"Law and Order: SVU" belongs to Dick Wolf and Universal Television. No profit is being made from this story.
Elliot stood nervously in the back of the elevator, keeping his eyes fixed on the man standing near the buttons. His heart felt like it was going to come out of his mouth.
The doctor had attempted conversation as they ascended, but Elliot didn't say a word.
He wanted to run. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't handle it.
The elevator stopped at the fourth floor and the doors opened. Adrenaline made his throat close.
"After you," the doctor said politely, stepping aside and gesturing. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to walk out. "Follow me, please."
He trailed behind the doctor down a long hallway and then stopped at the last door. The doctor used a badge to open it.
It buzzed loudly to allow them entrance and Elliot nearly jumped.
He stepped inside and found himself standing in a small, empty waiting room. A man sat behind a glass window at a desk.
"Good morning, Allen," the doctor said pleasantly, walking up to the glass.
"Morning, Doctor Pearson," the man replied. He craned his neck to look over at Elliot. "Is this Mr. O'Rourke?"
Elliot looked at the man warily, not moving from where he stood next to the door.
"It is," the doctor confirmed.
Allen spoke louder to get Elliot's attention.
"Come on over here and I'll get you checked in," he said.
Doctor Pearson walked back to the door and addressed him.
"The staff will take over now," he told him. "Good luck to you, Mr. O'Rourke. I wish you great success."
Then he disappeared out the door.
Elliot remained where he was for several moments, struggling against the urge to turn and bolt.
"Mr. O'Rourke?" Allen prompted, starting to stand up. "Please."
The intake form shook slightly as his bandaged hands trembled. He made himself put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached the glass.
Fin was watching TV with Noah when they both heard a key in the apartment door. Olivia stepped wearily inside.
Elliot wasn't with her.
"Mom!" Noah said excitedly, jumping up off of the couch.
She smiled tiredly at her son.
"Hey, baby," she said. " I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up this morning."
"Uncle Fin said you had to take Elliot to the doctor after I went to bed," he said. "Is he still sick?"
Olivia glanced over at Fin and gave him a nod of appreciation.
"Yeah," she said softly. "He is."
"Do I have to get ready for school now?" Noah asked.
She looked at her watch. After the night they'd had, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to crash. She would never let her son skip school under normal circumstances, but she was so emotionally drained that she didn't even care at that moment.
"No," she replied. "I'm staying home today, too."
"Yes!" her son exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.
He went back to watch TV. Fin stood up and walked over to her.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Olivia rubbed her forehead like she had a headache coming on.
"He's going to inpatient treatment at Bellevue for two weeks," she said.
She sounded deflated. He gauged her carefully. She looked about to burst into tears.
"That's a good thing," he said gently. "He's going to get the help he needs now, Liv."
She nodded quickly.
"I know that," she said with clenched teeth, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She swallowed, trying hard to beat back the flood of emotion. "But you didn't see his face. He looked like I ripped his heart out."
A tear slid out despite her best efforts. Fin placed a supportive hand on her back. Olivia sniffled quickly and shook her head, getting herself under control fast.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just tired. I'm taking the morning off 'sick', but I'll come in later this afternoon."
She looked closely at Fin.
"You should go home, too," she said. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. Take the whole day, if you want. Lieutenant Vega is on-call and can cover you."
Fin declined.
"I'll catch a few hours at the precinct," he replied. "Rollins called a few minutes ago. TARU got through the encryption on that ad and it lead to hundreds of videos of kiddie porn. They're going to need a hand going through them. "
Olivia nodded. She didn't bother trying to change his mind.
"Call me if you need anything, then," she said.
He nodded.
She suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, shit," she said. He looked at her in surprise and she grimaced guiltily. "I'm sorry, Fin...I forgot to get your coat back from Elliot."
He shrugged like it didn't bother him.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "He needs it more than I do, anyway."
November 2014
Having to watch while grown men took turns raping the kids on the mattress twenty feet from where he sat on the floor was brutal.
At first, Elliot made as much noise as he could and struggled to distract them, hoping that it would make them leave the kids alone, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to happen. All it did was make Raul Hernandez angry.
He kicked Elliot savagely, over and over again, and threatened to stomp his head hard enough to give him brain damage if he interrupted them again.
Elliot hated himself for immediately fearing more for himself instead of for the kids. But he stopped his attempts.
On the third day inside the garage, a man came down and chose a boy to be taken to the mattress. But instead of undressing, the man looked at Raul.
"I'm not into doing it myself," he said. "I like to watch. How much extra for him to do it?"
The man was looking over at at him. A cold feeling washed over Elliot when he realized what the man was asking.
"Gonna cost you an extra grand," Hernandez replied.
Elliot felt like he couldn't breathe watching the money exchange hands. Raul folded it, put it in his pocket, and then went over to him.
No. Please God, no.
He started shaking his head frantically before Hernandez even reached him. Raul ripped the tape off of his mouth hard enough to make him gasp at the sting.
"Please," he begged. The words tumbled out before he even thought of what he was saying. "Leave the boy out of it. I'll do anything to you, I swear, I will. Please."
"You'll shut the fuck up, is what you'll do," Hernandez snapped at him. He took out his gun and cocked it. "Either you do what he wants or I shoot the kid. Your choice."
Elliot looked over at the mattress helplessly. After a long moment, he shook his head slowly.
"That's what I thought," Hernandez said.
He was sitting on the concrete floor with his hands bound behind him and tethered by his ankles with a long cord attached to the garage door. Raul cut the cord away from the door and gripped his arm, hauling him upright.
He forced Elliot to hobble clumsily with his ankles still bound over to the mattress and pushed him down beside the boy.
Elliot was struggling not to cry as he felt the ties being cut from his hands, realizing he wasn't going to have a choice and trying desperately to think of a way to keep the boy from being shot by Raul Hernandez.
But he lost control when he saw the boy laying still and looking up at him with scared brown eyes. He broke down into tears, his entire body trembling.
And then, as if it wasn't bad enough, he heard Raul Hernandez speak again to the man from somewhere behind him.
"Do you want it filmed?"
January 2020
The intake coordinator led him to a tiny room and told Elliot it would be where he would stay for the duration of his time there. It had drab white walls, a small bed, and a tiny desk in the corner.
It made him claustrophobic just looking at it and he had nearly started hyperventilating after the man left, telling him to make himself comfortable and that a doctor would be in to see him soon.
Gotta get out of here. This is a huge mistake. Gotta get out of here.
"Hello, Declan."
A voice suddenly behind him made him jump. He turned quickly and saw a thin man in a grey wool sweater looking at him pleasantly from the doorway. He was holding a file.
"I'm Doctor Emmett Winslow," he said. "I'm part of the team that's going to be overseeing your care here with us." He gestured inside. "I'd like to go over your treatment plan."
Elliot regarded him like a caged animal. After a few moments of staring, he reluctantly jerked his head noncommittally in reply.
Winslow came in. He pulled out the chair from the desk and faced it toward the bed.
"Would you like the chair?" he invited.
He shook his head and didn't move. The doctor sat down like Elliot's silence didn't phase him. He opened the file and looked over as he spoke.
"You'll be receiving a medication-based regimen along with an individual therapist who will help you deal with any psychological triggers you may be facing," he began.
Elliot wrinkled his nose sourly at the mention of a therapist, but said nothing.
"I'd like to do a comprehensive evaluation now so that I can screen for any underlying medical conditions, as well as learn about your past drug history," he went on. "It should take about thirty minutes. After that, you'll need to provide a urine sample before I can begin your medication. Do you understand so far?"
He nodded unhappily.
"You'll also be meeting the nurses who will be administering your medications each day and take a tour of the facility. Meals will be eaten in the kitchen only and no food or beverages will be permitted in this room. You are free to utilize the common areas when not in therapy or stay in your room. Lights out is at 10 pm and you'll be awakened each morning at 7 am. You may sleep during the day if your medication makes you drowsy, as long as the nurses know. Any questions?"
Elliot eyed the doctor stubbornly.
"It's just two weeks, right?" he finally said. "I can leave after that?"
Doctor Winslow regarded him sympathetically. Elliot thought might grow to hate the guy just for that look alone.
"This isn't a prison sentence, Mr. O'Rourke, and you haven't been court-ordered to stay," the doctor said. "You can check yourself out at any time. But I urge you to try and see it through so that you can recover."
He curled his lip miserably.
Doctor Winslow gestured to the bed.
"You really should have a seat," he advised. "This will take a little while."
Sighing heavily, Elliot reluctantly went over and sat on the bed.
Olivia stayed coherent long enough to call Noah's after-school babysitter and ask her to come over at around 2 pm so that she could go in to work for a few hours. Then she passed out on the couch until lunchtime while Noah watched movies and played on his Ipad.
She ordered in takeout, much to her son's delight, and tried to think about anything except how much she wanted to call the Detox Unit at Bellevue to check on Elliot.
Elliot spent the first night in an exhausted, dreamless sleep, thanks to the medication and a full stomach.
Doctor Winslow had given him his first dose of suboxone that evening with dinner and told him that he would begin feeling much better after it began working.
When someone knocked on the door to wake him the next morning, he jumped like he had heard a gunshot.
He walked blearily to the door and opened it enough to peer out at a man wearing green scrubs, one of the four nurses assigned to his treatment. The man was holding two small paper cups.
"Good morning," the nurse said. "It's time for your medication."
Elliot took the cups and looked at them. One held a pill and the other was filled with water.
Out of nowhere, his mind abruptly flashed back to laying on the ground and having a man with a gun shove a pill into the back of his throat.
His hand trembled and he gripped the paper cup tighter to keep from dropping it.
Fin, Rollins, and Tamin spent the better part of two days going through the videos on the website and still barely managed to put a dent in them.
When Olivia arrived the following morning, she made them take a break. She sent Rollins and Tamin to the Department of Child and Family Services office to talk to Melissa Miller and told Fin to accompany another detective on an arrest.
He headed out, his head full of disturbing images that he wished he could get out of his memory.
When he got back, he went to Olivia's office and found her sitting at her desk, staring pensively at a laptop.
He knocked hesitantly on the door frame to get her attention.
"Sykes is bringing the peeping Tom to the lockup now," he told her, referring to the detective he had accompanied.
She just nodded as if she hadn't really been listening. Fin looked at her quizzically
"You ok?" he asked.
Olivia looked startled, tearing her eyes from the screen and looking over the top of her glasses at him. She chewed on her lip.
"Something has been really bugging me about the way we found Elliot's DNA," she finally said.
He stepped further inside.
"Like what?" he asked.
She leaned back slightly, stretching, and took her glasses off. Her face was troubled.
"Tamin said she found the match to Elliot through the employee database," she said.
He nodded to indicate he was listening.
"Cragen told me in 2011 that Elliot had put in retirement papers," she went on. "The employee database is only for active NYPD personnel."
She shook her head, sounding mystified. "I'm looking at it right now, Fin. Why is Elliot still in there if he retired nine years ago?"
She turned the laptop around to show him. The screen showed a department head shot for Elliot and his work information, which was listed as the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.
Fin considered.
"Maybe someone forgot to update it," he suggested. "The NYPD is a huge organization. It's possible someone forgot to change his status."
She leaned back and twirled a pen in her fingers.
"Maybe," she said, not sounding very confident.
After Fin left the office, she pulled out her cell phone. She looked up Don Cragen's phone number.
She didn't like the feeling that was stirring inside of her. She hoped Fin was right and it was just a clerical error.
She didn't want to consider the alternative, but it popped in her head anyway.
Maybe Cragen had lied to her when he had told her that Elliot had put in his papers back then.
The relief from the withdrawal symptoms didn't fully kick in until the third day. Elliot spent the time until then sleeping off the misery as best he could.
It wasn't easy. He could barely relax.
He could hear the footsteps of the unit staff in the hallway outside the room. The door to his room had no lock and each time someone walked past, a bolt of fear would shoot through him.
He could only truly doze off by sitting against the door the way he had at Olivia's apartment. Which, in turn, made him miss her and begin feeling like he was dying inside again.
He didn't think he was going to be able to stick this out much longer.
Cragen didn't return her call that day, so Olivia decided to focus on her other plan.
Once she got home from work, she took Noah and drove out to Queens.
"Who lives here, Mom?" her son asked when they pulled up beside the house.
She turned to face him.
"This is Elliot's house," she answered lightly. "He has a son named Eli who is older than you, but you'll like him."
They climbed the front porch steps and she knocked on the front door, stepping back and placing her hands on Noah's shoulders while they waited.
After a minute, Kathy opened the door.
Olivia saw her eyes widen in surprise upon recognizing her. The other woman looked at her silently, like she didn't know what to say.
"Hi, Kathy," she said. "I'm sorry to just show up like this. I don't have your phone number anymore." She watched Kathy's gaze flicker to Noah and she squeezed his shoulders. "This is my son, Noah."
She saw the other woman's face soften slightly upon hearing that. When she finally spoke, her tone wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't malicious either.
"What do you want, Olivia?" she asked.
"I need to talk to you," Olivia replied. "About Elliot. There are some things you should know." She looked at Elliot's wife openly. "And I'm hoping some things you might be able to tell me."
The blonde stared at them for a long moment and then stepped aside.
"Come in," she said quietly.
Doctor Gregory Hough was the psychotherapist assigned to Elliot's team. He was a small, wiry man with thick, tortoise-shell glasses. He looked like he weighed about 130 pounds soaking wet and each time he spoke, his voice had a calm, even register.
Elliot hated him at first sight.
He came to Elliot's room for their first meeting and sat in the desk chair.
"Can we talk for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'd like to get to know you a little."
Elliot stood next to the bed and stared at the man. He refused to get comfortable or speak.
"Why don't you tell me about the first time you started using methamphetamine?" Doctor Hough invited. "What were the circumstances?"
He said nothing.
Don Cragen had just arrived home from dinner with Eileen at The Mossfire Grill when she came out on the porch where he was sitting, enjoying the Florida sunset.
She held two cups of coffee. He smiled and took them from her while she sat in the rocking chair beside his.
"Thanks, Honey," he said
"You left your phone when we went to dinner," she said, accepting her cup back from him. "There's a missed call and message from Olivia Benson."
Cragen couldn't stop his surprise at hearing that. He hadn't heard from his former detective since calling to congratulate her on becoming captain last summer.
"I'll call her back in a little while," he replied.
They ended up sitting outside until after dark. When they eventually came back inside, Eileen went to bed and he sat up watching old Westerns.
He ended up falling asleep in his recliner and forgot about calling Olivia.
Eli was in the kitchen when Olivia and Noah followed Kathy inside and she had to pause when she saw him.
The last time she had seen Elliot's youngest son, he had been a chubby, curly-haired toddler. The boy standing at the kitchen counter was tall and skinny and looked to be a preteen.
He turned to look at the newcomers and she let out a breath when she saw Elliot's facial features standing out on his face more than she had remembered.
"Eli, do you remember Olivia Benson?" Kathy asked with perfunctory politeness. "She was at Maureen's wedding when you were little."
Olivia knew she couldn't expect for Kathy to give her a grand introduction, but she still felt a pang of hurt at being regarded like little more than a stranger after she had spent so many years around Elliot's family. She had helped deliver Eli when he was born, for God's sake.
It was obvious that Eli didn't know her. She swallowed her feelings and smiled at him, for her son's sake.
"Hi, Eli," she said. "It's nice to see you again." She put an arm around Noah beside her. "This is my son, Noah. Noah, this is Eli."
Kathy told her son to show Noah his video games in the living room. She gestured toward the den and told Olivia she would be back in a minute.
Olivia checked to see if Noah was comfortable and smiled when she saw her son with a controller in his hand already, exclaiming excitedly at the amount of Playstation games next to the television.
She sat down on the couch and looked around the living room, noticing the house had seemed to have been updated since the last time she'd been there. There were family photos on the walls and her heart ached suddenly when she saw pictures of Maureen, Kathleen, and Elizabeth.
She noticed immediately that there were no pictures of Elliot anywhere.
Kathy appeared momentarily, carrying an infant in a purple sleeper. Olivia felt a smile coming over her face involuntarily.
The baby was adorably round and kicking her feet happily as she traveled on Kathy's hip. She had big, beautiful blue eyes and a shock of dark hair.
"She had a late nap," the other woman explained quietly.
Olivia nodded in understanding. Kathy swallowed.
"This is my granddaughter," she went on. "Eliza."
She set Eliza on a play mat and shook the toys to get the baby's attention. She blew out a breath and reluctantly sat down on the chair across from the couch.
For a minute, she couldn't meet Olivia's eyes, until finally fixing her with a steely gaze.
"I have to tell you, Olivia," she said, seeming void of emotion, "Seeing you doesn't exactly bring warm feelings."
Olivia's eyebrows jumped slightly at her frank words.
"No offense," Kathy had the grace to add quietly. She lowered her eyes for a moment. "You're just a reminder of a life I'd rather forget."
Olivia leaned forward and looked at Kathy sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Kathy," she said honestly. "Dickie told me what happened to your daughters. I'm so sorry."
Kathy's face twisted for a few seconds and she looked away.
"When did you talk to my son?" she said harshly.
"Last week," Olivia answered. "I came here looking for Elliot and he told me you were at work."
"Elliot isn't here," Kathy said angrily. "If you came here for him, you're wasting your time. I filed for a no-contest divorce after he refused to come back from your undercover assignment. He said the job had to come first."
As if a switch had flipped, the blonde practically snarled at her.
"Not that I need to tell you that," she snapped. "I'm sure he did when he finally made his choice between work and our family." Angry tears shone in her eyes. "I hope that assignment was worth it."
Olivia was so gobsmacked that she could barely speak.
"Kathy," she said, shaking her head, "I wasn't with Elliot on any undercover assignment. I don't know anything about it. The last I was told, he retired after the precinct shooting in 2011. I was never in touch with him again."
Kathy looked at her in disbelief but Olivia held her gaze and she had to eventually shake her head.
"He did retire," she said roughly. "And then six months later, a U.S. Marshal came here with Captain Cragen and offered him an undercover assignment. He took it."
Olivia's ears perked instantly.
"What U.S Marshal?" she asked. "Do you remember a name?"
The other woman shrugged. "No."
Olivia's bore into hers intently.
"Kathy, listen to me," she said seriously. "I need to know as many details as you can remember about what kind of job Elliot was doing."
The blonde looked at her skeptically.
"Why?" she asked.
Olivia swallowed hard.
"I don't think he was actually undercover all that time," she said carefully. "I think something happened to him. Something bad."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because last week was the first time I saw or heard from him since that night of the shooting," Olivia said, "He said he had been kidnapped and that a U.S. Marshal had killed your daughters."
The other woman shook her head.
"That makes no sense," she said. "The detectives told me they think my daughters were killed by the people that Elliot was working to bring down to send him a message."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I begged him," she continued in anguish. "I begged him to come back and he said he was staying no matter what I wanted. And our daughters paid the price."
"When did you ask him to come back?" Olivia asked.
"In 2013," she answered. "A month before I filed for divorce. It was the first and only time he ever called me the entire time he was gone."
February 2013
Deputy Director Woodhouse usually came the day before the U.S. Marshals were set to raid their location to tip them off and purchase more drugs. So seeing him come in two days after they had arrived somewhere else was unexpected.
Emanuel Hernandez had secured a small house through subletting from someone he received cocaine from. The property came with a backyard shed that was where they stashed their prisoners.
It was pitch black inside with the door closed, so whenever someone came in the light from outside was painful and blinding.
Elliot was closest to the door, so when he heard the padlock being removed outside, he squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself for the light.
Then he prayed selfishly that whoever was coming in wasn't there to bring him any "customers." There had been three before they had left the last location that had specifically requested a turn with him.
The last one had been so rough that he had bled.
The door opened. Despite his attempts to protect his eyes, he still couldn't see for several moments. When he could, he saw the deputy director walking toward him.
For the very first time, Elliot tried to think of his name and came up blank.
"Got ourselves a problem, here," Woodhouse said, stopping a few feet from where Elliot lay bound on the floor. He quirked an eyebrow and pulled out his cell phone. "Seems your wife is getting antsy to talk to you. She's called the office looking for you six times and now, she's somehow found my number."
He pressed a button. Suddenly, Kathy's voice was echoing around the space.
Elliot made a muffled gasp of surprise.
"This is Kathy Stabler again. I'm sorry to keep calling you."
Hearing her voice suddenly after so long was a shot to the heart and made tears spring to his eyes. A pang of longing for her made it hard to breathe.
"I'm just...I'm worried about my husband. I know it's probably against the rules, but no one will tell me anything and I just..please, can he somehow get in touch with me? Please? I just want to know he's ok."
Woodhouse turned the speaker function off.
From the ground, Elliot hadn't been able to stop the tears that were sliding down his face. The other man looked at him in disgust.
"We don't need your wife causing problems for us," he told Elliot. "So you're going to call her and assure her that you are just fine."
Elliot thought he had misheard. But then Woodhouse leaned down and ripped the tape from his mouth.
He gasped in breaths of fresh air, his eyes glued to the man standing there wearing a badge on his waist.
Woodhouse crouched down so that they were eye level and reached out to roughly grip his chin.
"Now, you look at me," he said coldly. Elliot's crazed eyes fastened on him, unsteady with previous bouts of drug intoxication. "I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart. You don't want to fuck with me."
He reached behind him to his back pocket and brought out a piece of paper. He began reading from it.
"Kathy Stabler," he said. "43 years old. Lives at 72-12 Castleside Street, Queens, New York. Works as a phlebotomy tech at Mount Sanai Hospital in Queens."
Elliot mouth dried up.
"Elliot Stabler, Jr.," he went on. "4 years old. Attends preschool from 9 am-12 pm Monday-Friday at Holy Child Jesus Catholic Academy in Richmond Hill, New York, and then attends the YMCA youth program in Queens from 12:30 pm-6 pm.
Olivia Benson. 45 years old. 140 Eldridge Street, apartment 4A, Manhattan, New York. Works as a detective at the 16th Precinct in Manhattan."
Woodhouse continued through the rest of them, proclaiming the home and addresses for Maureen and Kathleen and the room number of Elizabeth's dorm at Syracuse University. He even knew Dick's platoon name and where his boot camp barracks were situated at Parris Island, where his son was still training to be a Marine.
"If you think," he said menacingly, getting closer to Elliot's stunned face, "that you can try and pull a fast one when talking to your wife, I dare you to try. I guarantee that I can ensure a bullet in the head of every person on that list in the time it takes to send a text message." He raised an eyebrow. "Do we understand each other?"
Elliot felt his heart sink. He nodded helplessly.
Then Woodhouse pulled out a gun and put it against his head. He cocked it and Elliot saw pure murder in the man's eyes.
He felt like he couldn't breathe. He froze in place.
"I can also put one in yours," Woodhouse said coolly. "I'll let you guess who will get it first."
Without taking the gun away from Elliot's temple, he pulled out his phone again and tossed it to Raul Hernandez.
"Dial the last number," he instructed. "And put it on speaker."
He grinned coldly.
"I hope you have good acting skills," he said. He looked into Elliot's feqrful eyes. "You'd better make her believe that you're still working. Her life depends on it."
He cocked the gun.
"And so does yours."
January 2020
"I'm still trying to figure out exactly what's going on," Olivia said. "But there's something else you need to know, Kathy."
The other woman looked at her warily.
"Elliot is at Bellevue Hospital right now in a detox treatment program," she went on. "He overdosed on drugs a few days back. I saw him for the first time after an officer called and told me what had happened."
Kathy's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
"What?" she said, agape. "Elliot?"
Olivia nodded grimly.
"He didn't say how long he's been using them," she said. "But he did tell me that he was forced to at some point. Judging by the withdrawal he was going through, I'd guess it's been a while. He was in bad shape."
Without warning, Kathy suddenly burst into tears. Olivia looked at her in concern. It took her a minute to be able to speak.
"He came here a few months ago," she managed to say. "It was the first time I saw him in eight years. And he looked-he looked...wrong. He didn't seem like the same person I remembered."
She swallowed.
"I was out of my head with grief," she continued. "The police had just confirmed that my-that my girls were-"
Her voice cracked.
"I screamed at him," she said. "I don't even know what I said. I told him to leave and not to come back."
She shook her head and sobbed.
"Oh, God, is that when he...did I make him-?"
She had started crying too hard to get the words out. But Olivia knew what she was trying to say.
Her heart hurt for the woman. She didn't know what to tell her. She didn't know what had been on Elliot's mind that night. But she didn't want to make Kathy feel worse.
"I don't know," she finally said softly. "But try not to focus too much on it right now, okay? The important thing is that he's trying to get better."
Kathy wiped her eyes, sniffling.
"Whatever happened to him," Olivia went on, "Elliot is convinced that this U.S. Marshal is going to find him and kill not just him, but all of us, too. He thinks he'll be putting you in danger if he were to come here. I had to admit him under an undercover alias just to get him to agree to go to hospital treatment."
She looked at the other woman gravely.
"He's scared, Kathy," she said heavily. "He's scared to death. And until we can get to the bottom of this, I don't think it will stop."
Kathy looked torn.
"What can I do?" she asked desperately. "Can I help him?"
Olivia shook her head helplessly.
"I'm not sure," she admitted.
Kathy was startled to see tears suddenly shining in her eyes. She looked to be fighting for composure.
"You're right," she said thickly. "He's not the same person we remember anymore. And I'm going to do my damnest to find out why."
The more his mind began to clear from the effects of the withdrawal abating, the worse his nightmares became.
On his fifth night, Elliot didn't even realize he was screaming until someone pounded on the door to his room in the middle of the night. He gasped awake, blinking and disoriented.
Seeing the door suddenly opening from outside made his stomach drop and he froze in place sitting up in the bed, his mouth going dry.
A male nurse stood inside his room, illuminated by the light outside. The brightness from the hallway was headache-inducing.
"Keep it down in here, God damn it," the nurse said rudely.
Elliot had to swallow before he could attempt to speak.
"Sorry," he said. He let out a painful breath, feeling like his heart might explode. "Can you just-don't just come in here, alright? Give me a minute to wake up."
The man just glared at him and slammed the door closed again.
He felt himself shaking with nerves. Despite being exhausted, Elliot knew there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep.
After thinking a minute, he grabbed the desk chair and positioned it beneath the door knob. Then he sat on the bed, leaned wearily against the wall, and stared at the door pensively.
Her cell phone rang at 5:30 the next morning, fifteen minutes before her alarm was set to go off.
Olivia reached blearily for the nightstand.
"Hello?" she mumbled.
"Is this Olivia O'Rourke?" a female voice asked.
Suddenly wide-awake, she sat up fast.
"Yes," she replied quickly.
The woman spoke in a no-nonsense tone.
"This is Janine Fisher," she said, I'm calling from the director's office of the Bellevue Detox Unit." Olivia felt her stomach clench. "I'm calling to inform you that you'll need to come pick up your brother as soon as possible."
"He's done?" Olivia asked in confusion. It hadn't even been a week. " I thought it was a two-week program."
The disapproval in the woman's voice was clear.
"Ma'am," she said crisply. "Mr. O'Rourke is no longer permitted in our facility. He assaulted a staff member this morning. We have an absolute zero tolerance policy regarding violence here."
Olivia closed her eyes momentarily.
Jesus, Elliot.
"If you would like to come and escort him off of the premises, you may do so," Fisher went on. "Or you can choose to have us call the police. Either way, he needs to leave as soon as possible."
Olivia blew out a breath. She was already sliding out of bed.
"I'll be there soon as I can," she promised.