Disclaimer: I own nothing SVU-related except my own feelings.
2015.
Every time he heard that year it was like a slap in the face. How could it be 2015 when there had been no 2014, 2013, 2012, and only pieces of 2011? He forced himself to believe it. Somehow, while he had been at a standstill, the world had kept spinning around him.
Elliot hated everything about it.
The worst part was that nobody knew. How could they, when the hospital had found no I.D., and had had no one to contact? He had disappeared from their lives. Everybody–Kathy, the kids, his whole squad, Olivia–what must they think of him now? They would probably hate him. They would probably think that they meant so little to him, he could simply leave without a word. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He had to find them, explain, and make things right again.
Watching the city rush around him, Elliot found it hard to believe that so much time had passed. It was the same street, the same sky. And there, like an old friend, was his favorite library. It wasn't the largest in the city, but it had the most Hemingway novels he had found yet. Seeking the comfortable familiarity, he found himself wandering inside. But he felt himself stop. Something was wrong, this–this wasn't his library. Yet it was on the same street. The red brick walls were the same as always, and it still smelled like hot coffee. But that was where the similarities ended. Everything had been rearranged; the first floor fiction section had turned into a cookbook display, the red plush carpet was now a dark hardwood, and he didn't recognize any of the librarians. It was just a library, he knew, but it was like a punch in the gut, and he fought hard to control the panic struggling inside him.
"Excuse me," he chased breathlessly after a librarian. "Miss!"
She turned around. Another stranger.
"When did these renovations take place?"
The woman looked at him confusedly. "I'm sorry, Sir. I really don't know, I only started work here last year. You could ask Brian? He's our senior librarian."
Elliot quickly reassured her that it was fine. It's just a library, he thought. Get it together. Lots of things will have changed by now.
Shaking his head, he wandered over to a computer terminal, wondering absentmindedly what had happened in the news since 2011. Hopefully not any wars. He tried a news site, but quickly lost interest and searched for what was really on his mind, Detective Olivia Benson.
The large number of headlines from 2013 and 2012 struck him as odd, and he looked closer at the screen.
"Serial Rapist William Lewis Escapes From Prison"
"NYPD Detective Survives Second Abduction"
"Detective Olivia Benson Admits to Police Brutality"
Elliot stopped breathing. This wasn't possible, there must be some kind of mistake. But as he clicked on stories, he just found more and more impossible details, things he wished he could un-know the second he read them. Serial rapist. Sadist, torture, cigarette burns, force-feeds victims alcohol and drugs. Elliot stood up suddenly, staring at the computer as his world fell apart again. He struggled to breathe, to halt the images taking over his mind. Elliot knew about sadists and rapists, and the psychological torture they inflicted on their victims. Of all people, Elliot knew what victims went through. But this was Olivia.
Twice. She had been abducted twice.
And where had he been? He had been asleep.
"Gah!" He yelled into the library silence, kicking over his chair. The librarian from earlier approached him, Sir, we need you to leave. He kicked the chair again blindly, and then held up his hands. "Alright, alright." He was back on the street, practically blind with pain and rage.
He didn't know how long he wandered around the streets until his legs buckled under him, just that the sun had set, plunging the city into shadows. He dragged himself to an alley wall and slumped against it, exhausted. It had taken weeks of physical therapy before he had been strong enough to walk out of the hospital. As he felt his legs give out, he thought again how pathetic he was, and all he could feel was the pain of knowing.
"Oh God," he choked out, not caring who heard him. "Olivia."
He had to see her. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, but in that moment, nothing was as important as Olivia. He had gone too long without her, and he needed to see her. Then he remembered that he was stranded, with no way of getting around the city, not even his own legs.
Summoning the last of his strength, Elliot found a payphone. He only had one quarter, rescued from a filthy gutter he had practically fallen into. He thought about calling Olivia, but…It wouldn't be right, after all this, asking her to rescue him. He thought of the people he would have called four years ago. That was when he remembered Kathy–but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care as much as he should. Choosing Cragen, he prayed that the number was the same and dialed, watching his precious quarter disappear with apprehension.
"Hello?"
"Cap," he exhaled, relief overwhelming him. "Cap, it's Elliot."
"Elliot! Where the hell have you been?"
"I–" He stumbled over his words. "I was in a coma."
There was silence. "A coma," Cragen repeated.
"Uhh…yeah. Listen, cap–"
"How exactly did you wind up in a coma?"
"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "When I woke up they told me that they had just found me on the side of the road. No I.D., a big gash in my head. Somebody probably mugged me and left me for dead."
There was a pause. "Jesus, Elliot. After you quit, we all thought you had just taken off. Olivia was…"
"I know, Cap." He pleaded. "Wait a second. Did you just say that I quit?"
"Uh, yeah, Stabler. You handed in your papers a few days after I.A.B. started investigating Jenna's shooting."
Elliot grasped his hair in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe he had lost some memory. "I guess I just don't remember."
"Well, that's probably to be expected with brain injuries."
"Any chance I could come back? I mean, I know its been four years, and it'll take a while for me to get back in tip-top shape, but…"
"El, you're asking the wrong person. I retired a couple years ago."
Damn. Elliot closed his eyes in despair. "Oh," he said. "So, who do I ask? Munch?"
"Elliot, Munch is retired too."
"Well, dammit, Cap! Is Fin gone, too? Does Olivia even still work there after–after Lewis?"
"So you know."
"Damn right I know! She–" his voice broke. "How can I ever–" He closed his eyes, resting his head against the phone wearily.
"I don't know. But you owe it to yourself to try, Stabler. Don't make her wait any longer."
Elliot imagined her angry. Imagined her slapping him in the face, screaming at him for abandoning her without so much as a goodbye. He would deserve every bit of it. "Yeah. Look, Cap. I'm actually calling you because I'm kind of stranded. I used my last quarter to call you, I don't have any cash–"
"I'll come pick you up, you can stay with me and Eileen until you figure things out. Where are you?"
Elliot told him, briefly wondering who Eileen was, and waited for his old boss to come pick him up. He felt stronger knowing that he would see Olivia tomorrow. They had both waited long enough.