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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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He lay on his side, shivering heavily as he burrowed into the blanket. He buried his face in a pillow, trying to block out the memories. He felt like he would enter another flashback any second if he didn't use all is mental energy to ground himself here.
He felt sick and tired, and he ached, bone deep, like he'd been beaten head-to-toe, like the wounds had been inflicted on him again. He could feel the bruises, even if they weren't there anymore. He could feel the cuts, burns, and welts. And the ache inside him…
He shivered again, both from fear and cold, and curled into himself to try to conserve body heat. He was so tired of this. So tired of hurting, so tired of constantly reliving the torture, so tired of the panic, anxiety, and depression. Tired of feeling empty except for the pain, tired of being haunted, tired of living at all.
Why had this morning happened like it had? He had had it all planned out perfectly. He would have shot himself in the heart so that they could have an open-casket funeral. He didn't have to worry about his organs being saved for donation anymore, because they had been damaged by the septic shock, and although they functioned well enough for him, doctors wouldn't want to put them in a sick patient. And he wouldn't have to worry about missing the shot either, because his years of FBI training had helped him to have a sure aim, so that even if he flinched as the gun went off, it would still hit somewhere fatal. He'd die instantly, or close to it, and he would finally be free of this.
But instead, Elliot had been sent home and everything had been ruined. More pain, more flashbacks. And even though he didn't deserve the peace death would bring, even though his suicidal state proved how pathetic he was, he just couldn't take any more. And his self-hatred only added to it- hating himself so much made him more desperate to escape himself.
He didn't want to kill himself with Elliot in the apartment with him, but now there really was no choice. Who knew when Elliot would leave next? Who knew if he would realize what was going through his head and try to stop him before then? It was now or never.
But he didn't feel strong enough to get out of bed, let alone grab the gun. The panic and anxiety wore him out like nothing else, and the nightmares were keeping him from sleeping well, too. He hadn't doubted his patients when they'd said the depression and anxiety attacks made them unable to do much of anything, but it was just one of those things that a person couldn't understand until they'd experienced it themselves.
And the cold wasn't helping things, either. He felt frozen, inside and out, and he wished that there were more blankets on the bed that he could pile on top of him.
The cold and the quiet made it hard to ground himself in reality, and he had to focus all of his mental energy to keep from entering another flashback. He had to keep reminding himself of where he was, the specific details of the room.
He bit his lip. He wanted to grab the gun and end it, but something was stopping him. He would do it later, he decided, as soon as Elliot left him alone. When he had enough energy to accomplish the task and when the timing was right.
But for now, he needed to talk to Elliot. Just to make sure… He wasn't sure what, exactly, but he just felt an overwhelming need to talk to him.
"Elliot?" he called. He'd heard the front door opening and closing a minute earlier, and he hoped it meant Alex had left. They had always been close, but he didn't want her to see him anymore, not when he was so pathetic.
"Coming!" Elliot called back. George heard his footsteps a moment later.
Elliot wiped the tears from his eyes when he heard George calling for him. He had been overwhelmed after Alex left, and he had broken down, agonized thoughts echoing in his head. Why anyone would do this to George, why George would think he deserved it, why George wasn't getting better. He wondered helplessly if it ever would get better.
He sighed, deciding he'd talk to Olivia later, and maybe his kids. That would help him, at least a little. He doubted there was anything more he could do for George.
He stood and walked towards the bedroom, shaking his head sadly at the sight of George lying on his side, legs curled into him, looking completely broken. He stood next to George and leaned down, whispering, "Are you okay?"
Worrying for a moment that George was coming down with something, he pressed his lips to George's forehead gently, trying to gauge his temperature. He didn't have a fever- on the contrary, he felt cold.
George shook his head. "It… It hurts," he whispered.
Elliot sat down next to him, reaching under the blanket to rub his back. George shivered, but seemed to relax a little at the contact.
"Elliot," George said, voice still a whisper. He closed his eyes, struggling. Part of him wanted to tell Elliot everything, but most of him just wanted Elliot here, wanted to hear Elliot's voice and feel his touch, and the rest of him just wanted everything to stop.
George opened his eyes again. "The flashbacks…" He swallowed. "It feels like a combination of the worst flu imaginable and a bad acid trip. It hurts, Elliot, it hurts so much…" Words weren't enough to describe it, really. The pain was like he was being tortured again and again, and his emotions only added to it.
Elliot stroked George's hair gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Is there anything I can do to help right now?"
George shrugged and leaned into Elliot's frame, and Elliot kissed his lips gently. George returned the kiss, but pulled away after a moment, looking troubled.
"Elliot, when I-" George tried to figure out how to phrase his question without tipping Elliot off, but couldn't figure out how. "When I was in the hospital-" He bit his lip. "At least once, you thought I was going to die. Would you have been mad at me if I had stopped fighting? What would you have done if I'd never made it out of the ICU?"
Elliot looked at him for a long moment. He thought about everything he and George had been through together, about how deep their connection had become. It had come so close to not happening at all.
He tried to figure out why George wanted to know, but it didn't take that long for him to arrive to a conclusion. With how little George thought of himself, he was probably expecting Elliot to be mad at him for everything that had happened, and probably thought that Elliot would have been mad at him if he hadn't had the strength to survive the systemic infection.
Of course, a darker motivation occurred to him, but he didn't want to entertain the notion. Surely George's morbid thoughts were just a result of him processing his ordeal, not- not that. And George would tell him if he was heading in that direction. He wanted to believe that was true, and might have had this happened a few days earlier, but because of that flashback, because of the night George had gotten himself intoxicated to cope instead of finding him, Elliot could no longer be sure of George's mental state.
His stomach plummeted. He tried to read George's body language for clues, but came up blank. He'd have to hope he could pick things up from George's questions and answers. But he wasn't a psychologist- would he be good enough?
"I wouldn't have been mad at you, George," Elliot said finally. "I would have been mad at a lot of people. I would have been mad at Keyes and the others for doing this to you, at the feds and the NYPD for not finding you, and at me for not telling you sooner and at not saving you, but I wouldn't have been mad at you. You're blameless in this, even if you can't see it. I'd spend every day missing you, and I'd wonder if we could have had what we had now. I'd come close to losing it every day when I walked into the precinct and you still weren't there. But I'd never get mad at you. I could never hate you."
Guilt rose up in George's heart, making him almost feel sick. He didn't deserve Elliot, he didn't deserve not to hurt, but here he was thinking only about how to end his own pain. He was being just as selfish as Keyes had said he was. "If you saw me like I did, you would. If you saw me like I actually am, you'd leave. You'd hate me as much as Keyes does," George said painfully.
"No, George," Elliot said firmly. He saw the pain in George's eyes and leaned forward, resting his chest over George's shoulder and embracing him. "Keyes is the one who deserves your hate, not you. I love you, and you deserve kindness and compassion, not what he did to you."
George shook his head, and tears formed in his eyes. "You don't get it. I love you, but there's a lot you don't know."
"Like?" Elliot challenged.
"You'll never see it," George said, moving out from under Elliot. "No, not never," he corrected himself. He looked out the window to avoid seeing Elliot's reaction. "One day, you'll-" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "One day, you'll realize you can do much better. You deserve better than damaged goods. All I'll ever bring you is pain, don't deny it; I've seen how much this hurts you. That's my fault. You were happier with Kathy and your kids and if I wasn't here, you could go back to them and be you again."
"George," Elliot whispered, setting a hand on his shoulder. George resisted the temptation to tug it off. "I… I don't want that. I love the kids and I love Kathy, but not like how I love you. I want to hurt, because I love you so much I'm willing to share your pain. Let me do that. Please?"
"No," George said, shaking his head. "You've done that enough. I can't let you do anymore."
"So what, are you just never going to talk to me again? Are you going to leave?" Elliot asked heatedly. "Is that it?"
George didn't answer. He was going to leave, but in a more complete way than Elliot thought. But he couldn't say it and he couldn't lie either.
"Look," Elliot said finally. "You've had a rough day. We both have. Tomorrow is the last of the trial and then we can go on vacation somewhere. There's too many triggers here, you were right. And once your pills kick in you'll start to feel a little better. Right now you're too stressed. So I'm going to go make us something to eat and let you cool down. When I come back we'll work things out. Okay?" He was worried about George, but he felt that he could help him calm down and stabilize. And then tomorrow, he'd call Rebecca with his concerns and get him evaluated before they left New York.
George sighed, deciding to play along. "Okay. I do love you."
"You too. I'll be back in a few minutes," Elliot said. He brushed his hand over George's forehead and stood, retreating from the room.
George pushed himself up and reached into the bedside drawer once Elliot had left. Here was his opportunity. But he couldn't yet. Not when Elliot thought he was mad at him. He wanted to end it so badly but he couldn't bear the thought of what it would do to Elliot. If he did it now, Elliot would think he'd done it in the heat of the moment because they had argued. That would mean Elliot would never realize the truth. He had to make sure Elliot would be able to deal with it when it happened so that Elliot would eventually to be able to see that he was better off without George in his life.
He would be rid of the pain and Elliot would be free of him. It was perfect.
He put the gun in his pocket. Soon, he thought, soon.
Sighing deeply, he closed the bedside drawer and stood up. He'd go talk to Elliot and help him with dinner, he decided. He'd make sure he said the things he needed to say and make sure Elliot was happy. He'd make sure Elliot didn't think it was anything he did that had caused him to commit suicide.
At least then he could die knowing he'd finally done something right. He could die knowing he'd taken a giant burden off Elliot's shoulders, one Elliot would be happier without even though he didn't realize it yet.
He walked out of the room and joined Elliot in the kitchen. Elliot was preparing some pasta by the stove. "Hey. You feeling better?" Elliot said as he saw George.
"Hey," George said softly. "I'm feeling a little calmer. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I understand," Elliot said, squeezing George's hand gently. "It must be difficult to accept all this right after a flashback."
"That's part of it. I just can't help but feel like I'm hurting you," George muttered. "I just want you to be happy."
"You make me happy," Elliot said. "Even if we're struggling right now. All I want is to be with you."
"No you don't," George thought. "I guess," he said. "I just… I love you more than words can say. I don't want your life to be ruined because of this or anything that might happen later."
"It won't be," Elliot said softly.
"Elliot," George said, looking at him carefully. "Do you promise? Do you promise that no matter what, you'll be okay? And if you aren't, you'll do what you need to do to get there again?"
Elliot nodded, knowing how serious George was about it. "I promise. You don't need to worry." Inside, he started worrying about George's mental state even more, worrying what his self-hatred would make him do. But George seemed to be calming down, and that was good.
"Just what I wanted to hear," George said, smiling softly. Now he had both Elliot and Nora's word that they would get help if they needed it. They hadn't known the real purpose when they'd said it, but he was confident they'd still do it without him. They'd be okay without him, and after a while they'd be even better.
All three of them would benefit from what he was about to do. He actually started to feel happy again as he realized that everything was falling into place perfectly. He only had to do this for a few more hours and then he'd be free. Now he could enjoy the time he had left with Elliot, and when he committed suicide, he could die peacefully.
"I love you. You're amazing," George said softly, hugging Elliot tightly.
Elliot looked down at him, a little surprised. "I love you too. I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, returning the hug and kissing the top of George's head.
George smiled into Elliot's chest.
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Darkest Nights