They Couldn't Take It
Rating T
Yes, that's right everyone, it's another post-Fault story. The rerun the other night woke up my muse, and fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, she awoke on the slightly angsty side of the bed. I, er she, whatever, started wondering, what could have happened between the hospital and Cragen's office? Could that have been what made her request a new partner? So I decided to explore that option, taking advantage of my muse's cooperation, in hopes that it may rub off on the other two stories I have in progress. It'll be more than a one shot, but definitely not as long as my others. I haven't decided if I'll write the whole thing my way, or try to follow the season yet, so any feedback would be appreciated. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!
Chapter One - Deep In Thought
She sat in that hospital chair for a few minutes after he left, her head spinning. They couldn't be partners? All he had left? A hand on her shoulder shook her out of her reverie.
"Detective Benson? Are you alright?" A doctor asked, concern written across his face.
She forced a smile as she stood. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a difficult case."
"Of course, but Rebecca Clifford will be fine. You and your partner did well today."
"Thank you." She sighed.
"Now go home and get some rest." The doctor advised.
She nodded in acknowledgement, burying her hands in her coat pockets as she walked down the hallway and out of the hospital. She walked, lost in her thoughts again, and before she knew it, she heard her name being called.
"Good evening Ms. Be- Ms. Benson?"
She looked up, turning around to see her doorman watching her with concern. She'd walked right past her apartment building. She brushed the mistake off with a forced laugh, and mumbled something about working too much as she made her way to the elevator. When the doors opened, she let herself in to her apartment, tossing her badge and keys onto the coffee table and throwing her coat across a chair. She sank onto her couch, her head in her hands.
Moments later, she stood abruptly, and made her way to the kitchen, digging through a few cabinets before finding the vodka bottle she had hidden in the back. Carrying it with her, she sat back on the couch, taking a swig straight from the bottle and wincing as it went down. With a disgusted sound she slammed the bottle on the table and stood up. What the hell is my problem? Her hand drifted to the cut healing on her neck, and she winced as her fingernail brushed across it. I gotta clear my head, she thought, and made her way to her bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the small room before shedding her clothes and stepping in.
She let out a sigh as she slipped under the spray, letting it soak her hair and skin. What is wrong with me? She thought as she reached for her shampoo, massaging her scalp as she tried to push all thoughts of the past few days from her brain. But as she rinsed the soap from her hair and smoothed the conditioner through, images of Elliot and Guitano came rushing back.The warehouse. Splitting up. Guitano's gun to her partner's head. Her tears falling as she tried to talk him down, over Elliot telling her to take the shot, and knowing she never could. Her tears mixed with the water as she braced herself against the wall, leaning her forehead against the cool tiles. There was no way she'd have taken the shot, she knew that for sure. Be the cause of his death, of leaving his children fatherless, and herself without him? Never.
She rinsed her hair one more time before shutting off the shower, climbing out and drying off. She pulled a pair of pajama pants and a tank top on, running a brush through her damp hair. Looking at herself, her eyes red from crying, she fingered her injury. When Guitano had come at her with the knife, she'd actually felt the blade cut her skin. She'd thought she was dying as she hit the ground, instinctively reaching up to cover and put pressure on the wound. She'd heard Elliot's voice, yelling her name as she struggled and gasped to regain the wind that had been knocked out when she hit the ground. His arms had lifted her head from the ground and he'd come into her line of vision. She'd realized she was okay, and sent him after Guitano, but she'd seen the fear in his eyes.
She shook herself from her reverie for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. She knew what she needed to do, for herself. She slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed the coat and things she'd dropped on her way in. She shrugged her coat on as she left the apartment building, walking quickly against the brisk night air.
She raised her fist to knock on the door in front of her, hesitating slightly before gathering her resolve and rapping her knuckles against the door. She heard him approach the door, and sensed the slight hesitation before the lock slid open and he opened the door. She watched as he took in her appearance, the pajama pants, wet hair, and red eyes, the questions evident across his face.
She took a shaky breath before whispering softly, "I couldn't take it either."
Okay please review! I realize it was a tad light in the dialogue department, but that will all come in the next chapter. I promise!
