A/N: Just another rewrite. Hope you all enjoy this; I've made some more serious improvements. This one is dedicated to The Congressman, who I hope is reading right now. Thanks for the kind messages. It's really encouraged me to get back into the game.
Elliot Stabler was completely and utterly exhausted. He stumbled into his home in Queens as quietly as he could, silently wondering whether or not his wife of fifteen years had stayed up to wait for him. He toed off his shoes, and removed his jacket, sighing as the heat soaked into his chilled bones.
He told her earlier that day that he wouldn't be home until late, if at all. She'd been upset, of course, mostly due to the fact that they hadn't seen each other in three days. After the body of a teenage girl was found, the Manhattan Special Victims Unit had been launched in an all out race to find the killer, a serial rapist with a new victim every six hours.
Finally, after a mentally and physically exhausting week, they caught the bastard. His new partner, the third since Dave Rossetti died, quit right after they closed the case. He'd lasted about five days; Elliot couldn't even remember the man's name.
He shook those thoughts away; he didn't blame the man. After working with Special Victims Unit for the better part of five years, he still wanted to cringe at the stories he heard. He doubted that would ever change.
"Hey."
The voice was like music to his ears. Kathy, his wife and the mother of his two beautiful daughters, flipped on the lamp next to the couch that she sat on. She looked almost as tired as he did, and he silently wondered how long she had been sitting there waiting for him.
"Hey." He answered, collapsing next to her. His screaming muscles thanked him. "I told you not to wait up for me."
"I wanted to make sure you got home alright." She said, gently running her hand through his short hair, a gesture she knew soothed him. "How's the case?"
"Closed." He answered, leaning back, relaxing under her touch.
"Are you okay?" She asked quietly.
She always knows when something's wrong.
"It was tough." He admitted, glancing at her. He didn't say anymore; he hated bringing his work home with him, though sometimes it was hard. He didn't want to drag her into the horrors that he saw every day. He had enough nightmares for the both of them.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head. "It's alright."
"No, it's not." She said. "I know you're in pain right now. Talk to me, maybe I can help."
He leaned into her. "You being here is enough."
"Alright." She conceded. "But if you do want to talk, I'm here for you. Okay?"
He gave her a small smile, and nodded.
"C'mon, let's get to bed. You look exhausted."
The next day, Elliot awoke to the sun shining through his window, a rare occurrence. Usually, he was up before the sun even rose and out as it came up. Cragen had given him strict orders to take the following day off, though, something that Elliot had no problem with. He could use a day off.
Though he'd been sleeping for almost ten hours, he still felt groggy and sluggish. He couldn't force himself to go back to sleep; years in the Marines and the NYPD had taught him the need to be productive. If he wasn't, he would go crazy.
So, instead of laying in bed and sleeping off his exhaustion, he got up and dressed in warm clothing. The night before, he noticed inches of snow trampled down in the driveway.
The day after, Elliot returned to the precinct. He felt refreshed, renewed, and ready for whatever case he would be assigned to next.
What a difference a day off can make.
"Morning, Elliot." John Munch said as the younger man walked into the bullpen. "How was your day off?"
"Refreshing." Elliot said, hanging his jacket on the back of his chair. "We catch anything yet?"
"Not yet. Didn't you have a partner a few days ago?"
Elliot shrugged his shoulders. "Another one that couldn't handle it. At this rate, I'll be flying solo forever."
"You're not that lucky." John said, returning to his paperwork.
Elliot began pulling out files, and sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
The morning went without much of a hitch. In the early afternoon, Cragen sent Elliot and Munch out to Mercy General to interview a victim.
"God, I hate these cases." Munch said, peering into the hospital room where a young girl lay. She looked to be about fourteen. Her face and arms were heavily bruised and her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
Elliot looked solemnly in at the girl, his heart breaking. "I know. Me too."
"One of us should go in. She may be intimidated if two unknown men come into her room." Munch said.
"You're right."
"I'll see you afterwards, then."
Elliot turned towards Munch. "Whoa, whoa. Why me?"
Munch shrugged. "You're the father. You know how to talk to little girls better than I do."
Elliot sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, yeah."
He readied himself, and took a deep breath before approaching the doorway. He knocked on the frame. "Hey there. Are you Megan?"
The girl stared at him blankly, and Elliot wondered if she even comprehended what he was saying. He took a deep breath.
"I'm Elliot, a police officer. Can I come in?"
Once again, nothing.
"I'm going to come in. I'm here to help you, okay? You're safe now." He took a few slow steps, and when she didn't flinch away or tell him to back off, he moved a little bit quicker, and sat next to her.
"How are you holding up?" He asked. A moment of silence later, he couldn't handle the silence anymore. "Can you talk to me, sweetie?"
She finally focused in on him. "S-sorry." Her voice was soft and unsure. "I-I am Megan. I-I guess I'm alright."
"Can you tell me what happened to you?"
She bit her lip, and shook her head. "I-I don't want to talk about it."
"I know." Elliot said. "I know what you're going through is really painful and scary. But if you tell me what happened, I'll be able to help you, and hopefully we- my partner and I- will be able to catch the person that did this to you. You want that, don't you?"
Megan nodded. "Of course."
Elliot reached out, and squeezed her hand gently. "I'm listening, then."
She took a deep breath, and nodded. "I-it happened so fast. I was walking home from the subway after my guitar lesson. H-he came up from behind me, and grabbed my case. I tried to turned around to see who it was, but he pulled my shirt over my face and I-I couldn't move my arms."
Elliot squeezed her hand as she continued, letting her know that he was there for her. "He pulled me into an alley and… he-he… raped me. When he was done, h-he ran off. Never even said a word to me."
The tears streamed down her face. She fell into his chest, and began to sob.
"Shh…" He whispered, rocking her back and forth gently. "It's going to be okay. He's not going to hurt you anymore."
"This sucks." Elliot grumbled, leaving the hospital room. Megan had finally calmed down, and fell into a deep sleep, probably due to the painkillers the nurse administered a few moments earlier.
Munch pat his shoulder. "It's hard for all of us, El."
The younger detective nodded curtly, clearing his throat as he pushed back the emotion. "I know. Come on, we better get back to the station."
Just as they walked out of the hospital, Elliot's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket.
"Stabler." He said into the receiver.
"Elliot." Cragen's voice greeted from the other end. His voice was filled with remorse and something else. Pity?
"What's going on?" He asked as panic rose in his throat.
"It's Kathy, Maureen and Kathleen."
