A/N: Bernie Stabler is queen. I keep thinking about how great a character she is and then it occurred to me, I can use her. This is my story. So here you have it. We're taking another turn but I'm not mad about it.
Disclaimer: You're going to recognize a lot of dialogue here, but it's been repurposed. If it looks familiar, just assume I don't own it.
Elliot had felt something was off all week with him and Olivia when they finally returned to work after their bouts with the stomach flu. He knew he was being more cautious about what he said and did, especially after the fight he had with Kathy. He knew how he felt about Olivia but he thought he'd been keeping it in check. But his wife seemed to notice something more and that made him paranoid if Olivia did too.
She herself had been more reserved. Talking in shorter sentences, starting out the window of the sedan rather than making conversation or searching for a radio station like she normally would. He chalked it up to her still feeling a little under the weather. They were just leaving the diner-where she barely touched her grilled cheese and refused to swap it for half of his BLT and fries, which was uncommon-when his phone rang.
"Stabler," he said, picking up without checking the number.
"Hi Detective Stabler, this is Officer March at the 12th Precinct," the voice on the line said.
"How can I help you?" Elliot said as he unlocked Olivia's door with the key and held it open for her while she slid in.
"We picked up a perp today in the park," March said. "She said her name is Bernadette Stabler and she's your mother. She's asking for you to come pick her up."
"Christ," Elliot muttered into the phone which caused Olivia to raise her eyebrow as he slammed her door shut. "What did she do?"
"We can talk about it when you get down to the station," March said. "She's being a little unruly so the sooner you can come get her, the better."
Elliot checked his watch.
"I'll be there in about 20 minutes, give or take traffic," Elliot said, hanging up without letting March respond.
He slid into the driver's seat. He wanted to slam his hands against the wheel, but he tried to show some restraint with Liv in the car.
"Do you mind taking a ride?" Elliot said.
"No," Olivia said. "Something wrong?"
"Just personal business," Elliot said. "I don't know too much."
Olivia just nodded and Elliot took that as his signal to pull away from the curb.
When they arrived at the 1-2, he parked alongside the building and flipped on the blinkers.
"I'll be back in a bit," Elliot said. "Shouldn't take too long."
It wasn't lost on Elliot that Olivia didn't even offer to come inside with him, something she absolutely would have done a week ago.
He found the desk and asked for Officer March, who entered from the office.
"Detective Stabler," Elliot said. "I'm here for my mother, Bernadette. What exactly did she do?"
"Attempted kidnapping and assault," March said. "She tried to walk off with some kid from the park and when his mother tried to get him back she slapped the woman across the face. Vic said she didn't seem all that coherent, actually felt kind of bad for her so she might be willing to drop the charges. Does she have dementia?"
"Bipolar," Elliot mumbled.
"Oh, well yeah that might explain it," March said "Like I said, the vic might drop the charges. She didn't even call for police. Two of our officers just happened to be in the area and saw what went down, so they brought her in."
Elliot's heart lurched when they rounded the corner to the holding cell and she saw his mother curled up on the bench. She was sitting with her back to the concrete wall, arms hugging herself, and rocking slowly back and forth. When she was like this, it scared him and hurt him all at the same time. He just wanted to make her feel better, but at the same time he wanted to shake her and yell at her for not taking the medication that would do just that.
"Ma'am," March said. "Your son is here."
Bernie looked up from the concrete floor and when she saw Elliot she smiled.
"Oh my boy," she said. "Look at you, so grown up and handsome. Can we go home now?"
"Sure Mama," Elliot said. "I just have to post your bail, then we can go."
March unlocked the cell and let her out, and she wrapped Elliot in a hug. They collected her belongings and he posted her fee, and then they left the precinct. Elliot wanted to talk more with her about what led to the incident in the park, but he didn't want to do it with Olivia in the car.
Elliot got Bernie into the back seat and then slid into the driver's seat.
"Who is this ravishing young lady?" Bernie asked after buckling her seatbelt. Olivia hadn't said a word.
"Mama, this is my partner, Olivia Benson," Elliot said, gesturing to her. "Liv, this is my mother, Bernadette Stabler."
"Oh wow, Mrs. Stabler, it's nice to meet you," Olivia said, sticking her hand into the backseat to shake as Elliot pulled away from the 1-2.
"No need to be so formal dear. Call me Bernie," she said. "You sure are a beauty. I'm glad there weren't female detectives on the force when my late husband was a cop."
Elliot noticed Olivia blush out of the corner of his eye, but she didn't say anything else.
"So tell me about yourself, dear," Bernie said to Olivia. "How did you end up in police work? What do you do for fun?"
"Mama," Elliot said in a warning tone.
"What?" Bernie asked. "I'm just making small talk."
"It's fine El," Olivia said before turning around in her seat to talk to Bernie. "I graduated from Sienna College with a major in criminal justice and a minor in American literature. Then I went to the police academy and came to SVU almost two years ago. The job doesn't leave much room for anything fun, but spending time with my daughter keeps me busy."
"Oh you have a daughter," Bernie said, clapping her hands together. "How old is she? What's her name? Do you have pictures?"
Elliot was extremely uncomfortable now. His mother didn't know Olivia's daughter was also his daughter, but for as many times as this woman has lost her marbles, she's also disgustingly perceptive.
"Her name is Chelsea, and she's eight," Olivia said, pulling her badge holder off her belt clip and digging inside the pocket. "This photo is from last summer when we went to Coney Island with my husband."
She handed the photo back to Bernie.
"Husband, huh?" she said. "How does he feel about you being a detective?"
"Mama, you can't ask stuff like that," Elliot said, frustrated.
"And why not?" Bernie asked. "You know you'd be having a heart attack if Kathy did this kind of work. I just want to make sure her husband understands how strong women can be. Try as I might, you're still an overprotective SOB for all the women in your life son."
Elliot said nothing. He never denied the fact that he was a jealous, possessive asshole. And what was wrong with that? Heaven forbid he try to take care of the people he loved. He knew Olivia could take care of herself. Kathy probably could too. But that didn't mean he wouldn't fight like hell every day of the week so they didn't have to.
"Actually, he's not a fan," Olivia said. "He's been trying to get me to change careers. But I really do love my job too much to do that."
"You didn't tell me Mark wanted you to get a new job," Elliot said. "Since when."
Olivia knit her eyebrows together.
"It's been sort of a recent development," Olivia said.
The car was silent for a few beats until Bernie handed Olivia her photo back.
"Your daughter is just lovely," Bernie said. "She reminds me of my grandbabies."
Elliot nearly choked on his tongue.
"I met your grandchildren recently, Bernie," Olivia said. "You've got such a nice family."
"More or less," Bernie said, waving her hands in the air as if she was waving off a bad odor.
Elliot knew Bernie was never Kathy's biggest fan. She liked her fine when they were dating in high school, but when she got pregnant, Bernie had flipped out. Not so much because she was pregnant, but because she thought it would ruin Elliot's life.
"You'll be just like your father," she'd said to him the night he told her he bought Kathy a ring. "All buttoned up out of responsibility. But what happens when you find a woman you love? Really love, who you just can't live without. If you're already married you won't be able to be truly happy."
He remembered thinking that she was just having one of her episodes. She and his dad hadn't married out of obligation and chose each other instead, but a lot of good that did them. He was always certain she didn't know what she was talking about. Until he met Olivia.
The women made more small talk during the ride to Bernie's house. His mother told Olivia about how she was a painter and sold her works on the boardwalk. She tried to tell an embarrassing story about him playing a carrot in the Thanksgiving pageant when he was six, but he cut that off quickly. When he parked in front of her beach house and killed the engine he didn't know what kind of state he was going to walk into at the house, or how he was going to convince her that what she did today wasn't okay.
"We'll be back out soon," Elliot said before opening his car door. "You need anything?"
"Nonsense," Bernie said. "She's not waiting in the car like a dog while you walk me inside. You two come in and have some lemonade."
"We can't stay too long, Mama," Elliot said. "We have to get back to work."
"I actually do need to use the restroom," Olivia said, giving Elliot an "I'm sorry" look.
The three of them trudged up the steps with Bernie leading the way.
"Sorry the place is a little disheveled," she said, turning the lock. "I've been in a creative zone."
Elliot peered around her to look inside and things weren't too bad. A few dishes in the sink and a lot of art supplies strewn throughout the sunroom and kitchen, but it was livable, and not embarrassing.
"The bathroom is at the end of the hall on your left, dear," Bernie said, pointing Olivia in the right direction.
He knew his window would be short, so as soon as Olivia was out of earshot, he approached the subject.
"How'd you end up at the precinct, Mama," he asked.
"I don't quite remember," she said.
"Well, what do you remember?" Elliot asked.
"I was going to the bakery to get some donuts for my book club this morning," Bernie said. "That's really the last thing I remember before asking those officers to call you."
"You don't remember anything in between?" Elliot asked. "Like how you got to the city or why you were there."
"No," Bernie said in a small voice. "But you'll take care of it right? The arrest."
"I'll try," Elliot said.
"I mean, you know a lot of people, you can pull strings," she said.
"I can try, if you're willing to help yourself," Elliot said.
"My help?" she said with a laugh. "You haven't asked for my help since I taught you how to ride a bicycle."
"Mama," he started. "You know you have emotional problems. You know what the doctors have said."
"Doctors? Those idiots," Bernie said. "I'm just high spirited."
"You might need to talk to the judge," Elliot said.
"And say what exactly?" she challenged.
"That you have problems," he said.
"Me? That's ridiculous," she said.
"Mom, you know what I'm talking about," he said.
"No, what?" she said.
"The crazy ideas," he started.
"What crazy ideas?" she countered.
"Hitchhiking to Santa Fe to meet Georgia O'Keefe," he said.
"Well the woman was a genius," she said.
"The cops saw you on the side of the BQE, picked you up in your slip," he said.
"Well, I was wearing it as a cocktail dress," she explained.
"When I was 10 you wanted to go to Paris to be a painter," he said.
"But I am a painter," she said. "Look, they sell my work on the boardwalk."
"You took me to the airport and tried to buy tickets with your Macy's card," he said.
"That was the only credit card your father would allow me to have," she said, her voice raising.
"Every time he brought you back home you got into bed and you stayed there for a month," he said, both of them near yelling.
"Yeah, because I was upset," she finally yelled back. "Because he was always trying to crush my dreams."
"They're fantasies," he said.
"You're just like your father," she said, making it feel like a slap to the face. "All buttoned up. No imagination. No spirit. But if anything is just a little out of the ordinary, it scares you to death, doesn't it? Anything that doesn't fit into your neat little boxes, you just can't take it."
"Mom, this isn't about me," he said.
"Just go tell the judge that your mother is nuttier than a fruitcake," she said. "I need some air."
Bernie crossed to the sunroom and threw open one of the windows.
"Mom, don't walk away from me," Elliot said, following her.
"I need some air," she said.
"Look, I didn't come here to upset you," Elliot said. "I want to help you."
She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time that day.
"Was I a bad mother?" she asked.
He was confused about where that question had come from. She wasn't the kind of mother he dreamed of having, but she was certainly better than most. Especially after hearing a little bit of how Olivia's mother treated her growing up.
"No," he said, curious as to where this would go next.
"Well, then, how come I haven't seen you for the last three years, huh?" she asked. "Every time I go to the city, I see Kathy and the kids, but you're never home."
"Mom, it's the job," he said. "Things come up. I've gotta do overtime."
"I heard that line for 27 years," she said. "Every time your father didn't want to do something, he suddenly had to pull a double. Maybe it's not the job that's pulling you away."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Elliot asked.
"Maybe it's a certain woman and her lovely daughter with bright blue eyes that neither of her parents seem to have," Bernie said, and Elliot felt as if she was staring right into his soul.
"That's not it," Elliot said, defensively.
"Nope, you're lying," Bernie said. "I can always tell. You squint."
Elliot became self conscious. Did he squint when he lied? Did Kathy know this? Did Liv? And where was his mother going to take this now, with Olivia right down the hall in the bathroom. It sure was taking her a long time in there.
"You've been avoiding me," Bernie said.
"I'm avoiding you?" Elliot said, amazed. "The minute Dad dies, you seel the house and leave town, and I'm avoiding you?"
"Well, what was I supposed to do?" she yelled. "Spend the rest of my life on my knees, saying my rosary and praying for his immortal soul?"
"Well, he sure as hell needed it," Elliot said with a chuckle.
"And then some," she answered. "That life wasn't for me. I felt like I was suffocating. Like I would…"
And that was when Elliot panicked. Because he'd felt that feeling. The day he found out Kathy was pregnant with Maureen and again the day they found out she was pregnant with Kathleen. The moment he came face to face with Olivia in Cragen's office and realized who Chelsea was. And every second of every day he spent with Kathy and not Olivia, wishing the two of them and the five kids had a life without either of their spouses. He knew that feeling, and he was starting to wonder if he was just as crazy as his mother.
"Like I would die if I spent another minute there. Here, at least, I can breathe," she said, gesturing out to the beach beyond the window.
"You couldn't breathe around your son?" he asked.
"You didn't need me," she said.
"You're wrong," he said. "I always needed you in my life."
"But it wasn't your life. It isn't your life," she yelled. "You're living your father's life all over again. If you could only find a way to be your own man."
Elliot saw red. He was so sick of her comparing him to his father. He was nothing like the drunk abusive old bastard. He never hit his children. He was there for all their important events. Except Chelsea's. He provided for them by doing a difficult job every day. He never cheated on his wife. Well, not after they were married. He swallowed the things he really wanted in life to make a better life for them, something his father never did. It was always about Joe Stabler, what he wanted, when he wanted it. Elliot was not the same man.
"I knew this was a mistake," he said, turning away from her.
"Hey, you wanted to be an architect," she said. "Do you remember that?"
"I didn't want to be an architect, I wanted to be a cop," he said.
"Oh, no, you were very talented," she said. You used to build the most amazing buildings with your blocks and your LEGOs."
"I was eight years old," he said.
"You would sketch these fantastic cities with skyscrapers going up to the heavens," she said.
"I was eight years old, " he said. "It was kid stuff."
"It was your passion!" she yelled. "What happened to it? Where did it go?"
"Into responsibilities," he said, finally feeling the resistance in his head snap. "Into taking care of my children. I don't have the luxury of staying in bed for a month when things don't go my way."
He knew as soon as the words left his mouth they'd hurt her. She tried to retreat back into the living room but he grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Okay, I'm sorry, listen to me, " he said. "Please help me so I can help you. Just admit you're sick, please."
He was begging her now. Everything was coming at him in waves. She'd been like this his entire life, but all he could think about was Olivia's story about how her mother showed up drunk at their house one afternoon. How she gave her an ultimatum and that was the last time they saw her because she wouldn't let them help her. Wouldn't help herself. Elliot didn't want that with his mother. He wanted the kids to know her, to love her, not to fear her. All he could think about was Chelsea. She already had one grandmother that was a disappointment and she didn't need another.
"Elliot, if you could just take a deep breath, smell the ocean air," she said. "Feel the sun on your face, the wind. The san beneath your…"
Bernie pointed her finger in the air and then grabbed his hand.
"Oh, I know," she said. "Let's go outside and build a sandcastle, okay? Like we used to when you were little."
He knew with her diversion he'd lost his window to really get through to her, but she continued.
"Remember that summer that we rented a cottage in Wildwood for the whole summer?," she said. "And you used to come out every morning and start digging. And then, by sunset, you'd have this whole metropolis. And then you'd cry like a bay when the tide came and washed it all away."
"Do you know what I remember about that summer?" he asked. "The night you told da you were leaving us. Do you remember that?"
"No," she said.
"You were running around, shouting how you needed to be free," he said, remembering it like it happened this morning, not over 30 years ago. "When Dad picked me up in his arms, you ran off and got his gun. You threatened to kill yourself. Do you remember that?"
She didn't answer, just continued to stare out at the ocean, ignoring him.
"Do you remember him laughing at you, because it was only the millionth time that he'd heard that from you?" he said. "And when I cried, you lifted up the revolver and you shot at us. I remember that crazed look on your face. I wondered why you hated us so much, you wanted us dead."
He waited. He wanted her to come to the conclusion on her own that she needed help. But she just continued to stare out at the ocean, as if he was already gone. He couldn't make her see something she didn't want to see.
"Goodbye Mom," he said to her back. "Just send Liv out to the car when she's done."
He let himself out the front door and trudged down the steps to the car, wiping a few tears out of the corners of his eyes as he went. He vowed to himself that no matter what he did in his life, no matter what decisions he'd made, he never wanted his children to feel the way she was making him feel right now. Helpless, hopeless, and like a failure.
A/N: How we doing out there? This is one of my all-time favorite episodes and I'm thrilled to work it into this story. Thoughts are always welcome!
