Walking Seperate Paths - Chapter XII

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 set where we know that OZ is in NY, Stabler's wife Kathy hasn't left yet, and Keller never died. 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.

(****Author's note: This chapter contains explicit scenes, including initial descriptions of a post-mortem examination. Please do not read if you are in any way offended by this material!****)

CHAPTER XII:

Manhattan, Special Victims Unit, 9:59 a.m.

His desk was still empty. She'd gotten up for coffee, spent time in the file room, done the paperwork, called Warner's office, and gotten in touch with Alex. There was nothing left for her to do, and his desk was still empty.

"His phone's off, Benson. I've been trying to put in a call for over an hour." Munch spoke over the din of the office, his voice catching her off guard. "I left him 2 messages."

"Well, considering that I've left him three, and Finn's still trying to get in touch with Cragen, we're stuck playing the waiting game. Any luck getting the D.A.?"

"Yeah, she's on her way over. She was pretty pissed to find out this way though. Normally she gets a heads up on our caseload. I gave her most of the specifics and got on the phone with Warner. She'd already filled out the paperwork to have the body transferred over to the M.E.'s Manhattan office by the time I talked to her."

"Did she let you know why she wasn't on scene last night?"

Olivia perched on the edge of the desk, and grabbed her coffee mug. Taking a sip, she continued, "She didn't know anything about it either. She also let me know that the FBI was in contact with her this morning."

"Ahhh..." John smirked, "The plot thickens."

She put down the mug and stared him in the eye. "I don’t know anything John, but I'm not going to say you're wrong. Not this time. She was very quick to let me know that the FBI wanted all of the autopsy results immediately, and that they'd left her three messages ordering a full workup. She very kindly requests our presence."

"Take Finn. I'm going to sit here and try to see if I can sort through the database, and find similar cases. I've been working on it all morning, but the closest I've gotten is a three point match."

"No prob. I'll call if the M.E. has anything to add." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Do me a favor-"

"Don’t worry Liv, I'll give you a call if Elliot calls."

She smiled, and grabbed her coat. "Thanks, John."

He watched her leave the office, sipping his own coffee. He spit it out in distaste. The milk was fucking sour again. He poured it into the trash.

“Munch.” He looked up. Finn was standing by the desk, pulling his coat on over his arms.

“Finn? I thought you were leaving with Liv?”

“I am.” He paused, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. Finding them, he caught John’s eye.

“You notice that something’s up with Benson this morning?” Munch leaned back, tapping his pencil against his chin.

“Yep. She’s been fidgety.”

“Not only that. I’m a little worried about her, Finn. She’s been squirreling around all morning, doing whatever little bullshit she can find to prevent from looking at Elliot’s desk.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Elliot hasn’t shown up without calling in, what, forever? He practically lives here when he’s not at home. You want to hear something interesting?” Munch’s eyebrow lifted, and he stared at his partner.

“I called Elliot’s house about an hour ago, and spoke to his wife. She was just as confused as we were. Turns out that Elliot called her last night, left a message on the machine that he was taking a drive up to Oswald State Penitentiary.”

“OZ? What the hell is Elliot doing up at OZ?” Munch’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t know, but Kathy let me know that Elliot’s exact words were that the ‘Captain asked him to take the drive up to OZ.’ That mean anything to you?”

“Not a goddamn thing. I got the call for brief orders this morning, but the Captain never mentioned anything about it.”

“I figured. I’d better go, Munch.” He turned, and headed towards the exit, stopping only briefly in his stride as John’s next words hit his back.

“Finn, I’ll give you a call if anything turns up. Don’t say anything to Olivia about it yet, ok? Just hold on until we know more. I don’t want her working herself up.”

Finn nodded, more to himself that to anyone else, as his next step took him out the door.

~~~

“Liv! Yo, Liv! Wait up!” Finn sprinted around the corner of the building. She looked back, and seeing him, slowed her stride and waited for him to catch up. She was flushed and tired looking, and even though the day was bright and sunny, she was wearing a heavy turtleneck, and a long leather coat. If he hadn’t known her so well, he might never have noticed that her stride was just a bit…off. Normally, Liv walked like a man, side by side with her male counterparts at the precinct. It set the tone for what she was, and she deliberately dressed and acted the part. It was easier to work with a female cop if you didn’t have to constantly be reminded of the fact that she was female.

Catching up, he matched his stride to hers, the both of them rounding the corner to the parking lot.

“Your car, or mine?” She hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough for his suspicions to be confirmed.

“I’m exhausted, Finn. You mind driving?”

Bingo.

“No problem, Benson. Get in.”

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, 10:03 a.m.

He finally found Huang in the empty staffroom down the hall, sitting a table with Don, both of them sipping coffee.

“Hey, Don, where did the rest of the back-up go?”

Cragen sipped and winced before swallowing. “So far as I know, Cahill’s with Glynn, signing all the legal mumbo-jumbo they had faxed up here this morning. That nun who was with Keller this morning went with them to clear herself for the next few weeks, and that doctor is floating around somewhere.”

Briscoe sat down, pulling up a chair at the cracked formica table across from them both.

“You know, I really don’t like this. I’ve been on the force for a long time.”

Cragen met his eye. “We all have, Lenny. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“I know that, but Stabler’s not really all that stable right now, and-“

“I saw the marks, Lenny. And I know he’s not stable. I’d have him out on vacation if Huang hadn’t cleared him for this in the first place. I know this is messed up, and I’m also bitterly aware that there’s nothing I can fucking do about it. My hands are tied.”

Briscoe stood. Moving to the counter behind them both, he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was like sludge, and definitely didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was hot.

“Hey, Doc, can you at least explain to me what all the fuss is? Couldn’t you have transferred Keller?”

"Normally, that would definitely have to be the easiest and safest option. However, one of the men gunning for Keller is the East Coast leader of the Aryan Brotherhood. All he has to do is put in a call to any one of his cronies in any prison on the coast and we're screwed. There's no way to pull this off and make it look legit without Elliot." George’s hands laced around his cup of coffee as he sat back and stared at the mismatched ceiling tiles.

"This is really fucked up, Doc. I don't want to just throw the man in there with cons, pretending to be the brother he never knew." He paused. "Not to mention that my squad's probably chomping at the bit wondering where the hell I am. I phoned in orders this morning, but I need to get back to Manhattan. Olivia’s left me messages already, and I didn’t even bother to pick up when John called." Cragen sipped more slowly this time, grimacing at the taste. “There’s still something that’s not sitting with me right. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like it should be staring me in the face. It’s right there, and I don’t see it.”

Briscoe sat down and stared into the swirling instant milk drowning in the cup of sludge in his hands.

It was several minutes before Huang spoke. “You know, there’s something that’s been stewing at the back of my mind since Sister Peter Marie went over Keller’s brief retelling with me today.”

“What’s that?”

“She was shocked, as I was at the time, that Keller’s case was allowed to continue for so long. Apparently, Keller’s case worker never visited the home to do the write-up for Social Services, and there was never any number made available to the boy that he could call to report abuse. He seemed surprised at the time that he would have even had a case worker.”

Cragen’s shock was no surprise. “Come on, Doc, how the hell did that happen? I know that things are really tied up with the Child Social Services, but there should at least be a case worker listed on file. My team just cleaned up a case like this a while ago. A young black boy suffering from epilepsy died while under the negligent care of his parents. They’d tried to have the social worker on the case remove the boy from their home, but she never visited.”

Briscoe nodded. “Wasn’t she in the middle of prosecution when she committed suicide? I remember reading about it in the Daily News.”

“Yep. She blew her brains out all over the wall of her apartment, not more than ten feet away from Finn. He was worked up about it for a while.”

Huang nodded as well, taking off his jacket and pulling out a small pad and a piece of paper. “I also remember the case, but in that case, the boy’s case worker was at least reachable, and they knew who she was. Keller’s case stood out because there IS no case worker listed on file. I called the Bureau this morning to have them check it out for me, but I got the same information. There is NOTHING listed on file that even could trace Keller back to whatever adoption agency was used. There is a financial record for his care, with checks being sent to his mother every month from Child Services, but there is no record of any administration sign off.”

“What the hell does NYCS have to say?”

“They’re blaming it on lost paperwork, or a bunch of misfiled cases. They weren’t particularly thrilled when my office threatened to send a few men down there to help them look for it.”

Briscoe looked at him. “Do you think this is a kiddie black market deal?”

Cragen nodded slowly. “We’ve dealt with those before. But this would have to be really complex, if it’s actually buried somewhere within the system itself. It means that there’d have to be someone on the up and up making paperwork disappear.”

Huang smiled. “You think John would mind a phone call?”

Don smiled. “I think this would be right up his alley.”

Medical Examiner’s Office, 1 Police Plaza, 10:22 a.m.

Finn hated the smell of the office, redolent with the sharp antiseptic tang of alcohol, and cleaning fluids, and the sweetish cloying smell of death. As he moved further into the room the scent of cleaning fluids became stronger, and he reached automatically for the small jar of Vicks lying on the table, smearing a small amount under his nose. This was probably the only part of the job he could say that he absolutely hated. He always felt like he had to shower twice after coming here; the smell seemed to stay with you forever. He handed the jar to Benson, but she declined.

“You see Warner yet?” Her voice echoed off the tile walls, bouncing back at him.

“Nope. The assistant’s an ass. He told me that he’d give her the message, and that we should feel free to ‘make ourselves at home.’ I wanted to smack his sneering face. Pimply-ass kid.” She smiled, but didn’t meet his eyes.

The waiting room was small, and he avoided looking at the large window opposite the chairs they sat at. He’d watched more than one parent lose it in front of that glass window, their eyes telling their brain what they didn’t want to see. He pretended to doze as he watched her shuffle nervously, flipping through an old copy of National Geographic without actually seeing the pages.

His eyes followed her hands as she scratched at her neck every few minutes, wincing every time she dug too deep into the skin. That alone wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar if she hadn’t gone to cross her legs, and inhaled sharply. Quickly readjusting her legs to a more comfortably splayed position, she quickly glanced in his direction.

Closing his eyes more tightly, he breathed deeply and evenly. She seemed satisfied, and quickly returned to scanning the magazine.

It was almost 15 minutes before the knock came, and Warner’s face poked around the side of the exam room door.

“Hey Liv, Finn. I’m glad you stopped by.” His eyes popped open and he swung around to smile blearily at her. God, he needed to sleep.

“What’s up, Doc?” She smiled back at him, and motioned for them both to follow her into the next room. The smell was stronger here, and he began to breathe shallowly, more through his mouth than his nose to avoid the smell.

Olivia stepped closer to the other woman, her voice pitched very low to avoid being overheard. He strained, but heard nothing more than the murmuring of low voices as the women conferred. Warner’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, just nodded to Olivia, and stepped back, grabbing a set of latex gloves. Snapping them on, she turned to face them both, leaning back on the stainless steel table behind her. She motioned to the sheet-covered table in the center of the room.

“Before we get started, do either of you mind telling me what’s going on? My office has been fielding calls from the FBI all morning, and I haven’t even received most of the paperwork from the on-call medic. This body hasn’t even had a post mortem workup, it’s just been sitting in a freezer.”

Olivia spoke first. “We got the call almost 48 hours ago, sometime early Wednesday morning. We didn’t even know you hadn’t been notified until this morning. Somebody’s been dodging our follow-up every step of the way.”

Warner frowned. “Where’s Cragen?”

Finn answered. “That’s the point, Doc. The Captain got a call from the higher ups less than 12 hours after we finished on-scene. He’s been AWOL since.”

Warner’s eyebrow lifted, but she said nothing for the moment, merely turning towards the covered body on the table. “You guys going to be ok for this? I wanted you here because I didn’t like the lay of things. I figure at least if you’re here to corroborate the findings, even if the FBI subpoenas the P.M., there’s something to work with.” She paused. “You going to be okay with this? I’ll move as quickly as I can, and I’ll walk you through everything.”

Finn nodded, even though his stomach was rebelling quietly, his coffee and cheese Danish annoyed at even the thought of someone else’s stomach contents. Steeling himself, he pulled on the heavy coated apron she handed him. Olivia did the same.

“You don’t actually have to do anything, just stand there and witness. It’s usually procedure to record my findings, so you’ll be able to hear as well as see.”

Olivia shrugged her hair out of her face. “Do you want us to do anything else?”

“Nope, just stand there for now. I’m warning you now, Benson, that if you don’t have any Vicks under your nose, you might want some. This body’s been in a freezer, but that doesn’t mean it won’t smell when I open it up.”

Finn smirked and handed her the blue jar, watching as she smeared some of the gel around her nose in distaste.

Warner pulled on a similar apron, and pulled a chain mail glove on over the latex glove on her left hand.

“Planning on slaying dragons, Warner?” Liv’s voice was amused.

“Not at this moment. The opening incisions are done with the proctor’s knife.” She pulled a heavy blade up from a row of instruments on the rolling table next to her. It was a heavy curved blade, tapering to a point. His eyes grew large.

“When you perform the autopsy, or open the body for the P.M., the knife will generally be held in the examiner’s dominant hand. Most slices and cuts will occur on the non-dominant hand, which is why we cover it with the chain mail.”

Benson smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Slay away.” Finn smiled as well, his arms crossing over his chest.

The M.E. reached above the table to press a few buttons on the recording system above the table. “Ready, this is Medical Examiner Melinda Warner, with case number 42-M-902, child, male, discovered in the silt under the Verrazano Bridge.” She picked up the edge of the sheet, and pulled it down. Finn swallowed, and he watched her eyes grow wide.

“I…” She paused, and swallowed heavily. “I…”

She seemed to collect herself for a moment, and leaned heavily on the table in front of her. “Ok, let’s begin again…”

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, 10:35 a.m.

They were both sitting on the bed, Elliot against the foot board, both knees drawn up to his chest, while Chris splayed out against the headboard, one leg bent. After the initial meeting, it had taken both of them some times to realize that they were alone, and each had backed into their respective corners, to stare unabashedly at the other.

Elliot broke the silence. “So where’d you get the tat?”

Chris smirked, and craned his neck to look at his shoulder. “This little dive in the Village. They were right next to this place that served the best-“

“-Egg-foo young.” Elliot finished, his own eyebrow matching Chris’. Slowly, he stretched up, and pulling the first few buttons on his shirt apart, he pulled it over his head, exposing his own tattooed shoulder.

Chris’ mouth dropped into a perfect “o” of surprise. “Holy shit.” He was across the bed before he could even think about stopping himself, fingers tracing down the lines of the crucified Christ on Elliot’s shoulder. Looking back at his own arm, he slowly looked up into his brother’s face. “What the fuck? It’s on the same fucking shoulder and everything?”

Elliot shrugged. “You know what they say, it’s karma and shit. We’re twins, so we’re supposed to do a bunch of the same things the same way.” He decided to ignore Chris’ snort and lewd grin.

“So, you’re married?” He tapped the gold band on Elliot’s left hand.

“Yeah, Kathy and I’ve been married almost 20 years. We’ve got 4 kids.” He paused. “I guess that makes you an uncle then.” He looked up. “What about you?”

Chris shrugged, a Gallic gesture that meant everything and nothing. “Yeah, I’ve been married a bunch of times. Still am. Although, technically, I married Bonnie twice, so maybe it only counts once. I dunno.”

“You married the same woman twice? What made her go back to your ugly mug for the second time?”

This time, there was no mistaking the lewd grin on Chris’ face. “Well, if everything shapes up on you like it does on me, it’s probably for the same reason that your wife continues to screw your ugly ass.” Sliding off the edge of the bed, he stripped naked, waggling his ass in Elliot’s face.

Elliot couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. Chris joined him, and they laughed together, most of the ice gone. Apparently nudity was a comfortable state of dress for his brother, because he continued to stand there, his arms folded over his chest as he laughed.

Trying to be discreet, Elliot noticed a dark blotch on his brother’s thigh. What the?

“Is that what I think it is?” Pointing, he indicated the spot on Chris’ upper thigh.

His brother looked down. Propping one foot on the bed, he pulled his sac away to examine the tattoo. “Yeah, don’t ask. I woke up one morning, and I was wasted, and it was just…there. I still don’t remember how the hell it got there. What, you don’t have it?”

“Nope. I guess that breaks the freaky twin cycle though. I do have this though.” Pushing back his sleeve, he indicated the Marine Corps tattoo on his forearm.

Chris looked interestedly. “Marine brat, huh? I guess it goes with the whole cop thing you’ve got going.”

Elliot smirked. “Yeah, because the butterfly on your crotch just screams hardened criminal.”

“Hey, watch it. I am a bad, bad, man. Wouldn’t be in this hell hole if I wasn’t.”

Their heads whipped around as the grating sound of the latch turned into the doorjamb.

Elliot vaguely recognized the nun from last night and earlier this morning as her head poked into the room. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: Elliot splayed back against the footboard, as Chris stood facing him, naked as the day he was born, one foot propped up on the bed by his brother’s feet.

“Hey Sister Pete.” Chris’ grin split his face from ear to ear. He watched her visibly make the effort to look him in the face. His brother’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“We were just getting…acquainted.” She couldn’t take it anymore. Turning, she backed out of the room.

“You are one evil bastard.” Elliot grinned.

“So are you.” The smile tossed in his direction was calculating.

“Me, why?”

“Because you finally got a chance to bust out of that whole Catholic school boy thing and have some fun.”

~~~

Medical Examiner’s Office, 1 Police Plaza, 10:30 a.m.

Olivia had been present for post mortems, but she was surprised her stomach had held out for the first few minutes there. Warner had pulled back the thin sheet covering the boy, and as one, they all had turned away to collect themselves. She was grateful she hadn't had anything in her stomach; she really hadn't felt like eating. The fabric of her top pulled against the bite on her neck as she crossed her arms over her chest. She winced, and resisted the urge to scratch at it again. She caught Finn looking at her, and forced her body to relax against the cold steel behind her.

Warner's voice echoed in the room, carefully pitched to make sure that the recorder above her caught everything she said.

"The body is presented in an arc de circle tension, both arms strapped to the tops of the thighs with..." She carefully pulled the graying skin away from the wounds. "...wire. At first glance it appears to be about the size and thickness of coat hanger wire." She turned the body carefully, rolling it onto it's side.

"The skin is mottled with over a hundred healed abrasions and scars, some of which range in thickness from 5-10 centimeters." Carefully, she stooped, carefully examining the lower base of the boy's back.

The body appears to have been tied into a full arc de circle presentation while the subject was still alive. From the tearing and bleeding around the wrists and hips, it would suggest that he fought to free himself before his back snapped, the L3 section of the lumbar vertebrae piercing through the skin."

She stepped to the foot of the exam table. "There is significant bruising around the genital and anal regions. The anal sphincter is torn, and there are several fluids present." Swabbing out the skin, she carefully pulled at the torn anus to swab inside. She was met with resistance.

"What the-?"

"What is it?” They both craned closer to look.

“I don’t know…I think I’d have to open him up to see, but it feels like something hard under the skin…a ring, maybe?” She swallowed audibly, and continued with the initial external exam.

“I don’t think I can continue any further like this. Liv, can you just take the digital cam over there and get some pictures? I’m going to have to cut him loose. Rigor’s already set in, so I’d estimate his time of death at a little less than four days ago. His skin is already mottled with the coagulated blood you’d expect to find after a few days. I’m guessing that when he was dumped, he was thrown on his right side, the larger darkened areas are pooled blood, coagulating from the cold and the incline the body was in. Finn can you help me with these?” She indicated the wires that bound his body together.

“Sure, what do you want me to do?” He stepped up to her side.

“I’m going to cut the wires loose, but since his body is already in rigor, you’re going to have to help me lay him flat on the table.

He’s going to have to be pulled loose enough to lie flat, and if you grab him under the armpits, while Liv and I grab him by the feet, we may be able to manipulate him into a flat position.”

She studied his face carefully. “If you don’t think you can do it, I’ll call one of the deiners in.”

Liv looked disgusted, and confused. “Deiners?”

“Morgue and Medical Attendants. They’re called deiners. Usually, they’d be here to help, but given the nature of this one, I decided that playing this close to the chest would be the best approach for now.”

Benson nodded. “Let’s do it then. Finn?”

He looked her in the face for a moment, and then resolved himself to it. Stepping up, he hooked his palms into the boy’s armpits, the rigid skin tough under his fingers.

“There may be any number of popping sounds as the joints loosen up. Just ignore them and continue with a steady pulling. Ok?”

They nodded, and she picked up a pair of wire cutters.

Maneuvering round the boy’s hips, she slipped the shears under the wire, and began snipping away. It took four different cuts before the whole arrangement loosened, and she was able to pull five loops of wire off of his wrists. Stepping back, she took a close-up picture of the hands before moving next to Liv. Each of them grabbed a foot in both hands.

“Ok, now, on three. One…two…three!” They each pulled slowly, the body fighting them with each pop and crack as it slowly moved back into place. The head slowly pulled back, and with almost fifteen minutes of effort, the boy’s body lay in a reclining position, his hips turned up awkwardly due to the spinal break.

They all studied the body. It suddenly seemed so much larger lying there, but looks were deceiving. Each of them blanched, mentally counting the numerous healed and unhealed injuries they could see. His face was slack, as though he were asleep.

Warner’s voice was soft, and her distress was palpable.

“This is going to take a while."



TBC...