Disclaimer: "Law and Order: SVU" and all characters are the property of Dick Wolf.
Woo, boy. Fair bit of warning-I literally haven't watched the show or read a fanfiction since maybe season 10. I haven't dusted off the old keyboard or looked at any of my unfinished fics in almost six years and have no clue if Elliot lived happily ever after with his wife and kids even before he left the show. At any rate, he never seems to in my stories, poor thing. Sorry.
Let's just see how rusty I've gotten at this writing thing, shall we?
Elliot woke up from a thick fog of oblivion feeling like an army of fire ants was attacking his leg. He reached under the covers automatically before his brain remembered, fingers twitching in their haste to get rid of the itch. He groaned when he encountered hard plaster and cursed bitterly.
Clenching his hand into a ball, he struggled to sit up. It took more effort than he cared to admit.
The maddening itch under the cast got worse, and to add insult to injury, he felt his leg starting to throb painfully. He also had one hell of a headache, which made itself evident out of nowhere by slicing through his left temple like a pick ax and embedding there.
He looked over at the bedside table, hoping he'd had enough sense the night before to keep the painkillers the hospital had given him there in easy reach. Other than his cell phone and lamp, there was nothing. He scowled.
He checked the time and was surprised when he saw that it was late morning. He didn't remember a thing about the previous night other than Olivia driving him home and helping him inside. He didn't even know when she had left. The whole night had been disorienting and fuzzy with narcotics.
He noticed the crutches propped at the end of the bed and stubbornly ignored them. He hauled himself up and hobbled past them into the bathroom. He regretted his choice when he attempted to pee and wound up almost teetering over onto his ass when he couldn't get his balance.
He leaned against the sink and reached for the pill bottle he saw there. He popped one into his palm, squinted at the instructions on the bottle, and them shook out another. He cupped a handful of water to wash them down and pushed it into his mouth.
"Morning!"
The loud greeting cutting through the quiet from the front of the apartment startled him so much that he sputtered out the water all over the mirror in front of him.
"I brought breakfast," Olivia called, slinging a plastic bag onto the kitchen counter. She lifted out the bagels she had bought and turned to retrieve knives from the drawer. "You interested?"
Heavy, mismatched footsteps met her ears. She looked up at Elliot as he slowly swung himself toward her using the crutches. He looked tired and grumpy.
"You scared the shit out of me," he grouched. " Maybe try knocking first next time. "
"I did," she retorted. "Three times, as a matter of fact." She smiled at him sadistically. " I told you that you might regret giving me a key. "
She slathered cream cheese on a bagel half and slid it toward him. "At least you weren't naked," she said, shrugging.
The sight of the bagel made his stomach turn. He pushed it aside with a shake of his head. "No, thanks."
She peered at him in concern. "Feeling ok?"
He shrugged and struggled over to the coffee pot. "My head hurts," he said. And his armpits were already screaming from the crutches, not that he would mention that to her. "And my leg itches like a son of a bitch."
He removed the filter from the coffee pot as he spoke and opened up the cabinet under the sink where he kept the garbage can.
He froze as he was getting ready to toss the used filter into it and stared in startled horror at the headless dead bird laying inside the trash bag. The memory of discovering it rushed into his mind.
How the -?
That wasn't a dream.
Olivia spoke again and he started, quickly shoving the trash can further back before she could see inside of it.
"Huh?" he replied, sounding slightly jittery.
He turned around fast to look at her and had to catch himself when he abruptly wobbled. The worried look she gave him made his cheeks flush self-consciously.
"I said, 'do you need a hand with that?'" she repeated. Her brow furrowed. Even with his injuries, he seemed "off" and it was starting to worry her. "Elliot, are you sure you're feeling alright? You aren't acting like yourself. How long did the doctor say to watch for complications from the concussion?"
He shook his head, flushing again.
"I feel fine, Liv," he insisted. " I just...didn't sleep well, that's all. The meds make me wonky. "
Trying to appease her and quickly change the subject, he held out his hand and gestured toward the bagel he had declined.
"Actually, I do think I could eat," he said. " Thanks. "
She eyed him a little suspiciously as he took a bite but didn't press the matter; instead, she just pulled out a bagel for herself. He was relieved when she shrugged and asked if he had any of her favorite creamer.
He could hardly finish even a quarter of the bagel. She had piled the cream cheese on generously, usually just how he preferred his bagels, but after a few bites felt suddenly nauseous. He nursed the coffee while watching Olivia eat. She didn't comment.
"I've got to go," she said, draining her cup in one swalllow. "Court today."
He smirked. "That explains it...I thought you came because you care," he said dryly. "You just want a shorter subway trek."
She rolled her eyes. "Cragen wants you to call the office," she said, shrugging into her coat.
She moved toward the door and he hobbled after her.
"Stay off your feet, " she ordered, fixing him with a pointed stare. "And use the crutches, Elliot. "
"Yes, Mom," he groused.
She pulled the door shut as she left and the apartment became quiet.
He poured a second cup of coffee and then splashed it on himself when he tried to carry it and hobble across the room at the same time.
With a curse under his breath, he rummaged through his cabinets for a travel mug with a lid and poured his coffee into it. Then he made his way to the couch-carefully- while deliberately passing the crutches.
His cell phone rang the moment he had settled into the couch.
He groaned and debated getting back up. The medication was starting to make the edges of his vision blurry and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to stay upright. That stuff packed a surprisingly powerful punch, as he'd discovered the night before.
As the phone continued ringing, he forced himself up. He begrudgingly grabbed the crutches as he went and leaned heavily against them, already feeling himself getting worn out from all of the moving he'd done without them.
The ringing stopped before he got to the phone. He checked the screen to see who had called, thinking it had to be Kathy, or maybe Captain Cragen. But all he saw was the word UNAVAILABLE on the caller ID.
It rang again a moment later. He quickly answered it.
"Stabler. "
Silence was all that greeted him.
"Hello," he said, more firmly.
No reply. After a minute, he heard the line break. He looked at the screen. UNAVAILABLE.
He decided he didn't feel like limping all the way back to the couch. He stripped his t-shirt off and felt his eyes getting heavy.
God, he hated prescription pain medication. It always leveled him and made him barely able to function.
He made a mental note to hold off on the next dose as long as he possibly could as he sank down into bed. He was already halfway asleep.
The phone rang once more. His eyes flew open and he looked at the screen. UNAVAILABLE. This time he didn't reach for it
After 10 rings, it stopped. He closed his eyes.
It rang again. He angrily grabbed for it, seeing UNAVAILABLE on the screen once more.
"Who the hell is this? " he growled, finally losing patience.
Silence, followed by a hang up.
He almost smashed the phone onto the table but caught himself. He slid down onto his back and huffed out a breath.
The phone rang again, stopping after 10 rings. A moment later, it did it again.
And again.
And again.
After the fifth time, Elliot grabbed it and switched it off. He saw the words 6 MISSED CALLS- UNAVAILABLE before it went blank.
Finally, he heard silence. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
But he could no longer relax enough to fall asleep.
Olivia walked into the squad room later in the afternoon after and picked up the messages that had come in while she had been in court.
"Olivia."
She looked up at the captain, standing in the doorway of his office.
"Need you to meet Fin and Munch at Mercy General," he said. "Rape victim in the ER will only speak to a female."
She nodded. "On my way," she replied.
"Her name is Allison Wilson," he said. He turned back into his office and then a thought made him turn back. " By the way-"
She paused on her way out the door and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"Have you talked to Elliot?" he asked. " I tried calling him earlier but his phone was turned off. How is he doing? "
"I stopped by there this morning," she replied. " He seemed ok. Said he didn't like how the medicine made him feel. "
"If you hear from him, tell him to call," Cragen instructed.
She nodded. "Sure will."
The captain went back to his desk. She made her way to the elevator and pulled out her phone while waiting for it to arrive. She pressed the contact button for Elliot.
It went straight to voicemail.
Must still have it turned off.
She left him a message and stepped into the elevator.
Frustrated at being denied the rest that the medication had been trying to pull him into, Elliot went back to the living room and sat on his couch. He flipped through the tv channels for a few minutes, bored out of his mind, head hammering.
"This sucks," he grumbled.
He winced and closed his eyes, trying to relax so that he could sleep away the headache that the pills hadn't helped. The tv droned into a buzz as awareness faded away finally and he sank gratefully into sleep.
Elliot started awake sometime later, soaked with sweat.
He rubbed his face and slowly sat up, squinting blearily. His brain felt muddled and the headache was still there.
His leg burned. He began pounding against the cast with his palm in a pathetic attempt to stop the itch. Unable to stand it, he struggled to his feet and limped to the refrigerator on the crutches, not the least bit hungry.
He suddenly remembered back to when his daughter Elizabeth had broken her arm as a kid falling off of a backyard trampoline. Kathy had finagled a wire hanger into a device she could fit inside the cast when she complained of her arm itching.
He hobbled back to the bedroom in search of a hanger. He was surprised to see darkness through the window next to the bed. How long had he been asleep?
He paused next to the nightstand and grabbed his phone to turn it back on. The screen lit up and saw the time first, boggling his mind a bit when he saw he had slept for nearly 4 hours on the couch, and then his eyebrows jumped in disbelief.
55 missed calls.
One each from Kathy, Olivia, and Captain Cragen...and 52 from UNAVAILABLE.
What the-?
Before he could finish the thought, the window a few feet from where he stood exploded.
"Shit!"
He jumped, reflexively turning away from the glass shards raining in and feeling them stinging his forearm. The phone dropped from his grasp like an afterthought.
Heart hammering, he turned back in shock and saw a large, jagged hole in the middle of the window pane. Something was pressed against it from the outside, flapping in the wind.
Stepping gingerly, Elliot reached out to take it. It was paper. When he was able to see what it was, he felt the blood rush into his face.
It was a generic paper target used at gun ranges, one he'd seen hundreds of times.
There was also a message scrawled across it.
Dead men tell no tales.