"Lewis William's most recent victim was freed two nights ago" the TV croaked over the sound of his family eating dinner. Nosily chattering about the events of the day, Elliot had grown into his stay at home father role. Watching little Eli grow leaps and bounds every day without having to leave half way through a game of hide and seek, or not being able to kiss them goodnight because he's sat in a hospital pleading with a victim to have a rape kit done.
"Decorated NYPD detective…" he still wasn't paying too much attention, it was probably a routine report of an arrest. A brief glance at the screen left him no more intrigued, just flashing blue lights and far too much press.
"Olivia Benson"
Elliot froze. Surely she can't be the victim; she's just the arresting officer. He repeated under his breath because he didn't want to believe it. Just the arresting officer, she's just the arresting officer.
Please tell me she's the fucking arresting officer.
Eyes fixed on the TV screen and amongst the camera flashes there were brief glimpses of his old partner. His mind registered that Olivia Benson had been attacked, but he didn't want to accept it. Just contemplating it hurt more that he could put into words.
Attacked.
Assaulted.
Again.
Shaking consumed him. Placing his cutlery on the table he stood up to walk away, that's when he noticed his previously noisy family were all staring at him silent. Kathleen was the first to speak adopting an apologetic tone.
"Dad…"
"Not now!" he bit back, striding away from the table into the bedroom upstairs. The shaking still riddled his body, but it wasn't just anger this time. Sadness, grief, frustration, disappointment, helplessness, it was like being wrapped, bound, by the spectrum of emotion without an escape. Like a straightjacket of guilt but nobody held the keys. It left him slumped on the mattress digging his nails into his palms; the wet sting of drawing blood wasn't enough to bring him out of the stupor.
Just the bruised image of Olivia remained in his vision. He couldn't physically see it but the image on the screen was burned onto his eyes.
Haunting him, punishing him and there was never going to be enough Hail Mary's to absolve him.
He didn't deserve to be absolved, because leaving was the worse decision he has ever made. Attempting to explain by saying it was for her own good, she needed protecting and a partner which would have her back no matter what. A partner, who would trust her judgement, wouldn't second guess her simply because he could.
The belts of the emotional straight jacket just won't stop squeezing and squeezing. Wringing all the selfishness and arrogance buried deep within, replacing it with darkness and desperation.
Tighter. Tighter. The pressure was almost too much. His muscles began to ache-throb almost.
Pinching his skin, and then cracking his ribs. Breathing was difficult and the colour drained from his face.
But there was no more shaking.
There was nothing.
That's when Elliot lay down and gave in. Salty tears streaming down his face, dripping from his chin and littering his white shirt with translucent patches. Each damp spot representing another drop of guilt, another missed opportunity.
The tendrils of sleep crept in eventually; it soothed him but not the ceaseless thrashing of his body. This was nothing. It was the morning which presented the real challenge.
What the hell was he going to do now?