"Put my guns in the ground, I can't shoot them any more, that cold black cloud is comin' down, feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door" Guns 'n Roses – Knockin' On Heaven's Door

Months go by, and he feels less than himself in each second of every day. Small things remind him he is still alive; when he is so distracted he runs a stop sign and he watches as a car comes towards him before swerving violently, the man driving leaning out and swearing. He pulls to the side of the road and relishes his heart beating wildly in his chest, but it fades, like everything else.

At the firing range he stares down at the gun when it's fully loaded, at what he holds in his hand, and for a brief second while nobody watches, he takes the safety off and points it under his chin, before feeling the fear and placing it carefully down. When he steps back, closing his eyes, he is unsure whether he is afraid that he will, or that he won't. He doesn't dare go too often.

The dreams have stopped, of her, of anything, and sleep is too often a solace he hides in. He works, but on the days he doesn't he often won't get out of bed till mid afternoon. It's warm and safe beneath the covers, a storm rages outside and only by closing his eyes can he survive it. When he thinks about it all, about those around him and the glimpses he catches of the damage he is doing, it kills him inside, but he is already so numb it cannot make a difference. He drags himself to the basement, to the gym equipment there, and works out so hard his muscles tremble as he finishes and it is all he can do to walk up the stairs again. This is the cycle of days, dawn and dusk, sleep and exhaustion and always a search for a life or a death that never comes.

On the days he cannot get up, Eli comes into the bedroom after school and does his homework with him, tucked under the covers. Sometimes Kathy will come and they pretend happy families, like it is normal that a grown man doesn't get up, doesn't shave, doesn't leave his bedroom. She'll bring dinner up, popcorn, and they watch movies until Eli falls asleep between the two of them and he carries him to his own bed, the only time he might have ventured further than the bathroom that day.

There are some good days. One morning the sun shines so brightly through a gap in the curtains that he cannot turn away, cannot ignore its call, and it scares him how surprised they are when he isn't working but still makes it downstairs before midday. He is grappled into a bear hug by Eli and dragged outside willingly, and he pushes aside the amazement in his youngest son's eyes. They spend a whole day being father and son, a whole twelve hours of sport and laughter and an impromptu barbecue that all the children come home for, so overjoyed are they that they have their father back.

He sits on the porch and watches as shadows creep towards them and the kids battle against the night to play softball, and it feels like every minute someone will throw him a glance, to make sure he is still there. The air is warm, thick and heady, he's drunk just by breathing and he hasn't had a taste of this in weeks. There is a beer in his hand and it's not necessary tonight, but it's part of what this should be so he holds and drinks. As they scream with laughter because none of them can see, Kathy comes and stands behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

"This is what matters Elliot. They'll remember this night forever." And for a while he can kid himself that they will remember it for the right reasons, for it just being perfect instead of for how out of the ordinary it is now, such a normal day. How he was alive, and with them. He tries to clutch at what a gift it is, that he is here and the phone will not interrupt and the pain of the world is nothing to do with him here.

Lizzie comes and sits at his feet, breathing heavily from running, and he can see her red cheeks even in the dusk. She settles herself against his legs and for a minute, as she rests, he can feel her heartbeat reverberating through his bones as she leans back and tips her head to look at him upside-down. It's so easy, he thinks, to be here and watch his flesh and blood live, to hear their voices reach up to the sky and bring down the stars with them. Then it is pitch black and they are straggling in up the steps, Eli so exhausted that Dickie carries him back despite his age and dumps him on Kathy's lap where he seems to fall asleep within seconds. Now all of them sit, and there is no longer faint birdsong of dusk, just the silence of a suburb that is never quiet and the sound of another day ending.

He wants to hold onto it forever, but Eli breaks the spell with a childish snore that makes everyone giggle and begin to stand up. "Love you Dad," always comes at the end of a day, not just a day like this, and perhaps it means less to hear it now than when they come into the dark and musty room where he has stayed all day and say it. When, even though he has let them down in more ways than he can list, they still love him. But there, that night, there is none of the sadness behind the words, none of the 'I love you despite this' that he hears all the other times. That night, he feels normal.

He doesn't tell anyone that every morning as the sun rises and he feels the world start again, he imagines where Hartman is. How that man is free and he is not. How none of them are. In those few minutes, he relinquishes all blame, all selfish guilt for the hurt and the pain he causes, and the mistakes he has made, and places them all on him. It is a beautiful relief to let it wash away, to kid himself that he isn't causing any of it, that it all comes from Hartman and Olivia's disappearance, that he holds no responsibility himself. Of course it never lasts, his own decisions break through and it is that, the knowledge of what he has done or not done that causes him to roll over and hide from the world. It's easier that way, and he knows he is a coward, he hates himself for it, and the hatred simply kills him more.

And so they go on, without her, and almost without him.

It's three days before Christmas and he's cold when the phone interrupts his sleep. Kathy has curled into the covers and one foot dangles out over his edge of the bed, stopping him from sleeping, but he cannot muster the effort to act. Glancing quickly at the bright numbers in the darkness, he wonders who can be calling him at such a time. He doesn't do the late night summons any more, dragging himself out of the warmth to some scene of destruction, and now a call this late can only be bad news.

It's a number he doesn't recognise and for a second he considers not answering, staving off the sickeningly feeling he is carrying at the thought of it being one of those calls, the calls you never forget that end in a rush to a hospital and the sound of a doctor or cop telling you the worst. He can halt that, can make whatever has happened not occur, just by not answering the phone, but it sounds again and he looks at his sleeping, peaceful wife before answering in fearful trepidation.

"Stabler." There is nothing but silence on the other end, and he waits for seconds before pulling it away from his ear to check it is still connected. "Hello?" Now he can hear breathing, a soft shiver of air, though at first he isn't sure whether it is just his, or Kathy's beside him. But when he speaks for the third time, he realises there is someone on the other end, and he's getting annoyed as his heart settles from its fear, though there remains a nagging uneasiness in the back of his mind. "Who's there?"

He is just about to hang up when he hears it.

"El," and with one word, everything around him changes.