The Santa Incident

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of LO:SVU or any other show mentioned here. I don't own the rights of the songs either. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.

9

"It's decreasing," Don Cragen said, staring out of the window. "Let's hope that it will stop."

"And then what?" John asked, leaning in his office chair, feet on the desk. "We don't drive snowplows."

"We have to do something!"

"You want to walk to 119th Street?"

"No, I don't want to. How about you, John?" Cragen sounded very seriously.

John frowned in response. "Don't make it an order," he said. "I would be tempted to disobey."

Now it was Cragen who frowned.

"I don't even have boots on!" John explained pointing at his shoes. "I want to know what happened and if they are okay, but I don't want to lose my feet while trying to find out!"

"Well, we certainly could find some boots for you," Fin threw in.

"Thanks, partner. I don't need boots."

"You will need them as soon as we go out there."

"Don't tell me you want to do what the captain suggested. Do you really want to walk to 26 Precinct?"

"If necessary…"

John grumbled something unintelligibly. He would have liked to pretend to be busy but in the dim light it was hardly possible to do paperwork.

"Hey!" Fin shouted. "I'll get you some boots." And he rushed out of the bullpen.

That doesn't sound encouraging, John thought. He looked out of the window. Still, flakes were tumbling down, but there were not very much and it did not storm anymore.

Buster used the crowbar they had found to smash the remains of the windshield. Carefully he removed the splinters and began to dig through the drift. The snow was hard, pressed together by its own weight and merging to a firm mass.

It was just a tight hole he made, barely wider than his arm. When he finally pushed the bar through the thick drift a rush of fresh air came in. He peered through the hole but it was dark. No whistling could be heard. He took off his glove and pushed his arm through to feel with his hand.

"I can't tell if it's still storming," he said. "I think I should try and open the hole as wide as we'd need it to get out."

"Shall I help you?" Olivia asked.

"No, it's okay. Keeps me warm."

So she settled back against the wall as Buster continued his work.

"Elliot?" She gently stroked his forehead. It was warm. Did he get a fever?

"Elliot!" she called more urgently. "Don't fall asleep, honey."

"I'm not sleeping," he replied lowly. "I'm shivering too hard to fall asleep."

Olivia was worried even if he tried to raise her mood by joking.

"Tell me the truth," she said, caressing his cheek. "How much do you really hurt?"

He did not answer at once and she worried even more.

"Too much to feel good anyway," he retreated. Cautiously he shifted his position, trying to get closer to her. "And I don't like some of the company."

"I know what you mean," she murmured with a glance at Cornwell.

The body of the van squealed again.

Elliot's breaths came only with efforts. "I don't like that either," he stated.

"Buster? How is it going?" she shouted to change the subject.

"Halfway through, I guess!"

"Well, that's good," she encouraged him.

That was when the creaking and crunching noises grew louder. With a piercing squeal the walls of the van gave way and the van's floor crushed down.

Everyone cried out in surprise and fear except of Elliot. His piercing scream also testified to pain.

The van was trembling under the impact. But it did not completely crush together. Still, there was well half of the height.

"That won't remain this way," Olivia said. "Go on, Buster."

He did not need any more encouragement.

"Elliot?!" She wrestled to her feet and crouched down next to him. In the ray of the flashlight his face was paler than the fresh snow and contorted with pain. He sat slumped forward, clutching his middle with both arms and rocking slightly back and forth. His breath was erratic and he had to cough every so often.

"Elliot! C'mon, talk with me." Olivia fought to contain her panic. "Can I help you, honey?"

"I guess he will be finished off soon," Cornwell laughed. "Will you cry for him, bitch?"

That was too much. Olivia flashed the light around and found the spare glove that once had been in her mouth.

"Shut up!" she yelled and pushed it between his jaws. Cornwell groaned but she did not care.

"Elliot?" she returned to him.

"It's not fatal, I guess. Some of the ribs will be cracked."

"I think so, too. But what if one has punctured the lungs?" Cautiously she wrapped her arms around him to offer support.

He gave a strangled laugh. "If it would have already ruptured one I would cough blood by now. There would be nothing you could do." Slowly he relaxed into her embrace. "When the van crashed I jumped and that hurt. It's just the pain."

Olivia was not convinced. She could feel the shudders that passed him each time he breathed and heard the tremor in his voice.

"So we have to find someone who can help you. We'll get out and soon you'll be okay."

"Can you turn the light out?" he asked. "We're not in an interrogation."

"Buster, do you need light?" she demanded to know.

"No," he answered and she switched it off.

In the moment before it became dark again she could see his lips move in silent speech. She could also feel him fumble with something.

"What are you doing?" she murmured, shifting her weight to be able to support him better.

"I'm praying," he replied.

I should have known that, Olivia thought. It's quite natural for him if not for me. She did not know why, but it scared her.

"You're surprised?" Elliot asked. "How long are we partnered now?"

"Long enough. I just… didn't think of it before you told me."

He did not miss the telltale tremor in her voice. "Why are you scared? Do you think I'm giving up because I'm praying?"

His insight surprised her. But then, she remembered, he is a gentle, loving and caring man. He is very sympathetic. He's proven it more than once when I was upset about something.

"I'm not giving up, Liv. I'm praying for all of us." For a moment he was thinking, weighing if he should tell her more. "I don't want to die, Liv, especially not this way," he tried to explain. "But if He decides that my time has come, I will follow Him."

"Don't you dare, Elliot! You may have faith in Him and His decisions, but as long as I have a say in this matter you won't go with anybody!"

He chuckled what made him cough again. Caused by this cough he felt a renewed fiery pain in his side that he had chosen to ignore before.

Olivia could feel the tension in his body. "You're not telling me the truth," she said. He seemed to relax again. "What is it? Where are you wounded? Are you wounded internally?"

Elliot did not answer her. He could not because he was unconscious.