Midnight calls never mean anything good. If anything, they mean that something's happened, and that you have to learn how to pick up the pieces, and get on with life as you know it. Midnight phone calls mean that you have to let yourself face the world and at the same time manage to keep your sanity for those around you. After all, if they see you break down, then they'll start getting worried as well. You'll try to tell them that everything's fine, but everyone's gathered at the phone, and someone's got the other extension in their hand, so they know you're lying, but they don't say anything for fear of upsetting everyone else. You'll shoo them off to bed once more before you allow yourself to break down, hoping against hope that it's not as bad as the people who called you think it is. But midnight phone calls aren't the worst thing that can happen to you. Having two detectives knocking urgently at your front door at some ungodly hour is the worst thing that can happen, because then you know that maybe things are as bad as they think they are. After all, if they weren't, the detectives would be sitting nervously in the hospital waiting room, maybe even pacing back and forth, waiting for news of their downed colleague's fate. They wouldn't be escorting said colleague's wife and four children to the hospital.
That's where we are now. Mom's fast asleep with her head on Maureen's shoulder, Elizabeth's sipping on a cup of coffee, trying desperately to stay awake, and Dickie's somewhere. I have no idea where he's walked off to, and I don't want to get up and find him. I feel like I'm suspended in another dimension, able to see what's going on, but unable to make myself do anything about it. The silence in the waiting room is driving me insane. Munch keeps pacing back and forth, muttering something incoherent, and he won't sit down for anything. Fin is keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't go off and do anything stupid. And Olivia is just sitting here, staring off into space, trying not to act like she's upset, but everyone can tell she is. Maureen keeps giving her this look, as if she's trying to keep from lashing out and asking exactly why it hadn't been her instead of our dad. If she says anything, I swear I'm going to smack her…things like this happen every day, and if anything, it's no one's fault.
My thoughts are going way too fast. If they'd just slow down, I'd be able to get a proper hold of them, but they won't, so I can't. Summer break has just started, but because of all of this, things are going to be a really big mess for a while. I'm just going to have to deal with it, whether or not I want to. I'm probably not going to leave this hospital or this chair until someone makes me, and even then, they'll have to drag me out kicking and screaming. I just want to stay long enough to know that Dad will be all right. Mom will be devastated if he doesn't make it through this, and I'm actually glad that she's asleep. It'll keep her mind off of all the possibilities, and off of opening the front door about an hour ago to find Munch and Fin standing there trying to avoid her eyes as they tell her what happened. Elizabeth's walked off to find Dickie…Angelina, Kai and Keiran were with her. They probably won't be back for a while. If they do manage to find Dickie, he'll probably be in some obscure corner, trying not to act as if he's all upset about this, but they're all going to know he is. I myself am upset about all of this, but for a completely different reason than everyone else might think.
I don't think I've ever felt so guilty about something in my entire life, but this…I can't help but think that it's my fault even though I know it's really no one's. I yelled at Dad before he left for work yesterday morning…told him that I wouldn't care if he never came home and that I hoped he'd get shot. Well…careful what you wish for, huh? No one knows about it, and I'm not about to tell any of them. The last thing I want is for Elizabeth to go off on me, or for Mom and Maureen to get more upset than they already are. I'm already upset enough as it is; he might have thought I meant it, but I really didn't. He's probably not going to want to talk to me when he wakes up…if he wakes up. When we got here, he'd been in surgery for about an hour…we've been here since about one-thirty. It's five now, and there still hasn't been any news. I'm getting tired of waiting, even though I know I shouldn't be. After all, Maureen's finally managed to drift off, Munch is still pacing, Fin's still watching him, Olivia's asleep now, and the twins are off somewhere with everyone else. I'm the only one that's actually awake enough to pay attention when a doctor comes in, but there are other families here in the waiting room, so I know I shouldn't get too hopeful. I watch as the waiting room door opens, hoping for something that probably will not be, and I find myself eyeing the twins as they walk in, followed closely by their 'entourage'.
I hate this. I hate waiting here, suspended in time, unable to do anything but sit, hoping against some sort of hope that no tragedy will come out of this. I don't think I'll be able to handle it if my 'wish' does come true. Then again, I know I'm being selfish. The Special Victims Unit will probably go all to pieces without Dad there, and then Olivia will get stuck with some stupid interim partner that she's going to hate. Munch and Fin will probably hate whoever Olivia gets stuck with, for that matter. I've heard Dad say the unit is like family to him (and to the rest of us). So of course they're going to hate someone new marching into their squad room like an intruder. I wouldn't blame them. My eyes wander where I will not, and the whitewashed walls of the room blind me as the light reflects off of them. I blink, fighting back the tears that keep stinging at my eyes. No one notices, and I'm glad.
The waiting room door opens and I look up again as Elizabeth reaches over to poke me in the side, assuming that I'm going to know what to do now that some surgeon's come to tell us exactly what is going to happen now. I swear that if they haven't found some way to get Dad through this, I'll run out of here screaming…but for now, I am content to reach over Dickie's head and tap Mom on the shoulder. Her eyes fly open, and she looks around, disoriented, wondering exactly why we're here, and why Munch and Fin are now looking at us. She figures it out though, and I begin to tune out, afraid to open my ears for fear of what I think I am going to hear. The next thing I know, Elizabeth has started to cry, and a feeling of panic begins to well up inside of me…and then the surgeon repeats what she's just said, because Mom doesn't seem to believe what's happened.
"Mrs. Stabler, your husband made it through the surgery, and we've moved him into recovery. He'll have to stay here for a while, but other than that, he'll be just fine." Mom just sighs, as if she's been holding her breath since the minute we walked in the door. I, on the other hand, run out of the waiting room, out of the hospital, and I collapse onto the cold sidewalk, not caring that I'm still in my pajamas and in the middle of Manhattan, where anyone can see me.
"Thank God…thank God…" The phrase is like a litany on my lips; it's incoherent, but it's all that I can bring myself to say.
Author's notes: Ok…this idea kind of came out of nowhere, so I took it and ran…that's what I tend to do when something hits me. As for the ownership of LOSVU, you guys should know by now that it's not mine. There is no way I could come up with something like that…which is why I stick to writing fanfic. As always, thanks to Marshmellowluvr for keeping an eye on my stories and making them sound better than the way I originally had them…wouldn't be able to do this without you (duh).