A/N: This series is mostly for my own amusement. My mind often asks "What if a child watched their every move? What would the child think?" I know it's highly unlikely that El would allow his thirteen year-old daughter to hang out with them, but someone had to try it. And I figured it might as well be me. So, enjoy it, I hope, and reviews are completely welcome, and probably desperately needed.
I've always been curious as to what my father does when he leaves in the middle of the night. I'm a light sleeper, so I wake up when his car starts outside, and sometimes the creaking of the floorboards when he tiptoes downstairs. I wonder what victim he's helping, or what suspect he's apprehending, and I am proud just wondering about his heroism.
I could lie awake for hours thinking of all the things my father does for people. Everytime I think about it, my heart swells with love and affection. My older sisters are both jealous of the time he spends at his office, but I'm not. I've never begrudged my father for doing what he loves, quite the contrary. I tend to brag about my father, in fact, sometimes to the annoyance of my friends, but in my mind, he is someone worth bragging about.
On a certain night, late in November, I awoke to a creak from the stairs. My first thought was that Dad had a case, but the creak was loud. Strange, I thought, creeping out of bed. He's usually careful to be quiet.
"Daddy?" I whispered into the dark hallway where I could see a figure walking toward the stairs. He loked at me as if seeing me for the first time in years, and I knew he was very flustered about something.
"Lizzie?" he whispered, the z's in my name cutting through the silence. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
I shrugged. "I was half awake already. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he lied. I walked to him, so that we didn't make so much noise talking to each other across the hallway. I didn't want Dickie or Kathleen to wake up and ruin the conversation. They each had nasty habits of doing that.
"Than why are you leaving?" I asked, logically.
My dad chuckled and looked at me, his eyes alight with paternal fondness. "Munch is right. You're too smart for your own good."
I beamed from the compliment, but realized he was trying to steer me away from the problem at hand. I wasn't about to let him deter me. I sobered my face and asked again, "Really, though, Daddy, what's wrong?"
Dad sighed, and told me the news. He said it right out, no sugar coating. He knew better than to sugar coat with me. "Olivia's been shot, Lizzie."
I tried to remain calm and not cry, which had been my first instinct. Be strong, I ordered myself. Be strong for Daddy.
"Is she... Is she gonna be okay?" I asked, unable to keep a tiny waver from my voice. Dad sighed again.
"The doctors aren't sure. They said it's touch and go. But there's a good chance she'll pull through."
I didn't want to hear about chances. If it was up to chance that it would turn out okay, it was also up to chance that it would turn out badly. I was not one to take risks.
"Are you going to the hospital to see her?" I asked, with a business-like air to my voice. He nodded. "Take me with you," I demanded, stomping my foot and crossing my arms for effect.
He shook his head and protested, just as I knew he would. "I really couldn't, Liz, it's too dangerous."
"In a hospital?"
"They also don't allow children..."
"I'll say I'm her niece."
"That would be lying."
"You're a detective. You lie all the time to get what you want. Why is it any different for me?" I sighed. "Listen, Dad, I'm perfectly willing to stand here all night and shoot down every one of your points, and if that doesn't work, I'm prepared to start screaming and wake everyone up so you'll have to explain everything to Dickie, Kathleen, and Mom. I assume you weren't even planning on explaining things to me, so that would be an inconvenience, would it not?"
Dad sighed, yet again, and shook his head. "You really have to stop doing that."
"Does that mean I'm going?" I asked, excitedly.
"Get dressed. If you're not ready in fifteen minutes, I'm leaving without you." I grinned, rushed into my room, and got dressed quicker than any teenage girl in exsistence.
The drive to the hospital was silent, and seemed to drag out for hours. I was so worried about Olivia. What if she didn't make it? I didn't think I could survive without her. She was like a big sister to me. I suppose I had two of those, but none like Olivia. Olivia was special.
When we parked outside the hospital, I could barely wait for the car to come to a stop before rushing into the waiting room. My father asked for Olivia's room, saying he was her brother. I knew it was just so that I would be allowed in to see her. He could have just said he was Liv's partner, and they'd have let him up, but after all that, he knew I was going to see her whether he liked it or not.
In the waiting room, Cragen and Fin were sitting down in those ugly orange chairs they have. Fin rose when he saw that I was there.
"Liz? What are you doing here?" he asked. I shrugged.
"Dad woke me up when he was leaving and I had to see Olivia," I explained. Cragen gave Dad a look, as if telling him that he should have known better than to wake me up, but my father ignored it.
"How is she?" he asked instead. Fin sat back down, and I nestled into a chair beside him, prepared to stay all night and into the morning if need be.
Cragen looked to me uncertainly, but Fin defended, "You can tell her, Cap'. She'll find out anyways."
"She's not doing too good," Cragen then said, and I gave a grateful look to Fin. "She woke up about two hours ago, but it was only for a few seconds. Other than that, nothing."
My dad sighed. It seemed to be a favorite reaction for him, tonight. "Mind if I go sit with her, Captain? In case she wakes up."
Cragen nodded. "By all means."
As my father left, I looked about the waiting room, knowing something was missing. When my mind hit on what, I was quite shocked that it was no where to be found. "Where's John?" I asked, to nobody in particular.
"He went for coffee," Cragen said, absentmindedly. His thoughts were obviously on his female detective, who had more pressing needs right now.
"That was an hour ago," Fin said, shaking his head. "He's probably on the roof. They have a little cafe area there. Want me to take you up to see him?"
"No, I can find my way," I said, standing up. Before leaving, I put my hand on Fin's shoulder. "If she wakes up, tell her I'm here and that I'm praying for her all the time?"
Fin nodded. "Course I will."
I smiled, and made my way to the roof cafe.
I found him almost immediately. Besides two teenagers necking (what a place to make out), he was the only one on the roof. He was facing away from me, staring out into the shadows and lights of the city. I crept up to him silently, not wanting him to see me until I was right beside him. I think he sensed that I was there, because when I took his hand, he didn't even twitch.
"John," was all I said out loud. He looked down at me, and smiled, but his eyes were shadowed over in sadness.
"Hey, Liz." He didn't seem at all surprised that I was there. He, of all people, knew how stubborn I could be, considering I used to be the little imp who sat on his lap one day and refused to budge.
"You okay?" I asked, although I knew the answer. John looked back to the city lights.
"No," he admitted. "I'm not."
I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm scared, too."
For the first time that night, I felt a lump rising in my throat, and restraining the tears became difficult. They stung as they fought their way out, and I couldn't barracade them any longer. They spilled over my eyelids with a soft whimper from me.
John knelt down beside me, and cradled me to him. "It's gonna be all right, Liz," he promised, but I think he was telling it to himself more than to me.
"You don't know that!" I cried. "You don't know she's not going to die! What if she did, huh? What if she didn't make it?"
John did not seem surprised at my outburst, although it was rather out of character for me. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. He pulled me away form him and held me at arms length by my shoulders.
"Elizabeth Marie Stabler, Olivia is going to make it, you got that?" he assured me, and I took three deep breaths to calm myself. I again thought that he was also assuring himself, and I realized that was one of the reasons I had started crying. Part of me knew John needed someone to comfort in order to be comforted. It was just the way his mind worked.
"Okay?" he asked me, nodding. I nodded back and forced a smile, sniffing.
"Okay," I responded, and he stood back up. This time, I grabbed his arm. I needed more contact than just his hand. That, and I had forgotten my jacket. I was cold.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, and he chuckled a little.
"Don't I usually ask you that?" he mused, and I grinned.
"Yes, but I beat you to it." He sighed, and looked back to the buildings. He pointed out into the vastness that was the city of New York.
"What do you see?" he asked me. I shrugged.
"A city."
"Well, what else?" he persisted.
"Buildings. Lights. Streets. Cars."
"See, I don't see that," he explained, I looked up at him, waiting for what it was he did see. "I see lives that have been torn apart and hurt and punished in ways that they have not deserved. I stopped seeing a city a long time ago. Now I just see people that have lost hope."
I nodded slowly, trying to fully appreciate his words, but something about them did not make sense to me. So I pointed to the apartment across from where we were standing, It was a ways away, but you could see a woman making dinner for a young girl, whom I assumed to be her daughter.
"What do you see there?" I asked.
"A woman and her daughter, alone in a small, cramped apartment with no father to help with the rent or the bills. He probably left them there alone a long time ago," he answered, his voice sounding so morose that it made me want to start crying again. Instead, I shook my head.
"That's not what you see," I contradicted. "It's what you infer. I should know, you taught me the difference between the two."
He laughed straight out at this. "Using my own lessons against me. That's low. Fine, Little Objective Observer, tell me what you see, if you're so smart."
I grinned. "I see a woman and a girl, presumably her daughter, and for sake of argument, let's say she is. I see that they are alone, and that perhaps the girl has no father, but I also see something that you missed."
"And that might be?"
"Smiles."
It was one word, but it seemed to have an impact on him. First, he squinted as if trying to get his eyes all the way up their window. Then he tilted his head, realizing that I was right. Finally, he looked down at me and sighed with a smile. "Point to you, Oh Observant One."
I grinned in spite of myself, but tugged his arm. "We should go down and see how Olivia's doing," I told him.
"I think I'd rather stay up here, actually."
"Oh, that wasn't a suggestion, John, that was an order," I said, tugging harder. He looked at me with a bemused half smile on his face.
"What are you now, my tyrant?"
"I prefer 'Queen' actually, but 'Your Highness' will do in a pinch," I teased, but I really wasn't kidding about going down to see about Olivia. I also knew that John was going to take some persuading, because he was serious about staying.
Thankfully, an out-and-out debate was unneccessary, as Fin soon came up from the waiting room. Spotting us, he called across the cafe area two small words that made all the difference in the night.
"She's awake."
I grinned wildly, and ran down the stairs, passed Fin, ignoring the two detectives. They could follow if they wanted. I just wanted to see Olivia.
When I reached her room, a nurse was leaving. I tried to walk passed her, but she stopped me. "I'm sorry, no children are allowed in intesive care rooms. You can wait out here, though."
My face fell and I began to protest, when a hand was set on my shoulder. I looked up to see Fin flashing his badge at her.
"I think you'd better let her in there, Miss."
The nurse looked between the two of us, and nodded, slowly. I rushed in passed her.
"Olivia!" I cried, rushing to the side of the bed, only partially noting that my father and Cragen were there too. Olivia gave me a weak smile, but she seemed genuinely happy to see me.
"Hey, Liz," she greeted, quietly. "Fin told me you were here."
I smiled. "I wouldn't leave you here with all these guys. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said, but she groaned in pain as she shifted her weight. My eyebrows rose in disbelief.
"Better than what?"
"Better than a few hours ago," she explained, "when I was unconcious and about to die."
I smiled clamly, and took her hand. "It's okay," I promised, turning to grin at John who was now standing in the doorway. "A little birdie told me you'll be just fine."
I've always been curious as to what my father does when he leaves in the middle of the night. I'm a light sleeper, so I wake up when his car starts outside, and sometimes the creaking of the floorboards when he tiptoes downstairs. I wonder what victim he's helping, or what suspect he's apprehending, and I am proud just wondering about his heroism.
I could lie awake for hours thinking of all the things my father does for people. Everytime I think about it, my heart swells with love and affection. My older sisters are both jealous of the time he spends at his office, but I'm not. I've never begrudged my father for doing what he loves, quite the contrary. I tend to brag about my father, in fact, sometimes to the annoyance of my friends, but in my mind, he is someone worth bragging about.
On a certain night, late in November, I awoke to a creak from the stairs. My first thought was that Dad had a case, but the creak was loud. Strange, I thought, creeping out of bed. He's usually careful to be quiet.
"Daddy?" I whispered into the dark hallway where I could see a figure walking toward the stairs. He loked at me as if seeing me for the first time in years, and I knew he was very flustered about something.
"Lizzie?" he whispered, the z's in my name cutting through the silence. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
I shrugged. "I was half awake already. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he lied. I walked to him, so that we didn't make so much noise talking to each other across the hallway. I didn't want Dickie or Kathleen to wake up and ruin the conversation. They each had nasty habits of doing that.
"Than why are you leaving?" I asked, logically.
My dad chuckled and looked at me, his eyes alight with paternal fondness. "Munch is right. You're too smart for your own good."
I beamed from the compliment, but realized he was trying to steer me away from the problem at hand. I wasn't about to let him deter me. I sobered my face and asked again, "Really, though, Daddy, what's wrong?"
Dad sighed, and told me the news. He said it right out, no sugar coating. He knew better than to sugar coat with me. "Olivia's been shot, Lizzie."
I tried to remain calm and not cry, which had been my first instinct. Be strong, I ordered myself. Be strong for Daddy.
"Is she... Is she gonna be okay?" I asked, unable to keep a tiny waver from my voice. Dad sighed again.
"The doctors aren't sure. They said it's touch and go. But there's a good chance she'll pull through."
I didn't want to hear about chances. If it was up to chance that it would turn out okay, it was also up to chance that it would turn out badly. I was not one to take risks.
"Are you going to the hospital to see her?" I asked, with a business-like air to my voice. He nodded. "Take me with you," I demanded, stomping my foot and crossing my arms for effect.
He shook his head and protested, just as I knew he would. "I really couldn't, Liz, it's too dangerous."
"In a hospital?"
"They also don't allow children..."
"I'll say I'm her niece."
"That would be lying."
"You're a detective. You lie all the time to get what you want. Why is it any different for me?" I sighed. "Listen, Dad, I'm perfectly willing to stand here all night and shoot down every one of your points, and if that doesn't work, I'm prepared to start screaming and wake everyone up so you'll have to explain everything to Dickie, Kathleen, and Mom. I assume you weren't even planning on explaining things to me, so that would be an inconvenience, would it not?"
Dad sighed, yet again, and shook his head. "You really have to stop doing that."
"Does that mean I'm going?" I asked, excitedly.
"Get dressed. If you're not ready in fifteen minutes, I'm leaving without you." I grinned, rushed into my room, and got dressed quicker than any teenage girl in exsistence.
The drive to the hospital was silent, and seemed to drag out for hours. I was so worried about Olivia. What if she didn't make it? I didn't think I could survive without her. She was like a big sister to me. I suppose I had two of those, but none like Olivia. Olivia was special.
When we parked outside the hospital, I could barely wait for the car to come to a stop before rushing into the waiting room. My father asked for Olivia's room, saying he was her brother. I knew it was just so that I would be allowed in to see her. He could have just said he was Liv's partner, and they'd have let him up, but after all that, he knew I was going to see her whether he liked it or not.
In the waiting room, Cragen and Fin were sitting down in those ugly orange chairs they have. Fin rose when he saw that I was there.
"Liz? What are you doing here?" he asked. I shrugged.
"Dad woke me up when he was leaving and I had to see Olivia," I explained. Cragen gave Dad a look, as if telling him that he should have known better than to wake me up, but my father ignored it.
"How is she?" he asked instead. Fin sat back down, and I nestled into a chair beside him, prepared to stay all night and into the morning if need be.
Cragen looked to me uncertainly, but Fin defended, "You can tell her, Cap'. She'll find out anyways."
"She's not doing too good," Cragen then said, and I gave a grateful look to Fin. "She woke up about two hours ago, but it was only for a few seconds. Other than that, nothing."
My dad sighed. It seemed to be a favorite reaction for him, tonight. "Mind if I go sit with her, Captain? In case she wakes up."
Cragen nodded. "By all means."
As my father left, I looked about the waiting room, knowing something was missing. When my mind hit on what, I was quite shocked that it was no where to be found. "Where's John?" I asked, to nobody in particular.
"He went for coffee," Cragen said, absentmindedly. His thoughts were obviously on his female detective, who had more pressing needs right now.
"That was an hour ago," Fin said, shaking his head. "He's probably on the roof. They have a little cafe area there. Want me to take you up to see him?"
"No, I can find my way," I said, standing up. Before leaving, I put my hand on Fin's shoulder. "If she wakes up, tell her I'm here and that I'm praying for her all the time?"
Fin nodded. "Course I will."
I smiled, and made my way to the roof cafe.
I found him almost immediately. Besides two teenagers necking (what a place to make out), he was the only one on the roof. He was facing away from me, staring out into the shadows and lights of the city. I crept up to him silently, not wanting him to see me until I was right beside him. I think he sensed that I was there, because when I took his hand, he didn't even twitch.
"John," was all I said out loud. He looked down at me, and smiled, but his eyes were shadowed over in sadness.
"Hey, Liz." He didn't seem at all surprised that I was there. He, of all people, knew how stubborn I could be, considering I used to be the little imp who sat on his lap one day and refused to budge.
"You okay?" I asked, although I knew the answer. John looked back to the city lights.
"No," he admitted. "I'm not."
I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm scared, too."
For the first time that night, I felt a lump rising in my throat, and restraining the tears became difficult. They stung as they fought their way out, and I couldn't barracade them any longer. They spilled over my eyelids with a soft whimper from me.
John knelt down beside me, and cradled me to him. "It's gonna be all right, Liz," he promised, but I think he was telling it to himself more than to me.
"You don't know that!" I cried. "You don't know she's not going to die! What if she did, huh? What if she didn't make it?"
John did not seem surprised at my outburst, although it was rather out of character for me. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. He pulled me away form him and held me at arms length by my shoulders.
"Elizabeth Marie Stabler, Olivia is going to make it, you got that?" he assured me, and I took three deep breaths to calm myself. I again thought that he was also assuring himself, and I realized that was one of the reasons I had started crying. Part of me knew John needed someone to comfort in order to be comforted. It was just the way his mind worked.
"Okay?" he asked me, nodding. I nodded back and forced a smile, sniffing.
"Okay," I responded, and he stood back up. This time, I grabbed his arm. I needed more contact than just his hand. That, and I had forgotten my jacket. I was cold.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, and he chuckled a little.
"Don't I usually ask you that?" he mused, and I grinned.
"Yes, but I beat you to it." He sighed, and looked back to the buildings. He pointed out into the vastness that was the city of New York.
"What do you see?" he asked me. I shrugged.
"A city."
"Well, what else?" he persisted.
"Buildings. Lights. Streets. Cars."
"See, I don't see that," he explained, I looked up at him, waiting for what it was he did see. "I see lives that have been torn apart and hurt and punished in ways that they have not deserved. I stopped seeing a city a long time ago. Now I just see people that have lost hope."
I nodded slowly, trying to fully appreciate his words, but something about them did not make sense to me. So I pointed to the apartment across from where we were standing, It was a ways away, but you could see a woman making dinner for a young girl, whom I assumed to be her daughter.
"What do you see there?" I asked.
"A woman and her daughter, alone in a small, cramped apartment with no father to help with the rent or the bills. He probably left them there alone a long time ago," he answered, his voice sounding so morose that it made me want to start crying again. Instead, I shook my head.
"That's not what you see," I contradicted. "It's what you infer. I should know, you taught me the difference between the two."
He laughed straight out at this. "Using my own lessons against me. That's low. Fine, Little Objective Observer, tell me what you see, if you're so smart."
I grinned. "I see a woman and a girl, presumably her daughter, and for sake of argument, let's say she is. I see that they are alone, and that perhaps the girl has no father, but I also see something that you missed."
"And that might be?"
"Smiles."
It was one word, but it seemed to have an impact on him. First, he squinted as if trying to get his eyes all the way up their window. Then he tilted his head, realizing that I was right. Finally, he looked down at me and sighed with a smile. "Point to you, Oh Observant One."
I grinned in spite of myself, but tugged his arm. "We should go down and see how Olivia's doing," I told him.
"I think I'd rather stay up here, actually."
"Oh, that wasn't a suggestion, John, that was an order," I said, tugging harder. He looked at me with a bemused half smile on his face.
"What are you now, my tyrant?"
"I prefer 'Queen' actually, but 'Your Highness' will do in a pinch," I teased, but I really wasn't kidding about going down to see about Olivia. I also knew that John was going to take some persuading, because he was serious about staying.
Thankfully, an out-and-out debate was unneccessary, as Fin soon came up from the waiting room. Spotting us, he called across the cafe area two small words that made all the difference in the night.
"She's awake."
I grinned wildly, and ran down the stairs, passed Fin, ignoring the two detectives. They could follow if they wanted. I just wanted to see Olivia.
When I reached her room, a nurse was leaving. I tried to walk passed her, but she stopped me. "I'm sorry, no children are allowed in intesive care rooms. You can wait out here, though."
My face fell and I began to protest, when a hand was set on my shoulder. I looked up to see Fin flashing his badge at her.
"I think you'd better let her in there, Miss."
The nurse looked between the two of us, and nodded, slowly. I rushed in passed her.
"Olivia!" I cried, rushing to the side of the bed, only partially noting that my father and Cragen were there too. Olivia gave me a weak smile, but she seemed genuinely happy to see me.
"Hey, Liz," she greeted, quietly. "Fin told me you were here."
I smiled. "I wouldn't leave you here with all these guys. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said, but she groaned in pain as she shifted her weight. My eyebrows rose in disbelief.
"Better than what?"
"Better than a few hours ago," she explained, "when I was unconcious and about to die."
I smiled clamly, and took her hand. "It's okay," I promised, turning to grin at John who was now standing in the doorway. "A little birdie told me you'll be just fine."