So, I knew this would be tough, but it's turning out to be a lot harder than I expected. Mostly because this story appears to have a mind of its own, and it keeps wanting me to write every single thing I ever wanted to happen in the show. Hopefully, I can hold on to it long enough for a half-way decent story.
Disclaimer: If I owned Cold Case and all of its characters, there would be an excellent crossover between it and the current SVU where Scotty finds out he's got a secret twin brother.
Scotty just shrugged, by now used to the terrible lies she had been giving him in response to his concern. He got in to drive, and they didn't say another word on their ride back to Central.
He knew there was no use in pushing harder. He even knew he probably should just give up asking, but there was no hope for that. He couldn't help caring! Every time he tried to help, she would brush him off. And then he'd get irritated and close himself off to her. Without fail, he would realize the insanity of wanting her to feel differently when she just wanted him to do the same. Finally, he'd just end up mad at himself.
God, he was so mad at himself all of the time now. For letting her go into the observation room; for not shooting that crazy sonofabitch in time; for how he hadn't even noticed her against the wall, bleeding out; for being so scared as she struggled to hold on to life; for being so powerless. He was mad for caring so much.
It had been months by now, not that that mattered; the wounds were as fresh as if it were just last night. Hell, he still blamed himself for Elisa. Now, driving along with a senile murderer in the back seat, he was mad again. For pitying himself; for needing to be some sort of goddamned superman; for thinking about how much he was hurting and how fresh it was in his mind when the woman who had a new scar from a bullet ripping through her chest was sitting silently next to him.
Through the silence, Scotty knew that for Lilly it was always on her mind. Happening again and again, night after night.
He could only imagine her nightmares. Was it the exact moment she got shot over and over? Was it the time she spent being this psycho's hostage? He knew her well enough to know that whatever her dreams were, they tormented her beneath that ice queen exterior—besides, it was starting to show on the surface. Anyone with eyes could tell that she hadn't slept more than 4 hours any given night. She was so tired, she couldn't even come up with half-assed excuses anymore. He would have laughed if he hadn't known the truth.
Lilly Rush stayed out late drinking with friends? Man, what friends?
It had never been this bad.
They had been in plenty of stressful situations considering how cold their jobs were, but there was only one other time that could come close. He thought back to how it was after what the uniforms in their department whisperingly called "the night in the woods." It was legend now, an easily convincing scary story if you hadn't been around to experience it yourself. Lilly and him had never talked about what happened in the hour before she shot one of Philly's most infamous serial killers, George Marks, but there were plenty of rumors to fill that gap in the storyline.
What was it with this woman and coming so close to death?
Scotty knew that what happened in that attic was probably worse than any of the theories the office had come up with, because he saw it in her eyes. He didn't understand how no one else saw it—she may be cold when it came to emotions and sparing when it came to explanations, but the thing about Lilly Rush is, you could see everything in those ridiculously blue eyes. They ain't kiddin' about that "window to the soul" stuff, he thought. Sure, she built up walls better than anyone he knew, but if you took the few crumbs she had dropped from time to time, and if you had the balls to stare down that glare, you could definitely see the storm underneath.
When she came out of the Woods, he didn't want to look, knowing that while she may have come out physically unharmed, inside, she was shattered. And Lilly Rush didn't like being broken. In the yard where the heads of George's victims once lay in witness to a horrible crime from years ago, when she had tried to assure him and Vera and Jeffries, these tough detectives who cared so much about her even when she tried not to let them, that she was actually alright, he had caught her glance for the briefest of moments, and he felt, well, everything. All of the nameless terror washed over him. But then she turned and walked away. Tall, and strong, and so unspeakably fragile.
Anyway, she had been tired for months after, but the thing is, she had gradually got better. Or at least whatever better is for Lilly Rush. Not this time. In fact, if Scotty knew her at all, he'd swear the nightmares were getting worse.
He was having dreams, too. Not as often as her, he bet, but pretty damn awful. He'd probably have one tonight, laughing bitterly at himself for letting an old man get to him. It was always the same. He'd shot much too late, and she bled out, set up against the wall like some broken china doll, so beautiful and so cold. There was always so much blood. And he always cried so hard that he woke himself up, still gasping for air. But there's no way anyone would ever get to know that. They were just partners, for God's sake, and she was still alive! There he was, mad at himself again and irrationally mad at her, just for getting hurt—and for making him feel that way. A way that he was having trouble defining.
He quickly glanced over at Lilly, as if somehow she could sense his secret. She was still distracted by something, looking out the window without really looking at anything, and searching her perfectly still face, he wondered if she woke up from her dreams crying. He wondered what it would be like to see her cry. What it would be like to comfort her… He snapped his focus back to the road and scolded himself. What was he thinking? If Lil was a guy, you wouldn't be thinkin' about holdin' her when she cries, Valens. He took some comfort in knowing that it would never, ever, ever happen, even if he really wanted it to. Not with the Ice Queen of Homicide. But he did really want to. And he couldn't shake the thought that his desire wasn't about seeing the mystery underneath, her without her walls, or him getting to be the hero. At least, those weren't the only reasons.
This time Lilly snapped him out of his thoughts. "You planning on getting out, Scotty?" She said with a half smile. They had been sitting in front of police headquarters. Scotty smiled back, silently cursing his lack of witty comeback. They both got out and took Felton along with them, silently thanking whoever it was out there for making their prisoner so unaware.