter. We're not quite at the end, but we're getting pretty close. Hope ya'll enjoy this next one!

**Chapter 9**

**5:15 p.m.  
659 Waverly Avenue  
Seaford, New York**

Philip Sullivan softly lifted the blinds of the window of his study. He smiled to himself as he watched ten marked and unmarked NYPD and Seaford police cars park in front of his long driveway. "Atta-boy, Jack," he said softly. He glanced quickly at his watch, and his eyebrows lifted. "You're early, too."

He crossed the room to his desk and opened the top left-hand drawer, revealing the forty-five-caliber pistol he kept there. He pulled it and the magazine out almost reverently. In two swift motions, he slid the magazine into the butt of the gun and pulled back the slide, immediately chambering a round. A boy like Jack wouldn't go down with just his twenty-two. He'd need some serious firepower.

He'd been waiting for this moment for four long months. He might not kill Jack Calhoun. But he would certainly make him suffer. He'd show the arrogant bastard that he'd made a mistake leaving the organization. Sullivan would break him of everything he'd worked so hard for - his job, his girl, his self-righteous pride. Sullivan would show the prick that he was no better than him, that he was capable of everything he stood against.

After all, that was what this was all about. Sure, it was about revenge for ratting him out. But Jack would move on if his little girlfriend was dead. But if Philip Sullivan could take him down too, make him crawl and grovel... that was ten times better than just killing her. She would be left alive, knowing that her knight in shining white armor was tarnished. And Jack would be utterly disgraced, a murderer and a fiend. Sullivan could care less if he died knowing that Jack went down with him.

Jack Calhoun would either become a monster or die.

* * *

Jack's mind whirled as he strapped on a Kevlar vest over his t-shirt and checked the gun Elliot had given him. The last time he'd been at this place, it was as a completely different person. Being Jack O'Brian had been the acting job of his career, since he and that Jack were completely different. And yet, the longer he'd stayed under Sullivan, more he had started to think like Sullivan. And it scared him. He thanked his lucky stars yet again for bringing Casey into his life.

"Hey, Calhoun."

Olivia's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the pretty detective standing in front of him, her chest covered in a Kevlar vest like his. She cocked an eyebrow at him and jerked her head toward the mansion in front of them. He smiled and walked toward her, his gun pointed at the ground in a safe position.

"Hell of a house," Olivia said quietly as they joined Elliot and seven black-clad SWAT officers.

"You can bet Sullivan's men are in there, armed and ready," Jack replied as he looped his external earpiece over his left ear and tucked the battery pack into his back pocket.

The group of officers turned to begin the long hike up the driveway. The sun was starting its descent behind them, and the leafless trees that lined the driveway cast eerie shadows across them.

"How many does he have?" Elliot asked.

The younger man shrugged. "No tellin'. He doesn't like a lot of bodyguards. He'll probably have one or two guarding Casey, but no more than necessary."

They rounded a curve in the driveway, and Elliot gave a low whistle when he saw the four-story mansion in front of them. Its colonial-era brick façade was covered in ivy in strategic places. Four rows of windows reflected the setting sun, so they couldn't see any interior lights. If he didn't know any better, Elliot would have sworn the house belonged to some sort of rich movie star, not a mob boss.

"There're a lot of rooms he could hide her in, and a lot of rooms he can hide in," Jack continued. "Fortunately, there're no secret passageways or anything, at least none that I remember. It's a pretty straight-forward floorplan."

"What do you suggest?" one of the SWAT guys, a Seaford cop named Rogers, piped up.

"Four on the first floor. The rest pair off and clear each floor, one by one. First, third, and fourth floors don't separate into halls. Second floor does."

Elliot nodded approvingly, and they fanned out, five on either side of the driveway. Suddenly, Jack stopped, his mouth wide open, and stared at the building.

"What?" Olivia asked.

"I just saw the curtains move. On the third floor." He pointed. "Third window from the left."

Olivia stared hard at the building. Just when she was about to give up, sure enough, the curtain in the window barely moved. "He's right. There's someone up there."

"All right, Liv, you and Rogers check out that room. We'll clear the rest of the building," Elliot instructed, giving his partner a look as they picked up the pace to the building.

Four SWAT quietly maneuvered around the back, guns at the ready. Elliot motioned silently toward Olivia and Jack to follow him to the front door, and they nodded. Olivia pulled her weapon from her holster and held it at the ready. Elliot climbed the three steps to the front door and shot one more glance at Olivia and Jack, who crouched along the wall to his left.

"NYPD, open up!" Elliot yelled and banged on the door.

No answer.

Rogers and another officer moved in front of Elliot and positioned the battering ram over the lock. They brought it back, then swung it forward with all their might. The thick wooden door cracked with the blow, but stayed shut. Rogers counted softly as they swung it back and forward again. This time, it completely splintered the lock and the doorframe.

Elliot quickly crossed the foyer to the stairs going up the center of the room. Olivia, Jack, Rogers, and the two other SWAT were hot on his heels.

They ascended the stairs quickly, whispers of "Clear!" from the other SWAT echoing through their earpieces. In a matter of seconds, the six officers reached the second-floor landing. Jack motioned for two officers to clear the hallway to their right, and they nodded.

He quickly turned and followed Elliot and Olivia into the long hallway on their left. Rogers held the door open for him with his foot, and as soon as Jack entered the hall, he let it softly close behind him. The four SWAT from downstairs had already made it to the second level, and were quickly clearing the rooms on either side of them.

Elliot motioned to Jack, Olivia, and Rogers. "Stairs," he whispered, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. They nodded in understanding and followed him. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned to face the others. "On three," he whispered. "One, two, three!" With that, he flung the door open.

A quick look into the stairwell told him it was clear. He jerked his head, signaling the others to follow him up the stairs. Step by step, they climbed to the third-floor landing. "Liv, Rogers," Elliot whispered.

Olivia nodded and quickly opened the door, letting Jack and Elliot continue up the stairs to the top floor. Suddenly a shot echoed in the tiny space, and a bullet whistled past her ear. Olivia pulled back, breathing hard. "Holy shit," she whispered. "Can you see him?"

Rogers slowly and cautiously glanced around the corner. He could see half of a very big man trying to conceal himself in a doorway a few feet down. He pulled back quickly. "Yeah. About twenty feet away."

"Right." Olivia wiped at an annoying bead of perspiration making its way down her face. "How much you wanna bet this guy wasn't hired for his brains?"

A grin spread across the other cop's face. "I'll take that bet."

Slowly, he moved toward the open door, hoping that the guy would take the bait. Sure enough, the big thug fell for it. Olivia watched as the thug stepped out into the hallway to draw them out.

"Freeze! Police!" she shouted as she leveled her own gun at him. He started to raise his gun, but it wasn't fast enough. Olivia aimed for the center of mass and squeezed the trigger twice. Immediately he dropped to the ground with a thud.

"You win," Rogers said with a grin.

"I'd rather not," she replied, her eyes fixed on the crimson pool that started to spread across the wood floor. She carefully stepped into the hallway, her brown eyes darting about to make sure there wasn't anyone else that would jump out at her.

"Third door on the right," Rogers said, motioning with the barrel of his gun. "That side's the front."

Olivia nodded and gingerly stepped over the man she'd shot. He was out cold, if not dead, and she suppressed a shudder. She shifted her weapon to her left hand and reached for the doorknob. Rogers moved around her to stand on the other side of the door, finger on the trigger of his automatic rifle. She glanced up at him, waiting for his signal.

He nodded, and she tried the door handle. It didn't budge. "Locked," she whispered. "Someone doesn't want something getting out." She banged on the door loudly with her fist. "Casey!" she called. "Casey, are you in there?"

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, and she prayed they were right. _Oh, God, please let her be in there…_

"Liv?" a familiar, yet frightened voice finally shouted, and Olivia let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Olivia, is that you?"

"Yeah! Sweetie, can you unlock the door?"

"No! It uses a key!"

"Okay. Is there anyone with you?"

"No, it's just me! Get me out!"

"Hang on, we'll get you out in a sec!" Olivia glanced at Rogers. "Break it down?"

Rogers shrugged. "Don't see any other options."

Olivia nodded. "Right." Rogers slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved in front of the door. He nodded at Olivia, signaling that he was ready. "Casey," Olivia called. "Casey, move away from the door! We're gonna break it down!"

They heard some movement in the room, and then Casey's muffled voice called, "Okay!"

Rogers reared back and gave the door one swift kick. The thin wooden door gave in with a resounding _crack_. Olivia burst into the room and spotted Casey standing by the window, a relieved expression gracing her face. "Casey!"

The young ADA launched herself at her friend, and Olivia quickly holstered her weapon before catching her in her arms. "Oh, God, Liv," Casey sobbed as she wrapped her arms around the detective's neck. Everything she'd been through in the past twenty hours, all the hurt that had built up, came rushing out in a torrent of tears.

"Shh," Olivia soothed, gently rubbing her back for a couple of seconds. She gently grasped Casey's shaking shoulders and pulled her away so she could look at her. "You hurt?" she asked, giving the attorney's body a quick visual inspection. She touched the back of Casey's head, checking for a lump.

"No," Casey answered, furiously wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. "They used chloroform. Where's Jack?"

"Here, with Elliot." Olivia wrapped an arm around Casey's waist and gently led her to the door. "Let's get you outta here."

* * *

Jack was seeing red as he and Elliot made their way toward the only door at the end of the fourth floor hallway. The rage that had been building up in him for the past twenty hours was threatening to rear its ugly head. He'd never been so angry in his entire life, and they still hadn't found the bastard responsible for kidnapping his Casey. Part of him hoped that Elliot would let him beat the son of a bitch senseless.

Elliot glanced at his companion. Jack's jaw was clenched, and his knuckles were white against the dark gray of his gun. He was ready to blow. No, Elliot corrected himself, he _would_ blow, the second they saw Sullivan.

"Study," Jack whispered, his voice interrupting Elliot's thoughts.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Sullivan's study. The door at the end of the hall."

Elliot nodded. "Right. I'll go in first."

"No!" Jack's fierce whisper caught Elliot off guard, and he stopped to stare at the younger man. "I'll go first."

"Sure," Elliot said hesitantly. He wasn't about to argue with Jack when he had that grip on the gun.

They reached the door in a matter of seconds. Jack cradled his gun in his right hand and reached up with his left to knock on the door. "Come in, boyo!"

The familiar voice coming from inside the room stopped him cold, and he gritted his teeth in anger. Elliot reached down and slowly opened the door. A handsome older man was seated at the desk, his hands folded innocently over his chest. _Philip Sullivan, in the flesh,_ Elliot thought as he raised his gun and followed Jack into the room.

"You're early, lad," Sullivan said in his barely-perceptible Irish accent. "I'm impressed. But then, I was always impressed with ya, Jack."

"Shut up," Jack growled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elliot position himself on the wall with a clear bead to Sullivan's heart.

"What're ya gonna do? Shoot me?" Sullivan chuckled at the rage that flashed through Jack's eyes.

"I should," he said quietly.

"Oh, c'mon, Jack. I deserve it! I put you through hell! I took the woman you love and threatened to kill her!" He smiled as Jack tightened his grip on the gun.

"Jack," Elliot whispered. The younger man was starting to worry him. Elliot could see the beads of perspiration form on the tanned forehead, the gun in his hand start to shake with his effort to remain in control.

"Go ahead, Jack!" Sullivan goaded.

Jack's finger barely touched the trigger of his weapon, and Sullivan practically cackled.

"What're ya waitin' for, lad? I'm here, you're here. This is what you want, isn't it? Ever since ya first heard about it. I know you. I know ya dreamed about it. About puttin' a bullet in me chest. Go on. Do it. I'm unarmed! I can't shoot back."

His hand started to shake despite his tight grip on it, and he could feel a trickle of sweat make its way down his face.

"Jack," Elliot said again.

Just then, he heard Olivia's voice come over his earpiece. "Hostage safe and unharmed." _She's alive? She's okay?_

Sullivan laughed. "Your girl was wrong, Jack. You're just like me."

_Casey._ Her face flashed before his eyes. He couldn't do it. She made him a better person than he ever thought, and she was okay. Despite what the bastard had done, despite how much he wanted to, he couldn't kill him now. "No," Jack whispered. "I'm nothing like you, Phil." He could see the mixture of desperation and confusion wash over the older man's face.

With a sigh, Jack lowered his gun. "I'm much better than you could ever hope to be."

"Jack." There was no mirth in Sullivan's voice now. "Jack, you son of a bitch, shoot me! Shoot me!"

"No!" Jack shouted. "I'm done with you! I'm not Jack O'Brian!"

Sullivan's face grew livid with rage.

"You'll have your day in court. And I'll be there to make sure that you get the maximum amount of time available under the law." Jack let his gun hand fall to his side. "And you're under arrest." With that he turned around and started to walk out the door.

Until Elliot suddenly shouted, "Jack, watch it!"

He whipped around to see Sullivan leap to his feet, face red, and suddenly grab a pistol from behind his back. Jack was frozen in his place, unable to even raise his gun.

"Time to say goodbye, Jack," Sullivan said quietly. Jack squeezed his eyes shut.

_Bang! Bang!_

Jack held his breath, anticipating the painful feeling of bullets ripping through his body. Nothing. _What the hell?_ He slowly opened one eye, half expecting to see the bright light of heaven in front of him. But there was no bright light.

All he saw was a tell-tale splatter of blood on the wall behind where Sullivan's head had just been. Shocked, he opened the other eye. Sullivan had disappeared.

He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head just in time to see Elliot replace his weapon in its holster. "Elliot?" he asked quietly. His head spun when he looked down and saw two legs sticking out from behind the desk. They didn't move.

Elliot shrugged and smiled at the younger man. "Casey would kill me if I let the bastard shoot you."

Jack turned his head to look at the desk, then looked back at Elliot. The detective took a few steps until he stood right next to him. "Elliot, I—"

He just shook his head. "Seeing Casey's face when she sees you is all the thanks I need." He gently clapped Jack on the shoulder with one large hand. "It's over."

"It's over," Jack echoed with a smile and a sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** So... last chapter. Thank you to all of you that have stuck with this. Particularly my three favorite reviewers: Clarissa, LittleMiszCaseyNovak, and zero-zip. (my sounding board). Ya'll are awesome. I'm currently working on another chapter fic and a one-shot, so keep your eyes peeled. Hope you enjoy how I decided to end this!

**Chapter 10**

Casey couldn't stop fidgeting. Olivia had forced her to get checked out by the Seaford EMTs, despite her very vocal protests that she was fine. Hungry, but fine. They had given her a clean bill of health (and a granola bar), and now she and Olivia were seated on the tailgate of the ambulance. "Where is he?" she muttered to no one in particular.

"He's probably finishing getting the house cleared," Olivia replied. She held up her hands in mock surrender at Casey's glare.

"He needs to come. Now." Casey turned her gaze back to the front door of the house, straining to see past the ocean of uniformed and plainclothes cops.

"He'll come. He's fine."

The young ADA didn't answer. She stared at the front door, willing Jack and Elliot to emerge from the darkened mansion. The sun was now a dark orange in the sky to the west, and it was becoming difficult to see in the gathering dust. She was exhausted, but most of all, she wanted to see the man she loved. They had heard the shot minutes before, and Olivia had to physically restrain her from running into the house.

Finally she spotted two tall figures coming out of the house. Elliot had one arm around Jack's shoulders. They looked incredibly exhausted.

Before Olivia could stop her, Casey leapt off the tailgate and dashed toward the two men. "Jack!" she called.

Jack looked up just in time to see Casey throw herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around the woman he thought he'd never see again and held her close to his body. The pair didn't even notice Elliot leave them to stand by Olivia a few yards away.

Casey held him close and breathed in his scent. She could feel his stubble scratch against her cheek, like he hadn't shaved in days. "I knew you'd come," she said softly into his ear.

That was all it took. The tears he'd been holding back let loose and tracked down his cheek, falling softly into her strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered.

She pulled back a little so that she could look him in the eyes, but she still held his trembling body close to hers. "What for?" she asked, confused.

"For getting you into this mess," Jack replied quietly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "If I hadn't called you, if I hadn't started this whole thing…"

A finger to his lips silenced him. Casey smiled and moved her finger to his cheek, gently wiping away his tears. "It's not your fault," she said quietly. Jack averted his eyes, unable to look her in the face. "Hey." She softly grasped his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes. "It's not your fault," she repeated as sternly and gently as she could. "If anything, I'm just as much to blame as you are. I should have checked my office more, paid more attention to things around me. I should have been more careful."

"Can you forgive me?" he asked softly.

Casey chuckled and snaked her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the short dark hairs at the back of his head. "Baby, there's nothing to forgive." A seductive smirk played at the corners of her mouth. "Now what does a girl have to do to get a kiss around here?"

Jack laughed and pressed his lips to hers. Casey moaned into his mouth, and she couldn't stop a shiver as his tongue darted in. She needed to taste him as much as he needed to taste her, to know he was all right. Her knees buckled as his warm tongue stroked hers, and she felt warmth flood her entire being as his hand moved from her waist to touch her long hair, to twirl the soft red curls between his fingers. God, she loved this man.

Finally the need for oxygen overcame them, and they slowly pulled apart. Jack smiled as he opened his eyes and they connected with her shining, green orbs. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"I love you, too," she returned.

"You know..." Jack paused and took a deep breath. "Sullivan told me that I was just like him."

"But you're not."

"I know. But I almost shot him in there. In cold blood. I almost murdered him."

"But you didn't." Casey brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and gently cupped his cheek. "You're a wonderful man, Jack. I've known that since the moment I met you. I love Jack Calhoun, the man that risked his life to save mine. Who you were pretending to be before doesn't matter to me."

A smile split his face, and he tightened his grip on her waist. "I'm a pretty lucky man, Casey Novak."

She grinned. "Damn right." His mouth crashed down on hers again, and the rest of the world just faded away.

* * *

**7:28 p.m.  
Mulroney's Bar  
March 9**

Casey flung open Mulroney's front door and dashed into the room. She chuckled to herself as she shook the spring rain from her jacket and hung it on a coat rack near the door.

Her green eyes scanned the half-empty room for her friends. Finally, she spotted Olivia and Elliot at a table in the center of the room. A smile spread across her face when she saw that Elliot's arm was draped across the back of Olivia's chair. She didn't have any solid evidence that the two were dating, but she certainly suspected that something was up.

As she approached them, Olivia looked up and a huge smile crossed her face when she spotted the red-head. "Hey, Casey," she greeted the ADA.

"Hey, guys!" She glanced at the bartender and ordered a beer. He nodded and smiled at the familiar red-head whose life had changed by walking into his bar six months ago.

Casey seated herself across from Elliot just as the bartender brought over her beer. She sipped it gratefully and sat back.

"Hey, where's your man?" Elliot asked. "He told us seven-thirty."

"He called a couple of minutes ago. Got hung up at the office. He'll be here soon." Jack had been reinstated as an agent a couple of weeks prior to this meeting. It was hard for her to believe that he'd only been back a month.

When the marshals had finally shipped all his belongings from Texas, she'd slyly suggested that he just move into her place. Jack had grinned at her and said, "Why not?" Their relationship had had its rocky points, since their personalities were similarly sarcastic and their schedules equally busy. But they'd managed to work it out, and Casey was happier than ever.

"You wouldn't happen to have any idea what this is all about?" Olivia asked, sipping her beer. "He wouldn't tell me a thing."

Casey shook her head and swept one of her red curls off her shoulder. "Sorry. He's been acting weird lately. I think he's hiding something."

Elliot cocked an eyebrow at her. "Now, why would he want to do something like that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly, eliciting a grin from the detective. "Stabler, if you know something, you'd better tell me. Especially if you know what's good for you."

"Are you threatening an officer of the law, Counselor?" he teased.

"Damn right."

Olivia and Elliot chuckled, and Casey couldn't resist a grin.

The young attorney's face grew serious. "Seriously, though. You guys approve, right?"

"Hun, we've been through this," Olivia said, reaching across the table to gently squeeze Casey's hand. "He's a great guy."

"I don't know if we could've found you without him," Elliot said seriously.

Casey smiled. "Good."

Olivia suddenly looked past Casey toward the door. "Speak of the devil," she murmured.

Casey turned a little in her chair to see Jack hang up his coat next to hers. His gaze turned in their direction, and she smiled and waved. He returned the smile and went up to the bar. Jack spoke briefly with the bartender, who smiled and drew him a beer, and then he joined them at the table.

"Hey," he greeted them before he bent down and gently kissed Casey's lips. "Sorry I'm late." He slid into the chair beside Casey with a sigh. "Long day."

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table. "So, Double-Oh-Seven," Elliot said, grinning at the chuckles from his friends at the use of his new nickname for Jack. "When're you gonna tell us why you called us all here?"

"My, my, you sure are impatient, Detective," Jack teased as he took a long gulp of his beer. "I just got here. I don't suppose you have plans after this?" He laughed heartily at Elliot's ill-disguised blush.

"You oughta be careful, Fibbie," Elliot shot back good-naturedly. "Next time I might not be around to save your scrawny hide."

Jack rolled his eyes and groaned. "Not again with that life-saving number."

Casey laughed as she wrapped an arm around her boyfriend's broad shoulders. "We're both very grateful, Elliot." Jack smiled and turned his head to softly kiss her lips.

"You two are bordering on disgusting," Olivia teased.

"Just wait, Liv," Jack retorted. "Pretty soon, you and Stabler here will be just like us." He grinned at the blush that spread across Olivia's tanned face.

Casey's eyes widened. "I knew it!" she crowed. "You're dating, aren't you?"

Elliot shrugged and smiled. "I don't know if you could call it 'dating'."

"We've been on a couple dinners," Olivia interjected. "Not exactly dating, per se."

Casey looked at them, not believing it for a second. "Right. That's a bunch of bull."

"So, Jack," Elliot quickly changed the subject. "How about it? Why'd you bring us here?"

Jack just smiled. He turned around in his chair and nodded at the bartender, who immediately cut off the quiet music that had been playing in the background. He cleared his throat and stood. "Listen up, everyone!" he called. Heads quickly turned to look at them.

"Jack, what's going on?" Casey asked, a confused expression on her pretty face.

"Just, hang on, honey," he said with a smile. "Everyone, listen up!" He turned to face his stunned girlfriend and her equally surprised friends.

"Six months ago," Jack began. "I met the most amazing woman in the world in this very bar. And she immediately changed my life. She made me into something far better than I could ever dream of being. She made me see the world in a different light, in a better light. And somehow, she found it in her to love someone like me. And I've never looked back."

He reached down and gently grasped Casey's left hand, tenderly cradling it in his right hand. "Casey, I've loved you since the minute I saw you. You've been the best thing that's ever happened to me. When you were missing, I got a glimpse of my life without you. And I never, ever want to experience that again. I want you by my side, for the rest of our lives."

Casey's eyes widened as he pulled a velvet box from his jacket pocket. Still holding her hand, he slowly dropped down onto one knee in front of her, and her eyes immediately welled up with tears. Jack deftly flipped the box open with his left hand, and Casey gasped. Inside was the most beautiful diamond ring she'd ever seen, the trio of diamonds in a white-gold setting sparkling in the lights of the bar.

"Casey Novak." Jack looked up at her, tears glistening in his own blue eyes. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, she was struck dumb, both by the wonderful man in front of her and the beauty of the moment. "Oh my God," she murmured. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she reached out with her free hand to gently cup Jack's cheek. "Yes," she whispered, a huge smile crossing her face. "A thousand times yes."

Loud applause broke out across the bar as a smiling Jack slipped the ring onto her finger and helped her to her feet. Casey wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his strong frame, smiling as she felt his hands rest on her hips. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he returned before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Casey tried to quash the butterflies flitting around in her stomach as her mother straightened the long train on her pure white wedding dress. She glanced in the mirror at Olivia, who stood in the background in her brown and blue bridesmaid dress. "I'm so nervous, Liv," she said with a sigh.

"It's your wedding day, Casey," the detective replied with a reassuring smile. "You're supposed to be nervous."

"I feel like I'm gonna hurl. I don't think I've been this nervous since my first day of law school."

Linda Novak stood up and gave her daughter a smile. "Olivia's right, honey," she said with a smile, her fingers gently brushing through Casey's long red curls. "I was scared to death the day I married your father. But trust me. All those butterflies will go away the second you see him at the altar."

Casey smiled and wrapped her long arms around her mother. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered.

The older woman gently squeezed her daughter's waist and stepped back, pride shining in her own green eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Casey. He's a good man." Over the past six months, the entire Novak family had fallen in love with Jack Calhoun. His witty humor and gentle way of dealing with Casey had deeply impressed Linda and her husband.

She grinned. "I wonder if he's as nervous as I am."

"Honey, he's probably ten times as nervous as you."

Linda didn't know how right she was. In a small choir room adjoining the large sanctuary of the church, Jack paced back and forth, fiddling with his white tie. Elliot's blue eyes followed his trek across the tiny room. "Calm down, man," the detective finally said, checking his blue tie in the mirror one more time. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor."

Jack ran his hands through his dark brown hair and sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

"Take it from someone who knows. Once you see her, you won't even know that there's anyone else in the room."

"Really?"

Elliot smiled and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Really."

A knock sounded at the door, and the minister stuck his head in the room. "We're ready, guys."

The groom took a deep breath, straightened his suit jacket, and followed the minister out into the crowded sanctuary, with Elliot on his heels. He took his place on the floor next to the minister, and his eyes quickly roamed the crowd for familiar faces. Captain Cragen, Fin, and Munch sat three rows back, huge smiles gracing their faces. Jack McCoy and several others he recognized from the DA's office sat behind them.

His eyes moved to the other side of the aisle, where he spotted the blonde head of Andrew Russell sitting toward the back. His mother and father sat in the front row, and he couldn't resist a grin when his mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

Finally the soft introductory strands of Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" floated through the air, and the doors at the back of the church opened wide. Every head in the church turned as Casey's sister, Jenna, made her way down the aisle. She smiled and nodded, almost imperceptibly, at her future brother-in-law.

Next came Olivia, her coffee-colored eyes twinkling at the sight of two of her favorite guys at the altar. Elliot's smile widened as she came closer to him, and she winked as she passed the two men.

Then the piano music shifted to Pachebel's "Canon in D". Jack's blue eyes widened as he caught sight of his bride, dressed in a simple yet beautiful white gown, for the first time, and a grin spread across his handsome face. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, and it showed in his awestruck expression.

Casey held the arm of her father tightly, the medals of his army dress blues glinting in the afternoon sun. A smile graced her pretty face, framed by her long reddish-blonde curls, and her eyes never left the man in front of her. All the horror she'd been through seven months before, all the uncertainty of the past year, melted away as her emerald green eyes connected with Jack's sparkling blue eyes.

The pair reached the front, and James Novak gently took the hand of his daughter from his arm. He softly kissed her head, turned to Jack, and placed her hand in Jack's outstretched hand. "Take care of her," he whispered to the younger man.

Jack nodded and smiled. "I will."

Casey interlaced her fingers with his. "I love you," she mouthed, smiling.

"I love you too," he mouthed back as they turned to face the minister.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began. "We are gathered here today…"

_Fin._


End file.
