A/N: SVU isn't mine, sadly enough. Title from Nickleback's Savin' Me.
Show me what it's like
To be the last one standing
-"Savin' Me", Nickleback
Elliot nods to the ESU sergeant. The ESU sergeant nods to his men. They pull the battering ram back. They smash it into the door.
"Pol"-
Gunshots ring out.
One down.
Two.
Three.
Oh, God.
Returning fire. Me returning fire.
One down.
Two.
I stumble. I fall into the wall. I slide down. My gun is still in my hand. My eyes are wide open.
Oh, God.
The Kevlar vest I wear is choking me. It's tightening around my chest. Tighter, tighter.
Oh, God.
Cold fingers are on my face. "John! John! What's wrong? Are you hit?"
I stare into his white shirt.
The fingers are at my side, pulling at the straps. The fingers are loosening the Kevlar vest.
Oh, God.
"John, hey, John. Talk to me. You all right? C'mon, say something."
"Oh, God."
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." He shifts closer, but I hear the feet. The voices are loud. Something about a lot of blood loss. The words are quiet.
"John, I'm gonna need your gun. Let go."
The cold fingers are on my hand, gently prying my clammy fingers off. I tighten my grip.
"No, hey, John, it's all right. We got 'em." His cold hand is on the back of my neck. "We got 'em."
Slowly, the cold fingers ease the gun out of my clammy hand.
More footsteps. More voices. Less words.
He's squatting next to me. I had no idea he could do that. Let alone for so long. "Everything's gonna be okay. We got 'em. Everything's gonna be okay."
His cold hand is on my shoulder. I'm cold. So cold. I shiver.
"You cold, John? You wanna come with me? I'll get you warmed up. We'll get you a blanket, some tea. How about it?" He stands. He extends his cold fingers.
I look at him. Really look at him. He's never looked so old. He's never looked so tired. His entire body seems to be sagging. He looks like he desperately wants a drink. Perhaps now more than ever. I look back down to the carpet. The blood stained carpet. I inhale. I exhale. I shudder.
"C'mon, John." His voice is soft. He might cry. I want to. My heart seems squeezed though. Something squeezing, squeezing. The vest is choking me again. "John?"
I can't move. I just slowly suffocate.
The cold fingers are back. More loud voices. Closer this time. They take the Kevlar off.
I inhale. I exhale.
My eyes shoot open and I sit up. I look around, somewhat confused. I feel her warm hand on mine and I turn wildly to her. She's propped up on her elbows.
"Last man," I whisper.
"John?" And then she's draped on my back. Her hand is running through my hair, back towards herself. "It's just a dream, John. Just a dream."
"I was... last man."
"What was that?"
"Last man standing. I was the last one standing."