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drsquidloveSomeone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4410
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 10: Art class
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 9, Basketball:
Elliot decided they should play some basketball. The game was rough and sweaty and, um, surprising. Elliot was rattled - he couldn't deny the attraction, but he was working on some rationalisations. Toby's hunger for Chris was reawakened, sharper than before.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot rubbed his eyes and refocused on the wet road. Eight hours of pounding pavements all over Midtown in the drizzling rain followed by six of digging through photos and files had left him cross-eyed, and he probably should have slept in the crib. But he was almost home now, and he was going to be damned grateful when he fell into his own bed - as long as the steady scrape of the wipers didn't put him to sleep on the way. His jaw broke open on a yawn, and the screech of the phone made him jump.
He had a good idea who it was but he checked anyway. Toby again. Elliot let it ring.
It had been a week since the basketball game, and he hadn't spoken to Toby. Until an hour ago, and again half an hour ago, Toby hadn't called him either.
Ring. Ring. Echoing through the car.
Every time he thought of that game, something whispered through him, and every time a cold prickle followed.
They needed to get back to normal but Elliot was half-asleep at the wheel and he wasn't going to deal with it tonight. He'd call Toby tomorrow. It rang off and Elliot sighed at the sudden quiet, just the hiss of tyres and the rub-rub of the wipers and the fight to keep his eyes open. He should have crashed in the crib.
The phone chirped, and he gritted his teeth. With a silent apology to the traffic gods he checked the text.
'Sorry. Please come over.'
Something was wrong. An exit for Brooklyn rolled up, but Elliot shook his head and kept driving towards home. He couldn't deal with Toby tonight.
It put a lie to Elliot telling himself nothing happened on the court. Or that whatever it was that happened didn't mean anything. Elliot hadn't had time to call Toby because he'd been buried, ploughing through the backlog of paperwork until Cragen asked if everything was all right at home. Maybe Cragen had forgotten that he didn't need to work extra hours to avoid Kathy and the kids anymore. Elliot thought he'd kept his mood to himself but Finn wasn't talking to him again, so maybe not.
It was five minutes to home, forty to Toby's, and Elliot was exhausted. He wanted to fall in bed and sleep for a week; he had five hours. Another exit loomed.
'Sorry. Please come over.' That message, this late: Toby wouldn't have sent that unless it was bad.
Toby had been there for him after more than one bad day. If what happened at basketball was nothing, Elliot shouldn't have hesitated to give it back.
Of course it was nothing. Elliot rubbed his aching eyes and took the next exit.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the time Elliot got to Park Slope, he'd forgotten the trivial shit and was wide awake worrying what had Toby so upset. More worried when Toby didn't answer his knock. It was too late for pounding on the door so he checked the handle. It was unlocked. Elliot tensed, flicked the tab off his gun but left it holstered as he stepped into the dark apartment. What the fuck was going on?
"Toby?" Nothing seemed out of place.
A heavy breath caught his ear, and he turned to see Toby sitting curled against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. Even in the near-dark, Elliot could see him shake his head, face crumpling.
Elliot came in slowly. Feeling like a cop but he didn't know how else to approach this. Rape flashback? He slid down the wall to sit an arm's length away, and forced himself to wait. He didn't need evidence. There was no perp to chase. Just Toby, who Elliot had been blowing off because he was an idiot. What had been done to him?
Toby looked up and choked on another sob, and Elliot couldn't hang on any longer. "What's happened?"
Toby sucked down a breath and wiped his nose on his sleeve, careful to be quiet. Holly must be home. "We never told her."
"Who?"
Toby tipped back his head, throat pale in the light coming through the window from the street, eyes red. This wasn't the man Elliot knew at all. "When they finally got her talking. She told them Hank took Gary away. Nobody, nobody was supposed to tell her what Hank did to him."
"Somebody told her?" Rape, Elliot's gut was screaming. Toby's little boy was raped. That fucker raped Gary before he killed him and Holly watched.
Toby shook his head, sniffing and rubbing his eyes. "Holly's art teacher called me in today. She's had this for a week; she didn't know what it meant."
Elliot finally noticed the crushed paper in Toby's hand. He took it easily and spread it out, smoothing it against the floor.
It was a hand drawn in black ink, the proportions a little wobbly but not bad for an eleven-year old, until you reached the jagged flesh of the severed wrist, a hint of bone and tendon. Sweet, polite Holly drew this?
Sweet, polite, lone survivor of a kidnap. Elliot finally put the pieces together. This was what the kidnapper did to Toby's eight year-old son. He cut off Gary's hand. And now they knew he did it in front of Holly. Vomit burned deep in his throat, and he had to fight the urge to crash into Holly's room and pull her into his arms. He couldn't imagine how Toby was keeping his ass in here. But Elliot was done being a cop. He reached for Toby and pulled him close, Toby's muffled animal moan carving into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Toby. I'm sorry."
Toby's fingers were digging into his ribs but Elliot only held him tighter, wondering what would be left of his own sanity if this was Lizzie or Kathleen, if that was their picture of Dickie's hand. He always fought so fucking hard to separate his job from his own kids, as much as anyone could, but this wasn't his job, and Toby wasn't someone he could separate.
Toby shuddered in his arms, pushing his quiet crying into Elliot's shirt so he wouldn't wake Holly, who was sleeping behind the hollow door across the room. Elliot held him, his own throat burning, letting Toby drench his shirt until his breathing slowed, and Toby turned his head to speak. "I'm sorry I called you. I didn't know who else-"
"I'm glad you did." Elliot put a hand behind his head, to let him know it was okay to stay where he was. "Is it possible someone told her? Or she overheard?"
Toby reached a finger to trace along that brutal line just below the wrist. "That's exactly where he was cut. Hank Schillinger cut off my baby's hand and he mailed it to me in prison. That's when I knew Gary was dead. It was another ten days before he let Holly go."
Toby got his eight year-old son's severed hand in the mail.
Christ. Elliot stared at Toby's bent head, stroked Toby's hair as his eyes were pulled back to that stark illustration.
Holly had spent ten days alone with the monster who'd cut it off in front of her.
Poor fucking Holly.
And then that monster got off on a technicality.
And then the mob killed him. How many mob guys were serving in Oz?
Elliot's hands tightened, and he was glad that the lights were down as he said this. "Listen, Toby. You can't tell me if you ordered the hit on Hank. You mustn't ever tell me. But if you did, I want you to know I'm fucking glad you did. I want you to know I wouldn't think one bit less of you for it."
Toby didn't say anything, and it was a long wait for Elliot's next breath.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Olivia cocked an eyebrow when she breezed in, dropping her umbrella by her desk. "Didn't expect you to beat me in today."
"Wasn't my plan." He'd ducked out in the early hours before Holly woke, drove through the pouring rain back to Midtown to get a nap in the crib and now he was clutching his super-sized triple-shot coffee for all it was worth.
"I can see that night of sleep did you a world of good."
"Sleep?"
It had been an hour in the crib, but not much of it was sleep. He kept replaying how it felt to have Toby in his arms, solid and warm, clinging to his chest. Under all the impotent protective rage, Elliot couldn't ignore how glad he was to be the one that Toby called. He'd liked that Toby turned to him. He'd liked holding Toby. They'd sat for an hour at least, with Elliot's face pressed into Toby's soft hair, fingers stroking his broad back. And he'd liked it. Just like he used to like holding Kathy, being strong for her when she needed him.
Olivia swung her jacket over the chair and sat, looking like a woman who got her full eight hours. "Your neighbours disturbing the peace again? Maybe you should offer to put some padding behind their bed."
Elliot took a long pull from his coffee. Second today. "Didn't go home. I called Warner, she said the best she can give us is a partial DNA for the Diaz case."
"Partial DNA's a start. You didn't go home?"
"Don't give me that look. A friend had a bad night, so I crashed on his couch."
She put down the papers she'd just picked up. "Tobias Beecher?"
"Yeah, how'd you-"
"Elliot, Liv, we've got a pair of bodies off Sutton Place."
They were on their feet, catching up their jackets before Cragen finished his sentence. "On our way."
Olivia looked at him sideways as they stepped into the elevator. "How many friends do you have?"
"More than one." Only one he spoke to every second day, except for when he was being an ass and didn't call him for a week.
Elliot wanted to tell her, and he didn't. He didn't know how to start, and if he did, he knew he'd explain it wrong. But she was one of the few people who might know what to say, so as she pulled the car into the rain, he said, "You remember his daughter was kidnapped?"
"I remember." She flicked the wipers to a higher setting. It was going to be hell working a scene in this.
"He had a son, as well."
He felt her sideways glance. "He didn't make it?"
"The bastard mailed the kid's hand to Toby in prison." And then held Holly for another ten days.
She gave him a long look, eyes wide. "Proof of life?"
"Spite."
"Hell." She changed lanes, passed a taxi. "What was his beef with Toby?"
"I don't know." He'd never thought to ask.
"They catch the guy?"
"Yeah." Elliot left it at that. In the daylight, in the real world, the idea of Toby ordering a hit with the mafia seemed absurd, but he still didn't want Olivia even thinking about it.
They stopped at a set of lights and Liv glanced over with that thoughtful look that said she was making up her mind about something he probably didn't think was any of her business.
"What?"
She hesitated long enough for him to be sure he was right. "Nothing."
"You don't approve of me being friends with him because he was a witness, an ex-con, or because he's gay?"
"Don't be an idiot, El. I don't disapprove. It's just... I couldn't figure it out before, but it's starting to make sense."
Elliot tried not to get defensive, but he realised his arms were folded, and he was failing. "This ought to be good."
Olivia ploughed on anyway. "I think you've seen a lot of victims, and maybe you've found one that you can attach to."
"That's your diagnosis? I've decided to rescue him, on behalf of every case we've worked?"
She sighed. "You invest yourself in your victims. It's what makes you so good at this job. And finally here's a guy with all the scars, but you don't owe it to him to solve his case."
"That's not how it is."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. There was something going on before I even knew about that other stuff, some kind of connection from that very first meeting."
There was just a half-second's pause, long enough for Elliot to feel the gap and rewind what he'd just said, and realise there was no way in hell to take it back.
"Attraction?"
Shit.
He twisted in his seat to face her, ready to take it head-on but she raised a hand to stop him, eyes fierce as she negotiated her way through the traffic.
It hadn't been the first interview, really. It was the second, when he saw Toby with Holly, that Elliot had looked closer and noticed there was more to Toby than a skel.
Olivia drove another half-block before swinging the car into a loading zone and giving him her full attention.
"Crime scene, Liv."
"They're already dead. They can wait an extra two minutes." They stared at each other, until Olivia threw up her hands. "Would it really kill you to talk to me?"
"Might."
"Do it anyway." She said it gently, and it made his throat burn.
Elliot slouched back in his seat. Rain pattered on the roof and trickled down the windows, blocking out the city. It was just the two of them, and the car wasn't going another foot until he gave her something. "It's not... I don't know what it is. There's some kind of... connection. I don't know a better word for it." He wasn't going to call it a crush. Or that word she just used. It wasn't like that.
"So does that mean the two of you are..."
"No!" He'd admitted to a little confusion, and she had them shacking up together? "It's not like that." There were just certain things that guys didn't feel for other guys. Protectiveness. Tenderness. A particular kind of buzz at hanging out. Elliot could feel all that stuff for Liv, and never doubt it was all platonic. "He's just... I like hanging out with the guy, all right? I can talk to him, better than I've been able to talk to anyone in a long time." Since Kathy.
Elliot hadn't ever thought about kissing Olivia the way he'd thought about Toby on that basketball court. He'd tried not to think about that since, but sometimes...
She took her time digesting that. "Does he have feelings for you?"
"I don't know."
Her look called him a liar, even if she wouldn't dare say it. Of course he knew. He knew every time Toby's gaze lingered. "So are you going to figure it out?"
"There's nothing to figure out. We're friends."
She considered that for a while, and the little part of him that wasn't burning with humiliation for everything he'd just admitted was sitting up and begging for her to spout some Yoda-like wisdom. "Elliot... How hard are you going to kick yourself if you let this all just slide by?"
No one knew him like Olivia did. Elliot turned to face the front.
She finally threw the indicator on and pulled back into the street. "I gotta tell you, Elliot. I didn't see this one coming."
"You can't be more shocked than me."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
She smiled and shook her head, and Elliot wished he could tell her how much it meant that she had his back.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two bodies, partially undressed, around twenty. Probably college students, shot while making out in Mom's Mercedes under the Queensboro Bridge. Wallets and jewellery were gone; robbery seemed likely. It should have been a Homicide case, but Elliot was grateful he wasn't going to be looking at the bodies of little kids today. He kept flashing on the image of Holly with a stump for a hand, and wondering how Toby kept himself together.
He couldn't believe he'd told Olivia all that stuff. He hardly believed it himself, and now it was out there. Real. Elliot kept checking to see if Olivia was staring but she was focused as always, talking with the jogger who'd stumbled across the scene. Jogging at eight am in the pouring rain - freak.
It had slowed to a light drizzle now. The forensics from outside the car were long gone, but at least he wasn't going to be cold and wet on top of exhausted and confused.
'So are you going to figure it out?' Olivia had asked, as if that was something you did. Just turn into someone else sometime in your late thirties.
Was Elliot in turmoil because Toby was a victim? The thing was, most of the time he wasn't. Most of the time, he was Toby: funny and self-deprecating and understanding, driven by love for his family and a load of guilt and the weight of fixing his mistakes. He'd come to terms with the shit in his life in a way that awed Elliot, a little. There'd been no room for pity until last night.
Last night.
Toby had clutched at him, fingers digging into Elliot's shoulder and ribs, face pressed to Elliot's chest, hair tickling his throat. Elliot held him until his arms ached and then went numb, Toby slowly fading to dead weight as his breathing slowed and steadied.
Elliot had wondered if there was more going on than that godawful picture, still lying open in view. Maybe it was years of fear and guilt and anger let loose. Maybe Toby had no one else to lean on but his eleven year-old daughter.
Beneath all the grief, Elliot had felt good holding Toby. He wanted to talk to Toby about it, not Olivia. He wanted Toby to make him understand what was going on, to explain it all away in that practical, matter-of-fact way he had. Toby could tell him it was just the way divorce screwed you up, made you crave to be close with someone, that Elliot's situation was different from Toby's. Elliot was a man with choices, women everywhere, and he'd get past this confusion.
He'd held Toby for over an hour before gently getting him to his feet and persuading him towards bed. Elliot had considered sitting by him, but by then Toby was more asleep than awake, so Elliot crashed on the couch just to be sure there were no nightmares.
Holly never made a peep.
O'Halloran caught Elliot's eye and signalled him around to the other side of the car with Liv, talked them through blood patterns and trajectories. Female vic first, shot through the shoulder from around a foot away, and then point blank to the front of the head. The male through the back from behind as he tried to exit the car. Warner concurred, pointing to bruising that indicated the gun was pushed to the woman's head before the second shot. She put the time of death between two and four am.
Olivia flipped her notes shut. "Car's registered to a Bao Pham in the apartment around the corner. Time to inform their families."
Elliot checked his watch. Just past nine-thirty. "Mind if I make a call, first?" She waved him off and he found a dry spot overlooking the river.
Toby picked up after a couple of rings. "Hello?"
"Hey. I'm sorry to bother you at work. I just wanted to see if you're okay."
"God, Elliot, I'm sorry about last night." He sounded exhausted.
"What are you sorry for?"
"Dragging you over in the middle of the night. Bawling like an idiot. Passing out. I don't even remember you leaving."
"Toby..." Elliot didn't know how to explain how much he didn't need an apology. "Toby, I'm glad you called me. You can call me anytime."
"With all the shit you deal with at work, all the people who lean on you, you don't need me-"
"I called to find out how you're doing." It didn't seem like he was going to win an argument about last night, so Elliot pushed right past it.
"I'm fine. You're at work, you shouldn't-"
"Yes, I'm at work, so I don't have time to harangue you into looking after yourself." Elliot checked; Olivia was waiting by the car, scribbling in her notebook. He wished he could dump all this and drive straight to Toby's office in Brooklyn, make him understand how much Elliot wanted Toby to let him help. "Can I come over tonight?"
"Seriously, Elliot, I'm okay."
"It's not just about last night."
"I'm going to spend some time with Holly tonight."
Olivia was watching Elliot now, trying not to look impatient. Elliot couldn't argue with Toby spending time with Holly. He flashed on that drawing, and shuddered. "All right. I'll call you tomorrow. Take care."
"Sure."
Toby didn't get it. Elliot wasn't just trying to be nice. He wanted to see Toby was okay with his own eyes, and shoot the breeze over pasta. He wanted... He didn't know what the fuck he wanted.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby dropped the phone back on the bedside table and rubbed his hands over his gummy face, pressed fingers against his aching temples. He'd slept in his contacts, and it felt like there was sandpaper in his eyes. He felt like he was coming down from the hit he'd been craving so hard yesterday. If Elliot had any idea what was going through Toby's head last night, he wouldn't have been so willing to stay. The basketball game had been bad enough, but last night... a man like Elliot Stabler would never hold Toby half the night, but Chris would.
How many times had Toby buried his face in Chris's broad chest in a shadowed corner of their pod? Arms strong enough and dangerous enough to fight off all the monsters, nothing better to do with the passing hours than hold Toby, stroke his hair, whisper comforting nonsense?
Holly's gruesome picture had shoved him straight back to Oz, angry and helpless as everything he loved went to shit, but then Chris was alive, the scent and strength of him bolder than any dream, getting Toby through one more miserable night.
Toby didn't want to see Elliot tonight. He hadn't wanted Elliot to call. He wanted to believe that Christopher Keller had manifested to be with him, a promise that he was watching over him, waiting for Toby until they could storm heaven together. That was what got Toby out of bed this morning, helped him force a smile on his face as he woke Holly and pretended his heart hadn't broken for her all over again while he made her breakfast and packed her off to school.
As soon as the door closed behind her he'd called in sick to work and collapsed back in bed, grasping for memories of dreams, but Chris wouldn't hold him, wasn't snoring in the bunk below, wasn't anywhere. Chris was dead, and Toby didn't need Elliot reminding him that he'd never been there in the first place.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby woke to the wail of sirens hurtling down Union Street, his sluggish brain struggling to understand why things felt off. The room was too bright, his head was stuffy... It was midday. He'd spent the night crying on Chris's shoulder, and this morning he'd gone back to bed in a ball of exhaustion and self-pity. Not Chris's shoulder - Elliot's. Jesus.
He dragged himself to the bathroom, put drops in his sandy eyes and stumbled into the shower, let the water wash away the mud of oversleeping. He felt almost human as he picked up his towel to dry off. Human enough to hope Elliot didn't mind what a jerk he'd been on the phone this morning. Toby didn't remember what he'd said, but he was sure he hadn't done much of a job hiding his resentment.
Towel around his waist, Toby headed to the kitchen and threw a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster. The suffocating pressure of Chris Keller had faded, and with a few hours of decent sleep, Toby was realising how generous Elliot had been to baby sit him. It was one thing for a lover to hold you through the night. He didn't know a lot of straight guys who would have done it, and yet this morning Toby had just resented him for not being Chris. He was going to fix that.
First, though, he had to figure out what to do about Holly. His stomach clenched. His little girl had watched Hank fucking Schillinger hack his little boy's hand off. She'd probably watched Hank murder Gary. And then she spent eleven days not knowing if it was going to happen to her, and all the years since keeping that horror to herself. Toby wanted to murder that son of a bitch all over again. A memory drifted by, of Elliot telling Toby it was okay to put that hit out on Hank. Or maybe that was just Chris muddled in.
He'd told Elliot once that it was easier to die for your kids than to live for them, and deal with everything you'd inflicted. And here it was, exhibit A. Back in his first days out of Oz, he'd hovered and fretted, four years too late but trying to fix things, badgering the therapist about how Holly was doing. Ling had eventually sat Toby down and told him Holly had made remarkable progress, that if there was more to deal with then Holly would let it out in her own time. So was that picture a way for Holly to work herself through her fears, or had she been waiting for the teacher to pass it along?
As he sat at the table, munching on toast and jelly that turned to prison food in his mouth, he realised he'd done the right thing calling in sick. Even if it had just been self-pity at the time, Toby never would have been in a decent state to deal with Holly tonight if he'd suffered through a day in the office. He didn't know if he was going to be in any state to do it even now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 10
Dr Squidlove clutches feedback tight with all tentacles. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4410
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 10: Art class
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 9, Basketball:
Elliot decided they should play some basketball. The game was rough and sweaty and, um, surprising. Elliot was rattled - he couldn't deny the attraction, but he was working on some rationalisations. Toby's hunger for Chris was reawakened, sharper than before.
Elliot rubbed his eyes and refocused on the wet road. Eight hours of pounding pavements all over Midtown in the drizzling rain followed by six of digging through photos and files had left him cross-eyed, and he probably should have slept in the crib. But he was almost home now, and he was going to be damned grateful when he fell into his own bed - as long as the steady scrape of the wipers didn't put him to sleep on the way. His jaw broke open on a yawn, and the screech of the phone made him jump.
He had a good idea who it was but he checked anyway. Toby again. Elliot let it ring.
It had been a week since the basketball game, and he hadn't spoken to Toby. Until an hour ago, and again half an hour ago, Toby hadn't called him either.
Ring. Ring. Echoing through the car.
Every time he thought of that game, something whispered through him, and every time a cold prickle followed.
They needed to get back to normal but Elliot was half-asleep at the wheel and he wasn't going to deal with it tonight. He'd call Toby tomorrow. It rang off and Elliot sighed at the sudden quiet, just the hiss of tyres and the rub-rub of the wipers and the fight to keep his eyes open. He should have crashed in the crib.
The phone chirped, and he gritted his teeth. With a silent apology to the traffic gods he checked the text.
'Sorry. Please come over.'
Something was wrong. An exit for Brooklyn rolled up, but Elliot shook his head and kept driving towards home. He couldn't deal with Toby tonight.
It put a lie to Elliot telling himself nothing happened on the court. Or that whatever it was that happened didn't mean anything. Elliot hadn't had time to call Toby because he'd been buried, ploughing through the backlog of paperwork until Cragen asked if everything was all right at home. Maybe Cragen had forgotten that he didn't need to work extra hours to avoid Kathy and the kids anymore. Elliot thought he'd kept his mood to himself but Finn wasn't talking to him again, so maybe not.
It was five minutes to home, forty to Toby's, and Elliot was exhausted. He wanted to fall in bed and sleep for a week; he had five hours. Another exit loomed.
'Sorry. Please come over.' That message, this late: Toby wouldn't have sent that unless it was bad.
Toby had been there for him after more than one bad day. If what happened at basketball was nothing, Elliot shouldn't have hesitated to give it back.
Of course it was nothing. Elliot rubbed his aching eyes and took the next exit.
By the time Elliot got to Park Slope, he'd forgotten the trivial shit and was wide awake worrying what had Toby so upset. More worried when Toby didn't answer his knock. It was too late for pounding on the door so he checked the handle. It was unlocked. Elliot tensed, flicked the tab off his gun but left it holstered as he stepped into the dark apartment. What the fuck was going on?
"Toby?" Nothing seemed out of place.
A heavy breath caught his ear, and he turned to see Toby sitting curled against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. Even in the near-dark, Elliot could see him shake his head, face crumpling.
Elliot came in slowly. Feeling like a cop but he didn't know how else to approach this. Rape flashback? He slid down the wall to sit an arm's length away, and forced himself to wait. He didn't need evidence. There was no perp to chase. Just Toby, who Elliot had been blowing off because he was an idiot. What had been done to him?
Toby looked up and choked on another sob, and Elliot couldn't hang on any longer. "What's happened?"
Toby sucked down a breath and wiped his nose on his sleeve, careful to be quiet. Holly must be home. "We never told her."
"Who?"
Toby tipped back his head, throat pale in the light coming through the window from the street, eyes red. This wasn't the man Elliot knew at all. "When they finally got her talking. She told them Hank took Gary away. Nobody, nobody was supposed to tell her what Hank did to him."
"Somebody told her?" Rape, Elliot's gut was screaming. Toby's little boy was raped. That fucker raped Gary before he killed him and Holly watched.
Toby shook his head, sniffing and rubbing his eyes. "Holly's art teacher called me in today. She's had this for a week; she didn't know what it meant."
Elliot finally noticed the crushed paper in Toby's hand. He took it easily and spread it out, smoothing it against the floor.
It was a hand drawn in black ink, the proportions a little wobbly but not bad for an eleven-year old, until you reached the jagged flesh of the severed wrist, a hint of bone and tendon. Sweet, polite Holly drew this?
Sweet, polite, lone survivor of a kidnap. Elliot finally put the pieces together. This was what the kidnapper did to Toby's eight year-old son. He cut off Gary's hand. And now they knew he did it in front of Holly. Vomit burned deep in his throat, and he had to fight the urge to crash into Holly's room and pull her into his arms. He couldn't imagine how Toby was keeping his ass in here. But Elliot was done being a cop. He reached for Toby and pulled him close, Toby's muffled animal moan carving into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Toby. I'm sorry."
Toby's fingers were digging into his ribs but Elliot only held him tighter, wondering what would be left of his own sanity if this was Lizzie or Kathleen, if that was their picture of Dickie's hand. He always fought so fucking hard to separate his job from his own kids, as much as anyone could, but this wasn't his job, and Toby wasn't someone he could separate.
Toby shuddered in his arms, pushing his quiet crying into Elliot's shirt so he wouldn't wake Holly, who was sleeping behind the hollow door across the room. Elliot held him, his own throat burning, letting Toby drench his shirt until his breathing slowed, and Toby turned his head to speak. "I'm sorry I called you. I didn't know who else-"
"I'm glad you did." Elliot put a hand behind his head, to let him know it was okay to stay where he was. "Is it possible someone told her? Or she overheard?"
Toby reached a finger to trace along that brutal line just below the wrist. "That's exactly where he was cut. Hank Schillinger cut off my baby's hand and he mailed it to me in prison. That's when I knew Gary was dead. It was another ten days before he let Holly go."
Toby got his eight year-old son's severed hand in the mail.
Christ. Elliot stared at Toby's bent head, stroked Toby's hair as his eyes were pulled back to that stark illustration.
Holly had spent ten days alone with the monster who'd cut it off in front of her.
Poor fucking Holly.
And then that monster got off on a technicality.
And then the mob killed him. How many mob guys were serving in Oz?
Elliot's hands tightened, and he was glad that the lights were down as he said this. "Listen, Toby. You can't tell me if you ordered the hit on Hank. You mustn't ever tell me. But if you did, I want you to know I'm fucking glad you did. I want you to know I wouldn't think one bit less of you for it."
Toby didn't say anything, and it was a long wait for Elliot's next breath.
Olivia cocked an eyebrow when she breezed in, dropping her umbrella by her desk. "Didn't expect you to beat me in today."
"Wasn't my plan." He'd ducked out in the early hours before Holly woke, drove through the pouring rain back to Midtown to get a nap in the crib and now he was clutching his super-sized triple-shot coffee for all it was worth.
"I can see that night of sleep did you a world of good."
"Sleep?"
It had been an hour in the crib, but not much of it was sleep. He kept replaying how it felt to have Toby in his arms, solid and warm, clinging to his chest. Under all the impotent protective rage, Elliot couldn't ignore how glad he was to be the one that Toby called. He'd liked that Toby turned to him. He'd liked holding Toby. They'd sat for an hour at least, with Elliot's face pressed into Toby's soft hair, fingers stroking his broad back. And he'd liked it. Just like he used to like holding Kathy, being strong for her when she needed him.
Olivia swung her jacket over the chair and sat, looking like a woman who got her full eight hours. "Your neighbours disturbing the peace again? Maybe you should offer to put some padding behind their bed."
Elliot took a long pull from his coffee. Second today. "Didn't go home. I called Warner, she said the best she can give us is a partial DNA for the Diaz case."
"Partial DNA's a start. You didn't go home?"
"Don't give me that look. A friend had a bad night, so I crashed on his couch."
She put down the papers she'd just picked up. "Tobias Beecher?"
"Yeah, how'd you-"
"Elliot, Liv, we've got a pair of bodies off Sutton Place."
They were on their feet, catching up their jackets before Cragen finished his sentence. "On our way."
Olivia looked at him sideways as they stepped into the elevator. "How many friends do you have?"
"More than one." Only one he spoke to every second day, except for when he was being an ass and didn't call him for a week.
Elliot wanted to tell her, and he didn't. He didn't know how to start, and if he did, he knew he'd explain it wrong. But she was one of the few people who might know what to say, so as she pulled the car into the rain, he said, "You remember his daughter was kidnapped?"
"I remember." She flicked the wipers to a higher setting. It was going to be hell working a scene in this.
"He had a son, as well."
He felt her sideways glance. "He didn't make it?"
"The bastard mailed the kid's hand to Toby in prison." And then held Holly for another ten days.
She gave him a long look, eyes wide. "Proof of life?"
"Spite."
"Hell." She changed lanes, passed a taxi. "What was his beef with Toby?"
"I don't know." He'd never thought to ask.
"They catch the guy?"
"Yeah." Elliot left it at that. In the daylight, in the real world, the idea of Toby ordering a hit with the mafia seemed absurd, but he still didn't want Olivia even thinking about it.
They stopped at a set of lights and Liv glanced over with that thoughtful look that said she was making up her mind about something he probably didn't think was any of her business.
"What?"
She hesitated long enough for him to be sure he was right. "Nothing."
"You don't approve of me being friends with him because he was a witness, an ex-con, or because he's gay?"
"Don't be an idiot, El. I don't disapprove. It's just... I couldn't figure it out before, but it's starting to make sense."
Elliot tried not to get defensive, but he realised his arms were folded, and he was failing. "This ought to be good."
Olivia ploughed on anyway. "I think you've seen a lot of victims, and maybe you've found one that you can attach to."
"That's your diagnosis? I've decided to rescue him, on behalf of every case we've worked?"
She sighed. "You invest yourself in your victims. It's what makes you so good at this job. And finally here's a guy with all the scars, but you don't owe it to him to solve his case."
"That's not how it is."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. There was something going on before I even knew about that other stuff, some kind of connection from that very first meeting."
There was just a half-second's pause, long enough for Elliot to feel the gap and rewind what he'd just said, and realise there was no way in hell to take it back.
"Attraction?"
Shit.
He twisted in his seat to face her, ready to take it head-on but she raised a hand to stop him, eyes fierce as she negotiated her way through the traffic.
It hadn't been the first interview, really. It was the second, when he saw Toby with Holly, that Elliot had looked closer and noticed there was more to Toby than a skel.
Olivia drove another half-block before swinging the car into a loading zone and giving him her full attention.
"Crime scene, Liv."
"They're already dead. They can wait an extra two minutes." They stared at each other, until Olivia threw up her hands. "Would it really kill you to talk to me?"
"Might."
"Do it anyway." She said it gently, and it made his throat burn.
Elliot slouched back in his seat. Rain pattered on the roof and trickled down the windows, blocking out the city. It was just the two of them, and the car wasn't going another foot until he gave her something. "It's not... I don't know what it is. There's some kind of... connection. I don't know a better word for it." He wasn't going to call it a crush. Or that word she just used. It wasn't like that.
"So does that mean the two of you are..."
"No!" He'd admitted to a little confusion, and she had them shacking up together? "It's not like that." There were just certain things that guys didn't feel for other guys. Protectiveness. Tenderness. A particular kind of buzz at hanging out. Elliot could feel all that stuff for Liv, and never doubt it was all platonic. "He's just... I like hanging out with the guy, all right? I can talk to him, better than I've been able to talk to anyone in a long time." Since Kathy.
Elliot hadn't ever thought about kissing Olivia the way he'd thought about Toby on that basketball court. He'd tried not to think about that since, but sometimes...
She took her time digesting that. "Does he have feelings for you?"
"I don't know."
Her look called him a liar, even if she wouldn't dare say it. Of course he knew. He knew every time Toby's gaze lingered. "So are you going to figure it out?"
"There's nothing to figure out. We're friends."
She considered that for a while, and the little part of him that wasn't burning with humiliation for everything he'd just admitted was sitting up and begging for her to spout some Yoda-like wisdom. "Elliot... How hard are you going to kick yourself if you let this all just slide by?"
No one knew him like Olivia did. Elliot turned to face the front.
She finally threw the indicator on and pulled back into the street. "I gotta tell you, Elliot. I didn't see this one coming."
"You can't be more shocked than me."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
She smiled and shook her head, and Elliot wished he could tell her how much it meant that she had his back.
Two bodies, partially undressed, around twenty. Probably college students, shot while making out in Mom's Mercedes under the Queensboro Bridge. Wallets and jewellery were gone; robbery seemed likely. It should have been a Homicide case, but Elliot was grateful he wasn't going to be looking at the bodies of little kids today. He kept flashing on the image of Holly with a stump for a hand, and wondering how Toby kept himself together.
He couldn't believe he'd told Olivia all that stuff. He hardly believed it himself, and now it was out there. Real. Elliot kept checking to see if Olivia was staring but she was focused as always, talking with the jogger who'd stumbled across the scene. Jogging at eight am in the pouring rain - freak.
It had slowed to a light drizzle now. The forensics from outside the car were long gone, but at least he wasn't going to be cold and wet on top of exhausted and confused.
'So are you going to figure it out?' Olivia had asked, as if that was something you did. Just turn into someone else sometime in your late thirties.
Was Elliot in turmoil because Toby was a victim? The thing was, most of the time he wasn't. Most of the time, he was Toby: funny and self-deprecating and understanding, driven by love for his family and a load of guilt and the weight of fixing his mistakes. He'd come to terms with the shit in his life in a way that awed Elliot, a little. There'd been no room for pity until last night.
Last night.
Toby had clutched at him, fingers digging into Elliot's shoulder and ribs, face pressed to Elliot's chest, hair tickling his throat. Elliot held him until his arms ached and then went numb, Toby slowly fading to dead weight as his breathing slowed and steadied.
Elliot had wondered if there was more going on than that godawful picture, still lying open in view. Maybe it was years of fear and guilt and anger let loose. Maybe Toby had no one else to lean on but his eleven year-old daughter.
Beneath all the grief, Elliot had felt good holding Toby. He wanted to talk to Toby about it, not Olivia. He wanted Toby to make him understand what was going on, to explain it all away in that practical, matter-of-fact way he had. Toby could tell him it was just the way divorce screwed you up, made you crave to be close with someone, that Elliot's situation was different from Toby's. Elliot was a man with choices, women everywhere, and he'd get past this confusion.
He'd held Toby for over an hour before gently getting him to his feet and persuading him towards bed. Elliot had considered sitting by him, but by then Toby was more asleep than awake, so Elliot crashed on the couch just to be sure there were no nightmares.
Holly never made a peep.
O'Halloran caught Elliot's eye and signalled him around to the other side of the car with Liv, talked them through blood patterns and trajectories. Female vic first, shot through the shoulder from around a foot away, and then point blank to the front of the head. The male through the back from behind as he tried to exit the car. Warner concurred, pointing to bruising that indicated the gun was pushed to the woman's head before the second shot. She put the time of death between two and four am.
Olivia flipped her notes shut. "Car's registered to a Bao Pham in the apartment around the corner. Time to inform their families."
Elliot checked his watch. Just past nine-thirty. "Mind if I make a call, first?" She waved him off and he found a dry spot overlooking the river.
Toby picked up after a couple of rings. "Hello?"
"Hey. I'm sorry to bother you at work. I just wanted to see if you're okay."
"God, Elliot, I'm sorry about last night." He sounded exhausted.
"What are you sorry for?"
"Dragging you over in the middle of the night. Bawling like an idiot. Passing out. I don't even remember you leaving."
"Toby..." Elliot didn't know how to explain how much he didn't need an apology. "Toby, I'm glad you called me. You can call me anytime."
"With all the shit you deal with at work, all the people who lean on you, you don't need me-"
"I called to find out how you're doing." It didn't seem like he was going to win an argument about last night, so Elliot pushed right past it.
"I'm fine. You're at work, you shouldn't-"
"Yes, I'm at work, so I don't have time to harangue you into looking after yourself." Elliot checked; Olivia was waiting by the car, scribbling in her notebook. He wished he could dump all this and drive straight to Toby's office in Brooklyn, make him understand how much Elliot wanted Toby to let him help. "Can I come over tonight?"
"Seriously, Elliot, I'm okay."
"It's not just about last night."
"I'm going to spend some time with Holly tonight."
Olivia was watching Elliot now, trying not to look impatient. Elliot couldn't argue with Toby spending time with Holly. He flashed on that drawing, and shuddered. "All right. I'll call you tomorrow. Take care."
"Sure."
Toby didn't get it. Elliot wasn't just trying to be nice. He wanted to see Toby was okay with his own eyes, and shoot the breeze over pasta. He wanted... He didn't know what the fuck he wanted.
Toby dropped the phone back on the bedside table and rubbed his hands over his gummy face, pressed fingers against his aching temples. He'd slept in his contacts, and it felt like there was sandpaper in his eyes. He felt like he was coming down from the hit he'd been craving so hard yesterday. If Elliot had any idea what was going through Toby's head last night, he wouldn't have been so willing to stay. The basketball game had been bad enough, but last night... a man like Elliot Stabler would never hold Toby half the night, but Chris would.
How many times had Toby buried his face in Chris's broad chest in a shadowed corner of their pod? Arms strong enough and dangerous enough to fight off all the monsters, nothing better to do with the passing hours than hold Toby, stroke his hair, whisper comforting nonsense?
Holly's gruesome picture had shoved him straight back to Oz, angry and helpless as everything he loved went to shit, but then Chris was alive, the scent and strength of him bolder than any dream, getting Toby through one more miserable night.
Toby didn't want to see Elliot tonight. He hadn't wanted Elliot to call. He wanted to believe that Christopher Keller had manifested to be with him, a promise that he was watching over him, waiting for Toby until they could storm heaven together. That was what got Toby out of bed this morning, helped him force a smile on his face as he woke Holly and pretended his heart hadn't broken for her all over again while he made her breakfast and packed her off to school.
As soon as the door closed behind her he'd called in sick to work and collapsed back in bed, grasping for memories of dreams, but Chris wouldn't hold him, wasn't snoring in the bunk below, wasn't anywhere. Chris was dead, and Toby didn't need Elliot reminding him that he'd never been there in the first place.
Toby woke to the wail of sirens hurtling down Union Street, his sluggish brain struggling to understand why things felt off. The room was too bright, his head was stuffy... It was midday. He'd spent the night crying on Chris's shoulder, and this morning he'd gone back to bed in a ball of exhaustion and self-pity. Not Chris's shoulder - Elliot's. Jesus.
He dragged himself to the bathroom, put drops in his sandy eyes and stumbled into the shower, let the water wash away the mud of oversleeping. He felt almost human as he picked up his towel to dry off. Human enough to hope Elliot didn't mind what a jerk he'd been on the phone this morning. Toby didn't remember what he'd said, but he was sure he hadn't done much of a job hiding his resentment.
Towel around his waist, Toby headed to the kitchen and threw a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster. The suffocating pressure of Chris Keller had faded, and with a few hours of decent sleep, Toby was realising how generous Elliot had been to baby sit him. It was one thing for a lover to hold you through the night. He didn't know a lot of straight guys who would have done it, and yet this morning Toby had just resented him for not being Chris. He was going to fix that.
First, though, he had to figure out what to do about Holly. His stomach clenched. His little girl had watched Hank fucking Schillinger hack his little boy's hand off. She'd probably watched Hank murder Gary. And then she spent eleven days not knowing if it was going to happen to her, and all the years since keeping that horror to herself. Toby wanted to murder that son of a bitch all over again. A memory drifted by, of Elliot telling Toby it was okay to put that hit out on Hank. Or maybe that was just Chris muddled in.
He'd told Elliot once that it was easier to die for your kids than to live for them, and deal with everything you'd inflicted. And here it was, exhibit A. Back in his first days out of Oz, he'd hovered and fretted, four years too late but trying to fix things, badgering the therapist about how Holly was doing. Ling had eventually sat Toby down and told him Holly had made remarkable progress, that if there was more to deal with then Holly would let it out in her own time. So was that picture a way for Holly to work herself through her fears, or had she been waiting for the teacher to pass it along?
As he sat at the table, munching on toast and jelly that turned to prison food in his mouth, he realised he'd done the right thing calling in sick. Even if it had just been self-pity at the time, Toby never would have been in a decent state to deal with Holly tonight if he'd suffered through a day in the office. He didn't know if he was going to be in any state to do it even now.
end chapter 10
Dr Squidlove clutches feedback tight with all tentacles. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-23 06:41 pm (UTC)She sighed. "You invest yourself in your victims. It's what makes you so good at this job. And finally here's a guy with all the scars, but you don't owe it to him to solve his case."
"That's not how it is."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. There was something going on before I even knew about that other stuff, some kind of connection from that very first meeting."
There was just a half-second's pause, long enough for Elliot to feel the gap and rewind what he'd just said, and realise there was no way in hell to take it back.
"Attraction?"
Shit.
Busted!
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 10:06 am (UTC)Poor Holly.I never fully realised how horrific the kidnap was until I dug in to write this. Even if she hadn't seen Gary murdered, in canon there was time for the hand to be mailed, and then for the body to be found, and for the funeral, and for Toby to get back to some sense of normalcy, and for all that, Holly was alone.
Heh, I love the Elliot-Olivia partnership, and never more than when one of them is calling bullshit on the other.
Thank you!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-23 07:15 pm (UTC)Elliot comforting Toby was very moving also.
The other shoe will drop hard soon.
Can't wait cause I love drama, and I suspect we have a happy ending to look forward to.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 10:12 am (UTC)Thanks mazephoenix!
Poor Holly. Possibly the only person on the show with as much trauma as Toby. She doesn't even get Elliot-hugs as trade-off.
Yeah, I reckon I can squeeze in some drama, for you. Somewhere in here...
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 10:13 am (UTC)Thank you and hello, Joe!
Heh. Yes, there are a few crimes to work through, but maybe Elliot doesn't need to know about *all* of them. :-)
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 02:38 am (UTC)The conversation with Olivia, well done, I can't articulate why I liked it, I just do.
I can definitely understand the urge to rescue someone and how that powerful feeling can push one towards other emotions, it's a fine line to tread. It's a legitimate excuse that E can turn to in order to admit his feelings for Toby, more acceptable than homosexual yearnings.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 10:26 am (UTC)You skipped the violent bits? How much was left?
Gary's death was so awful, but I hadn't ever really got the true horror of Holly until I wrote this. She was missing for long enough for the hand to be mailed, and for the funeral, and for Mukada to beg Vern for her life... That's a really long time.
I'm so happy you like Olivia and Elliot talking. I like them talking, too. Maybe just because it's a change from them not-talking. :-)
And oh, Chris. I'm trying very hard to shank your heart with him, so yay! Stab, stab!
Thanks helvetica!
S.
Chapter 10
Date: 2014-10-24 07:11 pm (UTC)Re: Chapter 10
Date: 2014-10-24 07:14 pm (UTC)Re: Chapter 10
Date: 2015-09-16 10:27 pm (UTC)Oh, crap, I don't know how I missed replying to this.
And you're anonymous, so you'll probably never know I eventually came back to reply.
But thank you so much!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-26 12:02 pm (UTC)Olivia is so perceptive, and I wonder if Elliot opening up just a little to her, will make him more receptive to Toby. But if it does, will it break Toby out of his delusions about Chris, or feed them even further...
Oh what a tangled web you weave, dear doctor and I'm fascinated by every single twisty thread.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-26 12:47 pm (UTC)Ouch, yes. Oz was seriously, seriously cruel to Toby's family. To everyone, really, but especially Toby's family. I'm actually sticking very close to canon through the story - painting in a few details here and there, like that Holly actually saw what happened to Gary, but canon is cruel enough without adding anything.
That is what makes Olivia so much fun to write. She knows Elliot so well, but she'll only speak her mind when it really matters. And that's why she's so good at digging under Elliot's skin.
S.