A/N: Not mine. This is set after last week's ep, Uncle.
I picked up the phone as it rang for a third time. "Munch."
"Hey, John."
"Olivia?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Aren't you supposed to be undercover?"
"Yeah, but I heard about your uncle. Is he all right?"
My chest constricted on me and I forced out, "He's in a psychiatric hospital."
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's depressed."
"I'm sorry." She sounded sorry, but the exhaustion in her voice outweighed it. "At least the scum's dead," she offered.
"Yeah." Noncommittal.
"What about you? How're you doin'?"
I shrugged. "Same old. In more ways than one," I added bitterly. The last couple weeks had taken their cruel toll on me. Sleep was elusive, as I wished work would be. "Listen, you're not putting yourself in harms way with this call, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"Are you sure?"
"John, I'm sure." There was a pause. "You sure you doin' okay?"
I resisted the urge to laugh. Caught. Again. By her. Damn fine detective, she was. But I sobered quickly as I thought about whether or not to answer her. I had already brushed her off with one general answer, and chances were she was lying when she said that making this call didn't carry some risk. I was surprised to find my throat tightening on me as I said quietly, "He said goodbye."
"What do you mean?"
And the words just came. "I tried to get Elliot to come and tell him it wasn't his fault. And Uncle Andrew... he just wouldn't listen. We told him he wasn't responsible for it, he'd get of on mental disease, but he wouldn't listen. Elliot told him to take his meds, and he said no. He had rights, he didn't have to take them. And he looked at me, shook my hand, and said goodbye."
"John, calm down, it's okay. Have you tried talking to him?"
"He won't see me. And Bernie came up, but he won't talk to him either. I'm afraid... I'm afraid that he'll follow in my father's footsteps. I don't want that to happen."
"Your father's footsteps..."
"He committed suicide when I was thirteen. Uncle Andrew is his brother. I can't lose him."
She was quiet. I had this crazy thought that she was going to throw out whatever operation she was on and come back. Then I realized she couldn't do that. I shook my head and berated myself for being such an idiot.
"John, I'm sorry. I just wish I was there."
"Yeah, and maybe this crap never would have happened," I said somewhat angrily, thinking about her replacement.
"What do you mean?"
"Your replacement. Pain in the ass. I thought Stabler had some issues, but she... she's so impatient. Has no compassion. Antarctica is warmer than her. The guy, you must've read that he had raped before, when he was seventeen, he held a girl for ten hours. Well, she came by the squad room. My uncle was waiting for me. We were gonna go out to lunch. And Beck, she just... she didn't bring the girl into another room or anything. And my uncle heard every word. Then, Beck says that if they had the death penalty, she would stick the needle in his arm herself. My uncle got it stuck in his head that it was all right to kill him. That's why he shoved the guy in front of the train. Because Beck is such a goddamned idiot that she didn't have the common sense to bring the vic in the other room."
"At least I know I'm missed."
"Yeah, you could call it that." I was quiet, partly in anger, and partly because all I wanted to do was hold her.
"I miss you," she finally said, softly and I closed my eyes, picturing her.
"I miss you, too." My voice was getting choked up. As if the strain of the past few weeks hadn't been enough, she wasn't even here to make me forget for a while. I inhaled deeply, trying to put to voice the question I had in mind, but I wasn't strong enough. Or maybe I was too afraid of the answer.
"John... I wish I could talk more, hell, I wish I were home, but I have to go. I'll see you soon." She sad the last part urgently, as if she needed to be home soon. I wasn't about to debate that point. I needed her home soon, too.
"I love you."
I could picture her smiling sadly as she said, "I love you, too." And hung up.