Disclaimer: I don't own NBC or any of its affiliates/ subsidiaries (which goes for "SVU" as well).

A/N: Wow, thanks for all of the reviews! I think one of the best parts of writing fanfiction is the reviews, so they're always appreciated.

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"It's hard to fly when you can't even run

Once I had the world, but now I have no one" –"Drown" 3 Days Grace

Manhattan Special Victims Unit

October 1

Elliot found himself inside of a very long, dark tunnel. "Hello?" he called out. He got no answer. The only thing he could see was a light at the very end. He began to walk towards it.

Just then, something flew over his head. He looked up and saw a little boy riding on top of a winged horse. "Watcha doin' down there, mister?" he asked.

Elliot blinked. "Uh…"

The boy didn't like this apparently. He turned into a FedEx man and beganthrowing packages at Elliot. They bounced off his head. "Hey, stop that!" he shouted, but the FedEx man wouldn't listen…

"Elliot Stabler," John Munch called in a sing-song voice. "Wake up, sleepy head."

"Eh?" He opened his eyes. "What's up? Why are you… wait… I'm not at home, am I?"

Olivia grinned. "Nope." She handed him a large brown envelope. "This is for you. A bike messenger just dropped it off 5 minutes ago."

The envelope was addressed to "Mr. Elliot Stabler, NYPD Special Victims Unit, Manhattan, New York". There was no return address.

"I'm surprised it's not open yet," commented Munch. "Usually government-ran bureaucracies such as the post office are all over unlabeled envelopes."

Elliot and Olivia smirked at each other. "Open it," she said.

He tore the top off. Then, he inhaled sharply. The envelope was filled with blood! His hands were covered in it. "What the hell?" he hissed.

The substance poured all over Elliot's desk. He quickly moved all papers. "So much for the government going through his mail," Olivia remarked.

"There's something else in there." Munch put on gloves and fished out a bloody plastic bag. Inside were a small mirror and a note. Elliot put on gloves also and opened it, his hands shaking slightly. "'To my dearly departed Detective Stabler'," he read. "' Or, at least, that's what I'll be writing in the next couple of weeks. Every time you look into this mirror, see a broken man who hasn't much longer to live. Your days are numbered, Detective.'"

The three detectives looked at each other, then at the bloody desk. Just then, Captain Cragen walked by. "What are you three doing?" he asked.

Elliot shoved the note, mirror, and envelope under a stack of papers. "Cleaning," he offered.

Cragen raised his eyebrows, then decided that he really didn't want to know. "Elliot, Olivia, another case. A report of child abuse." He gave them the address. "And, when you have the chance, clean that up."

Elliot and Olivia left a few minutes later. His heart was beating rapidly. "You look pale. Are you alright?" asked Olivia.

He swallowed. "I'll be fine." No wife, no kids, a nut job that wants me dead; yeah, I'm doing just fine. He wiped his sweaty palms off on his dress pants. "I'll be fine," he repeated. He touched the cold mirror in his pocket. Who in the world sent this to me?

On top of another building, a blond man lay prone, peering through the scope of a sniper rifle. With one pull of the trigger, he thought. He'll be stone dead.

"Bang, bang," he whispered. Another day perhaps. Very soon.

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A/N: Sorry about such a short update, but I have no time to actually write!