Chapter 9 – Space

A storm was coming.

Seth could feel it in his bones. And it was exciting.

The view outside the bar's large picture window confirmed his instincts. The winter night's sky was pitch black, a dark cloak that blocked out the pale light of the stars. A cold wind whipped violently, twisting the already fallen snow into mini white tornados and obscuring the view of the convenience store across the street. No new snow yet wept from the sky, but that was going to change, and soon. The weatherman was calling for close to six inches. Shoulders hunched and leaning into the wicked wind, pedestrians hustled down the sidewalk, rushing to get home before Mother Nature unleashed her wrath.

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was almost the complete opposite. It too was relatively dark, but the eclectic interior was cheerful and warm. The wind had no influence inside, and it howled its indignity outside the window, whistling through the weak insulation. The bar's patrons had shed their winter attire and sat contently, warm and cozy, completely indifferent to the coming tempest. At least until they left the balmy cocoon of the bar anyway.

A tall glass of light beer sat in front of Seth, an arm's length away, gleaming gold with perspiration. Reaching out, he spun it slowly around on its coaster, watching as a bead of condensation coasted smoothly down the glass and pooled by the rim.

Seth didn't understand the attraction of alcohol, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure why. It could be one of many reasons.

Maybe it was because he had seen what alcohol had done to his father. And, by default, to his family.

Maybe it was because drinking could be expensive, and Seth was extremely cautious with his money.

Maybe it was because he just didn't like the taste.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because when he drank, he lost control. And Seth liked control. He liked it very, very much.

Whatever the reason, Seth couldn't remember the last time he had had a drink. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

The downtown sports bar was impressively busy for a Sunday night, thanks in large part to the post-season football game that dominated the big flat screens spread throughout the building's interior. The bar, all of the tables, and many of the booths were filled with rabid sports fans, hypothesizing about this year's Super Bowl while munching on greasy foods and imbibing pitcher after pitcher of diluted gold liquid. Seth had been sitting quietly at the far end of the bar for the last hour, squished between two regulars already far too drunk to pay him any attention. The heat in the bar had dried out his throat, but he forced himself to sip slowly on his beer. He would have preferred a glass of water, but that would surely be noticed and disapproved of by the busy bartender.

But Seth wasn't really here to drink. He was here to observe.

He observed far better than he drank.

At that very moment, as he pretended to be engrossed in the silly game on the television, his concentration was really focused on a high top table near the other side of the bar, where two men sat, absorbed in easy conversation. These two men were perched on bar stools, facing one of the many wide screen televisions, their backs turned to Seth. They shared a pitcher and were eating from a silver bowl of salted peanuts which was consistently and enthusiastically refilled by their doting waitress. Seth had overheard her describing the two men as "handsome hotties" to one of her colleagues.

One of said "handsome hotties" was Elliot Stabler. The other, Seth knew, was his good friend Adam Garland, with whom Elliot had completed basic training for the Marines. He had also been Elliot's best man. In return, Adam had the honor of several full-color pictures in Seth's scrapbook. The two men had been at the bar for an hour now, their attention divided almost equally between companionable general conversation and the game.

Seth had never had a best friend like that before. He was looking forward to it.

Sitting too far away to overhear their conversation, Seth relied entirely on his vision to absorb and catalogue details. Details that were rapidly becoming crucial. With fanatical curiosity, he watched the two men interact, observing their body language and memorizing everything he could about the way Elliot sat, drank, ate, and talked. He noted with interest that Elliot still hadn't shaven for several days. His normally smooth face bore the beginnings of a scruffy beard. Frowning, Seth rubbed his own chin absently. He had never been able to grow a beard of any substance, but he was trying.

For now, the soft downy peach fuzz that speckled his chin was going to have to do. He didn't have much time.

As Elliot lifted his glass to his lips, Seth mimicked his movements, taking a deep gulp and wincing slightly as the liquid slithered down his throat. Fighting his gag reflex, he coughed wetly. Entirely unpleasant stuff. Dropping his glass back to its cardboard mat with a muffled clunk, Seth glanced irritably at his watch. It was getting late. Mentally, he willed Elliot to leave soon. It was essential he ensure Elliot arrived home safely before getting the rest of his night underway.

It wasn't like Elliot to be out drinking on a Sunday night. But then again, he had been annoyingly unpredictable these last few days.

Elliot had had his children this weekend, which was completely unexpected given last weekend had also been his weekend. When he saw Elliot leaving Kathy's house several days ago with the children in tow, Seth had panicked. After they drove away, he had had to get out of his car and walk the streets for an hour to calm down and stop hyperventilating. That was not the way it was supposed to be, and he needed things to go exactly as planned. Especially right now, with the time so close. Once his anxiety had dissipated again, Seth had shrewdly devised a backup plan, but fortunately it looked like he wouldn't need it. Kathy had come to get the children just before dinner tonight, and everything fell back into place. There would be no need for Plan B.

Just the way he liked it.

The only outlier in the equation was Olivia. His beautiful, exotic Olivia. The thought of her made his stomach tighten excitedly and phantom traces of her sweet scent flood his nostrils. His hands trembled with anticipation as he reached for his glass and took another sip.

Olivia. He hadn't seen her with Elliot outside of work for days. But that was okay.

He had a backup plan for her too.


"So let me get this straight. It's Sunday night. Your hot-as-hell girlfriend is out to dinner with another man. And you are sitting here, drinking beer with me."

As the teams trotted off the field for half-time, Adam sat up straight on his bar stool, stretching out the annoying kink in his back that had developed from leaning forward and looking up. Seizing the slippery glass in front of him, Adam took a lengthy pull of his beer before returning his gaze to his drinking buddy and shaking his head in amazement. "I gotta tell you man, that makes absolutely no sense to me. At all."

Groaning internally, Elliot instantly regretted having said anything to his long-time friend. He hadn't intended on it when he called Adam and suggested they go out to catch the game, but the events of the last week had spilled out of his mouth almost involuntarily over the course of the last hour. As Adam was the only person outside of Olivia and himself that knew about their relationship, Elliot had felt compelled to divulge their recent struggles. Adam had listened thoughtfully, munching on handful after handful of salted peanuts from the dish in front of them. And now that he had had time to process, he wouldn't let it go.

Still shaking his head, Adam burped lightly and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and glancing mindlessly around the bar. "And you're okay with this?"

"No," Elliot snapped, spinning his cardboard coaster on the circular table in front of them. "I'm not okay with it. But what am I supposed to do? I made it clear I didn't like her going with him, and she elected to go anyway. Short of physically restraining her, not much I can do about it. She has made it clear she wants her space. Fine." Elliot made a dismissive motion with his hand. "She can have it."

"Ouch," Adam winced, dragging his draft glass across the table and leaving a wet snail trail in its wake. "Women and their space. What's up with that?"

"Well, to be fair to her, I haven't exactly been the best boyfriend lately," Elliot admitted, taking a gulp of his beer to wash down the remnants of his last handful of peanuts.

"This guy she's out with tonight, he have a thing for her?" Before Elliot could respond in the affirmative, Adam held up a silencing hand. "Wait, dumb question. Of course he does. What hot-blooded heterosexual male wouldn't? I know I sure do." As Elliot threw a mock threatening glare his way, Adam laughed and signaled their waitress for another pitcher.

After ordering a pound of wings, the men relapsed into comfortable silence. Adam grinned up at the flat screen TV that hung above and in front of them while Elliot sat lost in thought, staring down into the watery depths of his glass. Around them, the bar was a melodic mix of clinking silverware, vague conversation, and the whistling wind. On the TV, sports analysts began arguing about a coach's play choice. Losing interest in the debate, Adam returned his attention to Elliot.

"Not to be negative, but you do realize he's going to try to get Olivia into bed, right?"

"I seriously don't want to talk about that," Elliot growled, gripping his slippery glass hard between two fingers. The brew inside was cold against his sweaty fingertips. He had invited Adam to hang out in the hopes that it would distract him from Olivia, not to discuss her "date".

Adam shrugged but continued to play the devil's advocate. "Maybe you don't want to think about it, but don't be naive. He's got the perfect opportunity. They will have eaten a nice, romantic meal at the restaurant you picked out for them, so she'll be in the mood. She's mad at you. She's not sure what she wants. What better way to test the strength of her feelings for you than screwing another guy?"

"Enough!" Elliot slammed the palm of his hand down hard onto the high top table with a loud fleshy slap. As a burning sting radiated from his fingertips all the way up to his shoulders, several people at the surrounding tables turned to gawk at his outburst. Instantly sobering and shooting an apologetic look at the bouncer now watching him with interest, Elliot sighed.

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to make me feel better? I thought you were my friend." Despite the harsh words, there was no anger in Elliot's voice. Only resignation. The only person he was angry at in that moment was himself.

Taking a sip of his fresh beverage, Adam felt only a little remorse for needling his friend. He had known Elliot for a long time, had seen him through good and bad. He also knew that without a push into action, Elliot was slow to fight for what made him happy.

Turning his attention back to the commentators on TV, Adam's reply to Elliot's "accusations" was mild. "Truth hurts friend. She coming over after her date?"

Elliot ran a beleaguered hand over his face, the rough stubble of his beard scratching the soft skin of his palm. "It's not a date. But no. She's crashing at her place tonight, like she has for the last six damn days. My bed has been cold, lonely, and boring as hell."

Eyebrows raised, Adam regarded him carefully but said nothing. He didn't need to. His expression said it all, and Elliot fell immediately back into denial.

"Look, they're just friends. They went to see a show, and then for dinner after, and then that's it. He goes home, she goes home."

Adam nodded, smirking slightly and taking an elongated swallow of his lager. "If you say so buddy. You put a lot of trust in her."

Elliot sighed and drained his glass wearily. "I trust Liv with my life. But I don't trust this Scott guy at all."

As colorful jerseys began to dot the playing field on the screen above him again, Elliot poured himself a fresh drink and immediately downed half of it. A pleasant buzz was starting to wash over his body, but it did little to ebb the jagged pain of unease in his belly.

Pushing the peanut dish in circles around the table, Adam refused to let the subject drop. "Seriously Elliot, take some advice from an old, albeit single, friend. You have to learn to stand up to the two adult women in your life. They both play you like a piano. Right now, Olivia is being unreasonable. She needs to accept that until Eli is older, Kathy is going to have some pull in your life, whether she likes it or not. Your kids are your priority. She knew that going in. And Kathy needs to let you go. You're divorced, and you are with someone else. You let her keep pulling your strings like a puppet, she's going to ruin your chances of having a relationship with anyone. Which, quite frankly, is probably her goal."

Elliot chuckled weakly. "Yeah well, she can play the kid card, and she knows it. That makes it harder."

Adam shook his head fiercely, pointing a scolding finger in Elliot's direction. "Get over your guilt buddy. You're a good father; you love and provide for your kids. Don't you think they would want to see you happy?" Shrugging his shoulders wearily in response, Elliot grabbed a handful of peanuts from the moving dish and tried not to think about what Olivia might be doing at that very moment.

When one of the teams scored a touchdown, the bar erupted into feverish cheers and high fives, but Elliot barely noticed. His mind wasn't in the game, lost instead somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. He snapped out of it only momentarily when the young waitress stopped by to drop off the basket of wings. She winked playfully at him on her way past, but the gesture was lost on him. Adam, on the other hand, smiled at her appreciatively and carefully watched the sway of her backside as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"She's probably legal, right?" Adam joked, elbowing his friend lightly in the side.

"I've been thinking about retiring from the force." Elliot blurted the comment out offhand, completely ignoring his friend's remark. Eager for Adam's unbiased response, he tried to keep his expression neutral. Adam absorbed the statement calmly with a nod of his head.

"It's about time. Actually, it's probably past time. I've been telling you that for a while now. The work you do, it's not mentally or physically healthy."

"I know. I love my work. But really, I've been doing it a lot longer than most people can stand. I'm not burnt out on it, not yet, but I feel like it's time."

Adam poured himself a fresh glass of beer and topped up Elliot's, spilling a bit of the light amber liquid onto the table. "You're young yet for retirement. Will you lose some of your pension?"

Elliot shrugged. "A little bit. But I figure I will keep doing some extra work on the side. I have a buddy that runs a private security company in the Bronx. He's been after me for a long time to come work with him as a consultant. Monday to Friday work, day time hours. I could do a lot of work from home too."

Adam nodded carefully. "It would be a hell of a change for you, that's for sure."

Elliot tilted his head thoughtfully, scratching at his thin beard. "I've had time to think these last few days. I missed so much of my kids growing up. But Eli is still young. I have a chance to rectify that. But not if I keep working at SVU. It's too time and energy intensive. I've been looking at some houses, mostly in Queens. I was thinking, maybe get a small place. A few bedrooms. And then take a bigger role in Eli's life. Maybe take him every other week instead of just every other weekend. It would be good for me, and Eli, and it would help Kathy out. I would get a second chance to be a good father."

"You are already a good father. And technically, Eli would be your fifth chance," grinned Adam, arranging a curving string of peanuts on the table top. After a moment of thought he suddenly sobered, meeting Elliot's eyes. "Seriously man, I think it's a good idea."

Elliot shrugged. "I'm not committed to it yet, but it looks better every day. And if Liv and I are still . . ." he swallowed before continuing carefully ". . . together after this weekend, if I were to retire, she could stay on at SVU, and we wouldn't need to hide our relationship. Maybe we could even look into getting that house together. Get married." Elliot shook his head. "But I'm getting way ahead of myself. Who knows what will go down tomorrow when we "talk"."

Sensing his friend's melancholy, Adam leaned forward, letting the tip of his finger smudge the ring of water left on the faux wood table by the base of his beer glass. "It doesn't have to end. You've got something really good going on between the two of you. You make each other happy. Fight for it. Talk to her. And I mean really talk to her about what's going on. She probably doesn't know the half of what Kathy is threatening you with. She'll come around. And as for Kathy, start telling her no. Yes, this weekend she was in the right and you had no choice. But from now on, make her deal with Eli on her own if you are busy. You two have four other kids, it's not like she's never had to deal with discipline problems before. Just don't let her screw things up between you and Liv. If you do, you'll regret it."

Nodding his head slowly in agreement, Elliot tipped his glass up in a toast to his friend, feeling a smidgen of hope spark and smolder in his gut. "How the hell did you get so smart?"

Adam laughed jovially before bringing his glass to his mouth and downing the dregs, wiping the foam around his lips on the back of his hand. "I'm like a fine wine. I get better with age. You know what though, if things don't work out between you and Liv, you could always be a pal and set us up."

This time it was Elliot's turn to laugh heartily. "No way in hell."

They had only just barely turned their attention back to the big screen when an excited exclamation near the front of the bar had them twisting in their seats. Near the big picture window, several patrons were pointing animatedly at the sheets of snow currently pouring down from the heavens. The white precipitation fell in dense, thick flakes that instantly adhered to whatever they came into contact with and began accumulating.

"Here comes that storm they've been calling for," mused Adam mildly, twisting back in his seat and returning his focus to the resumed game. Elliot continued to stare out the window for a few seconds longer, marveling at the beauty of the falling crystals. Swiveling back in his seat to join his friend, he made a mental note to leave early for work in the morning if he wanted to be on time. Harsh snowstorms in Manhattan usually brought with them a healthy dose of chaos.

Unfortunately, he didn't even know the half of it.