Disclaimer: "Law and Order: SVU" belongs to Dick Wolf
He sat on the couch with his phone and gun next to his hand that night. His head and leg ached badly enough to make him grit his teeth, but he didn't dare take another dose of pain medication. He had to stay alert.
Sleep was out of the question, as was turning on the TV. He couldn't take the chance of being distracted. He kept the lights on and hunkered into a position that made it as easy as possible to get up with his uninjured leg should he need to.
It was uncomfortable as hell. He was so tense that his neck and back muscles began twitching. He rubbed his eyes futilely, his headache so intense that it made his stomach turn.
He scowled to himself.
Why don't you call up 'Big Beans' Martez and the rest of the 7th Battallion 'War Dogs' and cry to them, jackass? When did you become such a whiner?
(It didn't happen as often anymore, usually only when he tried feeling sorry for himself, but every so often Elliot would call back the words that he had heard practically daily in his platoon during his time of active duty. Lieutenant Colonel Julio Martez had had no tolerance for anyone trying to use injury as a reason to give less than total effort. Whenever one of his Marines had gotten hurt (or started a fight by running his mouth, eh, Stabler? he recalled ruefully), he had insisted "If you ain't bleedin ', you ain't worth leadin'!" )
He tried to tell himself that he was just embarrassed. He could take care of himself.
He wasn't scared of facing a threat with one leg immobile, a blinding headache, and pain rippling up his nerves every time he moved. Nope, not him.
That's when the power went out.
There was no sound to indicate an electrical issue, no flickering...just plunged into darkness in a blink of an eye with no warning.
Shit.
A creak from the apartment above him broke the silence and he nearly jumped out of his skin, fingers closing immediately around the handle of the gun.
Deep down, Elliot knew that the odds of being able to actually defend himself right then were abysmal. Twice, he looked at the phone and considered calling Olivia to tell her what was happening. He knew she wouldn't hesitate to come watch his back.
But his pride wouldn't let him. Because he wasn't scared. Did he say that already? Not him.
He swallowed, throat so dry it was sore. He didn't relax his hand on his weapon.
Not scared at all.
Olivia checked her watch as she climbed the stairs to Elliot's apartment. She hoped for Elliot's sake that he was just still sleeping off the effects of the pain medication. Cragen was not happy that it had been 24 straight hours of no contact and not being able to get anything but voice mail when trying to reach him
The captain had wanted to call Kathy to go see what the issue was with him, but Olivia had managed to hold him off by volunteering to go check first before coming to work that morning. She knew that the captain was more pissed than concerned and that Elliot would rather eat nails than open the door to his estranged wife in the condition he was in.
She would undoubtedly fuss over his injuries, he would deflect her because he was embarrassed by saying something stupid and thoughtless, and Kathy would have more reason to keep away. That would make him sink even lower into his depressed funk and make him even bitchier to work with and Olivia certainly didn't want to deal with that any more than necessary.
She told herself she was merely acting from self-preservation as she stood in front of his door. She bit her lip and fingered his key, debating whether or not to use it instead of knocking. She wasn't worried or anything.
She knocked anyway, just to give him some dignity, and was surprised when he answered immediately.
"Who is it?"
His voice sounded slightly rough, like it sometimes did when they worked into the wee hours of the morning and were exhausted. That was strange enough, but not as strange as the fact that he actually asked who was outside. She couldn't recall him ever doing that in all the times she had come to any place he'd ever resided.
"It's Olivia," she answered, her tone saying who else?
She could tell he was near the door, maybe even right next to it, but her face registered her confusion when a palpable beat of time passed before she heard him unlocking it from the other side.
He was expecting the knock and was waiting, but still brought his gun up and leveled, not taking chances.
"Who is it?" he asked, just so that later he could say he exercised necessary caution should he have to account for it if he encountered trouble.
"It's Olivia."
He was caught off guard that it was his partner outside and bit off a curse, wondering why she hadn't called first like she usually did. He immediately moving the weapon out of range. He quickly moved to shove the gun in a kitchen drawer before he unlocked the door, not wanting her to see it and be suspicious.
His face flushed when he opened it and saw her looking at him like he might be nuts. He stumped to the side out of her way as she walked in.
"Jesus!"
Olivia hadn't walked in four steps before feeling the chill and exclaiming. She whirled around to look at him.
"It's freezing in here, Elliot, " she said, looking incredulously at him standing there in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare. There was no way he wasn't cold. "And I'm wearing a coat, for God's sake!"
Elliot flushed again.
"Yeah, I know," he said, sounding embarrassed. "The power went out last night, so there's no heat."
And a giant hole that's smashed through the bedroom window blowing in cold air, he didn't say.
"I thought you were the super coming to tell me the power is out in the building," he added.
She shook her head. "There was definitely power inside when I just came up."
He scowled. "Perfect," he groused.
"I'm getting coffee," she declared, helping herself to his pantry and filling up the pot with water. "You should have some. You look horrible."
He knew that was true. He hadn't shaved in two days, his socks didn't match, and he had picked up the shirt he was wearing off the floor the day before. He didn't even know if it was clean.
He had no way to know that Olivia wasn't even referring to his appearance. She was more concerned that he looked like he was so exhausted that he could hardly stand up straight and he wasn't using the crutches for balance.
She snatched them quickly from where they were leaned against the couch.
"Sit down before you fall down," she ordered, holding them out to him. "I've got this."
She expected him to resist and gripe. But he did neither, just shuffled tiredly over and sank onto the couch.
"Not that I don't love seeing your face every single minute of every day," he said tiredly, turning slightly to look over at her, "but why are you here? Don't you have enough to do covering for my sorry ass at work right now?"
"You mean besides how much I usually do anyway?" she shot back at him. She grinned at his wounded expression. "I'm here to warn you that Cragen is threatening to send Kathy over here to check up on you if he doesn't hear from you before this afternoon. He's been trying to call you since yesterday."
With a start, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone.
It had started ringing nonstop soon after his window had busted, always with the same UNAVAILABLE caller ID and no reply whenever he answered. It did nothing for his already frazzled nerves, in between sitting in the darkness of no electricity and trying to be on guard for an invisible threat that could have been anywhere, and he'd turned it off almost immediately.
"Damn," he said. "I forgot to turn it back on." He pushed the power button and it lit up immediately.
Jesus. 60 missed calls from UNAVAILABLE. He quickly scrolled past them. Plus a voice mail. He held the phone to his ear to listen to it and immediately grimaced when he heard the message:
"You broke your leg?" his ex-wife's voice said in his ear incredulously. "Why in the world didn't you call me, Elliot? For Heaven's sake. " He wasn't sure if it was annoyance in her voice or worry. Sometimes they sounded the same. "Call me if you need anything, I mean it. Don't be a child about it."
Click. He winced.
"Too late," he quipped. " She found out anyway. "
Olivia came over with the coffee mugs, setting them on the table. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
"Thanks." He was so tired his voice was almost slurring. "Guess I should call the cap'n now."
" I can call him, " she said, taking a sip. "I think he'll understand once I tell him what you look like right now." She eyed him. He had slumped down, looking half-conscious. "Seriously. Did you sleep at all yesterday? "
He didn't have the energy to lie to her. His head was killing him again.
"No," he mumbled, eyes closed. "Too cold with the heat out." He rambled on, too tired to realize what he was telling her. "My leg itches and my head hurts and I don't like being out of it on the meds. Too risky."
She shook her head. There was no use nagging him for his ridiculous macho stubborness at the moment, not when he was in such obvious misery anyway.
"Will you take them if I stay?" she asked. " I'll see about getting your heat back on and then you can get some rest for awhile. "
The idea of relaxing into the embrace of the sleep his system was begging for with the assurance of someone keeping an eye out was too sweet of a temptation to resist. His body was already relaxing.
"I guess," he said, trying to sound non-committal. "If you want."
He struggled back up. She watched him, knowing better than to offer a hand. He went toward the bedroom to get the medication. And to close the door so Olivia wouldn't see the broken window.
He made a mental note to give the super a heads up about it. He'll probably expect me to pay for it, he thought sourly.
As he reached the sink where the pills sat, he heard Olivia calling that she was going to see about the heat as she walked out of the apartment. He swallowed two pills and stood staring at his bed, next to the window.
Then he trekked tiredly past and back out, pulling the bedroom door closed.
Olivia wasn't gone five minutes making her way down to the bottom floor to knock on the door of the owner of the building. He promised to look into it right away. She also called the captain to see about possibly taking the morning off and explaining the situation.
Cragen approved a half-day of leave (she had plenty to spare), but told her sternly to have Elliot call him.
"I will, Captain," she promised, reaching Elliot's door. "I'll call you in a few hours with an update. "
She hung up, walked inside, and was surprised to see Elliot sprawled on the couch. She had expected him to go to his bed.
He had a blanket pulled sloppily over his lower half, cast propped on the armrest, and his arm thrown over his head. He was full-on snoring, fast asleep in the little amount of time she had been gone. She could hardly believe it. She hadn't seen him that tired in a long time.
It was still freezing. She went to the hall closet to get another blanket and spread it over his whole length. He didn't even pause snoring.
"You know, it's the damnest thing..."
Olivia stood just inside the door and stared at the building superintendent. The small Italian man was irritatingly loud and she instinctively looked back over toward the couch a few feet away.
Her partner had been fast asleep for an hour, seemingly getting much needed rest, and she was going to be pissed if this guy woke him up with his grating voice. She struggled to remain polite. He had gotten the heat back on and she was grateful for that.
"What's that, Mr. Vecchio?" she said as pleasantly as she could.
"Well, ya know," he said in a heavy Bronx-sounding accent, "When ya told me about the power going out, ya know...I'm thinking there's a blown transformer, ya know, like there was last summer when we had that Christin' heat wave. Damn everything, wasn't that the pits. I've never sweat so much in my life. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, wasn't that the pits?"
She wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to hold her patience. She tried not to grit her teeth and act like she was interested.
"So, anyway, I went down there expectin' to see the whole box in a mess," he went on . "And every single unit is working just fine, except this one." He nodded toward the door. "I have no idea why. Looks almost like someone came along down in the control panel and picked that one specifically. Damnest thing. "
He looked at her hopefully, like he was expecting her to worship his ingenuity. After a minute of her just staring at him, he looked embarrassed.
"Anyway," he hurried on. "It's working fine now. Shouldn't have any more issues."
"Thank you," she said. " I know Elliot appreciates it. I'll be sure to tell him you fixed it when he's feeling better. "
He nodded. She shut the door a bit too quickly, grimacing at her impulsiveness but unable to stand it. The man would probably talk her ear off if given the chance.
The ringing phone startled Elliot out of deep sleep. He gasped and bolted upright. His leg painfully protested.
Across from him on the armchair, Olivia winced, seeing him jarred awake. He had slept through her making herself food in his kitchen and watching four episodes of The King of Queens. She had assumed his phone was off because it hadn't made a sound the whole time.
He fumbled clumsily out of the cocoon of blankets, blinking like he was seeing spots.
"Yeah," he mumbled into the phone, squeezing the bridge of his nose.
She got up and put her plate in the dishwasher, trying not to eavesdrop. He hung up after a minute and stretched, scrubbing his face with his hands.
"Want a sandwich?" she asked him. "I ordered hoagies about an hour ago. Saved you one."
He smiled. "Maybe," he said groggily, getting stiffly to his feet on the crutches. "Sorry you had to babysit me...I wasn't planning to fall asleep. "
"Right," she said playfully. "You were drooling into the pillow practically before I said I would stay, you baby."
He smiled cheekily at her. She was pleased to see the spark back in his eyes instead of the dead tiredness of before. He yawned and invaded her space with comfortable familiarity, reaching for the foam take-out container.
He shoveled half of the sandwich into his mouth practically without chewing. "Feels warmer in here," he commented.
"Yeah, I got hold of the super," she told him. "He said there shouldn't be any more problems with it."
"Wow," he said. He raised his eyebrows playfully. "An uninterrupted nap, free lunch, and you do my domestic drudgeries for me? I think I'll keep you around!"
She scoffed. "Free lunch, my ass," she retorted. "If I were you, I'd find a better spot to hide your wallet."
The sandwich was gone in record time. He sighed contentedly, the feeling of food in his stomach going a long way toward helping regain his equilibrium.
She smiled at the look on his face. He was rolling his neck and didn't see it.
"Sorry," he said . "But I've got to ask for one more favor." She cocked an eyebrow. "That was the orthopedist on the phone just now. He wants me to come in to see how long it might be before I can get the walking cast."
"If it will get me out of having to deal with your snoring, I'll carry you there myself," she said.
They left the apartment a few minutes later. For the third time, he completely forgot about calling the captain.
The hospital was packed, so much so that the ER waiting room had to be accommodated in the same space as non-emergencies. Elliot grimaced, shifting slightly away from a large man barely able to squeeze into the chair next to him hacking his lungs out. The cast made it impossible to really get away.
He scowled miserably, his expression almost making Olivia laugh out loud from her perch across from him. She looked as cool as if she were lounging in her own living room, lazily reading a magazine.
He ducked his head and discreetly met her eyes.
"Switch spots with me," he hissed desperately.
The man hacked again and she nearly snorted.
"Not on your life!" she hissed back with an evil grin.
His murderous glare didn't phase her. He could swear she was snickering as she continued flipping through the pages.
"Elliot Stabler? Appointment with Doctor King?"
Finally, he thought with relief after nearly an hour.
He got to his feet. Olivia glanced up.
"I'll be here," she told him .
He nodded, following the nurse through the doors leading to the exam rooms. She brought him to an empty one in the back and gestured to a chair inside.
"The doctor should be in shortly," the nurse said.
She pulled the blinds for privacy and pulled the door closed as she left.
Great, he thought, leaning his head against the wall. This will take forever.
Olivia looked up from her fifth magazine when an alarm sounded abruptly.
"CODE GREY, SECURITY," a loudspeaker blared above them. "SECURITY ALERT. CODE GREY, SECURITY."
A flurry of activity made anxiety form in Olivia's stomach. By the look on the faces of the staff, it wasn't a drill. They looked shocked.
She quickly went to the intake desk and flashed her badge.
"I'm NYPD," she said. " Let me in there now. "
The woman wordlessly pressed the button to open the door. She stepped through briskly.
Staff was scurrying around, telling patients to stay in their rooms. She grabbed the arm of a doctor passing and showed her badge.
"What's going on?" she asked.
The doctor shook her head. "No idea," she said. " Someone accessed the staff entrance without a security ID. "
"Did you get a description?" Olivia asked.
A commotion from some other doctors diverted their attention and the doctor went toward her colleagues without answering. Olivia wondered if Elliot knew what was happening. He would undoubtedly be trying to help, broken leg or not.
She called out before the doctor got out of earshot. "What room is the patient of Dr. King in? He's my partner."
"There is no Dr. King here! " the doctor answered back, not turning around.
What?
Confused as hell, Olivia pulled out her cell phone to call her partner. It would be faster than trying to find out what room he was in from these people.
As soon as the call connected, she heard ringing from the room to her right. She pushed through the door.
Then she stopped dead, heart in her throat.
Elliot was crumpled on the floor in front of a chair. He was unconscious, limbs awkwardly under him as if he had dropped straight down. Blood dripped onto the linoleum in front of his face.
"NEED SOME HELP IN HERE!" she yelled.
Olivia covered the distance to him in two strides and dropped to her knees beside him.
"Elliot," she said shakily. Her hands moved over his neck to feel for a pulse. It was racing as fast as her own, thank God. She gently touched his face. "Can you hear me? "
No response. She felt tears threatening to choke her.
Feet rushed into her vision as nurses surrounded them. She moved slightly, watching them check his breathing, look for signs of trauma. They asked what happened. She replied she had just found him.
Then suddenly, she heard him murmer and relief threatened to make her fall, too.
"Take it easy," someone said as they helped him up and led him to the bed. "Lie back, take it easy. " His head tipped forward and then back against the pillow. One of the nurses attached a pulse oximeter to his finger. "Can you hear me, Mr...?"
The nurse looked at Olivia and she realized they didn't know his name. She had to swallow twice before she could speak.
"Elliot Stabler," she supplied huskily.
She stepped around the nurse beside him and laid a hand on his arm. He blinked at her like her presence took him by surprise. His nose was bloodied from hitting the floor.
"I'm here," she said. " Everything's ok. How do you feel? "
His head dropped back against the pillow. He seemed confused.
"Weird," he murmured unsteadily. "Really tired."
A nurse was looking at the monitor beside his head. "You're heart rate is normal, oxygen steady," he said. "Take it easy, Mr. Stabler. We'll get a doctor in here."
Olivia remained where she was beside him. He seemed dazed but otherwise fine. Except for his bloody nose, that was.
She walked over to the sink to wet a handful of paper towels. As she did, someone said her name softly from outside the door. She was surprised to see the female doctor she had encountered earlier standing in the hallway.
"Is something going on here?" the doctor asked.
Her voice was hushed, like she didn't want to be overheard. At Olivia's mystified look, she held something up.
"I found this taped to the window outside the room."
It was a plastic bag with a piece of paper attached. Olivia took the paper and examined it. Then her face paled. She looked at the bag.
"Hand me a glove," she said, her voice straining.
The doctor produced one from her pocket. Olivia wrapped the bag into it to avoid getting fingerprints on it.
There was a syringe inside.
The paper was folded like a note and had her name written on it. She read the words inside again, feeling like she might puke:
STAY OUT OF IT OR NEXT TIME HE WON'T WAKE UP.