I fucking hate hospitals, he thought grimly.
There were too many bad memories in places like this; memories of mama, when he was small and she wasn't well, memories of the worst of his cases - Valerie Sennet's screams would haunt him for the rest of his life - memories of Kathy, bruised and burned and fading slowly, memories of conversations with Liv, painful confrontations that shattered the very foundations of him. Too much bad, in hospitals, and it made him twitchy and short-tempered.
The worry didn't help much, either. When he and Fin arrived Fin had forced Elliot into the hands of the nearest nurse, insisted that Elliot get checked out while Fin tried to find some information on Liv. That infuriated Elliot, of course, but his old friend was only looking out for him, and he knew if he started cursing and throwing things the nurses would kick him out and then he really would be no good to Liv, so he bit his tongue, angry as he was, and submitted to the exam. Let himself get checked for broken bones and concussion, his right leg bouncing anxiously the whole time, feeling like a wild animal caught in a cage. He had to get to her, had to see her, had to hear her tell him she loved him one more time, had to tell her that she'd get more than just one kiss from him, that he'd kiss her for the rest of their lives if she'd let him. He had to see her, and his heart would not let him rest until he did.
It was two hours before the nurse finally cut him loose, and when she did she directed him to a waiting room upstairs, on the trauma ward. He went there alone, feeling like his knees were going to give out with every step he took, and when he reached the doorway of the waiting room he had to lean against it, had to take a moment to simply stare, and try to catch his breath.
Word traveled fast in the NYPD and now was no different, and the waiting room was full. Liv's whole team was there, Fin and Rollins and Carisi and all the young detectives whose names Elliot couldn't really keep straight. McGrath was in the corner speaking quietly into his cell phone, and unis from the 1-6 were milling around everywhere. They did the same thing when a cop got shot; they'd turn out in numbers, just to let the family know they weren't alone, to stand vigil by their fallen brother's side, pockets full of quarters for the vending machines and packets of crackers to keep the family fed until there was news. Liv wasn't shot, but she'd been injured in the line of duty - and Elliot was pretty sure he'd heard one of the firemen on scene say the building collapse smelled of foul play - and the 1-6 was her family, and they were here for her, now.
It was Fin who noticed him first; he said something to Rollins and then made a beeline for Elliot.
"You got the all clear?" Fin asked the second he was within range.
"How is she?" Elliot answered. Of course Elliot was fine, the nurses wouldn't have let him go if he wasn't. It wasn't Elliot they ought to be worried about now; Liv was the only one who mattered.
"They haven't said," Fin told him. "They took her to triage, said a doc would come up with an update when they have one. We're all just waiting. Sit down, man, before you fall down."
It grated, Fin talking to him that way, like he was a child, like he couldn't stand on his own two feet, but Fin was probably right, and as good as it might feel to punch him - to punch anyone - right now and vent some of his pent-up horror he knew he couldn't. He couldn't do anything that might take him away from Liv. Instead he followed Fin back to an empty chair at the far side of the room and collapsed into it, covering his face with his hand so he wouldn't have to see the anxious look on Carisi's face.
"Anybody talk to Noah's nanny?" he asked, his words muffled briefly by his palm.
"I called her," Fin said. "Told her we don't know much. She's gonna keep Noah at home for now. It's getting late, and if they're gonna take her to surgery who knows how long it'll be. Don't want the kid spending the night in here."
The kid might want that, Elliot thought. Noah was young, but he was bright - was probably the most emotionally articulate eleven year old Ellit had ever encountered, thanks to his mom - and probably he'd want to be near her, even if he couldn't see her. But waiting rooms were scary places, and maybe Fin was right, maybe it was best to let the kid stay at home where he felt safe.
"Should we call the McCanns?" Rollins asked.
"What the hell for?" Elliot demanded.
She shot him a dark look, like she thought he was being stupid but didn't want to tell him so and hurt him worse than he already was.
"Liv might be in here for a few days. The nanny can't watch him 24/7 for days, she's gotta get paid, and the last thing Liv needs when she comes out of here is to have to deal with that."
Most likely Liv was gonna be in the hospital for a lot longer than a few days. There was no telling how much damage all that concrete had caused, but if her legs or her spinal cord had been seriously injured, she wouldn't be on her feet for…actually he didn't want to think about how long it might be. That was what Rollins wasn't saying; Noah might need care for weeks, and the nanny had other clients and couldn't drop them all to focus on him, and even if she could it might end up costing Liv a fortune. The nanny might give Liv a few days' grace given the circumstances, but she had to earn a living, too. Rollins was just thinking ahead and there wasn't anything wrong with that, except that the solution she'd provided turned Elliot's stomach.
"So you want to ship him off to Woodstock while his mom's in the hospital in Manhattan?" he said in a voice so full of venom that Fin reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"We could take him for a few days," Carisi said carefully, looking at his heavily pregnant wife, but Elliot could see the answer in Rollins's eyes; probably they didn't have the space or the time or the bandwidth in general to take on Olivia's child for more than a night or two.
"No," Elliot said. "Listen, my daughter, Lizzie, she's living with me right now. She's between jobs. There's a spare bedroom at my place Noah can have, and Lizzie can look after him. She's got experience."
Lizzie had done some babysitting in high school, and she'd helped out with Eli when he was small until she went away to college, and she was close with Elliot's grandsons, her two nephews who weren't too much younger than Noah. After a devastating break up with her girlfriend she'd been forced to move out of her apartment and into Elliot's place the week before, and hadn't done much since but mope. Not that he could blame her, really, but right now Lizzie was the one person he knew who had the time and ability to look after Noah, and if Noah stayed at Elliot's at least that way Elliot would know he was safe.
"I don't know," Rollins said slowly. What she meant was she didn't know Lizzie, and she didn't trust someone she didn't know. Nevermind the fact that it was Elliot's kid they were talking about; she didn't trust Elliot much, either, and he knew it.
He opened his mouth to fight back, but Fin cut him off with a look.
"We can decide later," he said. "Noah's good for now, that's all we gotta worry about."
When did Fin become the goddamn mediator? Elliot wondered. Probably when he sat the Sergeant's exam. Fin was as much the boss now as Liv was, and his people deferred to him on reflex.
The next half hour or so passed in a tense, terrible kind of quiet, the room filled with the hushed voices of the unis while Liv's closest friends gathered together in the far corner of the room, not saying much. Not like there was much to say; they were all thinking the same thing. They were all praying for her survival.
Please, God, Elliot thought. Take me instead. Don't take her away.
He didn't want to live without her; he was pretty sure he couldn't. She was part of him, now and always, and he could no more live without her than he could live without his own lungs.
Eventually a doctor appeared in the doorway, a grim faced man with salt and pepper hair, clutching a tablet in his hands.
"Which one of you is -" he checked the tablet quickly like he was confirming the name he wanted - "Odafin Tutuola?"
"That's me," Fin said, already walking towards the man.
"You're the only one she's cleared to talk about her health, according to the paperwork," the doctor said. "So if you'll come with me, I can explain the situation to you."
It made a certain amount of sense. Liv's only real family in the world was a twelve year old boy, and she had to put someone down as a contact in the event something happened to her. And it made sense that she'd chosen Fin, her oldest friend, the one who had stood by her for so long, when Elliot himself had not.
You just…disappeared.
It had been Elliot's name on the paperwork, once. Elliot she trusted more than any other. But he'd shattered that trust and now he wasn't sure he'd ever really get the chance to put it back together.
Fin and the doc walked out of sight, and Rollins started pacing with her hand pressed against the small of her back like it pained her, and Carisi was watching her with terror in his eyes like he desperately wanted to ask if she was ok but knew she'd blow a gasket if he did. There was a clock on the far wall, and Elliot stared at it hard, counting the seconds as the hand tick tick ticked its way across the face of the clock, desperate for something, anything, to keep him from thinking. He didn't want to hear his own thoughts right now; those thoughts were bleak, and terrifying.
After what felt like an eternity Fin returned, and caught his eye, motioned for Elliot to join him. Elliot was on his feet in a moment, rushing to Fin's side, with Carisi and Rollins close behind.
"What'd he say?" Elliot demanded once the four of them were out in the corridor, well away from all the ears inside the waiting room.
"She's in surgery now. It's gonna be a while. It's…it's a lot, man."
"Start at the beginning," Elliot ground out from behind clenched teeth.
"She's got a broken femur, and they're gonna have to put in pins and shit. There was some internal bleeding, and they're gonna have to take out her spleen."
Good, Elliot thought. It was the fucking spleen that killed Kathy, so he was glad to hear they were taking Liv's out before it had the chance to do the same to her. Maybe that was selfish of him.
"Left wrist is broken." At least it's the left, he told himself. At least she hadn't hurt her dominant hand. "Couple of broken ribs. Concussion. Prognosis on all that is good, they think she'll come through."
"What's the bad news?" Elliot said. There had to be bad news; he could see it in Fin's eyes, feel it floating like a thundercloud above his head.
"Incomplete thoracic spinal cord injury," Fin said grimly.
Elliot's heart swooped in his chest and he leaned against the nearest wall, shaking from head to toe. That was what he'd been most afraid to hear. It could mean so many different things, he knew; it could mean with time in rehab and physical therapy she might regain most of her motor function, or it could mean she'd never feel anything below her waist again.
"They don't have a prognosis on that yet," Fin said. "They have to get her out of surgery and stabilized and run some more tests. We won't know anything until tomorrow, and even then we may not know much."
"Send the unis home," Elliot heard Rollins say, but her voice sounded faint and far away. Elliot didn't feel as if he were standing in the corridor at all; he felt detached from himself, floating somewhere in a sea of grief. If Liv couldn't walk she couldn't be a cop; what would become of her then? What would SVU be, without her in it?
"Yeah," Fin agreed. There wasn't much more they could do. "You go home to your girls."
Rollins looked like she wanted to say no, but she was nearing the end of her pregnancy and couldn't go spending the night in the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room. She'd be more good to Liv in the daylight, after some rest, than she would be sitting around all night.
"I'll stay here," Carisi volunteered, and that seemed to mollify her. Rollins couldn't stay herself but her man would keep watch; maybe that was good enough.
"Me, too," Fin said.
"No," Elliot croaked as he came back to himself, and Fin looked at him sharply, confused. "You're the Sarge," Elliot explained. "Your Captain's out of commission, that means you're in charge. Your people are gonna need you tomorrow. They're gonna need a leader."
The four of them went quiet in the wake of those words, the grim reality of their situation hitting them all square in the chest. The Captain had fallen, and it would be up to her second in command to assume the mantle of her leadership. But Christ, what the fuck were they all gonna do without her?
"He's right," Rollins said softly.
"All right." Fin didn't sound like he liked it, but he knew what had to be done. "I'll send the rookies home, too. Stabler-"
"I'm staying right here," Elliot told him fiercely.
"I know. That's good. Call me if anything changes. And maybe it's time to call your daughter."
Looks like we're gonna need her, Elliot thought. They were going to need all the help they could get.