Capire - Italian. Verb meaning to see, to realize, to perceive
Trigger warning for brief referencing of anxiety, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, and suicide.
"Be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world…" - Paul Harding
It's nearly noon and he has yet to sit down.
He has been going strong since he arrived this morning just after seven. He'd barely made it to the elevator when his phone began to chirp with tasks, patients, and reports of his schedule for the day.
He had to triage, just like every other morning.
The terrified eleven-year-old boy admitted late last night with the history of mental illness and intellectual disability. The sixteen-year-old girl whose battle with OCD continues to worsen. He had spent the better part of an early hour trying to calm her, while she shook and sobbed over the splintered skin of the hands she can't stop washing. There is the tired fifteen-year-old frequent flier and the struggling seventeen-year-old he has three weeks left to treat before she turns eighteen.
There has been a rapid uptick in his caseload as of late, but [concerning as each unique case is], he comforts himself with the thought that it's predictable. This happens every year. The nurses' stations are playing jingling holiday tunes and the irony doesn't escape him, how the days leading up to Christmas seem to bring about degrees of struggle and strife that are neatly stuffed away during the other months of the year.
There is something about the forced merriment and the memories surrounding the holiday that make it that much more difficult for so many of his patients. It is the play pretend at normalcy in a world spinning out of control that adds to the preordained pressures of adolescence for a multitude of the children he treats. Given the unprecedented times the world has been facing for the last three years, he has never been more thankful not to be a father himself. Sometimes, he wonders whether he would have been a good one, considering how much of himself and his time he offers to children who aren't his own.
His phone has continued to ring, his emails are piling into his inbox faster than he can read them, but he'll take the time later. One call has caught his attention above the others, reporting news of a boy teetering on the edge of the George Washington bridge and a young green officer tasked with talking him down. The story evolved as the call wore on; a long night, a dead girl, criminal charges of homicide, an ongoing investigation and an arrest, perhaps pending an evaluation. A psych eval with him.
No pressure.
He wonders about the boy, about both the boys, the one on the bridge and the one who found him. He thinks he'll keep tabs on the rookie, give the precinct a call next week to check in on him. Three days on the job and successfully talking a suicidal kid off a literal ledge would make anyone's head spin. He jots down a note in his manilla folder to follow up next week.
He stands behind his desk and skims the police report concerning a boy he has never met, whose fate is somehow resting in his hands.
Eli. A Hebrew name. Biblical, he thinks. Catholic.
Stabler. Irish.
Fourteen years old. Young. Too young to be caught up in whatever all of this is…
No criminal record. Good kid.
Deceased nineteen-year-old female in apartment. No box to check for this tragedy just yet…
Evidence of alcohol and drug use at the scene. Hers or his?
There's more to read, but he stops and slips the file into his folder before he can skim any further. It isn't that he doesn't want to know or that he isn't curious, rather he wants to let Eli tell the story himself. It is his, after all and he wants to give the kid a chance before he jumps to any conclusions. He takes a sip of his now cold coffee and grabs an extra pen from his desk.
He wonders who he'll find in the locked ward room number 116, whether Eli Stabler is angry and annoyed, cold and calculating, or still and silent.
Regardless, he wants to meet him.
He buzzes his way in through the heavy door which closes with a resounding snap of finality behind him. He hates that door. He is free to come and go as he pleases, and the sound still irks him. He can't imagine how much it grates on his patients, who have no choice but to stay. He makes another note to address it with maintenance next week. He glances up at the windows into room 116. He isn't sure what he expects to find, but somehow it isn't what he sees. From this vantage point, through two locked doors, he can just make out the hunch of the boy's shoulders. He knocks lightly on the first door and watches as Eli jumps at the sound, as though he has been electrocuted. He makes a mental note not to make any sudden movements. He has a fleeting thought that approaching this boy is like encroaching on an unfamiliar animal, a deer in the headlights, a lion on the Savanna.
He taps with a lighter touch on the second door and waits for Eli to let him know it's all right to come in. He won't invade his space if he isn't ready for company. The boy isn't a prisoner. Eli turns his head at the sound and gives a quick nod signaling that it's okay to enter into his space. He opens the door and introduces himself.
"Hello Eli, my name is Dr. Stutz."
He watches the way Eli stands almost automatically and extends his own shaking hand out toward him. It's with a military precision, as though he were raised properly by an old-school father who took time to teach him about respect. He takes Eli's proffered hand and shakes it warmly. The boy's skin is cold to the touch and all at once, he is apologizing.
"Sorry," Eli says sheepishly, with a shake of his head. He crosses his arms and tucks his hands back into the sleeves of his sweater. Eli is tall and lanky with long limbs and fair skin. His dark eyes are reddened around their rims, as though he has spent more than a few moments crying today.
He wants to talk to the boy. He wants to find out why. He motions for Eli to sit back down and watches as he nods again, more so to himself as though he is mentally talking himself through the instruction and then willing his own legs to work.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" Dr. Stutz asks. He watches and waits for Eli's nod. He wants to make sure the boy knows he has some say in all of this. When he receives his answer, he settles himself into the spare chair opposite Eli's bed and rests his folder on his knee.
"Eli, I'm Dr. Stutz," he says once more. "I'm one of the mental health professionals here." He doesn't like to call himself a psychiatrist because he knows the stigma surrounding his profession still runs strong.
"I would like to have the chance to talk with you, if that's all right."
Eli nods again. He hunches his shoulders and keeps his arms crossed over his chest, as though he is trying to fold inward to protect himself. He wonders whether he is still cold. He reaches behind himself to where he knows Eli's letterman jacket rests on the back of his chair and passes it across to him.
Eli accepts it with a grateful expression and quickly puts it on, slipping his hands into the pockets. Dr. Stutz wonders what sport he plays to have earned a space on his high school's team. He wants to ask, but he wants to let Eli tell.
He gives the boy a reassuring smile. "I'm not here to judge anything you tell me, Eli. I'm just interested in talking to you. I'd like to know what's going on. I'd like to hear your side of the story."
Eli takes a breath and curls further inward as though the fetal position is his goal. He slips one hand from his pocket and runs it roughly through the length of his hair before he looks back up to meet his gaze.
"Where do you want me to start?" Eli asks, his voice is low as though he hasn't used it properly in a few hours.
Dr. Stutz shakes his head. "Anywhere you want." He wants Eli to understand he has freedom here. He motions toward the folder resting on the doctor's knee and Dr. Stutz realizes the boy thinks he has read the entirety of the report, has made up his own mind about sentences of guilt or innocence.
He shakes his head and begins to explain.
"Anything you want to tell me is fair game. Last night, last year…" Dr. Stutz shrugs. "Anything you tell me is privileged, meaning it stays between you and me, unless there's something that makes me worry, then I have to talk to the right people, but you'll be included in everything."
He wants to assure him, to help him understand. As far as he can tell, the kid has had a long night and even longer day. He wonders what happened yesterday or the day before to precipitate all of whatever this is.
Eli nods once more and his corresponding inhale is choppy. Dr. Stutz thinks he is steeling himself, mentally preparing himself for whatever it is he has to say.
"Take your time, Eli." The words have barely left his mouth when Eli is opening his own and starting to speak.
"I don't think this is gonna make a lotta sense," he says, shaking his head and Dr. Stutz does the same.
"That's okay. Wherever you want to lead, I can follow along." This boy has a story to tell and he is getting the sense that it began long before whatever it is that happened last night.
Eli takes another shaky breath and exhales into the quiet between them. He slips his hands from his jacket pockets to rest them in his lap.
"My mom was murdered earlier this year," he announces softly.
Dr. Stutz nearly drops his pen. It's a quiet sorrowful reverence with which Eli speaks and it's the last thing he expected to hear.
"I'm so sorry-" He tries, but Eli is already speaking again.
"My dad's a cop. He and my mom were on a trip here to New York from home and my mom was killed by somebody who wanted revenge on my dad."
Dr. Stutz leans back in his chair. Eli is handing him the pieces of a puzzle and he is putting them together. He remembers this, hearing whispers of this report come across the bridge.
An NYPD Detective's wife, murdered in a car bombing late last winter.
He never learned anything more. He never realized there were children left behind. He thinks it's ironic the way that tragedies work, how after a brief period of sympathy, the rest of the world moves on while individuals and families are left shattered in the midst.
"It's not my dad's fault," Eli says. His voice suddenly sounds stronger as though he is defending his father from an invisible attacker.
Dr. Stutz shakes his head in agreement. "Of course, it's not."
"But he blames himself," Eli finishes as though the doctor hasn't spoken at all. Dr. Stutz nods and adds another piece of the puzzle to the collection in his lap.
"My mom died and my dad just threw himself away. Sometimes, he doesn't eat or sleep because he's always working. I thought he was getting better but now…" He shrugs helplessly and stuffs his hands back into the pockets of his jacket.
Dr. Stutz leans forward to rest his elbow on his knee. "What's happened lately, Eli?" Something has to have changed, morphed, shifted to make the instability inside this house of cards even more pronounced.
Eli nods because he seemingly has an answer. "This week was the trial and everything got messed up."
Dr. Stutz makes a noise of acknowledgement low in his throat. This makes sense. The murder trial would bring everything back to the forefront of the family's mind. He thinks he must be wearing an expectant expression on his face because Eli is shaking his head once more.
"I didn't go to the verdict, so I don't know what happened. I couldn't…" He trails off and the doctor nods. This young man has had monumental things asked of him that mature adults would have trouble handling.
"It's all right," he says and Eli shrugs his shoulders again as if he doesn't believe that it's okay.
"A few months ago, I started takin' pills. My grandma came to live with us and she's bi-polar." Dr. Stutz watches the way Eli's body is visibly tensing. He is holding himself stiffly while his right knee starts to bounce with nerves.
"My sister's bi-polar too, but she's good." His voice is quiet with awe as though his sister is someone he respects. "She handles it. I guess she had a hard time with it when I was a little kid, but I don't remember."
There must be an age gap between Eli and his siblings.
Dr Stutz fumbles for the cap of his pen and jots this question down in the file. He will bet the forty dollars he has in his wallet that they are discussing Eli's paternal bloodlines. "This is your father's mother who is bi-polar?" He asks and Eli nods in reply.
"My grandma came to live with us 'cause she was having a hard time alone. Her illness scares my dad though. Leen..." Eli doubles back because he realizes he hasn't explained properly. "My sister, Kathleen, she says it's 'cause he feels helpless 'cause he can't control it and I think she's right."
Dr. Stutz nods again. More pieces of the puzzle. Eli's father is a fighter, a protector, and a provider. He appears relentless in this noble pursuit, but at what cost?
The man's son sits before him explaining.
"My dad was in therapy for a little while, but I don't think it helped him." Eli's pale skin flushes with apologetic embarrassment before he speaks again. "He doesn't really like talking about his feelings to doctors or to anybody really…I don't think…"
This man is proud, private, persistent.
"I mean, I think he talks to Olivia." Eli says this quietly, almost to himself before he realizes he should expound.
Dr. Stutz wonders who she is. Olivia could be a girlfriend, but this man doesn't seem like the type to dive into a relationship mere months after the loss of the mother of his children. She seems to be something more.
"Olivia is…" Eli starts slowly as though he is searching for the right words to describe this woman. "She's my dad's partner."
Dr. Stutz almost wants to ask what that means. The word encompasses so many things and he wonders which boxes this woman checks for Eli's father.
"She's a cop, too," Eli explains. "They worked together for a long time, way before I was born."
He understands this particular blue-line brand of loyalty.
"Leen says they were best friends, but then we moved to Italy, and I don't really know what happened to them. They didn't see each other for a long time."
"They see each other now?" Dr Stutz asks, and Eli gives half a nod.
"I wish he'd see her more," he starts, and Dr. Stutz thinks they might be getting somewhere. Why? He leaves the question unspoken.
"I don't know what it is, but she helps my dad, and he loves her. He told us. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to know, but…he told us anyway."
Dr. Stutz sits back in his chair and relaxes his grip on his pen. If the situation weren't so serious, he thinks he might let himself grin. The absolute innocence of the way this boy speaks of his father's relationship with this woman is something to be grateful for. In the midst of all the complicated chaos, there is someone in Eli's father's corner and her presence seems to soothe his child. She must temper something in this seemingly temperamental man.
"Olivia was with my dad this morning when they found me," he says suddenly. Dr. Stutz looks back up into the boy's dark eyes and all at once, the child seems prepared to talk about whatever it is that happened, whatever it is that led him here.
"Last night, I skipped the verdict and I ran away from home. My dad's got cameras in the house from the last time I took some pills and left, but I figured out how to loop the footage to give me enough time to run." He says this with remorse as though there is nothing he would rather do than turn back time and stay in the safety of his bedroom until the verdict was read.
Eli shakes his head as his shoulders begin to tremble. "I don't even know where I thought I was going. I just took a walk. I needed some air." Each time he stops speaking, he seems to return to last night as he tries to remember.
"I went down to the promenade and I met this girl…" Eli closes his eyes, but his tears escape to race down his cheeks anyway.
"Her name was Mia and I'd never met her before, but she was pretty and nice and I wanted to impress her, so we talked for a bit and then she took me back to her place…or…some place…"
Eli presses his chin to his chest and keeps his eyes closed when he speaks again. "I thought my dad was gonna kill me."
Dr. Stutz leans forward once more on the pretense of hearing Eli's soft voice, ascertaining what exactly he means.
"I went to some stranger's place in the middle of the night. I mean, I'm a cop's kid, for fuck's sake."
Guilt. Regret.
"Eli, what happened when you went to the apartment with Mia?" He keeps his voice low, quiet and curious because he is genuinely curious how this cop's kid ended up on the wrong side of the tracks.
Eli struggles for another breath. He wipes his cheek on the sleeve of his jacket and tries to begin again. "We were sitting on the couch, and we were kissing and drinking. I never drank before and I think she knew that, but I wanted her to like me, and I had the pills I'd taken from my grandma. I had four of 'em," he recounts. "We each took two."
The muddled picture is becoming clearer by the minute. Alcohol and prescription medication are a recipe for disaster on a good day and, for this boy, yesterday was anything but.
He reaches across the space to touch Eli's arm and he jumps as though he has been scalded. "Sorry," Eli apologizes once, twice, three times before he starts to cry again.
"I don't remember anything after that. I woke up and I felt sick. Mia was gone and I tried to look for her. I went into her bedroom, and she was…" Eli swallows.
"She was what, Eli?"
"She was naked, but she was covered up, but she was…" Eli bites down hard on his bottom lip and shakes his head. His trembling has intensified to the point it's a wonder his teeth aren't chattering.
This boy is recounting a nightmare.
"She was…" He struggles for another breath and all the doctor can do is sit and listen.
"She was dead. I mean, I tried to wake her up, but I could tell she was…" Eli stands abruptly and barely makes it to the garbage can on the opposite side of the room before he throws up.
Dr. Stutz closes his eyes against the awful retching and waits a moment, then two before he opens them again. He wants to give the boy as much privacy as he can afford him here in this small space. He stands and presses his palm to Eli's shoulder.
"Sit tight. I'll be right back."
The kid needs a Ginger Ale and a moment to breathe. He wants to give him both.
The moment the door closes behind him, his phone chimes from within his pocket. He reaches for it and reads a text message, hours overdue and yet right on time.
E. Stabler, 14.
Cleared of all charges.
Parent is in route.
Free to go at your discretion.
The Fort Lee Police Department has no idea just how timely they are.
He retrieves a cold can of soda from the vending machine outside the nurses' lounge and makes his way back to where Eli is waiting.
He knocks lightly on both doors once more before letting himself back inside. He is relieved to see that Eli isn't crouched on his knees anymore, rather he sits on the tile floor with his back against the wall. He can't be comfortable. He must be cold.
"Found you something to settle your stomach." He opens the can of soda with a snap and Eli startles at the sound. Dr. Stutz passes the Ginger Ale into his trembling hand and Eli nods gratefully at the gesture before he takes a small sip.
"Eli," he says his name softly, as he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone. "I just received a message from the Fort Lee Police Department." Eli's dark eyes are wide as the doctor slips the phone into his free hand. He watches as the boy reads the message once, twice, three times before he crumples. He pulls his legs up toward his chest and presses his forehead to his knees.
"Mia's still dead," he manages through his tears and Dr. Stutz nods. The kid has a good heart.
"She is, but that isn't your fault." He knows he has to choose his next words carefully, phrase his next questions more tactfully than usual. He sits down in the spare chair he vacated minutes ago and waits. He wants to give the boy time to process. It's more than enough to make anyone's head spin.
"I didn't know what to do, so I ran away. I was so scared. They were my drugs and I thought I killed her, and I should have called 911, but I was so scared."
Dr Stutz leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. He has the sense this child has to get all of this off his chest in order to process and he is more than willing to listen. This is a different kind of purging.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Eli. You made a choice in the middle of a horrible circumstance. You didn't do anything wrong."
Eli shakes his head and starts again. "My phone was dead and I was so scared. I found a payphone," he gives a soft mirthless laugh. "I didn't even know they still had those things, but I called my dad."
Eli closes his eyes and his tears come again. There is something terrifyingly tender in the way this child talks about his father, as though he wants to take care of him, as though there is some fractured fragility in this strong, brave patriarch.
"I called my dad and I told him I was sorry. He didn't know what I was talkin' about and he kept asking me where I was and telling me he was coming to help me."
Eli exhales sharply and fixes his gaze on the floor beneath his feet. "He kept telling me it was okay and it wasn't. It's not."
Dr. Stutz nods in understanding, not affirmation. The girl is dead and it's senseless and a tragedy, but it isn't the boy's fault. The doctor thinks he'll try to get in touch with Mia's family over the next week to offer his help and his condolences. He knows Eli has to process all of this and it isn't going to happen overnight. He needs time and patience and if he wants to talk, he needs someone who wants to listen.
"What happened next, Eli?" He asks, although he is sure this is where the rookie officer comes into play.
Eli has begun to tremble again with what Dr. Stutz can only assume is the weight of the memories of the early hours of this morning. "I walked to the George Washington bridge and I climbed up onto the railing and I…"
He buries his face against his knees and cries. This child has been aching anxiously for months, last night was simply the tipping point.
"What were you thinking about, Eli?" Dr. Stutz asks gently. He needs to know where the boy's head was at that moment and where he is now.
"I was thinking that I accidentally killed Mia," he reiterates. "I was thinking I killed her and I didn't remember." Eli closes his eyes against the horrifying images only he can recall.
"What else, Eli?" He presses. He knows there is something else, something more, something potentially even bigger than the death of a stranger from a one night stand.
Eli's sob echoes loudly in the quiet. It's a moment before he speaks and when he does, his voice quakes. "I was thinking that I killed my dad."
The extraordinary revelation sounds irrational, but there is something in Eli's mind that makes it valid, and he has to find out what it is. Dr. Stutz lowers himself onto the floor across from Eli's bent knees. He wants them to have equal footing, to sit together on even ground.
"Can you tell me what you mean by that?" Dr. Stutz inquires, raising his voice scarcely above a whisper. Eli looks up and his dark eyes are brimming with tears.
"My dad's almost breaking and I don't know how much more he can handle." The admission sounds raw as though his father's strength secretly hides so much, but Eli isn't finished.
"If I killed Mia, it would have killed my dad and I couldn't live with either one of those things. I thought he'd be better off without me," Eli sobs.
Dr. Stutz reaches across the space and grasps Eli's shoulder with his hand. He gives him more than a minute to collect himself, to remember how to breathe before he speaks. He wants to ask the boy how he could believe that when his father has apparently moved heaven and earth today alone to make sure he is safe, but he can't put words in Eli's mouth. He has to ask him.
"How do you feel now?" Dr. Stutz asks, holding onto Eli's shoulder as if his grip will impart some semblance of understanding into this young man's mind. Eli takes a few shuddering breaths before he speaks again.
"My dad loves me a whole lot, but he's in trouble. He needs help. We all need help." Eli says all of this in a rush as though help is a four-letter word in his family. He shakes his head and Dr. Stutz can tell he is grasping at straws.
"My dad needs Olivia. He needs time. He needs this all to end so that we can go back and find some kinda normal. That's all I want." This child is begging for something he can't promise. He can only plant the seeds.
"Eli, it sounds like you have a pretty good relationship with your dad," he states. He lets the boy's reaction dictate his next words. Eli nods and so he continues. "I think you need to talk to your dad about all of this. I think man to man, open and honest, he would value your input."
Eli's dark eyes are wide as though he is considering communicating in such a way with his father for the very first time. Dr. Stutz wonders if he should mention bringing Olivia along for moral support. He wonders whether Olivia's voice is the only one Eli's father has ever truly heard.
Eli's dark eyes are wide as though he is considering communicating in such a way with his father for the very first time. Dr. Stutz wonders if he should mention bringing his father's partner, Olivia, along for moral support. He wonders whether this woman's voice is the only one Eli's father has ever truly heard. He knows this man loves his children but wonders whether he and Olivia speak a secret language that no one else understands. He wonders whether she can get through to him when no one else can.
He wonders…
"What do you think, Eli?"
He takes a deep steadying breath and then a second one for good measure before he nods. "I think I can try."
Dr. Stutz gives him a small smile. "I think your father may surprise you. I've never met him, but experiences have a way of changing people. I think your dad almost lost you today and judging from the way you talk about him I think that's going to have an impact."
Eli's expression is simultaneously full of doubt and hope, and he prays the kid understands that things take time.
"This isn't going to happen overnight," he cautions gingerly and the boy nods.
"I know. I just can't lose him."
Dr. Stutz bows his head and studies the floor for a moment while he collects himself. The kid has just come full circle.
"I think your dad feels the same way about you."
Eli looks up in puzzlement for a moment before understanding seems to dawn. He smiles ever so slightly and takes one more deep breath.
Dr. Stutz stands and offers Eli a hand to help him climb to his feet. Standing up, he watches the way Eli's shoulders drop as though some of the tremendous weight he has been carrying for the better part of the year has been lifted.
He fumbles with his folder on the table and extracts a business card from the pocket before pressing it into Eli's hand.
"You call me if you need anything. Anytime. Day or night. My job is like your dad's. My wife is used to it after all these years."
The kid grins ever so slightly and nods his head gratefully. "Thank you for helping me," he says as the doctor offers his hand to shake. He wants to tell the boy he didn't do much, that he talked himself through the woods, but his phone is suddenly ringing from its resting place on the bed.
He excuses himself and answers. It's Marisol from the nurses' station upstairs. He listens carefully to her message before providing one of his own.
"I'd like to speak with Eli's father. I'll be up as soon as I can."
He ends the call and fiddles with his text messages while Eli slips off his coat and takes a seat back on the bed. He has two patients to check on before he can make his way to the waiting room.
"Dr. Stutz, what are you gonna tell my dad?" He asks. Eli's voice isn't fearful or apprehensive, rather he sounds tired and ready to have all of this out in the open.
He gathers his folder at the same time he gathers his thoughts. "I'm going to briefly let him know what you and I discussed. It's up to you to give him the specifics, if you want. I just need him to know that there's help out there, for all of you, if you choose to reach for it."
Eli gives a shy smile and thanks him again. "Just hang out here and I'll bring your dad down as soon as I can."
The door of the ward closes with that resounding snap of finality he regularly detests, but in this moment it feels like protection. The boy inside is safe.
His next two patients require phone calls and follow ups and nearly half an hour goes by before he gets a minute to walk upstairs to the waiting room. He stops by his office on his way, grabbing a sip of his cold coffee and spotting an envelope on his desk that he knows hadn't been there an hour before.
He flips it over in his hand and grins when he sees the writing. He knows who it's from. This job is full of sob stories and sadness, anguish and anxiety, but sometimes there are glimmers of healing and hope. This card he holds in his hand is from a little girl, who isn't so little anymore. He is sure it's her annual Christmas card photo with her family and her dogs and her yearly update about how happy and healthy she is now. He runs his fingers over the swirling cursive letters of his name and smiles. He hopes Eli's story can have a similar ending.
Upstairs, the light is changing. The afternoon is wearing on and the Christmas music is still playing. He makes his way through the halls toward the waiting room. He isn't sure what he will find when he arrives. He wonders whether the man Eli calls his father will be panicked and pacing or sober and sad.
As he approaches the waiting room, he can hear soft voices issuing from the open door.
A woman's voice is speaking so low that he can't pick up the words, but he realizes that Eli's father isn't alone.
He is sure the voice can belong to one person, and one person only. Olivia, he thinks.
"I promise, I'll tell you everything you need to know. Just not now." He can hear the hum of her velvet voice now as she speaks louder. He can't fathom what they're talking about, except that Eli said they were apart for a long time. He wonders what it would be like to be separated from one's best friend by oceans and years and circumstances only to find each other again.
He steps closer to the door and from this angle he can see inside. The man he can only assume is Eli's father has his back to him and from the proximity of their bodies, he can tell that Olivia is cradled close to his chest. He can't see her for the broadness of the man's shoulders, but he knows she must be there.
"Remember, I'm all right," she whispers and this time he hears a replies.
"You're all right." The man's voice is a low reverent rasp as though their welfare is tied together.
"We're all right," she finishes. He watches the way Olivia must lean in and Eli's father steps even closer, bending low to press a kiss to the top of her head.
He hasn't meant to spy. He gives them a moment more before he taps lightly on the doorframe, and they let each other go when they hear the sound.
Eli's father turns and his first thought is of the inherent formidable fierceness this man exudes. He is tall and broad and powerful. He is the kind of man his wife would jokingly call a "hunk" and Dr. Stutz thinks he looks just like those textbook cops on the police procedurals she regularly watches.
He sees how people could feel intimidated by this man's presence, but he knows better.
This man has raised a good son and he has a lionheart of gold.
He introduces himself first.
"Hi, Dr. Stutz. Mr. Stabler?" He extends his hand at the same moment Eli's father does.
"Yeah, Elliot Stabler," he replies. His son's namesake.
He lets his gaze travel from one partner to the other. This woman is something else entirely. She is beautiful and softer with no less of a presence. She is calming and comforting while Elliot is all power and protection. He knows who she is, but he doesn't want to give it away.
"And?" He asks, directing his attention toward her, but they both answer with her name.
"…Olivia Benson."
"I'm a family friend," she explains, and he almost wants to smile at the obvious denial these two people are living in. Granted, he is married, but he doesn't hold his family friends like that.
"Can I speak freely?" He asks. He knows the answer, that Eli is almost this woman's child too, but he has to ask. He has to make sure.
"Of course," Elliot replies as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. Dr. Stutz nods and dives in.
"Well, uh. Thankfully, all charges have been dropped against Eli. He's free to go home." He lets his gaze travel between the two of them while he speaks.
"Right and you need to speak to me," Elliot replies and the doctor nods.
"Yeah, I do." He needs to tell them about their son.
"Okay," Elliot answers and Dr. Stutz nods toward the door and motions for them to follow.
They both walk quickly, Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson. They seem to keep the same pace even though she lags behind just slightly, giving him space while letting him know she is right there should he need her.
Dr. Stutz buzzes them through the heavy door and holds it open until they can both handle it themselves.
"I had a chance to spend some time with your son since he's been here. He mentioned that both his grandmother and his sister were bipolar."
"Eli is not bipolar." Elliot's response is immediate and all at once, Dr. Stutz thinks he understands what Eli means.
"Well, I'm not suggesting that," he assures him before he continues on. "Now, the reason that I wanted to speak to you was, while Eli may not be suicidal, may not even be an immediate risk, he is manifesting real signs of severe anxiety."
"Well, yeah. He was charged with a murder that he didn't commit, so that would make sense that…" He thinks a weaker man would step back, but he holds his ground. Elliot's voice raises in confusion and distress.
"Elliot-" Olivia speaks. She says one word, his name, and as suddenly as the man reared up, he is backing down. This woman soothes him in ways the doctor can't explain, but he is grateful she is here.
He takes his eyes off of her as he watches them exchange a glance. He can't say he has ever seen anything like it.
He watches the man fix his gaze on the windows over his shoulder and he knows he can see his son inside.
"Okay, so severe anxiety," Elliot repeats, inquires, and begins again.
Dr. Stutz glances at the floor beneath their feet and quickly takes inventory of where to begin. He thinks, this time, it's best to jump.
"When your son was on that ledge, he was devastated by the possibility that he may have been, in some way, responsible for Mia's death. But he was just as upset, perhaps more frightened and upset by the thought of how his father, you, might react."
He watches the way Elliot's expression turns from one of desperation to fear.
"Are you saying he's afraid of me?" He asks. His voice is devastation, and the doctor is shaking his head almost immediately.
"No, no, no." He glances back toward Eli's room where the boy sits waiting. He wants to tell Elliot Stabler that his son has a good heart and a solid conscience. He wants to tell him how much his child cares.
"He's afraid for you. He told me what you've been through. He's just not sure how much more you can take." He watches the man before him nearly dissolve at the sound of his words. Elliot's eyes fill with tears and he clenches his jaw. He worries his bottom lip in a way that is nearly identical to that of his son.
He hears the softest exhale of breath from Olivia Benson as she watches the man before them both. She seems to know that the revelation he has just been given has rendered Elliot paralyzed. Dr. Stutz steps away to give them a moment while he opens the door to Eli's room. He turns back just in time to see Olivia press her hand to Elliot's back and push him, as if she is the only thing that keeps him moving forward.
He opens the second door and he lets Elliot Stabler go ahead to greet his son.
"Hey bud." His voice is gentle and the doctor nearly smiles at the juxtaposition. He watches Eli stand as his father pulls him close in a hug. He doesn't have to see anymore. The doctor moves out into the hallway where Olivia Benson waits. He has the distinct impression she feels as though she is on the outside looking in and he wonders if she knows how much she means to this family. He presses his hand to her forearm in passing.
"Thank you for loving them," he says sincerely. He doesn't think she can speak, but he doesn't need a reply. When he glances back down the hallway, he sees the three of them.
Together.
Author's note: There is the possibility of an epilogue to come. Thank you for everything.