Chapter Three – Apparitions

I followed Huang down the hall. I still had blood on my knuckles. It was dry now and was causing my skin to feel stretched and dry. I stared at it in disgust as Huang unlocked the door to his office and let me in first.

The walls were a sort of light teal, a color I could sort of associate with him. He moved around his desk and sat in his chair, leaning back. He watched me as I sat down on the couch-thing all psychiatrists seem to have. I wonder if they're supposed to relax us or something. I hate shrinks.

"Want me to get you something to drink?" he asked me after a moment. He glanced at my hands. "Or a first aid kit?"

"I'm fine," I muttered.

He shrugged, then tossed me the box of Kleenex on his desk. I caught it, then looked at him, trying to look intimidating. "You think I'm gonna cry or something?"

"No, it's for your hands."

I pulled a few sheets out and spat in them, then started to wash my knuckles. He watched me the whole time with a look on like I was some sort of documentary. I glanced up at him and he didn't look away. He had that smiling look in his eyes. I've only ever seen him do it, smiling with just his eyes.

"I'm not talking to you."

"Fine. Sessions are an hour long. We just won't talk for an hour."

"Fine."

I finished wiping my knuckles clean. I was stuck here for an hour. I kicked back and lay down, staring at the stucco roof, counting the dots. I could feel his eyes on me, they wouldn't leave me alone. After a moment I couldn't stand it.

"Stop staring at me, I'm not talking."

"I understand that."

Damn him. He's too hard to understand, and impossible to get around.

After another long moment I couldn't stop my mouth from moving. It had a tendency to run away whenever I was alone with a shrink, and ends up getting me in shit. I nearly got fired, I was thrown off of cases…

I was already thrown off, what would it hurt?

"He spoke about my daughter, said he watched her."

"What else?"

"I'm not repeating it. Ask Fin or Cragen, or the slimy bastard yourself."

"OK. What else did he say?"

"Called Fin a… I'm not saying that either, but he knew I was on a leash, he knew he could push me, like he had immunity, like he wanted to make me snap it almost seemed, just to watch me squirm. Our act just let him know I was being controlled."

"Is that why you attacked him? To show him you weren't being controlled?"

"No, he spoke about my daughter, and that's why I did it."

"Was it a factor?"

"Might'a been."

"Did you want to kill him?"

"I don't want to say."

"Fine." I heard a pen scrape on paper. He took a note. I turned and glared at him.

"What did you just write about me?" I snarled.

"That you're upset at your reaction. You're upset that you wanted to hurt him. Like it disgusted you."

"How do you know that?"

"Elliot I've worked with you for five years now. I know you don't like your anger, I know you feel like it's another entity, another you, like the voices in a schizophrenic's mind."

"I've never told you that."

"I've gathered it. Have I hit the nail on the head?"

I hesitated, then nodded once. "I can hear it all the time. Sometimes it's loud and sometimes it's quiet. Today it was loud. I lost it. It took over."

"Has it before?"

"I beat up my old partner. I would've killed him if I hadn't stopped. I nearly killed a pedophile I'd worked under cover to catch. I killed Freeman."

"What do you do to stop it?"

I blinked. "Hit stuff. Punching bags, pillows, the walls, anything. I don't want to talk about it."

"You'll get angry?"

"Yeah. Cathy left me because I was mad all the time. Figures, doesn't it?"

Huang didn't say anything. Just watched. This wasn't a usual session. Normally he asks me tons of questions until I'm ready to punch him out. Now he's just sitting, watching, waiting for me to make the first move. I'm tired of making the first move. I wanted to make him ask, not the other way around.

Then, "have you been sleeping well?"

I looked at him funny. "Why?"

He shrugged.

"Sleep fine," I lied. He gave me a look. Good fucking God, never fucking lie to a God damn shrink! I could tell he didn't believe me. "Alright, fine, I have weird dreams."

"What dreams?"

Before I knew it I was telling him. I could see it with terrifying clarity.

A hall stretched down before me and I was alone. There was no real light, so everything was shades of gray. My eyes had simply adjusted to the gloom. As I walked doors came into view and from behind each I could hear people yelling. Sometimes it was Olivia, sometimes it was Cathy, sometimes it was Hendricks, but mostly it was my children. Some were simply calls, some were screams. It depended on the door.

I'd go to the door to open it and help them but as I neared it, it would turn into a stone wall, unable to be opened. They'd scream, but I couldn't do anything about it. I'd try and force the door, but it'd never budge, it was just stone set in a regular wall.

"ELLIOT! WHERE ARE YOU!" I heard Olivia's frightened voice cry. "ELLIOT!"

I'd keep walking, trying to find a door that opens. But nothing ever presented itself. I was lost and desperate. I want to help them, but I just can't get to them. Eventually a little pinprick of light would appear down at the end of the hall and I'd try to run, but my legs wouldn't work.

"All I know is that if I could reach that little bit of light I'd be able to save them," I said softly. "I'm afraid to sleep at night because I know I'll never reach it."

The scratching of Huang's pen ceased. He laid it carefully on his desk and folded his hands. He was staring at me intently. He didn't say anything. He wanted me to say something. God that was pissing me off.

"I just want to save them."

"You want to save them, or have them save you?" he asked softly. "They never did ask for help, did they?"

I stared at him. I was thinking, or trying to think of, some retort but the gears clicked into place. No one ever asked for me to save them, no one ever asked for my help. All it ever was, was "Where are you? Where are you daddy? Can you hear me? Why won't you answer?"

"They ask if I can hear them."

"Can you?"

I felt tightness in my chest. Not anger.

Fear.

"I don't know."

July 21st, 2005

"God, Elliot, I just don't know what to do anymore," said Olivia.


Tears were streaming down her face and the mascara she wore was running. She was hugging herself, and she looked so alone. It tore at me and I took a few steps forward and touched her shoulder. After a moment I drew her closer to me and she let out another sob.

"Do you want to quit?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "No one else… no justice… God, even if I try, nothing changes! The cycle just goes on and on and on!"

A father was molested by a neighbor as a child, that father molests his son, now that son in a psychotic break has killed three children, seriously injured another four, and tried to kill himself with his fathers Colt. The son, a little sweet black boy, is getting crucified because of the color of his skin. His father, a white man who adopted the boy, has been ignored. No one sees the monster, they just see the boy, and we can do nothing. We're powerless without any more evidence, without a confession. The public cries for the trial of the little boy, but not for his father, the respected, clean shaven, white small business owner. When we got the order to release him I broke my knuckles punching a cinderblock wall in my frustration. The injustice, the racism, made me sick. It made me look at America in a new light – that it wasn't a country built by strength and visions, but a place for the scared and weak to hide and destroy what they don't understand. The thought scared me.

"Olivia, we did all we can."

"But it's not good enough, is it? They're crying for him to be tried as an adult! He snapped! Huang sees it, Huang believes he wasn't responsible for his actions because he'd been abused and then bullied at school, but the public only sees those children, not the truth!"

I held her in the hallway of her apartment building. She cried into my shoulder, her tears soaked my coat as she shook. I'd never seen her like this, never. My heart cried for her even though I kept up my façade.

"I know how it feels to be hurt, Liv." I said quietly. "I know what it feels like to not get justice. I know it hurts. But I also accept when nothing more can be done."

"Why, what happened to you?"

We'd been partners for years. She always looked at me with that look, the one where I knew she wanted me. I felt her in my arms and I held her a bit more tightly. I felt like I could go into her apartment and make love to her all night long, but at the same time the only thing I really wanted was to hold her and make her know she was OK. That everything would be OK.

Did I love her? Did I love her enough to say? I told Cathy. She knew me better than anyone, or at least I thought so. That trust was what created our relationship. I suddenly wondered… was that the only reason we got married? Our relationship was on the rocks, we slept in different beds, and we fought all the time. I had a feeling she would file for divorce soon if I didn't shape up. But I didn't know how.

"My father used to…" I said, but I couldn't finish the sentence.

Her expression was that of shock. "Elliot, he didn't… didn't molest you when you were a child, did he?"

"No," I said sharply, "never that. But he hit me. And Michael. Never Jack, don't know why. I suppose it was because the bad thing happened to Jack."

"Bad thing?"

I wished I hadn't said that. "His trust was betrayed by a teacher. Now he's messed up… there's basically zero chance he'll ever recover or have a normal sex life. He's mostly the reason I joined SVU… along with my dad. Kids shouldn't be hurt."

"Mom was raped." She made an almost laughing sound, a sound that didn't belong to her. "I wouldn't know the bastard from anyone else on the street, but he's out there. My dad's out there."

I felt the usual clench in my stomach. She'd told me this before, and then I'd felt sick, and now I felt sick, and every time I thought about it I got sick. The injustice was unbearable, but… but if her mother had gotten an abortion, or hadn't been raped, then Olivia wouldn't be standing with me under the dim lights in my arms.

She pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes. I felt the urge to kiss her. I knew I was going to. I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to come in, regardless of the fact I was married. And I wanted to go in. I wanted to hold her.

Did I really want to make love with her though? Did my desire run that deep? Was I physically attracted to her? I didn't think so. Something, some side of me, said no. Said this wasn't good, and I agreed.

I leaned down and kissed her gently. Her lips were wet from her tears, and they were soft and warm on mine. No shoot of desire or hunger went through me. It was just a kiss. I was sure of it. I pulled away after a moment, a long, hard moment, and looked into her eyes.

"Elliot…" she began to say, but I interrupted her.

"I can't, Olivia."

"Why?"

"Because. I'm married, and…"

"And?"

The moment stretched into eternity. She was still in my arms and I still had the chance to do what she wanted, what I was thinking I wanted.

"And I… I don't love you, Olivia. Not like that. Perhaps never like that. It's killing me to say this, but… we can't be together. I'm sorry, Olivia."

She pulled away from me and hugged herself. Her eyes were hurt and betrayed. I wanted to die.

"I have to go. Don't… don't hurt yourself, Liv."

"Same to you, Elliot." She paused. "I think you're right though. I love you but…"

I nodded. "Not like that."

I gasped and bolted up in bed. What the hell brought that around? And why did it make me so scared? That memory… I shook my head. No, game over, all done, never again. I don't love her anymore. I rubbed my eyes, then stretched my face with the heel of my palms, my usual wake up ritual. I needed a coffee, that Mexican blend Liv bought me that sits up and barks, and a shower.

I looked at the clock. It was after three. Elizabeth and Dickie were out of school and probably back at their grandma and grandpa's. I wanted to go talk to Elizabeth, to make sure my little girl was all right.

I forced myself through the motions. The shower felt good, though it made my head hurt like hell. I turned up the heat to max so the steam billowed around me and obscured everything from view. I had the radio cranked.

It's history

And on your face

I promise you

I'll learn from my mistakes

I left the shower and switched the radio to a different station. Cathleen listened to that stuff, not me. I shaved and brushed my teeth, changed my bandage and dressed in regular street clothes and headed out. The drive was about an hour long, so I got there at four-thirty.

My former monster-in-law answered the door. She was around five foot five, had iron gray hair, grey eyes to match and a permanent scowl. She never approved of me, and nearly disowned her own daughter for marrying me. She hates the military, her first husband was killed in Vietnam, and she approved even less of my being in the NYPD. At least it was one less Christmas present to worry about.

"What do you want?" she said, looking at me with distrust.

"To see my daughter, Elizabeth," I replied, trying to keep civil, "I'll wait out here."

"That's fine, you can come in. She's in her room. The one at the bottom of the stairs," she tossed her head in the direction of the basement stairs. I walked in and pulled off my shoes. Cathy was at the top of the stairs leading to the main floor.

Her blond hair was tied up and she was dressed in track clothes. She must be on her way to the gym. We used to go together. She didn't nod hello or anything. I didn't either. I just went for the stairs.

"I saw you in the paper," Cathy said.

I turned and looked up at her.

"Is Munch OK?"

I nodded. "He'll be fine."

"Don't kill yourself, Elliot." She turned and walked away.

I choked on words for a moment. The divorce wasn't finalized yet, I still hadn't seen the papers, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to sign them when they came. Then I gave up, turning away I jogged down the stairs.

I knocked on the door. I heard Elizabeth's voice from within and I entered. The room was pink, it seemed grandma and grandpa had done a little remodeling for my girl. She had posters up every where, of bands like Backstreet Boys. One of those bands played over the radio. Hell if I knew who they were, they all sounded the same. It made me smile, though. She was growing up to like her own things, she always used to copy Dickie.

She smiled at me. "Daddy!"

She leapt off her bed, knocking her homework down, and ran up and hugged me. I hugged her back. "God, every time I see you you're a foot taller!" I said, squeezing her back. "I've missed you, Miss Mouse!"

She laughed. "You haven't called me that since I was, like, five."

I laughed with her. I helped her pick up her books. I studied the page. "Algebra, huh? I hated the stuff."

"I hate it too."

"Need help?"

"Nah, I can do it fine," she said. "I just hate it."

"Have you spoken to Amber lately?" I asked.

"Amber Kauffmann? How'ja know we were friends?"

"Someone mentioned it."

"No, I haven't. I heard she got abducted. Are you looking for her, daddy?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we all are."

"Did you hurt your head?" She gently touched the bandage on the side of my head, "mom said you were in the paper."

"Yeah, I hurt my head. I'll be fine."

"Is Uncle Munch OK?"

Munch'd get a kick out of hearing that. "Yeah, he's OK. The doctors are fixing him up."

"I'm proud of you, dad."

I smiled. "I'm proud of you. And I'm glad to see you're OK."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I didn't say you weren't. Dad's worry about their daughters, I just happened to pick today to worry about you," I said, pulling her to me, arms around her. "I love you Elizabeth. Take care of yourself, right?"

"Right. I'm a Stabler, I won't get hurt."

I laughed softly. Sometimes I wish that were true. "Yup."