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Darkest Nights	By : Bucken-Berry Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 1451 -:- 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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George woke up late in the afternoon and immediately felt the full effects from the previous night. His head pounded, his stomach churned, and his hearing was far too sensitive.
Elliot wasn't in the bedroom, he noted with a frown. He stood and stretched, deciding to take a shower.
He was nervous; he suspected that Elliot was mad at him. He had slept, for the first time since he'd been found, without nightmares- no dreams of any kind, actually. Just a calm, dark void. And he didn't deserve a peaceful sleep. He didn't even deserve to be here.
But he was getting some of what he deserved- now reality felt a little sharper, a little more… real, and thus even more painful than it had been before, so he figured it would make up for last night. Elliot would decide, he guessed- no. He shook his head, blinking confusedly. What was wrong with him? Elliot wasn't anything like the men who had attacked him. Elliot would never even think about hurting him.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He leaned over the toilet and vomited, clenching his stomach and closing his eyes. It took several minutes for his stomach to empty.
He shivered, remembering the relentless flashbacks and panic attacks the previous day had brought. The flashbacks were getting harder to control every time, and the mere thought was now enough to trigger another one.
The burns were agony. George couldn't contain his agonized wails any longer. His screams of anguish caused even more burning pain, this time in his already raw throat.
"Please, please stop- it hurts, please don't-" George pleaded, almost hyperventilating as pain and fear overwhelmed him. "Please, please, I can't do this- I can't, I need-"
His attacker didn't respond, instead opting to raise the cigarette again. "It's always about you, isn't it?" he snarled.
George let out a tiny squeak of surprise and fear. "What do you mean- what did I do this time? What did I do to deserve this?" He'd never even done anything to them. He couldn't think of anything he'd done that would explain why they hated him so. He knew that there were sick people out there, but he couldn't accept it. There HAD to be an explanation, had to be some sort of psycopathy he could analyze.
"You can't even figure it out on your own! You're too arrogant to even admit how flawed you are. If you're willing to just think you're so fucking smart, then you're arrogant and wrong!" The attacker grinded the cigarette furiously, searing George's skin. George screamed again, but it only made him laugh viciously.
The man took his belt off, and a loud crack filled the room as he smacked George with it. George whimpered as it made contact with the raw, abused skin on his back and buttocks. "Please, please just let me go…" George pleaded.
"You don't deserve it," he said. "You don't deserve anything but this."
George knew he was still screaming with every blow, but he dissociated enough so that his mind could drift to Elliot. Elliot would save him, he really would. George knew he would.
But he didn't think he would come soon enough.
George jolted and looked around the bathroom, inhaling deeply as he tried to steady himself. He was safe. He wasn't there anymore; he was in Elliot's apartment. But did that mean he was safe? Elliot was almost certainly furious with him.
He eventually managed to calm himself down, but he was still shaking. He stepped into the shower and turned the water to a lukewarm temperature- he hadn't been able to tolerate cold ever since he'd been taken, and the last thing he needed was to have yet another flashback.
He cleared his thoughts as he showered, preparing himself for his conversation with Elliot. He also tried to figure out why he was now convinced that Elliot was going to hurt him. He knew the flashbacks had shaken him, but that was no excuse to become paranoid…
He grabbed a razor and some shaving cream, and realized, with a sickening sensation in his stomach, that he wanted, he needed, to cut himself. He fought against the sensation, but it was oh-so hard. He had to use every bit of willpower available to him, like how he'd had to get his attacker's voices out of his head. He could no longer do the latter, but he might be able to avoid hurting himself for a while.
Once he'd scrubbed his skin raw again- no matter what he did, no matter what Rebecca or Elliot told him, he couldn't stop the dirty feeling and the need to get clean even though that could only happen when he made his skin bleed- he stepped out and walked to the kitchen. Elliot was at the table, sitting with two mugs of coffee, and he silently handed one to George as he sat down. George was unsure of how to go about starting the conversation. After a moment he simply muttered, "Hey."
Elliot looked simultaneously hurt, sympathetic, and cautious- but, surprisingly, not angry, which confused George slightly. Elliot should be angry with him. Maybe he was just trying to get George to let his guard down?
Then he gave an inward sigh and told himself, once again, that Elliot wasn't going to hurt him. Why was he so afraid of him, even though he knew Elliot wouldn't hurt him?
"Hey," Elliot replied, distracting George from his conflicted thoughts.
George swallowed visibly. "I suppose you… noticed, then."
"Yeah, I did. Why did you do that?" Elliot asked. His voice had the same array of emotions as his face. George sighed and looked at the coffee mug to avert Elliot's gaze. He took a minute to respond.
"I just couldn't cope- I couldn't deal with it a second longer. I was hurting too much," George explained, feeling afraid as he spoke. Surely Elliot would become angry that he had escaped the pain he deserved. He didn't want to upset Elliot, but lying would make him angrier.
"You could've come to me," Elliot whispered.
"I know. But I needed it to stop; I was desperate. I know I should have just dealt with it, but…" George rubbed his neck uncomfortably. It looked like Elliot wasn't going to get angry at him after all. And now George was extremely annoyed with himself for not trusting Elliot in the first place. He just wanted to calm down- he didn't want to let the PTSD get any worse.
"You aren't thinking of-" Elliot began worriedly.
"No- well. Yes and no. I'll be honest; I do feel like I want to die, as much, if not more, than I've wanted to since I was found... But I'm not going to act on it. That's why I used alcohol instead of something deadly. But it still- it still hurts," George admitted. Now that he knew he was safe, he didn't mind talking about his thoughts.
"I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have talked to you first to make sure you weren't struggling," Elliot said sadly. "You told me you were close to the edge, but I didn't think…"
"You didn't do anything wrong. You had no way of knowing I would do anything, because you thought I was asleep," George said, confused that Elliot was blaming himself. Didn't he see that it was all George's fault? George kept telling himself that no one was going to hurt him, but one thing he refused to believe was that everything that had happened to him wasn't his fault.
Elliot blinked. "You weren't?" he asked amazedly.
"No," George said simply.
"So what I said…" Realization dawned on Elliot.
George nodded slowly. "I just… I broke down. I was feeling so overwhelmed from the flashbacks and the nightmare, and then you were there, and even though everything you said was comforting, I felt guilty- not as much as I should, but a lot…"
"You shouldn't feel any amount of guilt… I'm sorry," Elliot muttered.
"No, don't be. It's my-"
"If it isn't my fault, it isn't yours either," Elliot asserted. "This is NOT your fault."
George exhaled loudly, not quite a sigh, but close. "I suppose. But, I should regret having retreated like that, having taken so many risks with my physical and mental health, having tossed aside everything I know as a psychiatrist. I should feel guilty, like I'd done something wrong. And I do regret it, somewhat, but not for the reason you'd think… I also think I would do it again if given the chance."
The confessions startled Elliot. "But you don't want to hurt yourself?" he asked, needing to hear George say 'no' again. He had to hear it as often as possible.
"No." George barely managed to avoid saying, "Not yet, anyway." He sighed and added, "But I don't want to feel anymore. I don't even want to think." He closed his eyes in weariness as he spoke.
"All victims go through a time when they can't-" Elliot began.
"I know," George interjected. "It doesn't make it any easier, though."
"No, it doesn't, but it's normal. And you'll get through this," Elliot said.
"You think so?" George asked quietly. Elliot couldn't tell if George was truly disbelieving, or if he was just asking for affirmation.
"I really do. You're tough enough, doc," Elliot said softly.
Silence reigned for a little while. Elliot took a careful look at George and asked, "Do you want anything to eat? You haven't eaten since yesterday."
George shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry," he said firmly.
"You have to eat something," Elliot insisted. "After what happened yesterday, you don't have anything left in your stomach, and you've barely been eating lately."
"I really don't want to," George protested.
Elliot was concerned about George; he was worried about the message George's sudden mental collapse was sending. Between the flashbacks and panic attacks and nightmares, he could hardly have called George okay before, but with the alcohol abuse and refusal to eat, he was positively alarmed. "Will you eat eventually?" Elliot pressed.
"Sure," George muttered. They both knew that, in truth, George didn't care one way or the other.
George stood up and walked to the bedroom, Elliot following behind him.
Elliot watched George carefully over the next few hours. He observed George's body language and became dismayed when he realized the message his body was sending: George was growing severely depressed, if he wasn't already. He wondered briefly if George had been depressed for a while, but had been hiding his feelings. Or, Elliot thought, maybe George himself hadn't noticed them until he was past his breaking point.
His suspicion of George's depression was confirmed when Elliot laid behind George on the bed and rubbed his back, like he had the night George had left the hospital. George didn't react anything like he had that night. Not a sigh of pleasure, nothing- except for a flinch. George still thought that anyone could attack him at any moment, even Elliot. That hurt.
George tolerated his presence, but he didn't seem to be enjoying it. His body was almost limp, as though he was overcompensating for the moment he'd tensed. "George?" Elliot began softly.
"Mm." It was an almost inaudible hum.
Elliot knew the answer, but he still asked, "Do you want to talk?"
George didn't even bother with words. He just gave a slight shake of his head and rolled onto his stomach, slumping against the pillows despondently.
Elliot made an abortive gesture to get George to meet his gaze, but he thought better of it. He embraced George tightly. "George, I know giving up probably seems like it would better than what you're feeling, but you will be better off, and you'll recover sooner, if you don't shut down. Please don't give up."
George turned around and set his head on Elliot's shoulder. He didn't return Elliot's embrace; he just rested his head against him. "I can't do this anymore. It hurts. I can't- I can't deal with it anymore," George whispered.
"George, at least if you keep trying, you can heal," Elliot argued. He kissed the top of George's head gently. "You've been through hell. I know that it must be difficult for you, but you can't give up."
"What's the point?" George asked, desperately.
"The people who care about you don't want to see you do this to yourself," Elliot began. "I don't want to lose you mentally, any more than I want to lose you physically- not at all, in other words."
George mulled things over for a moment. Elliot could tell that his thoughts were conflicted. "I'll try," George pledged half-heartedly.
"It will get better," Elliot promised.
"I suppose," George said with a sigh. He turned away.
"George, I love you. Please just hang in there," Elliot said urgently.
"Okay. I love you too," George said quietly. "And I'll try."
Elliot couldn't tell if George really was trying not to give up, or if he was just pretending for Elliot's sake. Either way, something drastic needed to happen for George's backslide to stop and his recovery to start again.
- 38
- 39
- 40
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Darkest Nights