This is my first SVU story. Just an odd idea that popped into my head. Hope you enjoy.
Sliced
It is 2:37 a.m. and Elliot is awake.
He shouldn't have expected sleep. Unnatural hours were part of the job, but all he wanted was to go back to his empty apartment and sleep.
Not that he would be getting any with her next to him. Her short brown hair is combed to the side, falling over her eyes. Her elbow rests against the car door, right where the window meets the panel. A folded hand supports her face, which is pointed out the window, into the street. Her breath comes in small, shallow heaves, leaving the faintest spot of vapor on the window before it fades and is replaced.
Everything about her posture says that she has turned from him, from them.
"Hungry?"
She doesn't answer.
Not sure if she heard him, he reaches over to tap her shoulder.
"No," she says before he can touch her.
He lowers his arm.
He isn't sure why he slips his knife from his jacket. Usually, he bites his apples, tears into them like a child with a loose tooth hoping for a bit of spending money.
The knife splits the red flesh with a crunch.
Her head turns slightly as the smell of the fruit fills the car.
"Sure you're not hungry?"
"I'm fine, Elliot," she says.
He shrugs and slips the first slice into his mouth. It is slightly tart and hard, unyielding against the pressure of his tongue. A bit of juice escapes his mouth as he chews and he is quick to wipe it away.
A few minutes pass before he cuts another slice. Already the bare white core of the apple is fading to a light tan, dying before his very eyes. Like his relationship with Olivia.
He has to chuckle at the comparison. The sound earns him a sharp look from her.
"It's a good apple."
"I can tell. You sound like a four-year-old." Her voice is devoid of its old humor.
"Nothing wrong with that," Elliot says. "I like reliving my childhood."
"That's because you never grew out of it."
The second slice of apple is a cool balm to his wounded pride. He bites it almost indignantly, as if by destroying it he can somehow destroy the power she has over him.
He wonders when their relationship started to go bad as he cuts a cone-shaped bruise from the side of the apple. He could lower the window and throw it out, but instead he sets the sliver in the cupholder, knowing it will annoy her.
He sees her bite her tongue to keep from admonishing him.
Satisfied, he cuts a third slice.
"Are you sure you don't-"
He is cut off by her motion. The apple is gone.
For the first time that night, she looks directly at him over the top of the shiny, red apple. A hearty crunch fills the car as her teeth sink into the firm flesh. She chews defiantly, never taking her eyes from his.
"Enjoy your damn apple. It's not that good anyway," she says, tossing it back to him.
He turns it in his hand, his thumb stroking the hole she has torn in the side. It is rough, so unlike his meticulous cutting.
At 3:17 a.m., he drops her off in front of her house, speeding away before she is barely in the door.
At 3:29 a.m., he parks in front of his apartment.
The apple, cut only an hour ago, has already turned brown.
Reviews are greatly appreciated!