"I've not always been the best man or friend for you

But your love remains true and I don't know why

You always seem to give me another try"

-Home, Daughtry

Wednesday, June 14, 2023

Afternoon

He's awake again, unhappily so, and he's trying to conduct a mental inventory and sorting of body parts, what hurts, what hurts, and what he's sure is going to kill him. Deciding it's best not to think about it, he looks around, searching the room for any clues. He assumes the interactions with the doctor and the nurse were not too long ago, just because they still feel fresh, but he really can't be positive. He's alone this time, the room silent except for the miserable beeping of machines, and he determines simply from the amount of equipment around him that he must still be in the ICU, which also explains the lack of visitors. Eventually his eyes fall on the dry erase board across the room, the month and year scrawled in messy red ink, the day in blue.

He lets out a sigh of relief because of the year that tells him unless he's been asleep a very long time, he's finally settled the question of which reality he's in. The silence gives him ample time to consider how stupid it was to be confused and he eventually realizes that maybe it was a desperate attempt to convince himself when he thought he was dying that he hadn't fucked things up beyond repair with Olivia. It's totally understandable that she's not here. Of course she's not, she'd run out of his apartment and told him to stay away from her and it's ridiculous that he thinks he vaguely remembers her being here and putting her hand on his cheek and he tells himself it was obviously more desperation that made him think such a thing.

He hears the light knock on the door and he's hoping for one of his kids or his mom, but instead it's the face of Father Hogan that appears in the door. He already feels like shit, but somehow he manages to feel worse.

"It's good to see you awake, Elliot! You were very sick when I saw you on Monday." He steps closer, his fingers are fiddling with the ribbon marking the page in his bible, and he looks miserably uncomfortable. Elliot wants to invite him to leave, but that's a lot of words and he doesn't have a lot of strength.

"Do you mind if we pray?"

And he does, very much so, because he's thinking about how this man is responsible for so much pain and most of it Olivia's and he knows he's to blame too and his stupidity was unforgivable but he wasn't alone in making the decision to betray her and all of a sudden he remembers Olivia's words about how he didn't even want to know what happened to her while he was gone and Elliot blames himself for not being there, but he also blames this man.

His eyes narrow as he tries to not think of what Olivia might have endured, what she wouldn't even tell him, what could be so bad that he couldn't even guess, and he can hear the heart monitor beeps increase in speed as his heart starts to pound.

"Get out." It takes all of his energy to say it but he's glad he said it.

Hogan's eyes widen as though he expects more respect for his title. "We don't have to pray."

He wants to yell, to accuse, to confront this man with his share of the blame and all the misery that followed and he recognizes how blind he was to think this man's counsel was somehow special because of the collar he wears and even as he's choking on his anger at Hogan, the weight of the guilt is growing heavier on his own shoulders because he knew it was wrong and he allowed someone who couldn't possibly understand to give him advice and he fucking listened even when he knew better.

He shakes his head and turns away. He lost any chance of redemption that day he walked away from Olivia and so refusing the priest who told him to do it can't really make things worse.

"I met Olivia."

Elliot wishes he still had that damn tube in his throat because he's fucking choking at Hogan's words. He can't help but waste some of his scant energy to turn back to look at the man he'd trusted and had led him astray. He wants to shout out a warning, a demand, to stay the hell away from her but he can't force out that much through his clenched teeth. "What?"

"She was here when I came to see you on Monday." He waits for a response for a long moment before he seems to realize he's not going to get one. "She seemed," there's a pause as he searches for the right word and it makes Elliot's skin crawl when he finally chooses one, "disconcerted that I remembered her name."

But Elliot is a cop and, like Olivia, is used to paying close attention to details that others might miss or forget and, based on Hogan's choice of words, he recognizes that Olivia perceived a threat in the priest, and he bristles at the fact that he was unable to defend her when he was unconscious. "You never met her."

"She was at Kathy's funeral, Elliot."

He feels the anger, the rage, the impotence, building in him because it sounds like an accusation and Hogan's terrible advice, Hogan's declaration that being near Olivia was wrong, is back at the forefront of Elliot's mind and he can't help but think that maybe it was Hogan who started the chain reaction that resulted in whatever happened to Olivia and Kathy's death and his current estrangement from Olivia. He can hear the heart monitor beeping furiously to report his upset and he's sure the medical staff will take note of it shortly and hopefully intervene. "I never introduced you."

Hogan finally seems to understand that this isn't up for discussion and steps back. "I'll keep you in my prayers."

The words ring in the quiet long after the man's footsteps have faded and Elliot wonders if it makes any sense to resent the man for what happened. Elliot was the one who felt guilty, the one who knew he felt something he shouldn't, the one who refused to leave the marriage even though it would have made all of them happier. Hogan had simply read that guilt and supplied one of two options to relieve it. He can hardly blame the priest for not knowing he wanted to be reassured it was ok to leave Kathy.

The hours drag on, his thoughts only interrupted by the hospital staff checking on him, their happiness at his improved health a stark contrast to his misery. He watches as they carefully unwrap his arm to clean the incision and he's absolutely horrified by the Frankenstein-like line of staples covering most of his upper arm. He understands why it hurts so damn much, but he refuses the medicine because he figures this protective family of his will show up eventually and he'd like to be awake for it. The bright sun slowly fades and it's long past dark when the door finally opens again to reveal a visitor who isn't medical staff.

He sees the blonde hair and the petite frame and his heart skips a beat because for a moment he sees Kathy and he completely understands why his mom gets confused because hell he's heard everyone say it, but he never realized until right now how very much Maureen resembles her mother.

Her face twists into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes as she greets him. "Hi, dad." She steps up to his bed and takes his left hand in hers. "It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Something is wrong. More wrong than him nearly dying apparently because he's awake and is no longer confused about which reality he's in and if the nurses are so damn pleased to see him conscious he'd expect his daughter to be too and instead she can't look him in the eye.

And somehow he just knows because it's the only thing that would explain why he's been alone all day despite the hospital staff all remarking about how his family has been here around the clock. He hopes he's wrong because shit he's not ready.

"How's mama?"

She can't hide the tears nor the way her chin trembles and he feels her hand squeezing his and he squeezes it back because fuck it hurts more than everything else and he knows it was his latest brush with death that pushed her over the edge. He doesn't need to feel more guilt than he already does and he closes his eyes and wishes he could trade places with her.

There are a hundred questions he wants to ask, but he realizes he doesn't want to know the answers. He feels tears pressing behind his eyes and he refuses to give in to them and he swallows hard and stares up at the ceiling and wonders how much pain one man can endure. He can't help but think maybe he brought this on himself.

He'd kept his faith all those years, found some way to keep believing through everything, he'd followed Hogan's advice and abandoned Olivia and devoted himself to a marriage which was better suited to be a friendship all along and at least one of his kids had a father and still, Kathy died and Olivia hates him and his mother is gone and he has nothing left except disappointed, grown kids and an empty apartment and guilt over whatever happened to Olivia and maybe he did this to himself, to all of them by walking away from the church, but maybe it was falling in love with Olivia in the first place and that he had no control over.

And it's long after Maureen has left for the night and he's staring at the ceiling and insisting he won't cry when he finally finds a bit of hope in Hogan's words, of all places. Hogan met Olivia. Olivia was here. Even after the way he'd hurt her, even after the way he'd let her down once again, she'd come to see him. She was the wife the nurse had mentioned.

Maybe there's a reason to endure the pain after all.