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Darkest Nights	By : Bucken-Berry Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 1449 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU or it's characters and I'm not making money from this.

Chapter List
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Elliot was woken up in the middle of the night by George, who was thrashing in his sleep, causing him to almost become tangled in the blanket. George moved frantically and gave small sounds of terror, which quickly escalated to screams. Elliot froze for a moment, then he began to insistently shake George's shoulder.
As soon as he woke up, he wished he hadn't; the pain was unbearable. He cried out from the ever-present pain that racked his body, and from frustration and despair. Why did he keep dreaming about being with Elliot? It made everything much worse; thinking he was safe, only to end up here. When he dreamed about being with Elliot, he felt safe and content, but the instant he woke up, he was overwhelmed with agony, hunger, thirst, terror, despair...
One of the attackers began to thrust inside him, and George cried out, as usual. He tried to stay still, because he knew he would upset them- but it was incredibly difficult.
Finally, his attacker spilled into him and pulled out. But then another one pushed in, and George couldn't fight the impulse that demanded his escape. They reprimanded him severely, scratching viciously at one of his infected wounds, and then cutting them even deeper. He was in worse pain than he thought possible; he felt it pulsating through his body with each heartbeat, and he was sure he was going to die from the sheer agony. And a large part of him wanted to…
His attackers started using some new weapon while they continued thrusting into him. They pounded into him mercilessly, and as soon as one climaxed and pulled out, another pushed in. And there was so much blood- not enough to be lethal, the logical part of him knew. But still, he was covered in his own blood, some of it dried and some of it still wet. He almost wished he had lost more blood, so he would die from the blood loss.
He moaned feebly and closed his eyes, ready to fall back into darkness- and he wanted it to be forever, because the pain was so great that he didn't want to breathe anymore.
He felt a sharp kick at his side. "Look at us- unless you want us to kill you now," the attacker growled. George shut his eyes tighter once the words registered. Such a painful contrast; just a few times ago, he'd pleaded for them to keep him alive, but now, he would give anything for the opposite. But he didn't even have the energy to beg them…
"P-please…" he managed, in a choked whisper.
His attacker chuckled harshly and aimed another brutal, hard kick at George's side. "We know how much you want it. Just sit still for now." He made to walk away.
George made a desperate noise and groaned, but it was no use. His attacker left, and George stayed on the ground, sobbing and wishing that he could talk them into ending it. He wanted death, and though he knew it was inevitable, he was impatient.
He waited for darkness to claim him- either unconsciousness or sleep- but nothing came. He was in too much pain to sleep, but not pain enough to pass out.
And then, far too soon, his attackers returned again.
George woke up screaming. He looked around wildly until he caught sight of Elliot and froze, conflicted and terrified. He stood and started moving backwards.
"George, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," Elliot tried to assure him. "You're safe here."
"No- I know that, I do- but I just can't right now!" George stammered. He backed into a wall and tried to steady himself, breathing heavily and closing his eyes.
"Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?" Elliot asked softly.
A look of pained guilt presented itself on George's face as he nodded. He took several deep breaths. "I'm sorry, I just can't handle being with anyone right now… I'm so, so sorry, Elliot, but I really just- I can't-"
"Don't apologize; you aren't doing anything wrong. I'll be back in ten minutes, sooner if you need it," Elliot told him gently. He walked out and into the living room. He knew George wasn't actually afraid of him- it was just an aftereffect of whatever his nightmare had been- but he still felt slightly hurt. He didn't like George being afraid of him, whether he actually caused the fear or not.
George shivered as he leaned against the wall, trying to piece his emotions together. The only emotions he could feel were intense guilt, panic, and depression, while physically, he felt nauseated and- to his annoyance- tired. He gave a resigned sigh, lying back on the bed and letting his eyes close. He doubted he'd sleep for the rest of the night, however.
Elliot walked in several minutes later. George didn't feel up to talking to him, so he made it look like he'd fallen asleep again, keeping his breathing deep and even. After a moment, Elliot sat next to him and tenderly caressed his face.
"Just hang in there a while longer. Then we can get the hell out of here, for however long you want- forever, even, if that's what you need. I love you, George, and I'm sorry you've been hurt so deeply," Elliot whispered sadly.
He sounded close to tears, and that shocked George. Had Elliot been doing this every night while he was asleep? Had he been causing Elliot more grief than he knew? The thought only added to his turbulent emotions. George closed his eyes tighter, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall.
"Another nightmare? When will you be able to relax?" Elliot asked, sighing. He had apparently misread George's expression- not that George could fault him for it. But Elliot's next words, even though they were kind, overwhelmed him.
"They hurt you so much, but I think, I hope, I can help you heal. But you need to help me, to help you, because I'm not as good at this as you are… You're the one with the endless compassion I only wish I had… I just beat the shit out of people, all day, every day. Sometimes I help victims, but not when they've been hurt like this. Christ, if anyone did deserve what happened- and I'm not saying anyone does, but IF someone did- it still wouldn't be you," Elliot whispered. "You never did anything wrong; all you've done is help people. It shouldn't have been you that got hurt like this."
George felt Elliot's hands gently stroking his forehead and temples, and he could no longer stop the tears from falling, even though his eyes were closed.
"George, it'll be okay, they don't have you anymore. I failed you so badly before, but I'm here now." Elliot continued stroking his face as he spoke, trying to soothe him.
George wanted to scream, his emotions having intensified and overwhelmed him. Instead, he continued to stay still, even though he could feel himself crumbling. Elliot's words should have felt comforting and reassuring, but George was too upset to be soothed.
Elliot sighed deeply. "I love you, my George- more than you can know. One day, this will get better, and you won't blame yourself- it hurts so much when you do that, but one day it'll stop..," Elliot whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He kissed George's forehead and stood up. He left the room, and a minute later George heard the front door open and close. He didn't know where Elliot had gone, but he was almost thankful. He had passed his breaking point.
His mind screamed with an agony that almost radiated to his body. When he was being tortured, sleep had been a sufficient escape- but now sleep wasn't the haven it had been, and that only left two options for escape. And one of them was ruled out entirely; he wasn't even going to consider suicide. He didn't understand why, but Elliot obviously loved him, so he wasn't going to end it, because he owed Elliot that much. And that meant that his only option for escape was to render himself unconscious.
He walked to the kitchen with slow, calculated steps. He needed the escape, badly. He opened the cabinet, and pulled out a large sized bottle of alcohol. It was big enough to make a man of Elliot's size pleasantly buzzed. Someone his size, on the other hand, would be completely drunk.
As a psychiatrist, he knew he should know better than to self-medicate with alcohol, but he wasn't thinking like a psychiatrist anymore. The thought only added fuel to his anguish.
Then he tried, briefly, to talk himself out of it. He'd have a headache the next day- that thought made him snort with mirthless laughter. He'd dealt with headaches before, and this would be worth it. Although, there was other harm that would be done to his body- but again, it had happened before.
Then there was the fact that if he did this once, he would be tempted to again. But it was a one-time thing. Elliot certainly wouldn't buy any more, not after tonight.
Elliot. Elliot would be furious with him. He'd be hurt, too. But George couldn't bring himself to stop- he had been hurting for too long.
The argument that came closest to stopping him was the fact that he didn't deserve the escape. He could still hear the voices of his attackers, telling him how he deserved what they were doing to him… he tried to banish the sight and sound of his attackers from his mind, but it was a battle, each time. And right now, he didn't have the strength to talk them down. He didn't deserve the escape.
But still, he needed it. His attackers were still so clear in his mind. He needed to escape them- he needed to get away. George knew of a dozen reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, but he tossed every one of them aside. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to stop the memories that haunted him.
No turning back now. He opened the bottle and drank as quickly as he could.
He walked to the bathroom, feeling an equal measure of eager anticipation and dismay as he waited for the alcohol to hit like a ton of bricks. He sat down in front of the toilet and leaned back against the opposite wall, breathing shallowly while he re-experienced the painful memories. Tears streamed down his face steadily, and his body quivered with his silent sobs.
He knew, from the instant he was forced into the van- he wouldn't escape in one piece. He was sure it was going to end in death… He woke up in the room, and he was cut and burned, his pain arousing his attackers endlessly. The days swirled into one immense whirlwind of pain, humiliation, hunger, thirst, dread, and tears.
Then he was on the side of the road, feeling crazy with his fevered state, breath coming in gasps, but he was only able to think about how he wanted to see Elliot one last time. And then he was flatlining, and eventually he opened his eyes and saw Elliot… Elliot had been his motivation, through it all…
George swallowed and, mostly out of habit, rubbed his chest. Elliot loved him so much, but the emotion felt completely alien after the physical and mental assault the last few weeks had brought. Love and protection had only been in his dreams, while reality had been agony. They were reversed now, but he couldn't adjust that easily. It still felt impossible. There were times when he was sure he was going to wake up and find himself being tortured again. In his state, it was easier to believe the worst possibility, as much as he wanted to be sure he was safe.
And there was the fact that Keyes still didn't want him to survive. He'd wanted George to die eventually, but only after causing as much pain as possible. It had been awful, going into the interrogation room with Keyes… seeing his tormentor's face, feeling so afraid but knowing he had to stay so they wouldn't attack anyone else- and knowing Keyes could have killed him. The fact that Keyes hadn't succeeded was incidental.
The alcohol took effect suddenly, like he'd predicted, but no matter how much he'd braced himself, he wasn't quite prepared for it. The room swam in front of him, his stomach churned, and he reeled slightly. But he didn't care once he analyzed his emotions and found that they were finally gone. He finally felt numb, and he was convinced that that was as close to happiness as he could get.
His stomach emptied itself and he closed his eyes for a moment. Once the nausea abated, he stood up and stumbled towards the sofa. He was so unsteady on his feet, and his vision was so blurred by his tears, that it was amazing he didn't fall. He collapsed onto the sofa, taking in the blurred ceiling.
He reveled in the feeling of numbness for several minutes. Then his vision began to dim, and he gladly welcomed the darkness that engulfed him.
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Darkest Nights