Disclaimer: I do not condone or encourage drug use in any way, and I hope I accurately portray, through this story, how destructive drugs can be. If I ever show drug use in a positive light, it is for the sake of the story only and not a reflection of my actual views or beliefs.
His long black hair, scraggly beard, and ragged clothing made him stand out as he walked through the doors of the fancy apartment building. His quiet demeanor was suspicious, and it was obvious he had no business being in that area of the city. His homeless appearance made Dennis, the doorman, want to deny him entry, but Lana Phoenix had given him strict instructions to allow the man into the building.
When the man was in the elevator and out of sight, Dennis pulled his cell phone out of his uniform coat pocket and typed a text message to a certain detective, who paid him money to inform him whenever the shabby man was visiting Lana. He figured it was probably illegal and definitely immoral to spy and disclose said information, but he had an idea of what was going on with the young Phoenix girl and figured he was doing her justice by informing a cop of the gross man's presence.
Up on the eleventh floor, Lana sat on the couch next to the man who was taking small white rocks out of a baggie and crushing them up on the glass table into fine white powder.
"This is the best shit I got," Bert told her, preparing the drugs to be snorted.
"What is it?" She asked cautiously. Despite her overly recreational use of hardcore drugs, she tried to be smart about it, genuinely not wanting to harm herself or wreck her body.
"It's the purest speedball on the streets," he answered.
"Where's the angel dust?" She wondered.
"Chill, I got it," he said casually. "Do this with me first."
"I didn't want this," she defended as she shook her head. "I wanted PCP."
"And I got it for you, baby," he grossly cooed as he gently pinched her chin. "I'm just bein' thoughtful with this extra gift – free of charge."
She weighed the thought in her mind for a moment. Sure she wanted to get high, but she was sketched by the fact that he was sharing his 'high quality' drugs for free – something no sane drug dealer would agree to, much less would do willingly on their own. A red flag went up in her mind.
Before she could reject his 'generous' offer, she heard keys jiggling in her front door.
"Who the fuck is that?" Bert asked, immediately uncomfortable.
"I don't know," she answered, praying it wasn't Elliot. She immediately regretted giving him a spare key to her apartment a week ago so she wouldn't have to replace her door every few months when he got worried about her and busted it down to could get inside.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, Elliot appeared in the hallway. Luckily, he was only a few blocks away doing some investigative work when he got the text from the doorman and could quickly dart to her apartment building.
Instantly, Bert's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Lana's heart began to race with anxiety.
"You," Elliot pointed to Bert as he walked into the room. "Get the fuck out."
"Great," Bert groaned, recalling who the sudden intruder was.
"Stabler, what are you doing here?" Lana wondered.
"I'm not joking – get out, asshole," Elliot repeated as he walked over to them. "I'm flushing all that shit on the table and anything you have in your pockets."
Bert jumped up defensively and spat, "Fuck you."
His cursing angered Elliot, and with one swift swing, he sent his fist into Bert's face, knocking his nose and jaw sideways and sending him to the ground.
"Elliot, don't!" Lana yelled. She was afraid of Elliot's temper and Bert's crazed personality – knowing if the two combined, something serious could happen. She tried to grab his arm to prevent him from doing any more damage.
But it was no use as Elliot was already hovering over the gross man on the floor, clutching his throat in his hand, squeezing to cut off his airway. Bert choked beneath him, trying to determine whether he should fight back or not.
"I ought to put your ass in the hospital," Elliot threatened, angrier than he thought was possible.
"Get off of him!" Lana screamed. "You're going to kill him!"
"I'm not gonna kill him." Elliot shook his head, staring him down. "I'm just gonna put his sorry ass in jail."
Bert managed to choke out a laugh beneath him. "If you put my ass in jail, you have to put Lana's sweet ass in jail too."
Elliot's eyes narrowed at him.
"She's just as guilty of possession as I am," Bert continued, smirking.
Elliot knew he was right. He glanced up at Lana over his shoulder, seeing her pained and scared expression. With a sigh, he let go of Bert's throat and stood up, trying to calm down and shake off his anger.
Bert stood up as well, adjusting himself. He felt warm liquid dribbling from his nose, and he tasted a metallic rusty flavor in his mouth. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and when he saw blood, he felt emasculated so he lifted his fist to take a sloppy swing at Elliot.
Quickly, Elliot ducked beneath him, and Bert's fist hit Lana's small frame in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground, where she smacked her head on the corner of the coffee table that held the drugs.
"You son of a bitch," Elliot growled when he realized what had happened. He quickly brought his hand back to Bert's throat, shoving him backwards until he was pressed up against the wall. He pushed harder and harder against his throat, this time coming close to causing the homeless-looking man to pass out.
"That's it, I'm going to have your ass arrested for assault on a police officer," Elliot spat.
"Elliot, stop, please," Lana pleaded softly behind him. "Just let him go. Let him leave."
Again, Elliot glanced over his shoulder to see Lana sitting up on the ground looking at him with a frightened expression. A line of blood trickled down her cheek from her eyebrow, which made his heart sink. He turned back to Bert, glaring at him to intimidate him.
"You get the fuck out of here and stay away from Lana," Elliot demanded as he relaxed his grip around his throat. "If I ever catch you around here again, I'm either going to throw your ass in jail or kill you."
This time, Bert was terrified after two attempts on his ability to breathe so he didn't try anything stupid again. He simply stumbled backwards, putting space between him and the cop.
"Just get out, Bert," Lana said softly, defeated from the experience. "Take the money on the counter and just leave."
Bert simply turned around, grabbed the hundred-dollar bills on the kitchen counter, then hurried out the door. He rushed to the elevator, growing increasingly paranoid of the detective, and sprinted out the door of the building.
A small smile spread across Dennis' face as he saw the man's bloody nose and panicked expression as he exited through the glass doors, feeling as if his prying actions were justified.
Back on the eleventh floor, Lana sat on her bathroom counter as Elliot stood between her legs, opening the first-aid kit to clean up the gash on her head.
He took a small damp napkin and patted the cut, wiping away the blood to examine the depth.
"I don't think you'll need stitches," he told her.
She didn't respond. She was so pissed at him for what he had just done; she couldn't even speak. He felt guilty, knowing he could've handled the situation much better and knowing he was the reason why she had the ugly cut under her eyebrow.
She winced slightly when he dabbed a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol on the gash, so he blew on her eyebrow, trying to minimize the pain. The look in her deep brown eyes was heartbreaking. Even though he didn't regret what he had just done, he didn't like the way he felt from the experience. And he didn't like being the cause of her pain.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm not sorry for making that idiot leave, but I'm sorry you ended up hurt because of it."
"I'm not talking to you," she replied simply. "I'm pissed."
Elliot shook his head as he blotted a Q-tip of Neosporin over the gash to protect from infection. She was so stubborn and oblivious.
"You shouldn't be hanging out with that guy anyway," he told her. "He's bad news, and you're better than that. You're better than him."
"Okay," she responded plainly, letting his words flow into one ear then out the other.
He placed a small bandage over her cut, hiding the blotch.
"There," he said as he picked up the debris from the process and threw it all in the trash. "I'll, um, just go now."
Lana sighed as she watched him move sullenly, knowing his annoying actions were only for her benefit and nothing more. She couldn't stay mad at him for that. "You don't have to."
Elliot looked up at her, seeing her eyes turn from angry to sympathetic. He nodded then held out his hand to help the girl off the counter, but when she grabbed his hand, she pulled him back toward her between her legs. He rested his hands on her thighs, caressing them softly, as she brought her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face. She pulled his lips to hers, kissing him softly, almost to let him know she appreciated him.
He kissed her back in a needy fashion, wanting her forgiveness and wanting her to know he was sorry for what had happened. His hands gripped her thighs firmly to intensify his need for her.
When they broke away, she kept her hands on his face and he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "I love you, Lana James."
"I love you too, babe," she replied quietly, caressing his cheek lovingly with her thumb.
He pecked her lips again then helped her off the counter and walked with her into the living room, where he sat down on her couch. She laid down beside him, placing her head into his lap.
He stroked her hair sweetly as they sat in silence together.
Lana began to feel thankful for Elliot's protective nature and concern for her wellbeing. She wasn't used to it, but she appreciated it, and it made her feel quite cared for and loved.
"Thanks," she muttered.
"For what?" He asked.
"For taking care of me," she answered. "I know you were only looking out for me."
"You don't have to thank me. It's what I'm here for."