He couldn't wrap his mind around this shrink. He was quirky, overly polite, stared at him without saying a word and struck Elliot as the type of man who was just itching for the scoop on anything and everything Elliot did. It was like Elliot was another science project, just waiting to be experimented with, to delve deeper into and discover the secrets he harbored.
The shrink held the file between his fingers, scanning it with his beady eyes. Every few moments or so he'd make a face; an amused look with a bright grin that stretched ear to ear, a perplexed look with eyebrows dipped in confusion, a wide eyed look with his tongue perched on the edge of his lip, a scrunched up look that showed every wrinkle. When he wasn't making faces, he was making noises that clearly gave away what thoughts danced around in his head. He'd unabashedly scoff, he'd give a hearty laugh, he'd hum while reading another line, he'd clear his throat when a surprising detail popped off the paper at him.
Elliot was no anthropologist but as he studied the man across from him, he decided that he was just plain weird. And this was the man who had been hired to help him? He didn't understand how sitting in silence would help him keep his job.
Finally he tore his eyes away from the manila folder and smiled at Elliot. "Detective Stabler?"
"Dr. Taylor?" Elliot replied, eyebrows raised. He didn't like people who played psychological warfare with him. But maybe he was biased; he did it on a daily basis.
"Is there anything you'd like to confess before I weasel it all out of you?" Dr. Taylor asked, his head balanced on one hand and his bright, dancing eyes staring point blank at Elliot.
"There's no story here," Elliot said.
Dr. Taylor picked the file up once more and ran his eyes over it. He looked back up at Elliot with an accusatory smile. "According to this, there's a whole novel."
Elliot twitched in his seat, folding his hands over his stomach, elbows perched on the edges of the chair's arms. He smirked at the doctor; he wasn't a fan of smart asses anymore than the next guy. "My personal life is none of your business."
"Maybe so," Dr. Taylor said. "But your professional life is. It seems to me that you continually decide to mix the two, which therefore makes it my business. After all, I cannot clear you until I conduct a thorough investigation of everything pertaining to your professional environment."
"I keep my job separate," Elliot defended. Was this guy for real? "I don't condone bringing in my personal issues because it clouds my judgement."
"And yet you have on numerous occasions," Dr. Taylor said. "Would you like me to list all of it out for you?"
"Be my guest," he seethed. It wasn't as if this guy was privy to information Elliot wasn't. Or was he? Elliot was beginning to wonder if this guy could read him far better than he could read himself.
"Let's see," Dr. Taylor began. "Your children seem to be brought up frequently while investigating crimes because you see them in the victims which in turn makes you side with only the victims. Your wife and your partner are at odds because your wife thinks you spend too much time on the job and with your partner, and your partner has saved your wife's life and delivered your son all in the same day. Your daughter was arrested for drunk driving because you finally realized she needed to be punished and couldn't just get off easy because her father is a cop. Your father was a cop, which is one of the reasons you entered the line of duty. Your father was known to have a temper as a cop just like yourself. Your thoughts regarding many cases reflect your past endeavors. Your daughter was discovered to have bipolar disorder, a trait she inherited from her grandmother and one which she used to practically destroy you and herself. Your temporary partner, whom you received after you scared off your original partner, remained close to you and developed feelings for you which you seemed to return before she left for good. And as a devout Catholic, you find conflict between faith and work. Now tell me, Detective, do you ever not involve your personal life?"
Elliot's jaw clenched. This guy was excellent at playing games. Elliot had never been a gambling man, but he'd bet this guy had many tricks up his sleeve to get Elliot to confess. "That's all true, but it doesn't mean that I'm not good at what I do."
The doctor threw up his hands in defense. "By all means, you are good at what you do. I never said that you weren't. But you're here today because you have unresolved issues that when dealt with will ultimately make you even better."
"So how are you supposed to help me?" Elliot asked. "Because I don't feel like I've gotten any better within the last five minutes."
"First, I need you to drop the hostile attitude. I cannot help you if you think of me as an enemy. And if you think I'm being harsh at times, I will continue to be because playing nice with Elliot Stabler has never seemed to get anyone anywhere with you."
Elliot jaw almost dropped to the floor. "I can be perfectly reasonable and rational when I want to be."
"You can be, but I can already tell you won't be," he said. "When someone hits a nerve, Hurricane Stabler is out for vengeance. And that's what this is all about. I have to ask about touchy subjects in order to get to the bottom of the problem. If I don't press for information, we'll just be sitting ducks. You do want to continue to work in Special Victims, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Elliot replied. "I just want to get this over with."
"Then let's start so we can finish."
"What do you want to know?"
He cocked his head to the side as if he were deep in thought. It took him a few moments before he seemed to find the right words. "Let's begin by discussing your partner."