I KNOW! Two stories in one day! The difference is that this one is for the FCG challenge that happens every two months. The elements were more abstract this time around, making the challenge that much more difficult. These were them:

1. Must appeal to one of the five senses. Pick one and cater to it while you write.

2. It must be about the end of any type of relationship.

3. Must follow the theme of passion (interpret as you will).

4. Must be a minimum rating of PG 13.

5. Must be Between 500 and 2,500 words.

This is my first Law & Order: SVU story, and it probably isn't all that good. I really hope it is, but... you know... everyone has their bad story. This could be mine. But, I'm happy with it, and that's all that matters.

Enjoy!


He had truly thought it would work out. That he could make this relationship work again. Everything was falling apart again. Now Kathy was gone, and the kids were taking her side. Again. Things couldn't possibly be any worse for the aging detective.

But at least he had his partner back.

Elliot hit the heavy bag with a jab, followed in quick succession by multiple crosses and hooks. He was trying with all his might to tear that bag apart, but it wasn't quelling the anger that was rising within him. He couldn't rationalize the anger anymore, so he merely dealt with it and let it build until he could get to the gym to release it on the bags.

Pain.

All he was allowing himself to feel at that moment was pain. The physical pain that was caused by the hard punches to the leather punching bag was hardly enough for him. He needed to get an opponent. He may not have the experience that the men around him possessed.

But frankly, he just wanted to get the shit kicked out of him.

Losing track of the time, he found himself in the middle of the boxing ring being sent to his knees. What had he been thinking? He was lucky that the bastard who was attempting to knock his teeth out was in the same weight class as him, because otherwise this would be nothing more than embarrassing or suicidal.

He gets back to his feet, slipping to the side to avoid another incoming punch, which just narrowly missed his left cheek. He throws a jab into the side of the well built man's stomach, which sends the guy doubling over in pain.

Cheap kidney shot, but he was pissed, and he didn't give a damn.

With a sharp pain in his right temple, everything suddenly goes went.

"Ugh," he groaned as he sat up on the bench in the men's locker room, still dizzy from the hit.

"Sorry about that, mate," comes a thick Australian accent through the haze of his near concussion. "I didn't expect to take ya down that hard."

"Don't worry about it," he replied as the fog cleared, leaving him with a throbbing headache. "I deserved it."

"Yeah, ya did. But I wasn't gonna point that out to ya."

They enjoyed an amicable laugh, followed by a comfortable silence.

"So what has you so pissed off, anyway? Dingo eat your baby?"

His baby. Would he ever see his baby again? He forced a chuckle then smirked. "Nah. Just trouble at home. But you were close."

They laughed together, one faking it, the other seemingly genuine. "Ah. I've been having that a lot lately. My wife feels like I dragged her here from Australia. Just took off with the kids and is threatening to move back to the home land."

"My wife left me, too." Wow, why was he opening up to this complete stranger? He hardly knew him, aside from getting his ass whooped in a boxing match.

It seems men with similar bouts of bad luck come together in their time of need, whether they know it or not.

"How 'bout we go for a drink, drown our sorrows with a pint."

He mulled it over for a moment. "Sure, what the hell?" They stood and changed, chatting amiably as they did so.

As they headed for the exit, the new guy stopped short, turning around and extending his hand to Elliot as he said, "Riley Matthews."

Taking the proffered hand, he responded, "Elliot Stabler."