It still bothers him. He'd talked to Olivia about it, briefly, during the investigation they've just closed, but at least then, he'd had the chance to put it out of his mind. Now there is only darkness, the silence that fills the bedroom, and the sound of Kathy's breathing beside him. She's fast asleep, but he is not. Red digits glare at him when he looks at the clock on the bedside table.
Annoyed, Elliot turns onto his back and glares up at the ceiling for a long moment, watching the fan as it moves in slow circles, and knowing that there isn't a chance he'll fall asleep again, now that he's awake. Sure, the case is over, they've taken out the cop that was behind it, but at the moment, it's the least of his worries. There are far more important things than another case closed, and those things are there at home, where he just happens to be.
With this in mind, he sits up and pushes the covers away, vaguely noting that Kathy doesn't notice this, and gets to his feet, with half a mind to go wake Kathleen up, despite the fact that it's now exactly ten minutes past five in the morning. And then the door opens, slowly, and a familiar blonde head that for once isn't Elizabeth's peeks in, and upon seeing that he's awake, an expression of relief appears.
"Can we talk?" Kathleen's voice is quiet, so as not to wake her mother, and Elliot nods, to avoid having to answer out loud, since he's still standing there next to the bed, like an idiot, because he didn't actually expect her to be awake.
"Yeah, we can talk," he says, once it occurs to him to move away from the bed and towards the door. "We'll go downstairs."
And they do. He switches on the lights in the kitchen and blinks as Kathleen sits down at the table, looking smaller than she actually is, because she's wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts as night clothes. He leans against the counter after starting a pot of coffee, and breaks the silence that has fallen between them.
"So, what'd you want to talk about?" he asks, and finds it somewhat amusing in an odd sort of way that she actually wants to talk to him, because a few days ago, she'd stormed off after informing him that yes, she was still a virgin, and proceeding to kick a soccer ball at him.
Kathleen shrugs and looks down at the surface of the table. "My friend Ashley," she says, in a voice so low that Elliot has to lean into hear her, and he sighs once it registers exactly what she's getting at.
"You know, there are a lot of places that can help her out," he remarks, and Kathleen looks at him, startled.
"She's not getting an abortion," she tells him, and he shakes his head at her.
"You know that's not what I meant." And it isn't, either, and he wonders exactly how much his second child knows about this sort of thing when he sees her relax slightly before he goes on. "Does she know what she's going to do?"
Kathleen shakes her head. "No. I mean, she's only in eighth grade. I'm only in sixth, and all of a sudden, she's pregnant, and she's freaking out, and I don't know what to tell her."
"Well, how close are you two?" Elliot asks, and Kathleen sighs again.
"Ok, so you know how sometimes when you've got older team members who've played forever, and then you get the newer ones, right?" she asks, and when he nods, she goes on. "Well, our coach decided it'd be a good idea to stick one younger player with one older player so that they could get to know each other and what the team was like…that sort of thing. So I was stuck with Ashley."
He mulls this over for a moment, and a sudden realization dawns on him. "You're the first one she's told, aren't you?" he asks, and Kathleen nods.
"Yeah. She didn't want to tell her parents, 'cause she's afraid her dad will flip and kick her out, so she told me, and I wasn't supposed to say anything, but it didn't seem right keeping it to myself, so…"
"And she's quit the soccer team?" Elliot asks, even though he knows that this Ashley has. "What kind of explanation did she give them for that?"
"She told 'em she doesn't like it anymore, which sucks for her, because I know she does," says Kathleen. "I don't get it. I mean, according to the middle school way of life, she had everything, popularity, perfect grades, involved in everything, and now she has to give it all up."
Elliot decides not to point out at this moment that there is, actually, a way where Ashley doesn't have to give everything up, because they've already made that point and gotten past it. But Kathleen seems to know what he's thinking and shakes her head at him.
"She won't," she says, again. "I already asked her, just 'cause she started talking about it, 'cause she said that's what other girls do, and then I was like, 'Well, would you?' and she's like, 'Hell, no.'."
"She does realize that the only options she has are to give this child up for adoption or keep it and raise it till it's eighteen, right?" Elliot asks, and Kathleen nods.
"Yeah, she knows. She's thinking adoption. Her boyfriend doesn't know she's pregnant, which is probably a good thing, 'cause he's like, eighteen."
"Don't tell me her parents like this guy," Elliot starts, but Kathleen cuts him off.
"No way. Her parents hate him. They've been trying to find a way to keep 'em from seeing each other, but Ashley's about as stubborn as Maureen."
"Well, your sister's not pregnant, is she?"
"I don't know, ask her."
"That's not what I wanted to hear, kid." Elliot pauses and then goes on, more to himself than to Kathleen, who's listening anyway. "They could have him charged with statutory rape…"
"What's that?" Kathleen asks, and he shakes his head at her.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he says, and she shrugs.
"Fine, I'll just ask one of my friends at school," she says, and he stares at her.
"And what would your friends at school know about something like that?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes.
"You know, it's not like I don't have other friends whose dads are cops," she says. "They'll probably know something. We're not stupid, you know. It's easy for us to find out about things."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of, and for the record, I'd prefer if you didn't ask your friends about it," says Elliot, but knows she'll do it anyway. "You know, I meant what I said about there being places to help Ashley out."
"Well, sure, but they're all in Manhattan, aren't they? Like, there's no place in Queens she could go, she'd just have to skive off school to get there and hope that her parents don't find out."
"What she needs to do is tell her parents what's going on, before they notice and corner her about it themselves, because that'll only make it worse," says Elliot. "What's her relationship with them like?"
"Pretty good. She's an only child, but her parents are kinda strict, which is why she's scared to tell them, and for the record, I totally get it."
"Another thing I'm not too sure I wanted to hear." He wonders why it seems a lot easier talking to her about this than it does talking to her mother, or to his partner at work, but decides that he'll think about it later. "And for the record, there are places in Queens."
Kathleen gives him a sideways look, and then turns to examining her nails, which he's long come to know as a nervous habit of hers. "Think you could get the information for her?" she asks, sounding as if she doesn't really think that he'll do it, but he nods.
"I'll take care of it today," he tells her, and wonders exactly how he's going to explain this within the squad.
Kathleen offers up a faint smile and gets up, walks over to where he is, and hugs him.
"Thanks," she says, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I owe you."
He shakes his head and ruffles her hair. "Don't mention it," he says, and looks at the clock. "Run upstairs and poke Maureen. You two need to get ready for school."
She does, and he watches her go, before turning to pour another mug of coffee. Footsteps catch his attention a few minutes later, and he looks up to find Kathy walking into the kitchen.
"Where does it all go?" he asks, more to himself than to her, but she looks at him anyway.
"Where does what go?" she asks in reply, and he sighs, staring down at the coffee left inside the mug.
"Their innocence," he says, without looking at her. "Where does it go, how do they lose it, and what the hell are we supposed to do about it?"
No answer comes, but he hadn't really expected one.
After all, there is no easy answer to something such as that.