He almost can't believe that the knocking he's hearing isn't all in his head. It's been almost a year since he's been woken up in the middle of the night by anything other than his own nightmares. He looks at the clock once more to make sure just one more time that this isn't a dream. 2:53. He sits up on the edge of the bed, and takes a few deep breaths as the knocking grows more frantic. He gives in and goes to the door. He turns the knob, having no idea what to expect.

"Captain?" he says in disbelief. His former boss stands there speechless with a haunted look on his face.

"Elliot…"

"Is everything okay?" he asked, knowing full and well it wasn't.

That's when Cragen looks down. Elliot follows his line of vision and sees his hands. They're covered in blood. "Oh my god, what happened? Do you need to go to a hospital? Let me call a bus," he says hurriedly.

Cragen looks at him with tears in his eyes. "It's not mine."

"What?" Elliot shakes his head. "Nevermind, just come on in."

Cragen numbly walks into the Stabler house and has a seat on the couch nearest the door. Elliot expects an explanation, but one doesn't come. If it had been anyone else, he would have offered them alcohol, but he knows Cragen doesn't drink anymore. You never know, so much can change in a year. "Can I get you some water?"

"I think I killed someone."

Elliot's eyes widen, but he hides his shock for Cragen's sake. Killed someone? Cragen wouldn't- It's been a year, Stabler. So much can change.

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't know, you know?" Cragen says, his voice cracking. "I don't remember anything. I just woke up an hour ago next to a bottle of vodka and a dead woman…"

A moment of silence passes as Elliot wraps his head around all this. "Why did you come here?" There were dozens of people dozens who would take a bullet for him, and most of them lived way closer than Queens.

"I didn't know where else to go. I haven't reported it yet, I can't… I didn't want to get any of my men in trouble. I know I have to report it, I just… I didn't know where else to go. I didn't touch a drop of alcohol for 20 years…" Cragen almost cries, almost, but then he clenches his fist and aimlessly strikes the arm of the couch. "You've got to help me… the booze, it must have changed me because I swear, Elliot, I wouldn't…"

"I know, I know. But listen to me, Don, listen. It's going to look real bad if we don't call this in. We can only make the situation worse unless we report it."

Cragen nods, then stays silent and motionless on the couch.

Elliot slowly goes upstairs to get his cell phone. Cragen's in a lot of trouble, there's no doubt about it, but he still has a chance if the investigation is handled properly, by a competent detective. If he were in Cragen's situation, there was only one detective he would trust to handle his investigation.

"What was it?" Kathy mumbles.

"Work stuff," he says as he sits down on the edge of the bed. "Go back to sleep, hon. Don't worry if I'm gone when you get up though." Elliot doesn't want to worry her by filling her in on the situation; she's worried enough for one lifetime.

He opens his phone's contact list and scrolls until he finds that one detective's name. Olivia Benson. He could never bring himself to delete her number. He takes a deep breath, then initiates the call.

He'd clearly woken her up. He felt guilty, but at least she was sleeping okay. "Benson," she answers sleepily.

"Hey, Olivia," he says awkwardly. He suddenly feels guilty for cutting off all contact. He should have called. Should have visited. Should have given her an explanation. Should have done a lot of things.

Her eyes shoot open and she immediately sits up. "Elliot?" she says in disbelief. She hasn't heard from him in a year, then he calls her at 3:00 am? She immediately begins to worry, and unfortunately, her worries were not unfounded.

"Yeah, hey. Look, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm going to just come out and say it. Cragen showed up at my door 15 minutes ago with blood on his hands. He says he woke up next to a dead girl and a bottle of vodka. I know if I were in his shoes, there's only one person I'd trust to handle my case."

"Give me an hour." She hangs up.

The drive over is a long one. She'd been hoping, even praying to hear from Elliot ever since he quit. She never expected him to cut off contact, and it hurt more than it should have. At first, she would often dial his number on her cell phone and let it sit there for hours while trying to build up the courage to hit SEND. She never did. She told herself to give him time, and eventually he'd call. When months passed without a word from him, she stopped dialing his number, assuming that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Now, almost exactly a year later, he finally calls his ex-partner. She just wished he'd been calling his best friend.

[Author's Note: thank you for reading. I haven't entirely decided how I want this story to go, so I'm very open to any plot suggestions anyone might have. If you have any ideas, please leave them in the review section.]