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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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George forced himself to sit up after a moment. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and tried to pull himself together. Elliot would surely be done showering soon, and George didn't want to alarm him when he came in.
He didn't want to hurt Elliot at all. Elliot was the best thing that had ever happened to him- Elliot was so much better than he deserved. And George wasn't sure how much longer he could keep lying to him, betraying his trust. It made him feel worse about himself every time he did it.
He hesitated, then picked the gun up and hid it in the bedside drawer as he made up his mind. He was already causing Elliot so much pain- what was a little more, especially when it would help in the long run? It was the least he could do, really.
He sat down on the bed, facing the window, resting his chin on one hand. It was hard to keep himself awake. He was so tired; he just wanted to sleep. He just wanted this to be done.
If only he'd been allowed to die in the hospital. If only Keyes had killed him, either while he had him or in the interrogation room.
He'd been afraid of death back then, and the anxiety from his near-death experience had only intensified it. But he felt different now. Even if what he'd seen and felt when he'd been so close to death had been terrifying and painful- instead of peaceful like most people reported-, it was still better than this.
And maybe since he actually wanted to die this time, unlike when he had flatlined, it would feel less frightening. Before Keyes had stopped torturing him, when George had all but given up on being found, there had been times when they had come so close to killing him. Times when dehydration turned his blood to sludge and he almost succumbed, times when their beatings left him weak, so weak that he couldn't move. Each time, he had fought instinctively, because as broken as he'd felt, something in him wanted Elliot, wanted to see him and just hear his voice so badly, so much that it hurt. Even when he couldn't take any more pain, even when he felt like he wanted to die, he had held on, because he hadn't truly wanted to die- he'd only wanted the pain to stop, and something in him had believed that if he survived and was with Elliot again (whether Elliot loved him or not), the pain would stop. He'd wanted to live, and that meant being afraid of death, no matter how much pain it would spare him.
But now that it wasn't physical pain and recoverable psychological trauma anymore, everything was different.
Wearily, he stood and set his hand on the window. The view was pretty, but not as good as at his own apartment. The view of the city lights below had always been one of his favorite things about his home. Manhattan apartments were expensive, but his was rent-controlled, and with his salary- forensic psychiatrists made a lot of money, after all, especially one with his experience- it hadn't been much of a problem. But as much as he missed his own home, he felt safer at Elliot's. A few days ago, he and Elliot had started talking about moving into just one apartment or the other instead of wasting money on an apartment neither of them were going to use.
It was raining, George noticed. It was late March now, a little more than a month since he'd been found, and two months since... that day. He shivered, remembering everything that had happened as a quick flash of thought, and then he closed his eyes, trying to shake it away by picturing what the city had looked like his first night here at Elliot's, with the idyllic snowfall and Elliot's soft voice in his ears as they talked George's issues over. Elliot's gentle arms lifting him when breathing became too hard, then holding him tightly as the two of them let their tears fall.
But he saw flashes of his attacker's faces instead, and he reeled slightly, placing his hand on the windowsill to steady himself. He breathed heavily, trying to prevent an anxiety attack or flashback. His heart started hammering and his limbs trembled. It seemed that fear had no intention of letting him go any time soon.
Shivering harder, he wrapped his arms around his chest and made himself breathe slow and deep. "Nothing to be afraid of." He told himself silently. "Not now, anyway. No use panicking. Just a little while longer, then it'll all be over." He ran his hand over the glass again, trying to calm down. The things he comforted himself with would sound alarming to anyone else, but he didn't care. It didn't matter, none of it did. So what if he was drawing comfort from his own imminent death? Others had reasons to stay alive; he didn't.
He stood straight and turned around to see Elliot standing in the doorway. He let out a startled shout and jumped back, then turned away again. His heart pounded again- it was amazing to him, how his body just never seemed to call it quits no matter how much adrenaline pumped through his body. Surely there had to be a limit somewhere, where the chemicals within him would just run out and he could see something unexpected without startling as though he'd been slapped, but no, it never came.
"Sorry, you startled me; I'm feeling edgy. Did you enjoy your shower?" George said, surprised when he succeeded in sounding calm.
"Yeah, it was fine," Elliot said, shrugging. "But why are you feeling edgy?" he continued softly. "You had been feeling so much better."
Elliot hadn't caught on. George suppressed a relieved sigh. "Just thinking," he muttered. Another lie.
Elliot walked up to him and pulled him close. He turned George in his arms so that they were face to face and cupped George's cheeks with his hands. "Just one more day, then the trial will be done," he murmured. "Then we can move on. I've been thinking about places we can go together, and I was wondering- would you like to go to California with me? Most of my siblings live there, and I think they'd like to meet you. They're, well, they're devout Catholics like I am, but they aren't homophobic like my father was. They're more with the times than that. Maybe we could go and stay with them, and do some other things while we're there- maybe we could go to Magic Mountain or something. I think it would be a lot of fun, and I really think it would be good for you to not only get out of New York, but also to just have some fun for a while."
George smiled weakly. "Sure, that sounds good. Hey, I'm going to take a shower now, okay?"
"Okay," Elliot said softly. He hugged George tightly and kissed his forehead.
It felt so intimate. George bit his lip, looking downwards. Elliot loved him, he really did. The fact only made him want to go through with it more- he didn't want to cause Elliot any more pain. The thought made him desperately want to tell Elliot the truth, and he almost did right then and there. But he didn't. He couldn't.
But the guilt was growing unbearable. No matter what he did, he was still hurting Elliot. If he kept lying to Elliot and eventually killed himself, it would make Elliot feel guilty for not realizing it earlier. If he stuck around, he was still there, which was enough of a reason in and of itself.
He swallowed hard, turned on his heels, and left the room, walking towards the bathroom. He couldn't do this- he couldn't take any more. He had to act soon, but he didn't know what to do, or how to do it.
"Hey, George?" Elliot murmured.
George jumped again, barely suppressing a gasp, and turned around to look at Elliot. Leaning against the wall, he asked, "Hm?"
"I-" Elliot looked at George for a long minute, then shook his head. "Never mind."
"Okay," George said, walking away as quickly as he could. He had to get away from Elliot before he told him everything. He shut the bathroom door and stripped down, then stepped under the shower. It was all ritual by now- turn the shower on so hot that it hurt, just short of scalding temperature, rub his skin raw, let his mind wander, step out once the water turned cold- assuming he didn't send himself into a flashback and need Elliot to help him again.
He leaned against the shower wall, staring at the curtain without taking any of it in. It was so easy to get lost inside himself.
He snapped back when he felt the scorching-hot water stinging his back, the pain simultaneously grounding him and making him feel closer to having a flashback. He always told himself and Elliot that he just made the water that hot and scrubbed so hard because he felt dirty, and that had been the truth at first, but now that was far from the only reason. He wasn't sure when it had changed; if he had been thinking it entirely subconsciously and not realizing it or denying it, or if this was truly the first time it had occurred to him.
Even outside of a flashback, he could still hear them so clearly, taunting him, telling him all the terrible kinds of pain he deserved. The water wasn't nearly as bad as it could be, but until he set everything right, maybe it would be enough.
After a few minutes, he was gritting his teeth from the pain the raw skin on his left arm was causing. He showed himself as little mercy as his attackers had, scrubbing at the same area until it was bleeding, and even then he didn't stop until he started to feel reality slipping away. He bit his lip and moved on to his other arm, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. It hurt, but at least he was doing something. Their voices echoed in his ears. "You deserve it..." Their voices were usually only this persistent after a flashback- ordinarily he could push it away well enough that it barely seemed to be there at all- but he supposed the stress he was under had something to do with it. Stress made him feel anxious and have flashbacks, and since this was just another kind of intrusive recall, he supposed it would work the same.
He shifted to the side and his foot slipped, and he barely managed to keep from falling. He knocked over several containers of soap and shampoo, and leaned over hastily to pick them up. He smiled faintly as he looked at the bottle of Elliot's favorite soap. It was so masculine, so perfect for Elliot. He opened it and inhaled deeply, thinking of the times he'd smelled it on Elliot. I'm going to miss him...
Unbidden tears started falling down his face. He'd meant for this to be quick like a band-aid, but now it was drawn out and painful. He just wanted to get it over with before it became too much, but it already overwhelming.
He sank to his knees, shaking with silent tears. He loved Elliot, wanted him, wanted to wake up every day curled against him, to fall asleep every night lying on Elliot's chest, with his heartbeat in his ears. And it didn't matter that he would be happier without George there, because he hadn't realized it yet, had he? If he had, he wouldn't be doing this, and George wouldn't see the emotions in those blue eyes that he always saw. Elliot shouldn't love him, but he did anyway. If George didn't do anything to force him to move on, there was a chance Elliot would never realize what he was doing.
But it was too late now, there wasn't any going back. Even if he changed his mind, it wasn't as easy as just pretending nothing had happened.
George dug his nails into his shoulder, breathing harshly, trembling and shuddering with each breath. Elliot...
He was lost in himself again, gazing at the floor, not taking it in, not noticing the hot water sliding down his back. The two conflicting desires were wrestling in his head. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't live with the pain and the knowledge of what his existence was causing for everyone else. But Elliot- just the thought of him, his blue eyes and his gentle hold- was making George want to find him and bury his head in his chest.
God damn it, he thought, god damn it. If Elliot had just come home five minutes later, none of this would be happening. Five minutes.
He heard a knock on the door and snapped back to reality, startled to realize that the water had gotten cold, indicating that he had been here for at least an hour.
He didn't want to respond, didn't want to let Elliot know he had been crying, but he didn't have much of a choice. "Yeah?" he called.
"You okay?" Elliot asked. "You've been in there a while."
How many times had Elliot had to ask if George was okay today?
George sighed wearily, nodding, and called, "Yeah, just thinking. Be out in a sec."
He stopped the water, shivering as he realized just how cold he'd gotten, and stepped out of the shower. He dried off and then pulled his clothes on, feeling completely lost. Dazedly, he opened the door, tensing a little when he saw Elliot standing outside.
"You're shaking, what's-" Elliot started to ask, but he stopped when he felt George's arm. "Jesus, you're freezing! Come here," he said softly, gently tugging George towards the bedroom. George complied, following him, feet dragging as the exhaustion caught up with him. Crying had a way of draining the strength away from a person.
They entered the bedroom and Elliot guided George to the bed, laying him down and setting the blanket over him. George shivered harder, curling into himself. He closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep right then and there if not for the cold.
"Why did you do that?" Elliot asked him, stroking George's hair.
George looked up at him for a second. "Didn't know," he mumbled, leaning into Elliot's touch.
"You didn't know the water had gotten ice-cold?" Elliot repeated.
George nodded once, rubbing at the goosebumps on his arms. "I was thinking."
"About?" Elliot prodded.
George shook his head. "Nothing."
Elliot started to protest, but then he stopped, apparently coming to a decision. "I'm going to get you some tea. If you still don't want to tell me when I come back, I won't force you to, but if you can, I want to know what upset you," Elliot said.
"How'd you know I was upset?" George asked wearily.
Elliot smiled sadly. "I can just tell. Something's been off with you all day, and it was worse when you left the room. And you don't usually space out like that, so it's pretty obvious something's been upsetting you."
George nodded, but didn't speak. He leaned into the pillow and tried to relax.
He had almost fallen asleep when Elliot came back with a mug of hot water with a teabag steeping in it. Elliot shook his shoulder gently, and George flinched, but not nearly as violently as he had earlier. Sitting up, George grabbed the mug and dragged the teabag through the water, watching as the tea gradually turned the water darker.
He looked up at Elliot, who he could tell was waiting for him to say something. George shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this," he admitted. "I'm just overwhelmed, and I don't feel up to talking about it. I just need to think."
"Okay," Elliot said simply. He stood and started walking around the bed to get in on his side. He stopped for a minute and looked at the floor, then leaned down and picked something up.
A piece of paper.
The one George had written his suicide note on.
George felt his pocket, confirming what he already knew; somehow, the note had fallen out of his pocket when he'd walked to the shower. "Elliot! Wait, don't-" he began desperately, but Elliot was already unfolding and reading it.
George fell back against the pillows, feeling panic begin to set in.
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Darkest Nights