A/N: Warning for language, later on. I warned you. This is a crossover fic too, however, I didn't place under crossovers because there is more than one. They are all equally important, I think. Some you might catch, others no. It doesn't matter if you do, or don't, it's not important.

Elliot winced as he placed his t-shirt over his head, the pain from his left shoulder radiating throughout his body. He took a raspy breath before continuing on, cursing Bushido's name the whole time. Carefully putting on the sling, he sighed.

"El? Are you up?" Kathy called from the bottom of the stairs.

Elliot nodded before calling back, "Uh, yeah, yeah I'm up hon. Thanks." He heard her say something in response, sure it had something to do with breakfast being ready. Just as he was about to reach the door, the phone rang.

"I got it!" Kathy shouted, before her voice lowered and she answered.

He made his way downstairs, ignoring the shooting pain in his shoulder. He was glad he decided to take a personal day after all, he couldn't imagine staying at his desk all day while he could be relaxing at home. He ran a hand over his face, exhausted, before sitting himself down at the head of the table. Grabbing the glass of orange juice in front of him, he gulped it down quickly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glanced up to watch his wife end the call.

"Who was that?" he asked, grabbing a fork and digging into his steamy scrambled eggs. He forked some into his mouth, inhaling sharply when the heat burnt his tongue.

"Someone named Eve. Do you know anyone named Eve?" Kathy sounded slightly defensive, but genuinely curious.

Elliot paused, his jaw working slowly on his food. Finally he shook his head, "No, not that I can remember."

Kathy nodded, her fork twirling within her yellow eggs. "She sounded upset, said you should call back, that it was important."

Elliot shrugged, "Probably some vic, I'll call her back." He dabbed at his mouth with a soiled napkin, "She leave a number?"

"Yes, it's..." Kathy stood and rummaged through a vast array of paperwork, from each member of their large family, on the counter. She came up with a legal pad and squinted to read her own handwriting. "888-695-5901."

The fork froze halfway to Elliot's parted lips. He tilted his head to the side, and lowered the utensil. He murmured the number under his breath, knowing it sounded very familiar. He looked up quickly as it dawned on him. "That's my mom's number..."

"Who's Eve then?" Kathy questioned, a hand on her hip.

Elliot swallowed thee food he had pushed into his cheek. "My sister."

"Sister?" she repeated. "How many siblings did you say you had?"

Elliot leaned back with a deep sigh, "I have three brother, two sisters. Eve's the oldest of us all."

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, before wadding up his napkin and throwing it down on his half-empty plate. He pushed his chair back and got up slowly. "Mom's dying," he claimed simply, leaving the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Kathy.

Later that evening, when the kids finally finished their homework and went to bed, Elliot pulled himself out of bed. He carefully placed his tender arm in the blue sling, and made his way downstairs, avoiding the third step down. It always creaked.

Alone in the kitchen, the only light coming from the white moon in the window, he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He gulped it down, ignoring the dribbles he felt on his bare chest. Finally, he grabbed the phone and sat himself at the kitchen table. He dialed the number, and waited for someone to pick up.

After the fourth ring, he was about to give up and try again, when a clear voice came on the line. "Stabler, Eve. May I ask who's calling?"

Elliot's mouth went dry, he felt his jaw work up and down, and tried to produce some words.

"Hello? Who is this? Look, it's late, and I don't have time for games. Answer, or hang up."

Eve, Elliot thought, Always the tough one.

"Eve, it's Elliot. Your brother."

The other end of the line was silent before Eve said, "I know it's my brother."

"So," Elliot fumbled for some resemblance of a intelligent sentence. "How's mama?"

Eve sighed, her breath causing Elliot to cringe and pull the phone away from his ear. "Mom's not doing to well, Elliot. She's sick, real sick. She's been asking to see all of us: John, Sam, Rose, Frank, and you. One last time."

Elliot felt a small anger rise in his chest, "How long have you known? That she will die?"

"A few weeks, now. Look, don't argue with me. Don't tell me I've should have called sooner, because we both know you wouldn't have come."

A blush rose into his cheeks. "You're right, I'm sorry."

Another long paused followed, before Eve softened her voice and asked, "How are you? And the family? I heard you had another kid, not too long ago."

"I've been better, to tell you the truth. But, uh, the kids are great. Kathy's great. How about you? How's my older sis doing?"

A soft laugh filled the line. "I've been better too. I've moved in with mom to help her around the house. My hours stink though, but working in the ER does that to ya."

"ER, you're a doctor? Congrats."

"Yeah, I'm a doctor. Have been for awhile now. And before you ask, no kids and no husband."

Elliot felt embarrassed, "Guess I haven't kept up with the family real well, huh?"

"I can't really blame you, Elliot, I actually can't. I want to, but it isn't your fault. Anyway, I need to get going, and give mom her meds. Come out and see her, sometime soon. She doesn't have really long left. 'sides, if you really don't want to see her, just come out to see me. And John, and the rest of the lot. Okay?"

He nodded, "Sure, I'll think about it."

"Don't think too long."

"I know," he took a breath, "I know. I won't."

"G'night, Elliot."

"Night Eve."

Elliot sat on the wooden chair, the phone pressed to his ear as the dial tone buzzed in his ear. He shook his head and hung up. He remembered her now. Evelyn Cecilia, with her long dark hair and glowing blue eyes. She always had a smile on her face, but he could count all the times it was traded off for a scowl when she brought out the authoritative side out of her.

He vaguely remembered the rest of his siblings too. He remembered carefree John Michael, always there with a joke and a smile, and shy Rose Graciela, but Frank Martin was always serious. And Samuel Christoper was always a little crazy, always hyper and breaking the rules. Which was probably why he was one of the most frequently beaten children, of the boys. None of the girls were ever hit, however, that never stopped Joe from verbally degrading them. They were girls after all.

Elliot ran a hand over his face, exhaustion hitting him hard, just as the memories came back in. He wish he never received the call; that Eve should have never contacted him. Now he would be forced to see his estranged siblings, and his dying mother once more.