A/N: All right, people. You know the drill. SVU is not mine. But my muse decided it'd be a good idea to follow Elliot from season six ep 'Charisma' to season eight finale 'Screwed' in terms of his relationship (not with Olivia, either, people.) So...we'll see how this works out.
…Can't feel my heart.

And it's strange, because I can, and it hurts like hell,

Because of a sheet of paper.

A damn sheet of paper, of all things, and I'm back to wishing that there was

Such a thing as going back in time, because

I don't know what I've done wrong,

And I'd like to fix it.

Don't know why all the lights are off, but

Maybe it's because I don't want to move,

Or is it because I can't move…wait a minute…I can.

It's definitely that I don't want to.

My feet don't want to cooperate with me,

And neither does anything else, and it's a pain, because

I need to do something, but I don't know what.

The lights should go on, 'cause this place is almost starting

To creep me out a little, because of what we just saw, and I'd

Go back to work if I could, but apparently, I'm on leave, because I

Don't know how to handle my emotions…yeah, right.

If I didn't know how to handle them, I'd have flipped out a long time ago.

Two years is the max anyone ever stays in Special Victims, someone told me, but

I've been around longer than that, and I'm starting to wonder if that's the problem.

The paper stays where it is.

Don't want to look at it, don't want to acknowledge that it's there, 'cause all it means is that

Things have finally hit the fan, and I've finally screwed up, and she's finally tired of me,

And this damn house is too quiet with the kids, but they've gone with their mother, because

She's the one that's home all the time, anyway, and suddenly I'm reminded of something

I said earlier, that she's the parent and I'm the paycheck, and it's driving me up the wall,

Because I wanted to be there, I really did, but…something was always in the way.

Always in the way.

I look down at the paper again, because for some reason,

It's the only thing that feels real in this moment,

Which is stupid, because it's not, but I still can't move

And I still can't feel anything, and I wish I could,

But at the same time, I don't, because it feels like there's a gaping hole where my heart was

And at the same time, it doesn't, and I wonder what that's supposed to mean.