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Vengeance	By : Bucken-Berry Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 2711 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or it's characters, nor am I making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Alex groaned quietly, opening her eyes. Pain flared through her, muscles and bones screaming in protest to the treatment they'd received the day before. The horrifying memories returned to her in full force and she bit her lip, looking at the floor. Just a few short hours ago everything had been perfect, and now...
Shaking the thought out of her head- it wouldn't help them now- she looked at George worriedly. He looked better, but he was still out like a light and judging from his position, probably hadn't as much as stirred throughout the night. She hoped the sleep had done him good; he needed to be stronger today than he had been last night.
"Ow," she gasped, pushing herself up. Nausea slammed through her; she was sure it was from the concussion. She closed her eyes for a moment and stood, walking around the room. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on: she hadn't been thinking clearly enough last night to realize that her clothes were right there, and even if she had realized it, she would have been in too much pain to put them on.
She opened the bathroom door and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything appeared functional, so she walked to the sink and turned the water on, splashing some cold water on her face.
She gaped when she saw two new, unopened toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter; that proved that these men had planned this out carefully. She shook her head, unnerved, and opened one. After brushing her teeth, she decided against a shower, on the chance that George would wake up while she was in there, and returned to the main room.
There was a desk near the bed, a large one; they would both be able to fit in front of it. Other than that and the bed, the room was bare.
"Mmm…"
Alex startled at the soft sound, not quite a moan, coming from George. She turned around and looked at the bed. George was frowning deeply, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
"George," she said, walking over to the bed and sitting next to him. She shook his shoulder. "George, can you hear me?"
"Hmm…" George frowned again, trying to open his eyes. "Alex?" he whispered groggily. "What happened?"
"What do you remember?" Alex asked, rubbing George's head. "Sorry," she added when he cringed in pain.
"We were… we were shopping for your engagement ring, right?" George asked. Alex nodded. "And then we went to eat, and..." He shook his head. "It's hard to remember."
"Do you remember anything at all after that?" Alex pressed. "Try."
George closed his eyes, concentrating. "Three men jumped out from an alley. They put us in a van, and you were unconscious. I tried to wake you up. Everything goes dark after that- I truly can't remember anything else until now." He sat up, wincing. "They took our rings, didn't they?" he asked sadly.
"Yeah," Alex said ruefully. "And our phones, and pretty much everything but the clothes on our backs."
George exhaled slowly, nodding as much as he could without hurting himself. "What happened after I blacked out?"
"They brought us here. You could barely walk but we managed to get down here. You were out like a light as soon as they let you sit down. Then they threatened you and made me agree to have both of us stay here- as their prisoners, they said- in exchange for them not killing you on the spot." She looked down, not wanting to think about the previous night.
"And then once I agreed to do what they wanted, they left and said that they'd… do some things today," she finished flatly, omitting the rape: she didn't want him to know.
"This has to personal," George thought aloud. "They wouldn't have said those things if they were attacking us for any other reason. Think carefully; do you know them from anywhere? Have you ever seen them before?"
"I don't know," Alex said. "I just… I wasn't really thinking about anything but you and me surviving."
"Okay, I understand," George said. "But if you recognize them later…"
"I'll tell you," Alex interrupted, agitated, though she wasn't sure why George's questions made her feel that way.
"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" George asked gently. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Alex flinched at the touch. "Alex," George said, realization dawning on him, "Something happened last night that you're not telling me. Did they-"
Alex glared at him. "That's none of your business," she snapped.
"I'm just trying to help," George said softly.
"Well, stop it," she said.
"Alex," George whispered. "Look at me." She did, with great difficulty. "I'm so sorry. But we'll be found soon, and then... it'll be okay."
Alex looked away. "It's okay," she muttered, even though it wasn't. "Is your concussion any better?" she asked to chance the subject.
George sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to reason with her. "Yes. A little. It still hurts, but I'm not as nauseated and I don't feel like I'm about to black out." He set a hand on his stomach, feeling pain flash when it touched. "The bruising on my abdomen is pretty bad, but the swelling's gone down some, and I doubt there are any serious internal injuries. I'd probably be dead by now if there were any." Though, there were internal injuries that could take days to kill, but he didn't think he had any of those. Not that he could know for sure, of course, but he felt confident.
"That's good," Alex said lamely. She rubbed her temples. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Alex," George said again. He patted the back of her hand gently. "We'll survive this, and… It will be okay. We'll be okay."
"Yeah," Alex said unenthusiastically. She wished she could believe him, but she knew it was just him trying to comfort her, instead of him saying things like they really were. She knew that if they weren't found within a few hours, their chances of being found alive dropped significantly. Olivia and Mike had to know they were missing by now, but that wasn't enough time to get anyone to investigate their disappearance. By the time anyone had gained any leads, their captors could move them somewhere else, or even kill them. If they managed to smuggle them out of the country, their odds of being found were practically zero.
"I'm so sorry," George whispered, blinking back tears. "This shouldn't have happened to you. I should have-"
"There wasn't anything you could have done," Alex said. Something was off about her voice. It was hollow, wooden, even though she meant the words. "They hurt you bad enough to down a linebacker. It's amazing that you aren't in a coma right now. Don't worry about not protecting me: it isn't your fault. It's theirs." She gestured her head at the door.
Even as she said the words, something in her still felt angry at George. She knew it was irrational, and that it truly was only their captor's fault, but inside, she felt that George was right; he should have protected her. If he hadn't been so hurt, if she hadn't felt responsible for saving his life, things could have gone differently. She could have fought back.
For a brief second, she even regretted listening to the men when they'd threatened George's life, but the instant the thought crossed her mind she silently screamed at herself. How could she even think that? How could she even think about saving herself over him, when he would never even hesitate to help her no matter what the cost?
She rubbed her forehead, guilt already rising in her throat like bile. She was sorely tempted to beg George for forgiveness even though there was no way he could know what she was thinking.
She had no more time to think about it, however, because the door opened right then. She looked over at George, swallowing hard, silently asking him what to do. He shook his head, telling her, I don't know either.
The men entered the room. "Hello there, Counselor," the leader said with a tauntingly cheery voice. "You look great. And dear Agent Huang is looking well, much better than last night."
Alex glared at him. He was tall and muscular, with a shaved head and brown eyes, but not handsome in the least. His cronies, Thing One and Thing Two, as she called them, were more conventionally attractive, shorter but not lacking in muscle. Given everything they'd said about prison, she suspected they'd been incarcerated for a long time before this. Thing One had short brown hair and brown eyes, while Thing Two had also shaved his head and had blue eyes, almost like Elliot's, but colder. They looked like the scum they were. She hated them, and their looks only cemented it.
"In fact," the man continued, walking forward, "You look better than good. Almost… pretty. I'm willing to bet Cabot filled you in on what we told her- you're our prisoners now. And you know what we do to pretty boys in prison? Especially ones we know were fags before coming in?" He smirked, setting his hand on George's cheek tauntingly.
"Get your hand off me," George said, voice calm but laced with venom. "You're disgusting."
"You don't give the orders around here, faggot," their attacker growled. Then he slapped George's face, laughing at him. George ground his teeth but remained silent, though he did try to strike back. Catching George's arm, the man snarled, "Remember, if you don't cooperate, you die, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Jason and Sammie over there like a bit of fight, but not as much as you give."
"Got that right, Thomas," either Jason or Sammie leered.
"Murder me, and you get the death sentence, no ifs, ands, or buts about it," George retorted, adding a mocking tone to the last words. "I'm a federal agent-" He yelped when his hair was suddenly tugged brutally hard, head yanked closer to the man.
"You really think we care?" Thomas asked, pulling George's hair tighter and hitting his face again.
"Stop it!" Alex cried, unable to keep silent anymore. "Leave him alone!"
"You stay out of this, bitch," Thomas shot back at her. He smacked George one more time and shoved him back onto the bed. George's hand went up to touch his face, and he cringed. The blows certainly weren't doing anything to help the pain from his concussion- it felt like someone had bashed his head in with bricks. He closed his eyes, rubbing his head.
Alex felt fear slam through her when the gun was pulled out again and shoved in George's face. George opened his eyes and reflexively jumped backwards when he saw it, fear clear on his face.
"I think you owe me an apology," Thomas growled.
"Sorry," George said meekly, muscles tensed in anticipation.
"What are you sorry for?" Thomas prompted, leering at him.
"I'm sorry I fought against you," George muttered. "It won't happen again." He closed his eyes when Thomas started to tighten his finger around the trigger, but no shot came. Instead, he lunged forward and used the gun as a blunt weapon, striking George's chest with the butt of the gun. George gasped, holding his arms out protectively, but his arms were quickly worked around and he felt several of his ribs cracking as the blows rained down.
He groaned, continuing to try to protect himself, but he failed miserably. His ribs were hit brutally hard, and after the same two ribs were hit three consecutive times, he felt them snap. He finally cried out, writhing to try and protect his side. The bones immediately started to burn and throb, and every little movement, even breathing, made it worse. He made himself stop fighting: even though he wanted to fight back, he was unable to take the pain. The pain got worse with every hit, and soon he felt like he was going to pass out from pain- and he wanted to. The ache in his ribs was past his threshold.
Alex watched helplessly as her best friend was attacked. She wanted nothing more than to help him- the sickening sight in front of her was tearing at her heart- but the gun was right there, and it was better for George to be in intense pain, but alive, than dead from a bullet to the skull, and she had no doubt that that was what would happen if she attempted to intervene. She closed her eyes as a sharp cry escaped George, and she clenched her fists helplessly. Then he went quiet and, after two more audible strikes, Thomas stopped hitting him and called, "Look over here, Cabot."
Alex complied, feeling crushed as she took in George, shaking on the bed and twisting as much as he could to try and ease the pain.
"There's been a little change of rules," Thomas said casually. "He still pays for what either of you do wrong. But now, little fuckups get that." He gestured at George. "You do anything wrong, and that's what happens, but much, much worse each time. But don't think we've changed our minds about killing him if either of you fuck up big enough. Got it?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Please, just-"
"Watch it," he warned. "I'm not in a generous mood."
Alex swallowed, looking at the ground. She wanted to rush to the bed and comfort her friend, but she knew their captors weren't about to let that happen. She silently willed him to hold on, wishing that she could say the words aloud.
"Come with me," Thomas ordered. He turned to the other two, who started walking towards the bed. "Sammie, Jason, you know the rules." He grinned. "Have fun with the fag."
Alex ground her teeth in anger. Swallowing the insults she wanted to call them, she followed him out of the room, even as pure hatred welled up like acid. She would give anything just to smack this asshole, even once.
They walked back up the stairs, back near the living room and off another hall. They entered the second of three bedrooms.
"Sit down."
Alex sighed inwardly, but complied. Thomas sat next to her and forced his lips against hers. Alex's lips didn't move: he may as well have kissed a breathing wall.
She gasped in pain when he squeezed her breast, then closed her eyes in shame. He motioned to the bed and she made herself lie down, once again letting her thoughts wander as he undressed her.
"Olivia," she thought desperately, "Olivia, where are you?"
She blinked back tears as he pushed in roughly.
And then she heard a scream of pain from the basement, and she lost it. "I need you, Liv," she cried silently, body shaking with sobs.

George was barely aware by the time the pistol-whipping stopped; he certainly didn't register the words being spoken, only that Alex's voice was there. He felt afraid when she left, but couldn't call out to her. He just curled around himself protectively, hoping that whatever she was doing didn't take long, even though he knew it wasn't going to happen that way.
He didn't even register that the other two men were still there until he felt their rough hands manhandling him. They yanked him upwards, jarring his ribs and making him groan.
They yanked his clothes off, leaving no question what they had in mind. The words echoed in his mind- "You know what we do to pretty boys in prison?"- and he knew just how determined the three were to get revenge for their experiences in jail.
The first one didn't bother preparing him at all. No lubricant, not even saliva, no fingers, no nothing. The pain was like his insides being torn apart, and he bit his lip to keep quiet. It didn't work for very long and soon he was crying from pain. Everything else faded away, and he was only aware of the agony each thrust sent through him. Even when he felt the hot, sticky fluid spill into him, it was only a short time before the other one pushed in as well.
If his senses weren't so overwhelmed, he was sure he would have felt ashamed and degraded, but his emotions were so far away that he couldn't feel them. All he felt was the physical pain, the throb in his chest that made it difficult to breathe, the bruising on his stomach and pounding in his head, the ripping sensation inside him that got worse when the thrusts became faster and harder and actually drew blood.
The second man got off on inflicting pain, George quickly learned. He did whatever he could to make it hurt more- thrusting harder, hitting him, especially where he was already injured, even having the other attacker target George's genitals, squeezing, slapping, digging with his fingernails. Soon George couldn't even give the screams and groans that so aroused the rapist, but it wasn't enough to stop him from climaxing.
He gave a quiet whimper of relief as the assault finally stopped. They let him collapse face-down on the bed, a bruised and bloody mess.
When he became aware again, Alex was yelling his name, begging him to wake up and say something. She managed to turn him over and he moaned, letting his body go limp to reduce the sensations.
Her soft hand cupped his cheek, and he managed to open his eyes, ever so slightly.
"Hey," she whispered, gently stroking his forehead, "Can you talk?"
His throat. She must have heard him.
"T… Think so," he croaked. His voice was hoarse. He opened his eyes again. She looked tired and hurt, face lined with worry. Her lip was cut and her clothes had small tears in them.
"Where do you hurt?" Alex asked him, using a softer voice than he'd ever heard from her. He must have looked awful.
He closed his eyes. "Head," he whispered. "Stomach. Ribs." And places he didn't want to mention to her, but knew he'd have to.
"They…" Alex began, but trailed off.
He knew what she was asking. "One of them- Sammie, I think-" George inhaled slowly- "He liked hurting me. It aroused him"
"So that's why-" Alex paused- "That's where the penile injuries are from. There were some small cuts." She winced sympathetically.
He nodded, humiliated not only by what had happened but the fact that Alex knew as well. "He had the other one dig in with his fingernails," he muttered, shuddering. It had hurt worse than he thought possible.
"And the…" Alex paused again, then said the next words in a bit of a rush. "And the rectal bleeding, is it serious?"
George sighed inwardly. "Maybe. I don't know. But there's nothing we can do in either case," he said flatly.
"Okay," Alex said softly. "One more thing. Your ribs?"
"At least two are broken, and one or two others are either cracked or bruised," he said, his voice quiet and still hoarse. He took another careful breath. "It hurts," he whispered.
"I know," Alex said gently.
And Alex had to be hurting too, but just like the night before, he couldn't help her. He should have been talking her through it, helping to reach her and stop her from shutting down, but instead, he was too badly injured to help her. He felt useless. Worse than useless- like a burden.
Alex somehow knew what he was thinking, because she leaned forward and whispered, "This isn't your fault. You aren't doing anything wrong- they beat the shit out of you, no one can expect you to be the strong one after that. Don't worry about me, just try to hang in there a while."
George bit his lip, but nodded. Alex hesitated for a moment before sitting on the bed. She lifted the pillow and set it on her stomach. "Come here," she said.
George swallowed, then eased himself into position, lying between Alex's legs and resting his head on the pillow. She set the blanket over him and rubbed his head, firmly enough to feel soothing, but gently enough that it didn't hurt. After a moment, he reached up and squeezed one of her hands. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up at her.
Alex smiled sadly and started stroking his forehead, which, though she didn't know it, was what Mike always did when they were together and Mike wanted to ease him to sleep. He closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling at the thought, and instead let himself enjoy it. Her hand was lighter and softer, but it was close enough to Mike's, enough that he could almost pretend that he was at home and Mike was taking care of him after an attack by a patient, instead of- this.
His body started to feel heavier, his thoughts more sluggish, and his eyes drifted closed. Alex was whispering softly to him, the words lost on him but still soothing. The tension, and even some of the pain, drained from him, allowing him to finally relax.
He wasn't aware of falling asleep. One moment he was just in the comfortable lull, the next he was in a deep, dreamless sleep.
Alex watched George sleeping for a long time, heart aching. His pain hurt her far worse than her own, as bad as her pain was. She was glad that she had at least been able to help him sleep. She knew he'd be doing the same for her if the roles were reversed.
After a while, she decided it was safe to leave him alone for a while. She gently moved out from under him, letting him rest on the bed. Once she was sure the motion wouldn't wake him up, she stood and walked to the bathroom. She stripped down and stepped into the bath. Luckily, it had a shower attachment.
She knew she shouldn't shower yet, so that DNA could be collected when she was found, but she wasn't sure when that would happen, and the desire to feel clean again was too overwhelming. She turned the water on as hot as she could handle it and relaxed.
But no matter how hard she washed, she didn't feel clean, and after having talked to so many victims, she knew she wouldn't for a long, long time.
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Vengeance