Disclaimer: Not mine

Author's Notes: Um, I don't really know. For once, I wanted Elliot and Olivia in a miserable situation that didn't involve rapists, serial killers, and/or on-the-job crisis. Something miserable, yet funny. So, taking the fact how often Cragen steps in to tell them to act like freakin' adults, I've decided to take that childish behavior to an extreme. OOC-ness is to be expected. I apologize ahead of time. Nearly everything in this story should be taken with a grain of salt. Just wanted a laugh.

Summary: Olivia and Elliot's partnership is put to the ultimate test. Post Web

Rating Mature: Coarse, Coarse Language (Liv and El will drop the f-bomb. A lot.); Mild Violence.

Category: Comedy, Angst, General


by e-dog



"I work here."

Oh, yes she did. She most definitely worked here. Somehow, the grungy maze of a shipping yard in Greenwich, Connecticut was her workplace and running after a skinny prick of a serial rapist named Adam Hunt was the work.


So normally, she wouldn't even be in Connecticut, but a tip from up North reached the Manhattan Special Victims Unit around 3 that morning. A possible sighting of their perp near the shipping yard. After Cragen and Novak sidestepped some red tape, she and Elliot traversed up north to join the local authorities in the search. No sooner did they step foot on the grounds to talk to the owner, they took on enemy fire. Adam recognized them immediately from previous scrimmages, pulling a gun from under his vest.

The owner was shocked, to say the least, saying Adam had been working under him for nearly five years. Never had a problem until now!

Elliot told the owner to keep his staff at bay and let the police do their job. Once Adam had run out of bullets, he started to run.

So now that's what she was doing. She was running. It was only a week ago she was relishing in the fact that she could sit on her ass all day, every day. There was no more of this running business to attend to. It was just her and that gosh awful computer, in that gosh awful chair, drinking coffee that was worse than what Munch brewed in the morning.

God, how she missed this.

Gun drawn as she ran, she yelled, "Adam! Stop! There's no way out of here!"

Well, apparently there was. A hole in the fence that she and Elliot reached at near the same time, both of them cursing their misfortune. This hole led out into a wooded area that would require some serious physical endurance. It wasn't too dense and they could see Adam just up ahead, fighting through the branches and brush. She pushed herself through the hole first and Elliot followed. A few of the local cops they were assigned with also followed to back them up, but at the pace she and Elliot were racing, she highly doubted those two donut hogging coppers would be able to keep up with them.

After ten minutes of clawing and clomping through mud and mess, Elliot hissed, "Stop! Wait!"

She did exactly that, keeping her gun drawn and looking for Adam. They had just seen him here. Where did he go? Elliot shook his head, "He's gone, Olivia. He's gone."

"No. Not. . .not after all that fucking running," Olivia panted, turning around in a circle to gain her bearings and to continue her search. There were trees in every direction. Adam had given them the slip again.

Elliot had lowered his weapon now, leaned against a tree to catch his breath, "Damn it. He's a slick bastard. How many times has he outrun us on this case?"

"Three," Olivia grimaced. "Three fucking times."

"Such a potty mouth, Liv," Elliot joked. "Computer crimes made you that grumpy?"

"Shut up," Olivia ribbed back, trying to remain pissed off.

There was no arguing it now. Adam was fast. They should have taken Munch's warnings to heart. He was the one that found out Adam ran long distance track in high school.

Olivia stared ahead, in the direction she thought Adam may have gone and knew he wouldn't get too far. His face was now plastered in every window, on every television and on any lamp post along the east coast. His name was traveling the airwaves of every police radio within 500 miles. No, Adam would not get far. No matter how fast he ran, he would not get far and he would pay for his crimes. It just sucked that she couldn't bring him in on her own. She holstered her gun, then looked at Elliot with a rare grin, "I outran you, though."

"No you didn't," Elliot chuckled, still heaving gulps of air. "You've been riding a desk for the past few weeks."

"And I still outran you," Olivia countered, still smiling. She took a deep breath, then suggested, "We should head back. . ."

It then hit her. Where was 'back'? Where were they? Where were those meathead, donut eating cops that were assigned to help? Her jaw dropped slightly as she took in the endless rows of trees again. She murmured, "Elliot. . ."

"What?" he replied, his breathing seemingly under control again. He stood next to her, taking in her stunned expression and he repeated worriedly, "What Olivia?"

"Where are we?" she asked aloud.

He looked around. A few moments of silence passed between them as he muttered, "Shit."

Yeah, shit was right. And during their momentary lapse of berating themselves and cursing their bad luck, work struck again. Literally.

Elliot suffered a blow to the back of the head courtesy of Adam Hunt. Their perp was back with a large oak branch and a vengeance. Before Olivia could even think of reacting, she was struck too. The world went black and when she came to, it was moving. The world was moving very fast.

She rolled onto her side, feeling the jarring motion underneath her. She finally opened her eyes to a semi-dark room filled with boxes. Boxes that swayed with the motion of the car she supposed they were in. As she sat up, she began to wonder what the hell kind of vehicle she was riding in. It was massive, space for an entire room in her apartment, if not more.

To her right, she found her partner, sprawled on his back still dead to the world. She crawled over and whispered, "Elliot, wake up."

He groaned and she shook him gently until he opened his eyes. He mouthed the word 'wow' in response to the pounding headache she knew he had. She had one too. She helped him to sit up. He finally noticed they were moving too and he gave her a questioning look. She just shrugged, "I don't know."

It was then she noticed that Elliot was merely in his tank top, khaki pants and shoes. His vest, coat, shirt and tie were all gone. She glanced at herself and noticed she too had been stripped of her outer layer of clothing. Her leather jacket and the blouse she had been wearing were MIA. All she had left was a tank top, pants and shoes, just like her partner. She rubbed her temples out of pure frustration and said, "Um, Elliot. Notice something different about us?"

He looked down at himself and then at her. "What? Besides that huge bruise on your right cheek?"

Olivia touched the tender spot on her face, not even thinking of that. She sighed, "No, take a closer look."

After a very long second of pondering, he finally seemed to understand. His mouth was hanging open slightly, trying to say something that might explain where their clothes might be. He looked around the space, spied the boxes and frowned deeply. He shook his head and patted himself down, "My gun is gone."

"Mine too. So's my badge," Olivia confirmed. Adam must have taken anything that would label them as cops and then dumped them here. She checked her back pocket. "He took my wallet too. Good thing I cut up my credit cards last week."

"Speak for yourself," Elliot mumbled, the thought of their perp stacking up charges on his credit cards very mortifying indeed. Usually, he left his important belongings at his desk or at home. When he got the call that they found Adam, however, he never got the chance to sort out his things. Now Adam had his driver's license, credit cards, etc. He cursed, "Damn that kid! When we find him, I'll kill him."

"If he trashed my leather jacket. . .," Olivia growled, also adding her resentment. Three times this kid had outrun them in a chase. Three. However, this was the first time he physically fought back showing his desperation or frustration. Now they were here. . .wherever here was. She stood up, balancing her weight with the movement of the car. She stumbled over to the boxes, most of them labeled FRAGILE and THIS SIDE UP. She commented, "This all looks like freight. . ."

"Train," he said suddenly.


"A train, Olivia," Elliot repeated, getting up as well. He was a bit wobbly, but he found his footing and leaned against the side. "We're on a train."

The box shaped car. The freight. The unsettling motion. It all made sense. They were on a train. Just to confirm their notion, the train whistle sounded loudly outside, shocking their eardrums and their headaches.

She shook her head and asked the one question on both their minds, "If we're on a train, then where the hell are we going?"

To be continued. . .