Elliot Stabler is a retired police officer. At least, that's the Brass's title; the official title. He feels like a fraud for calling himself that though, because he isn't. He knows that it sounds better than 'Elliot Stabler; failure as a father, husband and most importantly, failure as a partner'. However, at this point in his life, he would rather deal with the unsavoury truth, regardless of how spineless and stupid it makes him sound.
Quite simply, there were just too many days where he had stumbled into work late, either drunk or hung-over and in a huge mess. And even that was on the days he made it into work at all. He didn't know how to cope otherwise, how to deal with and rid himself of the thoughts that plague his memory each night his eyes close. He didn't know how to block out the memory of his partner dying.
They were going to arrest a suspect, just like the previous day. As they drove to the outskirts of the city, he remembered thinking that the fall light of September had caused her hair to sparkle and shine. He had thought that she should cut it again, because when it was short, he could clearly see her whole face. It was ironic, he thinks, he can remember that clearly, but what happened next was a blur.
They had introduced themselves, seen the panicked look on their perp's face, and suddenly there was a gun and multiple shots. The next thing he remembers is her, on the ground, lying in a pool of her own blood. He had known, even before he had checked for a pulse that she was gone. There had been no last words, no waiting for the bus that he vaguely remembered calling, no point in hoping that she was still alive. She was gone, and he was alone.
The memory, plays over and over in his head, like a scene from a bad movie. Only, it wasn't a movie, it wasn't fiction and it wasn't fake. But just like a movie, whenever he remembers, he can never change the ending. It always finishes with her dying again, and him waking up in a cold sweat, screaming her name and praying that it was just a bad dream and she'd be there tomorrow. But it's not, and each time he realises this, another part of him breaks.
Sometimes, he remembers the man he used to be, and sometimes he even tries to be that man again. He picks his kids up from his ex-wife, spends that day throwing a football with Dickie, taking Lizzie to the movies or just sitting on the floor, playing with Eli. On days like this, he thinks that he could continue to live – that there is something worth living for. But when his children go back to his ex, and he crawls back into his bed, he dreams of her and wonders if it's all worth it.