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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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A/N: Just a heads-up: if this story ever gets deleted from this site, I have it posted on others. Go to my profile to find the links. Thanks!

George sighed softly as he relaxed on the sofa, snuggling into Elliot's frame. He wrapped his arms around the taller man and set his head on his shoulder, stroking Elliot's chest lightly and giving a contented hum as Elliot massaged his head and neck.
Dinner had been calm and peaceful. No anxiety or flashbacks. No hopeless thoughts about how he deserved everything that had happened. Just him and Elliot, eating and even smiling when they talked. He'd even let Elliot talk him into eating a decent amount instead of just picking at the food like he had been doing.
They'd finished the meal a few minutes ago and, when Elliot had cautiously asked what he wanted to do, George had suggested just sitting together in the living room and enjoying each other's company.
Now he was just biding time, waiting until everything came together and enjoying Elliot as much as possible in the meantime. Elliot was so amazing, George thought a little wistfully. He'd miss him. He hugged Elliot tighter, breathing slowly.
It was starting to hurt, knowing that Elliot wouldn't miss him in return. He wished he had earned Elliot's love, or at the very least that he could think he had. And there was yet more proof that Keyes was right, George thought disgustedly. He was being so selfish.
He shook his head, trying to shake the thought away. He knew that, and it wouldn't matter in a few hours anyway; it would all be fixed. He didn't want to think about it now, he just wanted to enjoy this even though it proved how selfish and awful he was.
"Hey, George? We need to talk," Elliot said softly.
George swallowed nervously, shifting to look at him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm worried about you," Elliot said, setting his hand on George's cheek and stroking gently. "I know you're better now, but earlier you were so wound up. You've been acting off all day, actually. And I'm worried that talking to Rebecca didn't help you enough. I know the flashbacks only made everything worse for you, and even though you're feeling better than you have in days, it can't have gone away that easily."
George reached a hand up to hold Elliot's. "I'm okay- well, no, I'll be okay. I just... It was a worse day than usual, but…" He paused, trying to think of a good way to explain things to Elliot. He knew that it was all too common for depressed people to suddenly brighten once they decided to commit suicide. It wasn't as well-known a sign as someone suddenly giving their possessions away or becoming obsessed with death, but it was still a warning sign. But even though George knew Elliot had to know that, he also knew that somehow Elliot wasn't putting the pieces together, and he had to keep it that way. He couldn't say anything that would clue Elliot in.
"Things are rough now, but they'll get better, you know?" he said softly. "The pain's going to lessen a little tomorrow. And aside from the flashbacks and panic attacks and everything, I had a good day. I got to spend it with you, and I got to talk to Nora earlier and tell her some things I needed to tell her. That's helped me feel better. You two make me happier than anyone else; you're everything to me."
"Thank you," Elliot said, leaning over and kissing George softly. "You mean so much to me, too." He squeezed George's hand. "But I'm still worried. I think you need more of a support system, you know? I know you aren't too comfortable around anyone else, but maybe we could find something that works."
"Maybe," George said. "I think you need it more than me, though. When was the last time you talked to your kids?"
Elliot smiled sadly. "The other day. I was going to call them again tomorrow. I can't believe Eli is getting so big- did you know he can talk on the phone now?"
"No, I didn't," George said, smiling softly. "I bet that was a shock for you."
"Yeah," Elliot said with a laugh. "He still doesn't know how to dial a number or anything, but he still loves it. He asks me to visit a lot and so do the others. The older ones also ask about you a lot, by the way. They want to get to know you since you're a part of my life now."
"You should go see them soon. They miss you and need you," George murmured.
"I will. But, you keep dodging the question," Elliot said, becoming serious again. "What we're doing now isn't working. Having so many uncontrollable flashbacks just isn't right. Do you need more appointments with Rebecca? Or do you need a different therapist? Maybe one of your colleagues can refer you to a specialist you don't know too well? I don't think Rebecca would mind- sometimes she isn't the best therapist for a situation, and she doesn't mind that."
George shrugged. "I don't know. Rebecca's okay; she helped us work some stuff out in the beginning, but… I don't know. Maybe."
"Just think about it," Elliot said. "Things shouldn't have gotten this bad. Something needs to change before it gets worse." He bit his lip.
"What's wrong, Elliot?" George asked softly.
"It… It hurts to see how much pain you're in when you have a flashback or a nightmare. It hurts knowing you were there for so long, alone and afraid… And the things they did…" Elliot swallowed. "And I didn't even do anything right. I didn't find you and nothing I did was, or is, enough to help you."
"Oh, Elliot," George said softly, hugging him. "That isn't true. It isn't your fault, El, nothing is. You did everything right. There just wasn't anything more you could have done, that's all. They were too determined not to let me go. And as amazing as you've been since I was found, developing PTSD and depression was inevitable for my situation. If anything, you should feel good that you managed to help this much for this long. I'm lucky to have you." He kissed Elliot softly.
Elliot smiled sadly, looking down at him. He brushed George's hair away from his face. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. I don't completely believe it, but if you don't blame me…" He trailed off.
"I don't," George assured him.
Elliot nodded. "That helps." He leaned back and looked at George again. Apparently, he didn't like what he saw, because he sighed and set a hand on George's cheek. "You always look so stressed," he murmured. "Even when we relax. I wish I could make it all go away."
"It'll go away in time," George said softly. Elliot nodded. "And your pain will go away too. You'll get over this."
"Yeah," Elliot said. "I guess so." He pulled George closer, hugging him. George went with the motion, allowing himself to be pulled closer.
"Hey, George?" Elliot said quietly, after a few minutes. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
George inhaled slowly, hoping Elliot wasn't about to ask outright if he was suicidal. He wouldn't be able to tell the truth, but he wasn't sure if he could lie to Elliot again.
"Do I need to be worried about you?"
George couldn't think of a way to respond to that.
"I trust you," Elliot continued. "I trust you to know your mental state well enough, and I trust you to tell me if you're in a crisis. Today you've really been worrying me. You keep deflecting when I try to talk to you and you've been closed off. You didn't do that before today; you were open with me. Something changed, and I don't know what. I need you to tell me."
"What happened, and do I need to be worried?" Elliot repeated.
George took a slow, shuddery breath. Hearing Elliot say how much he trusted him was hard.
"You probably should be," George admitted, hugging Elliot tighter. "I… I'm hurting, Elliot, more than you can know. I'm confused, and guilty, and… I don't know…" He paused. "I don't feel like myself anymore and I don't like it. I don't like who I am right now. And I don't like the things I'm thinking and feeling. They worry me-" Worried, he thought, because even though he knew they should worry him, they made perfect sense now- "and should probably worry you too."
"Thank you for being honest," Elliot said softly. He wasn't used to taking this role; he wasn't used to thinking like a psychologist. He had done it on occasion for a victim suffering from Rape Trauma Syndrome, but never for someone he knew. It was hard for him to show so much more emotion than he was used to, but it was worth it if it helped George. "Try to think of something we can change that will help you, okay?"
"Okay," George said softly.
"I'm going to take a shower," Elliot said. "Will you be okay?"
George nodded, managing not to show the guilt and sympathy he felt. Elliot was only human and was bound to make mistakes, but this one was going to create so many problems for him, for a while at least, before he got over it.
"George?" Elliot asked, hesitantly. "I think I know the answer, since this would be a huge step and everything, but would you like to join me? I've seen most of your scars, and it doesn't have to be about sex or anything, I was just thinking-"
George smiled sadly. "Not this time, Elliot. I'm not ready. Thanks for asking, though."
Elliot nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe some day." He moved his legs and George shifted off him. He kissed George softly before standing. "Be right back. Come get me if you need me, okay?" he said softly.
"Okay," George said, looking downwards.
Something inside George suddenly screamed for him to tell Elliot the truth. He didn't want to hurt Elliot, even if it meant he'd be better off in the long term. Elliot couldn't love him as much as he thought he did and he wouldn't if he knew what he was thinking, but- Elliot would still be unhappy at first.
He squeezed his hand into a fist. He had to do it soon before he changed his mind. He didn't want to kill himself with Elliot in the apartment, but he would if that was the only way.
"I love you," George said softly. "I know I've said that a lot today, but I need you to know it."
"Love you too," Elliot said, smiling. "Be back in a few minutes. When I get out, let's plan what we're going to do tomorrow, okay? If you still want to take a trip like you've been saying. I think it would do us both good."
"Sounds good," George said. "I have a few places in mind."
Once Elliot left the room and shut the bathroom door, George walked upstairs to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and closed his eyes, thinking deeply.
He had to do this before Elliot realized exactly what was wrong. He wasn't upset that Elliot knew something was wrong with him; George had proven himself to be high risk, and, of course, Elliot was right. But he was upset that he was thinking about suicide in the first place. He shouldn't feel depressed; he should feel happy that he had survived being tortured at all, and that Elliot was unconditionally there for him. It was better than he deserved- so much better.
He didn't want to commit suicide after all Elliot had done for him, but at the same time, he couldn't control his desire to end his life. He knew that the other victims, if they had survived, would probably have considered the same thing, but he still felt like a terrible person for wanting to do it. They didn't have their lives at all and yet he was trying to end his. But, he thought, he didn't deserve to live, while they had. He couldn't fix the latter situation, but the former… all it would take was one bullet, either to his brain stem or his heart, and it would be corrected instantaneously.
If Elliot would leave for a while, he could do it. It was only his fear of hurting Elliot that was holding him back. He didn't want Elliot to witness his violent death.
Maybe he could do something slower, he thought. He laid down on his shoulder, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the bottle of antidepressants. It was hard to commit suicide using them, especially without alcohol, but it could be done. He'd vomit most of it up, and he would be in sheer agony for several minutes, maybe even hours, until he went into respiratory arrest. It wasn't quite the peaceful falling asleep and never waking up again that it was often portrayed to be, but his goal wasn't a peaceful death- it was just death, at any cost short of causing his loved ones guilt.
But he'd have to be alone, so that no one could find him until it was too late. Or he could always just do it the easy way and jump off the fire escape as soon as Elliot left…
He started trembling violently. He felt like he wanted to die, but at the same time, the thought of death scared him. And then there was the fact that he didn't deserve the peace that death would bring, just like Keyes had said. He was such a coward. He deserved it, all of it.
George held his breath and looked in the bedside drawer. He retrieved Elliot's gun again and ran his thumb over the sleek metal and pressed it to his chest, closing his eyes. Wanting nothing more than to pull the trigger, it took every ounce of willpower he had to put the gun down, and even then, he couldn't keep it there.
He raised and lowered the gun several times, debating with himself over and over again. Elliot's feelings against his complete inability to bear the pain another second. The guilt over how much grief Elliot would feel if he killed himself against the fact that George was causing him just as much grief while still alive. His psychiatrist's brain telling him he could, and would, recover with the combination of medication and intense psychotherapy, versus the dark, hopeless, tortured mind of a victim, who had given up on the idea that he could be helped. Doctor Huang, top forensic psychiatrist and FBI agent, versus George, rape and torture victim. The different sides wrestled for dominance in his mind, fighting frantically, one half pleading for life, the other half pleading for death. Half of him wanted to live and recover, half of him just wanted peace, especially if it was the unshakeable peace death would bring; that half wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
Closing his eyes, George wrapped an arm around himself. He knew the logical thing to do- tell Elliot to bring him to Bellevue and get him voluntarily admitted- and his mind was screaming at him to do it. But he couldn't bring himself to. One bullet could end all his pain, so why hadn't he shot himself already?
He agonized over the decision. He didn't want to bring harm to Elliot and Nora, but that was the only reason he had not to. It was an impossible choice- death would end the nightmare he'd been through, but it would hurt Elliot and Nora even though they would move on. Living would mean dealing with the memories, but he would still be with Elliot and Nora, even if that was selfish of him.
He touched the gun again and shivered at the memory of his attacker's gun on the back of his head. It had been so frightening when it had happened, but if it had happened that way instead… He bit his lip. He held the gun up again.
His heart pounded, as though it was trying to put its vote in. His heart wanted to keep beating. And Elliot wanted him to stay alive, too... He shook his head, and his hand shook even harder, so much so that he wouldn't be able to aim straight now. It seemed like fate didn't want him to take the easy way out. He could try again when he stopped shaking, but he knew Elliot would be out of the shower by then.
George let out a yell of anguish, desire, and rage, tears forming in his eyes. He set the gun next to him and turned to his stomach, burying his face in the pillows and letting it absorb his tears. He felt so miserable and every time he tried to do something about it, he failed and made it even worse. He just wanted to take his pain- and Elliot's and Nora's- away. Why couldn't he just do it?
He sobbed quietly, taking a shuddering breath. He just wanted to die in peace. Why was life determined to give him so much pain?
He just wanted the pain to stop. Was that really so much to ask?
It must be, he thought bitterly.
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Darkest Nights