Walking Seperate Paths - Chapter X

Title: Walking Separate Paths
Author: Tara
Rating: R/NC-17 (m/f, m/m)
Pairings: Benson/Stabler, Stabler/Beecher, Beecher/Keller, Keller/m
Summary: This is technically an AU: We know that OZ is definitely in NY, and Stabler’s wife Kathy hasn’t left yet. This is set around OZ Season 5. A child prostitution ring leaves Elliot with new answers to his own origins, and redefines a new meaning for family. I suck at writing Summaries, but this is one of my better pieces of fanfic, so enjoy.

CHAPTER X

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, 6:35 a.m.

“You look much better Tobias.” He smiled. A shower, new clothes, and some food went a hell of a long way to making a man feel better.

“Thanks. I feel better.” He waited, then looked her in the eye.

“Please Pete. Don’t prolong this any more than is needs to be. I need to know what’s going on. The past several weeks have been hell. Chris is spiraling out and down and I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I, honey. Neither do I. I don’t know much more than you do, I promise you that.”

“Pete, this is fucking insane! It’s been killing him, a little more, day by day. The nightmares are only a piece of what’s going on! I live with the man! Do you think that I don’t notice when he eats less and won’t tell me what’s going on? Schillinger’s been staring at him with this shit-eating grin on his face, and he-”

“-Schillinger? Tobias, why would Vern-”

“ I don’t know Sister. I know nothing.”

“Good, Toby, because that means that for once, you and I don’t owe each other SHIT.” Chris was standing behind them, leaning on the door to Isolation, staring at them both.

“Come on already, Sister. I’m willing to play. Let’s drop the poker face and throw all of our cards on the table.”

Pete’s face hardened, and she nodded. “Okay, Chris, I’m willing to deal. But I’m going to need you to ante up.”

Toby was getting exasperated. “Look, since I am obviously not a card shark like the two of you, can we drop the Vegas analogies and get to the point?”

Her smile matched Chris’ and she stared Chris down. Stepping past him into the room, she waited for them to follow before shutting the door behind them.

“Chris, I’m going to have to ask you some pretty tough questions. I need you to answer me truthfully.”

Slow exhale…smile… “Fine.”

“Do you want Tobias to stay?”

This question was harder, and Toby could see Chris’ internal struggle. He remained quiet for a few moments. “Yeah, he can stay.”

“Ok, Chris, sit wherever you’d like.”

Eyebrow…Smile…Toby glared at his lover.

“Ok, how about the bed then. Tobias can take the cot, and I’ll take the chair.”

“Whatever you want, Sister.”

Once they were all settled, Pete began again. “Chris, how old are you?”

“Forty-one.”

“Ok, do you remember where you were born?”

Silence. “I was adopted. I don’t know much.”

Toby shifted on the cot, leaning forward slightly. Chris wasn’t very tense yet, and his face was a blank. Sister Pete continued.

“Do you remember anything before foster care?”

“No.”

Pete paused. “Chris, how old were you when you first went into foster care?”

~~~
“He keeps growing out of his fucking clothes. I don’t have money to spend on a fucking runt, bitch. He looks fine to me.”
~~~

“I was six. I was there until fourteen.”

“Did you like you foster parents?”

~~~
It was first grade, and he had rushed home with his report card. He’d gotten all A’s.

“Mom? Mom!” The hand that grabbed his neck was unexpected, and he screamed.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you to shut the fuck up when I’m entertaining?!”

His report card forgotten, he’d gone to bed black and blue. He ripped it up the next day.
~~~

“They were ok, I guess.” His body language made a subtle shift, closing in on itself, and Toby was positive he was lying. As a lawyer, he’d made cases based on interpreting body language, and Chris’ practically screamed “Go Away.”

“Chris, listen to me. Do you remember any of the conversation from last night?”

“Yeah, you cut a deal, and I hit my head.” Classic defensive posture this time, crossed arms and bowed shoulders.

Pete stepped toward him. “Chris, I’m not going to hurt you.” He snorted. “I’m here, apologizing for the mistakes I’ve made, and I’m going to help you any way that I can.” She paused.


“Right now, you and Tobias have a real shot at freedom if you cooperate with the FBI and the District Attorney. I know it hurts, I know you’d rather be anywhere else right now, but you’re never going to leave OZ alive unless you can tell me the truth.”

Silence streched out between the three of them, from one minute into three. It was 180 long seconds that ticked past Toby like hours. He stood up and walked over to the bed and touched Chris’ arm.

“Chris?” Silence. “Chris, do you want me to leave?” Silence.

“It’s ok. Pete, I’m going to give you two the chance to talk, and maybe he’ll feel more comfortable.” He got as far as the door when the voice stopped him. It was low, and full of pain and heartache. “Please, Toby, please don’t leave. Just…stay.”

“I’ll never leave, Chris, not unless you ask me to.”

Chris paused, and took a deep breath.

“My mom was always drunk. She used to be a happier person when she was drinking. I don’t know why she was so unhappy in the first place. A few months after I came to live with her, she met him, and everything got…worse.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

“Every day. She did too sometimes, but she never did when she was drunk. I used to hope for the days when they had enough money to get blasted together. They’d leave me alone.”

“Chris, last night you heard the report from Dectective Briscoe’s investigation over 20 years ago.”

Nod. “Is that his name? I never knew his name.”

“Yes it is, Detective Lenny Briscoe. I only had a few moments to speak with him last night, but he seems like a very nice man. Chris, do you remember why you were in the dumpster that day?”

Silence. “I don’t remember, and I’m not shitting you this time, I honestly don’t fucking remember. I just remember…the rats.”

“Rats?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear or feel anything, but there was this rat, and it was trying to eat my skin…I screamed. I don’t remember anything else.”

Chris’ posture looked…defeated, like a client who’d confessed to murder, and somehow, it hurt Toby more to hear it from Chris than to hear it from anyone else.

“Ok, Chris, we’re doing fine. I need to know, do you remember any one of them touching you, either the man, or your mother?”

This time, the answer was immediate, and the tone was confused. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I’m missing things, things that were important, but all I can see is black. They come back as flashes sometimes, but I can’t remember them.”

“Ok, that’s fine. And I’m here to let you know that this is also a normal reaction to sexual abuse.”

This time, he flinched. Toby could see it, the fine tremor in the shoulders and crossed arms. He caught her eye and shook his head in the negative.

“How about some easy questions now, honey.” Her tone was soothing, and she was doing her best to keep it that way.

“Do you remember a social worker ever visiting you?”

Confusion. Eyebrow. Confusion.

“No…Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to run away, but they always told me that I had to stay there, that otherwise the government would put me in jail…”

His smirk was hollow this time, and frightening with its lack of any pure emotion. “I guess things ended up fixing themselves in the end, though, right?”

“NO, Chris. They haven’t. You may have made some stupid decisions in your time, but for my money, it probably would have been nice if you’d even had a nice chance to start with. There are a few things that have been bugging me, ever since I sat through last night’s fiasco, and talking to you today.”

“Let me guess,” Toby said. “I’m willing to bet the conveniently absent social worker is one, and the longevity of this case is the other.”

“You’re right, Tobias, and I’m pretty sure that-“

“Wait a minute. Will you two stop fucking around the point and answer a few questions? What the fuck does the social worker have to do with it? He put me there in the first place” Chris was angry, and hurt.

Beecher paused and mulled over the answer. “First, every child assigned to a state adoption agency is supposed to be monitored by a state licensed social worker, specifically assigned to that case. What we find odd is the fact that your foster home was never visited, or monitored by the case worker. Visits help weed out cases of abuse and neglect, and the social worker is required to report negligent parents to the proper authorities. The fact that you managed to scrape through for over 8 years is suspicious to begin with.”

Sister Peter Marie nodded. “Yes, and what they didn’t have the chance to explain last night is that they’ve found others.”

“Others…” Chris felt sick again, and he sat back heavily against the bed.

“Yes, Chris, other children, all dead and horribly mutilated. They think that you might actually be the first case on record, and they’re fishing for information as it is. They need your help.”

Toby froze. “With what? He can’t remember anything.”

“He can, he’s just repressed it, and we can help him with that. Chris, I’m going to need your help finding this man. We can work slowly, and you are going to leave here for a time for treatment.”

“Treatment? I’m not going to a fucking asylum, Sister. I’d rather stay in here my whole fucking life.”

“You won’t be going to an asylum, Mr. Keller.”

All three heads whipped towards the doorway. The small Asian man from last night was standing there, hands open and down, non-threatening.

“I’m Agent George Huang with the FBI, I believe we met last night.”

“Yeah, I remember you. I’m letting you know right now though, I’m not going to go to any hospital, I’ve had enough of them to last me an entire fucking life.”

Inspiration hit, as a sense of calm settled over him. “And I’m sure as hell not going anywhere without Beecher.”

The man’s expression didn’t change, but his face suddenly seemed more aware.

“That’s fine with us, Mr. Keller. We have taken your terms into consideration, and we are here to say that we accept, provided that your help in this case leads to an arrest. Mr. Beecher, is this amenable to you and your client?”

Toby nodded.

“Fine, then, I’ll let the DA give you the particulars. For right now, I can assure you that you will now be in a hospital. With your permission, myself, and Sister Pete if you so choose, will help you begin regression therapy to recover any information about your abuse. Since this cannot be done inside such a turbulent environment, you will be transferred to a safe house outside of Oswald for the present. Mr. Beecher will be joining you in a few days.”

“What?” Toby exclaimed. “Why the delay?”

“Mr. Beecher, when I contacted the prison concerning the specifics of this case, I was told that your cooperation would be paramount to Mr. Keller’s cooperation. Therefore, in order to remove Mr. Keller from OZ without arousing the suspicions of anyone presently serving time here, I need you to acclimate his replacement to his new surroundings.”

“Replacement?” Both men’s voices echoed in the small room, joint looks of confused apprehension passing between them.

“I don’t understand, Agent Huang. If Chris is going to leave, what-? You’re going to get a replacement? Who?”

Huang’s voice was inscrutable, but his mouth was friendly as he smiled. It’ll be easier for you both to understand once you’ve met everyone. Just give me a few moments.”

Addressing Sister Pete this time, he asked, “Is this a secure hallway?”

“Yes. He won’t be seen, and you can get them both out down the back hallway. I’m sure Leo’s already planned for it. Tim too.”

“Yes, he’d mentioned it, I’m just confirming it. We can’t risk the whole thing being botched by a guard or inmate watching them walk through.”

“I understand. I’ll call up to Tim and make sure, and you can bring everyone else in. It’ll be a little cramped, but we can make do.”

Huang nodded, and left the room.

~~~

You know, this is finally one of those times when I really wish I didn’t know what was going on.

She’d been writing out her medication timetables for the day when a shadow had fallen across her paper. Straightening, she stared at the men in the doorway.

“Leo?”

The Warden smiled, and motioned to the other man in the doorway.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctor, but the medic down the hall told me I could find you here. I’m Detective Lenny Briscoe, and I was hoping that you could take a look at one of my fellow officers. His back’s pretty scratched up, and I’d just appreciate it if you could check him out, make sure he’s ok.”

This was confusing, but her reaction as a doctor was instinctual. Her hands clothes around her stethoscope and an opthomaloscope which went into her pockets. Rising, she followed them out into the hall towards Isolation C and D. She was stopped by Leo’s hand.

“Dr. Nathan, I’m sorry, but this is sensitive. I’m not going to ask you to sign any paperwork or anything, it’s already been a pain in my ass, but I’m going to have to ask you to keep quiet about anything you may see or hear today.”

“I understand, Leo. Pete told me that because of Keller’s condition she’d appreciate it if I stayed with them today. I was just going to head over there when you stopped me.”

Glynn sighed. “Good. This makes it easier.”

“Leo, do you mind telling me what’s going on? I couldn’t get much out of Pete last night, and today everyone’s acting all cryptic. It’s driving me insane.”

Sighing, he pushed open the door, looking twice down the hallway before allowing her and Briscoe to enter.

The bed in this room was positioned differently, so that she didn’t have more than a side profile of the man on it until she’d walked in. Seeing his face though, was an entirely different matter.
“Keller! What are you doing out of bed? I told you that I needed to do a check on the bruising…” She trailed off, looking shocked, and her confusion was met and matched in the face of the man on the bed in front of her.

“Excuse me, but I don’t think we’ve met. Do you think I’m someone else?” His voice was the same, his face was the same, his eyes were the same, and yet she could stake her life on the fact that she’d never met this man before in her life. The bruising was gone, the eyes focused and clear.

She stepped back. “Leo?”

“Dr. Nathan, allow me to introduce you to Detective Elliot Stabler, of the Special Victims Unit of Manhattan.”

“I don’t…but-“ her tone was even more confused now, although even as she spoke, she catalouged the pain the face of the man she was staring at.

“Dr., Detective Stabler was…hurt in the line of duty, and we’d appreciate it if you could take a look at him.” Suddenly, her confusion was gone, and everything became automatic.

“Are you hurt?”

The detective began pulling of his shirt, his disdain now focused on the other detective behind her, whose face had gone a careful blank.

She almost swallowed her tongue as the shirt and undershirt came off, revealing the tattoo on his right arm. The scratches and gouging on his back were an entirely different matter. She raised an eyebrow to Leo, but continued.

“I’m sorry if this is a bit cold.” She placed her stethoscope on his chest and listened. He stiffened a bit as she moved, staring straight ahead until she had finished.

Wrapping the scope around her neck, she focused on the scratches. “With the exception of this-“ She indicated the bite- “These are already clean and healing. I’m going to disinfect them anyway, and bandage the-pause-other.”

He nodded, and continued to stare as she dotted peroxide on his scratches, wincing only slightly when she poured it into his bite.

She had just finished taping the bite when a knock came from outside. She drew the curtain around the bed before Glynn stepped forward to answer the door.

Three men were outside, two taller men, and one Asian man, who nodded to Briscoe before addressing the Warden.

“Is everything ok?”

“I think so. Are they in the room next door?”

“Yes. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Let’s get this over with then.”

Briscoe smiled, tiredly, but with genuine humor. “Showtime.”


TBC...