Wrapping his knuckles in gauze, Elliot knew he had gone too far. After Olivia had walked away from him—for what he saw as the third time now—he'd stayed in that elevator immobile and flushed from his assertion, his chest heaving from despondency and shame. He remained in what felt like his prison for so long that the doors closed, then opened, then closed again. He'd known he couldn't go home yet. So he'd pushed the square button; elevating his escape from the air she'd last shared with him.
Returning to the floor that served as his second home—or was it his first?—he'd made his way to the vinyl punching bag. Looking at it quietly, he'd thought about how still and motionless it was hanging there. It didn't have to move or make a lot of noise…but you knew it was there. You couldn't walk into the room without noticing the ominous black object. If one tried to ignore it's presence and continue on a direct path across the area, one would walk right into it. And yet there was no way to get rid of it. He could swing at it and knock it; punch at it with all his might, but it wasn't going anywhere. In the end it would still be there, looming in his space, getting in his way.
He'd banged up his hands until the knuckles were raw, some even bloody. His shirt was most likely ruined by the crimson spots that marred it. A disturbed smirk came across his face. Explaining this to Kathy was going to be a challenge. He couldn't help but think that if it were Olivia, no explanation would be necessary. She'd merely glance at his hands, turn her head away in aversion and get back to her work.
Ripping the medical tape with his teeth, he awkwardly pushed the adhesive into place on each hand. Knowing he couldn't postpone going to Queens any longer, and that Cragen would have his head if he was found sleeping in the crib after direct instructions to go home, he gathered his coat and left. Walking to his car, awareness came to him. He might have to leave work, but he didn't have to go home. At least not yet. There was one stop he'd make on the way. Pulling his cell phone from his coat pocket, he called the one person that might be able to help him sleep tonight.
As Elliot pulled up to the old church, he could see Father Bennion waiting outside for him. Finding him sitting on the steps of St. Ann's, Elliot was surprised to see him pinching a cigarette between his fingers. Elliot spoke first.
"I didn't know you had the habit."
Father Bennion exhaled with a sly smile, and glanced at Elliot's hands. "We all have habits that are hard to break."
Elliot wondered to which habit he was referring, his inclination towards Olivia or his habit of late-night atonement.
Looking at his shoes, Elliot apologized, "I'm sorry it's so late."
"It's not late. It's early," Father corrected. "And it's never too late for contrition, Elliot." As he destroyed what remained of the cigarette, he finished, "Besides, years with this congregation have taught me that many shed more light on their life after it's dropped below the horizon."
Leading Elliot inside, Father Bennion didn't waste time. "You're here about your partner, I presume?"
Walking beside with his hands in his pockets, Elliot didn't deny Father Bennion's acute assumption.
"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we last spoke, so I assume not much has changed," said the priest.
If he only knew, thought Elliot. In that span of time, a major threat targeted the area in which his best friend lived and Elliot had come within a hair of admitting his full feelings for her. His wife was insecure and once again had expressed her jealousy toward a partnership that was going on a decade of existence. His hands were bandaged and sore from the tirade he'd inflicted upon an innocent punching bag. It was only a matter of time until the geyser was going to erupt.
Opening the door to his office, Father welcomed Elliot in and offered him a seat. After waiting for Elliot to begin and receiving nothing but silence, Father Bennion was tired of the games, the sugar-coating.
"Elliot, why are you here?"
Elliot still did not have an answer, but seemed confused the question had to be asked. Wasn't it obvious?
"Are you here for forgiveness of your sins, with a resolve to change your ways? Or are you here in search of reprieve for the guilt that you feel over the fact that you don't want to—or feel that you can't—change?"
Taken back by his directness, Elliot's mouth opened in unspoken protest. Weariness came over him. Weary of all the skirting. Weary of all the denial. Weary of trying to be something he's not.
Leaning over with his elbows on his knees, he rested his head in his hands. Rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes, he made his ultimate admission. "I don't know which is more true, Father. I can only tell you that I honestly want to change. I honestly want to be with my children. I honestly love my baby girl. But I wish it wasn't just this baby that was keeping me in this marriage. I honestly wish I wanted to be with my wife. I honestly want to be honorable and make her happy. But I also honestly need Olivia. No one can do for me what she can. No one can understand me the way she can. I wish I didn't need her, didn't care the way I do. But I can tell you this—and this is more true than anything else that I've said to you tonight or ever before—I sincerely know I can't change how I feel about her. I know because I've tried. I'm tired of fighting it, but worried what I may lose if I don't."
"You mean your children," Father Bennion supposed.
"No, actually. I know Kathy would never take them away from me and that in a way, they'd gotten used to the idea of the divorce. I think some of them even welcomed it. I think they are all old enough to understand and after years of being pulled in so many different directions, I really believe that if our family cannot be founded on genuine love between their parents, they don't want us to be together."
"Then what do you think you will lose? Eternal salvation?"
"Uh, yeah, that's part of it. My faith is not just a front. I believe in it. But I'm also afraid of losing Kathy's respect. Your respect. And what I'm most afraid of is that it may not be worth giving up the fight if there is a possibility what you're giving it up for might not be there in the end."
"You are not sure that Olivia shares your feelings?"
"No, actually, I'm pretty sure she does. She's never said so, but then again, neither have I and yet I know she is aware that I care for her beyond partnership. But I'm not sure she's willing to give up the fight. I know it's wearing her down, just as it is me, but I think because she's never had someone truly care for her, love her, she is not willing to stop fighting long enough to trust me to do it."
Elliot cocked an eyebrow suspiciously at Father Bennion. "You know, I can't help but wonder what you are thinking, Father. You are a priest in the Catholic religion. Probably the most faithful man I have ever met. Here I am talking to you about my adulterous demons—the ones that are tempting me to leave my wife to be with another woman—and you are just sitting there, prodding me on with questions like a bartender."
Father Bennion laughed out loud, a reaction unexpected by Elliot. "Well, that's a first. I've never been compared to a bartender before!" Reigning in his humor, he still smiled, which Elliot thought was odd, considering he didn't exactly mean for it to be a compliment. Elliot began to feel apprehensive of Father Bennion's accommodating behavior.
Father Bennion answered Elliot's distrust. "Elliot, I am simply trying to understand what is in your head—no, your heart. It's true, I am a priest. And I humbly also believe that I am faithful. I believe in this faith. All of it, even the consequences of our mortal choices. But I also believe we have a Father in Heaven that loves us and doesn't want us to be unhappy our entire existence."
He continued as Elliot hung his head in humble yearning. "I have watched you and Kathy grow together over the years. I was there when you came to me as a teenager confessing your immorality and your desire to make it right by marrying Kathy and being a father to your baby, which I do believe was created out of love. I have seen you be faithful yourself, bringing your family to church every week, instilling within your beautiful son and daughters a sense of moral responsibility, a sense of testimony and purpose. I have been witness to your honor, as you remained true to your family by providing for them and loving them, even when you did not share the same roof. I have seen you struggle to keep your faith as you take on the sinful, immoral creatures of this world. I have seen the burden of that effort weigh you down into the depths of despair and darkness. I have also watched Kathy battle her anxieties over your job, and then believe it or not, during your separation I saw her flourish as she seemed to find a piece of herself she didn't know was there. I have worried about you both, prayed for you, that you might find some balance and peace. That somehow the Lord might grace you with the light that I once saw in your eyes so many years ago. It is not there all the time as it used to be." Father Bennion paused as he contemplated the wisdom in his next sentence. "But it is there when you speak of Olivia."
Elliot's head whipped in astonishment. Squinting his eyes at the now-silent man behind the desk, Elliot whispered, "What are you saying? Are you telling me I would not be wrong to get a divorce? Are you telling me I wouldn't be wrong in moving forward with Olivia?"
Father Bennion stood and walked around the desk to Elliot's chair. Reaching down for Elliot's hands, he gingerly clasped them between his own. Elliot rose to his feet.
Father Bennion gave a gentle, knowing smile. "What I am saying, my son, is that you need to go home and talk to your wife."
Not understanding his sudden contradiction, Elliot calmly pulled his wrapped hands from the priest's.
Again, Father Bennion told Elliot, "Listen to me, Elliot. Talk to your wife. Talk to Kathy. You need to talk to her."
Cocking his head, Elliot's frustration grew impatient. "I don't understand. What is that supposed to mean? Do you know something I don't?"
Before Father Bennion could answer, Elliot's pocket rang loudly. Still watching Father Bennion, Elliot pulled out the phone. When he saw that it was Captain Cragen, he turned to the father and said, "Excuse me, just one second."
Turning his body and stepping two or three steps away, he answered, "Stabler."
"Elliot, it's Don. I wish I were calling under better circumstances."
Alerted by the fatherly tone in his voice, Elliot panicked. "What is it? What's going on?"
Father Bennion watched Elliot's profile alter from aggravation and confusion to fury and dread.
"I just got word that Olivia is at St. Vincent's. Apparently, she was attacked at her apartment. I thought you'd want to—"
"—I'm on my way. I'll meet you there."
Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stepped out of the office in one giant stride. Father Bennion tried to follow, but Elliot just yelled back to him, "I have to go to St. Vincent's, Olivia's hurt!"
Letting Elliot leave, he returned to his office, troubled. Dropping to his knees beside the desk, he began a supplication to the only One he knew that could help Elliot now.
For some reason, driving all the way from Queens felt like it might as well have been from across the country. Each mile felt as though it passed in slow motion. It didn't matter that he was driving like a maniac to the hospital, like someone who should be arrested. It still felt as though it took too long. Why didn't he live closer to her? Why didn't he just stay at the station? Why didn't he force her to let him give her a ride home?
Elliot parked in the first spot he found. He didn't care if his car was towed from the red-zone. He didn't have time to find a more legal location. Sweat beaded down his neck, dampening his collar. A million scenarios played out in his mind. The worst one involved her leaving this world without hearing what she deserved. That she was loved. That she was needed. That no one could take her place. Even if she was well, this moment had taught him that he couldn't wait any longer. Father Bennion's words about God rang in his head over and over. That He wouldn't want us to live our existence unhappily. Thinking of his own kids, he could believe that to be true. He'd rather they live an imperfect life happily than be miserable in the illusion they thought their father wanted them to live. No matter what her condition was, it was now or never.
His legs carried him to the Emergency doors, but they felt like rubber. At this point he didn't even know how his body was functioning, other than on pure adrenaline and fear.
As the electric doors spread open, he stepped up to the desk he'd been to a hundred times before in search of a victim. It seemed impossible to him that the woman the entire force knew could kick any of their asses was now a victim, too. No!, Elliot told himself. Nobody could call her a "victim".
A woman at the computer recognized him from many other nights like this, and immediately stepped out from behind the partition to greet him on a much more personal level. Because she knew this was personal for him. She'd known it from the moment she'd seen the patient's face, or at least whatever part wasn't bruised and swollen.
"Detective, I've been expecting you."
Elliot nodded eagerly. "How is she? Where is she?"
"If you'll come with me I'll take you to where the others are waiting."
Following the familiar nurse, Elliot objected, "I don't want to go with the others, I want to go to her."
"I understand, but I can't take you to Detective Benson right now. I believe the doctors are still with her. I would imagine they won't be much longer and they'll be able to give you an update soon."
"No!" Elliot stopped and grabbed her arm. "I need to know now. You don't understand. I can't wait. I have to know now. Please can you tell me anything?"
"I'm not supposed—"
"I know, I know. 'Modus operandi' and all that other bullshit. But I. don't. care. I have to know. Please tell me!"
Judging by the red in his eyes and desperation in his voice, the kindhearted nurse pulled him aside. "I really don't know much. I saw her come in but I didn't help work on her."
Work on her. They had to work on her. Elliot nearly slumped to the floor in imagination of what all that entailed. If it hadn't been for the wall behind supporting him, his legs probably would have given out.
"When the paramedics wheeled her in she was unconscious and bruised. That's all I know, honestly. Right after Detective Benson wheeled past, Mr. Blackner was brought in and I was asked to help treat his injuries."
A spark burst in Elliot's eyes. "Wait, did you say Mr. Blackner? He was brought in at the same time?"
Stepping back with trepidation, the nurse nodded and said, "Now, please Detective, just follow me. You can get more information, I'm sure, from your captain. He's been waiting for you."
As they walked, the nurse cleared her throat and said, "While you wait, I can attend to your hands, if you like."
Self-conscious of his gauche doctoring, Elliot just looked down at his wounds and said, "We'll see. Thank you, but I'm not worried about that right now."
Walking into a small waiting room, it seemed too calm and still. A television that hung in the corner illustrated the Home Shopping Network. Elliot could see Simon and Lucy Marsden sitting in some chairs in the corner, talking quietly. Cragen saw the nurse and Elliot come near, so he stood, knowing there were questions Elliot would need answering.
As the nurse walked away, Cragen spoke before Elliot could begin. He placed a hand on the worried man's shoulder.
"She's going to be fine, Elliot. When the paramedics found her she was in the hallway outside her apartment unconscious. It appears that she'd left her apartment to make the call to 9-1-1."
"Was she…?"
Unable to finish his sentence, Elliot was grateful when Cragen read his mind and alleviated his concerns. "No. I wondered that at first, especially since she was still unconscious when I got here and we didn't know for sure. But even then it looked promising because she was fully dressed when they found her. Since then she's awakened and was adamantly certain us that nothing like that took place."
"So what happened? How'd she end up unconscious?"
"When police arrived at the seen they found Tim Blackner also unconscious inside her apartment in the living room. The apartment showed signs of a struggle, as well as blood."
"Blood?" Elliot swallowed back the bile that threatened to expose his fears.
"A small amount on the coffee table, believed to be Blackner's, since that was where he was found, and another small amount on a wall. CSU is there now collecting evidence. Once the paramedics began treating Blackner, he became conscious and tried to fight them off. However, he was so weak at that point, the police were easily able to 'calm him down', if you know what I mean."
"What else do we know?"
"That's all at this point. I went in to see her but they wouldn't let me at first. Only the next of kin. Simon and Lucy went in for a couple of minutes, and then Olivia threw a fit about how I was family, and I got to go in," Cragen shared a little too proudly. "Soon the doctors ushered us out so they could finish stitching her up. Olivia didn't say much except that we all shouldn't have come and that she was just fine. She didn't understand why everyone was making such a big deal about it all."
This bit of good news caused Elliot to give a small smile and breathe a quick sound of relief, although not completely. "Sounds like Olivia already."
"The doctors finished about five minutes ago, so I'm sure you could see her in a few minutes."
"Forget it, I'm not waiting. What room is she in?"
The look on Cragen's face made it obvious he had something to hide. "Uh, why don't we give her a few minutes?"
Trying to guide Elliot to the elevator, he offered, "Let's go to the cafeteria and get a quick cup of coffee. By the time we get back I'm sure she'll be aching for some company."
Elliot knew his captain too well and alarm swept over him as he wondered why Cragen was stalling his seeing Olivia.
Squinting his eyes at him, Elliot accused, "Why won't you let me see her?"
"Don't be asinine. Of course you can see her. I just think she needs some time."
"You're lying to me. Tell me why. Now."
When Cragen didn't say anything, Elliot walked out of the room and around the corner to the hallway. Looking down the long corridor, he could see a doctor and two policemen talking outside a room. Determined and walking towards them, his actions came to an abrupt halt when he saw Dean Porter standing next to Olivia's bed.
Turning around quickly as to avoid discovery, it wasn't fast enough to miss the scene that lay before him. Olivia was lying in the bed, partly reclined and with tears in her eyes. Smiling weakly, her face bore different shades of dark pink and redness; her left arm was bandaged, but he could see where the blood had seeped through the center of the gauze. She was looking at Dean, who gently held her hands. They were clearly involved in a personal discussion and Elliot was not about to be the fool who interrupted with his own declarations of love.
Walking back to the waiting room, he found Fin had arrived and was talking to Cragen. When they looked up to see him, he motioned to the elevator.
"I need some coffee. I'll be back in an hour," he said. "Call my cell if there's a change."
Knowing he needed some space, Cragen just nodded his head and let his surrogate son try to heal his heart.