DISCLAIMER: SVU and it's characters aren't mine. But this story is. :)
A/N - I am absolutely overwhelmed at all of the positive reviews this story has received so far. Thank you all so much! I hope you like the next installment...
"Elliot." His Captain's voice cut him to the quick. "A word."
Elliot sighed and stood up from his desk. His partner didn't even glance up at him as he walked away. Some asshole from Brooklyn special victims transferred in two months ago. A meager replacement for the best cop he'd ever worked with. Elliot walked into his Captain's office and shut the door. "Yeah Cap?" He didn't even notice the exhaustion in his voice now, it had become such a part of him.
Captain Cragen regarded him with what appeared to be a mixture of sympathy and irritation. "Listen Stabler, I know you've been living your own personal hell these last couple months."
That part was true enough. A week after Olivia had gone, Kathy had served him again with divorce papers. He supposed that walking around in a near-catatonic state for six days put the nail in the coffin for her. He didn't take his time signing them this time, touching the pen to the paper immediately after he had the documents in his hands. He'd moved out that weekend and into an apartment in Manhattan.
He missed his children. His job had kept him away from them for much of their lives; in a divorce, the only custody he'd get was one night a week and one weekend a month. He'd never see them. He supposed it was just as well. He felt like a shell of a human being anyway. He couldn't be a good father in his current state. He didn't fight her. He told his lawyer that Kathy wanted the best for their children and he understood.
"Stabler? Elliot?" Cragen's voice startled him.
"Yes, sorry Cap." He shook the thoughts from his head.
The Captain sighed, trying very hard to keep the frustration from his voice. "Listen Elliot… this funk you're in, it's affecting your job and the people around you. Your closure rate has dropped significantly since Ol…" Cragen stopped himself before he said her name, noticing the pain in Elliot's face. "Look, I think it's time you talked to Huang."
"I don't need to talk to a shrink, Cap," Elliot said defensively. He refused to believe that Olivia's disappearance… no, abandonment had affected him so profoundly.
"I think that you do. You've been a zombie, Elliot. You've been violent in interrogations, your partner has often found you difficult to work with. Hell, even Munch and Fin have come to me about your behavior."
Elliot glared out the window at his colleagues, wondering why they felt the need to go behind his back to the Captain about all this.
Cragen, as if reading Elliot's mind, responded with, "They're concerned for you, Elliot. They don't know what else to do."
Elliot looked at the floor, ashamedly. He sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Cap. I know I've been a prick."
Cragen came out from behind his desk and put his hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Listen, son," he began. Elliot's heart warmed slightly at this. No matter what had happened, how terrible he'd been, he knew he still had friends. "I know you miss her. We all do. She was the heart of this precinct, she kept us all going. But she was your partner. And partners come and go. This is something you're going to have to get over."
"It's not that easy, Cap," Elliot replied. If only he knew how deep his hurt ran, how Olivia had become so much more than his partner.
"I know it's not," Cragen stepped back, changing his position from friend to boss. "But I'm going to need you to try."
Elliot sighed. "Yes sir." And with that, he swung the door open and walked back to his desk. His partner had a somewhat guarded look on his face, as if he'd known why Elliot had been called into Cragen's office in the first place. A sidelong glance at Munch and Fin revealed much the same. Elliot fought back the anger he felt and said, "So, where are with the Samson case?"
Olivia fought against the bile that rose in her throat as the medical examiner pulled back the sheet on her next victim. She was furious with herself; she'd never gotten physically ill over cases in Manhattan. Her partner looked at her curiously and she rolled her eyes, annoyed at his intrusiveness. She knelt down next to the body and began to examine the ligature marks on her wrists.
A wave of nausea passed over her once again and she ran from the scene. Fortunately, there was a dumpster nearby and Olivia made it there just in time, vomiting behind the large metal container. Her stomach heaved and she wretched for a second time, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the ground. "Oh god…" she groaned softly to herself.
"You okay, Benson?" Her partner's voice rose from behind her.
"Yeah, fine," she replied, wishing he would go away and leave her to her shame and nausea.
"Look, uh…" he paused. "Maybe you should take the day. I'll call the Captain and have him send Schaeffer down to help me with this one."
"I said I'm fine," Olivia snapped angrily.
"Benson," her partner snapped back. "Go home."
Olivia whipped her head around and glared at him. She held his eyes for a moment when another wave of nausea swept over her and she wretched for a third time. Damn her stomach, making a liar out of her. She heard her partner dial their precinct and tell their Captain to send a replacement, that Benson was sick and was leaving the scene to go straight home.
Olivia childishly stamped her foot and, wiping her mouth clean, stood upright and walked from the crime scene, not even bothering to tell her partner goodbye. She walked to the nearest L station and got on the line that took her to her apartment. She was afraid to go home, afraid of what waited there for her.
The train pulled into her station and she got off, slowly walking to her building. She took her time, enjoying the sunlight on her face. She felt better already despite being downright pissed that her partner had forced her to go home, as if he had the authority to tell her what to do. She hated him. In fact, she never even gave him a chance. He was nothing compared to…
She couldn't think his name. Instead, she circled her block twice, avoiding her apartment, not thinking of the little paper bag and its unholy contents that waited there for her. She talked herself down from her ledge. You need to find out now, Olivia. It's probably just a bug. But you need to know.
She sighed and walked straight to her building, up the stairs and into her apartment. She paused at the door, taking her time removing her jacket and her shoes. She began the long walk, chickening out at the last minute and heading to her bedroom instead. She changed into a pair of sweatpants and a camisole, heading back out and down the hallway. She walked slowly to the kitchen and put on a pot of hot water for tea; it always helped calm her stomach. Finally, she took a deep breath and decided enough was enough.
Walking boldly into the bathroom, she opened her medicine cabinet and removed the crumpled paper bag. She dumped its contents into her hand and stared at it for a moment.
How could she do this? How could she have been so stupid?
She angrily tore the box open and followed all the instructions. Then she waited the longest two minutes of her life. She kept her eyes closed the entire time, her leg nervously keeping a fast rhythm against the floor. She heard the timer she'd set go off and opened her eyes, not daring to look down at the stick she held in her hands.
What if it was positive? What the hell was she going to do?
What if it was negative? Would she be relieved? Could she be relieved? She wanted nothing more in this world than a child.
Finally, she began to cast her eyes downward, slowly, slowly, until they rested on their target.
A plus sign.
The pregnancy test fell to the floor and Olivia's head dropped into her hands.
Somewhere so far away, the tea kettle began to howl.