Altoona: a post-Charisma SVU ficlet
It's not long and it's really not perfect. Just a quick little something to make Elliot (and myself) feel better.
He knew, even before he started the car, where he'd end up. He didn't have any idea how long it had taken to get here. He'd ignored the initial, incessant ringing of his cell phone, figuring Olivia wouldn't let up for the first hour or so. But soon enough, work would take over and she'd have to stop worrying about him and concentrate on the case. Her case.
He should feel guilty - he'd screwed up and now he wouldn't be there if anything happened to his partner. Or to another innocent child.
But he didn't feel anything. Not anymore. He'd been sickened and saddened when they found those children. Humiliated and furious when Huang backstabbed him and Cragen sold him out.
But now - he felt nothing.
That was the irony of it all. Huang assumed he was lying, because Huang never trusted anything he said. That derisive question about whether he related every case to his own family. How could he explain that he'd stopped doing that years ago, that in trying to keep his work life and home life totally separate, the only thing he'd managed to do was separate himself from both.
The SVU could, and would, go on without him. The same way his family had been doing for a long time.
What did he see when he looked at those children lying there, helpless, lifeless, beyond salvation? He saw his own futility. His own powerlessness. He saw his future, his past. An endless series of kids he was too late to help. Or not there to protect.
How was he supposed to explain all that to Huang in a ten-minute session. Why did it even matter? It wouldn't help them catch the bastard that did this. It wouldn't bring anyone's life back. Not those kids. Not his own.
All that should have mattered now was getting the guy. Huang, with all his bloodless casework and sterile analysis, would never understand. On the streets, where it matters, shutting down your emotions is the difference between life and death.
In the second it takes someone to pull the trigger, your feelings don't make a damned bit of difference.
That's what he told himself when he shot that kid who was holding Li Mei's niece. Another second, a moment of hesitation, and she could have been dead.
Or the kid could have dropped his weapon and they'd both be alive.
Elliot shrugged that thought off. He hadn't waited for the kid to choose. He'd decided. And he didn't regret it. God help him. He hadn't regretted it for a second.
Yeah - maybe Huang and Cragen were right. Maybe he didn't belong on the street. And maybe his wife was right. Maybe he didn't belong at home.
He looked up and met her eyes, holding his breath as she walked toward him. She knew all about holding things inside. About losing your identity and leaving your home. She didn't have to say anything.
She just held out her hand and placed it on his chest. He closed his eyes and felt his heart beating. For the first time, since the last time, he was happy to feel something.
To have one place where he still belonged.
In the silence of this whispered night
I listen only to your breath.
In that second of a shooting star
Somehow it all makes sense.
~~~
And if we're lost, then we are lost together.*
*"Lost Together," lyrics by Blue Rodeo
He knew, even before he started the car, where he'd end up. He didn't have any idea how long it had taken to get here. He'd ignored the initial, incessant ringing of his cell phone, figuring Olivia wouldn't let up for the first hour or so. But soon enough, work would take over and she'd have to stop worrying about him and concentrate on the case. Her case.
He should feel guilty - he'd screwed up and now he wouldn't be there if anything happened to his partner. Or to another innocent child.
But he didn't feel anything. Not anymore. He'd been sickened and saddened when they found those children. Humiliated and furious when Huang backstabbed him and Cragen sold him out.
But now - he felt nothing.
That was the irony of it all. Huang assumed he was lying, because Huang never trusted anything he said. That derisive question about whether he related every case to his own family. How could he explain that he'd stopped doing that years ago, that in trying to keep his work life and home life totally separate, the only thing he'd managed to do was separate himself from both.
The SVU could, and would, go on without him. The same way his family had been doing for a long time.
What did he see when he looked at those children lying there, helpless, lifeless, beyond salvation? He saw his own futility. His own powerlessness. He saw his future, his past. An endless series of kids he was too late to help. Or not there to protect.
How was he supposed to explain all that to Huang in a ten-minute session. Why did it even matter? It wouldn't help them catch the bastard that did this. It wouldn't bring anyone's life back. Not those kids. Not his own.
All that should have mattered now was getting the guy. Huang, with all his bloodless casework and sterile analysis, would never understand. On the streets, where it matters, shutting down your emotions is the difference between life and death.
In the second it takes someone to pull the trigger, your feelings don't make a damned bit of difference.
That's what he told himself when he shot that kid who was holding Li Mei's niece. Another second, a moment of hesitation, and she could have been dead.
Or the kid could have dropped his weapon and they'd both be alive.
Elliot shrugged that thought off. He hadn't waited for the kid to choose. He'd decided. And he didn't regret it. God help him. He hadn't regretted it for a second.
Yeah - maybe Huang and Cragen were right. Maybe he didn't belong on the street. And maybe his wife was right. Maybe he didn't belong at home.
He looked up and met her eyes, holding his breath as she walked toward him. She knew all about holding things inside. About losing your identity and leaving your home. She didn't have to say anything.
She just held out her hand and placed it on his chest. He closed his eyes and felt his heart beating. For the first time, since the last time, he was happy to feel something.
To have one place where he still belonged.
In the silence of this whispered night
I listen only to your breath.
In that second of a shooting star
Somehow it all makes sense.
~~~
And if we're lost, then we are lost together.*
*"Lost Together," lyrics by Blue Rodeo