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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: 4991 (Really quite long.)
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 38: Smoke
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 37, Something:
Elliot found Toby asleep on the couch, still in his dress. His rage was tempered by the pain of seeing Toby this messed up. In a moment of weakness, he kissed Toby, but soon remembered the rest, and backed off.
He was caught between wanting and anger and pity, but he settled for putting a stop to the worst of Toby's self-abuse. He held it together until he saw Toby naked, rape injuries marked out on his body, but Toby swore he'd asked for all of it. Elliot threw out Toby's dress, and said he'd call Toby.
Toby had a fresh injection of hope. He threw out the rest of his drag supplies, ready to get his life together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot felt Olivia zooming in as soon as she reached the precinct. He'd been saved the effort of avoiding her all morning while he was calling taxi companies and she was out canvassing for the pro from Saturday night, but she had two cups of coffee from the good cafe on 87th and his time was up. She was going to want some kind of explanation for Toby stumbling around the meatpacking district in drag, and Elliot didn't have one.
Thank god the captain was out at some in-service. Elliot didn't know how he'd ever look him in the eye again.
She put the cup of real coffee in front of him and sat on the edge of his desk. Definitely time to talk. He looked around. It was quiet, just a handful of cops and admin absorbed in their jobs. Hardly the place, but maybe this would keep it short and vague.
"Are you and Toby getting back together?"
"No! That's never gonna happen."
The relief on her face made him feel bad for worrying her.
"We broke up. That doesn't mean I want to see him hurt himself."
Olivia rolled that around her brain. "Is that what he was doing?"
"Yes!" What else could it be? Did she think Toby pranced around like that for Elliot? The homophobic asshole in the back of his mind recoiled. He wished Olivia would say something more, but he knew she'd wait. "I don't know how to help him."
"Sometimes you can't help."
"Don't tell me not to." He'd already called him, but Toby hadn't picked up.
She raised a hand. "I'm not." She was thinking it. "El... Is Toby an addict?"
The air slid out of him. "He wasn't high."
"You're sure?"
"He wasn't high. He wasn't drunk. He was stone cold sober." She wouldn't have seen the bruises from that distance. "Don't judge him for how he survived prison. He's been clean a long time, and he was sober last night."
"All right." She thought that was why they broke up. A tendril of relief slid through him. He'd gladly let her believe that over evil twins and serial killer lovers and Toby being a murderer.
Finn and Munch strolled in, and Elliot hoped this talk was going to end soon.
"You told me he was using you."
That's what it had been in the beginning, but it wasn't in the end. "Yeah, well. It's never that simple, is it?"
She was contemplating that when Elliot's cell phone rang.
"Stabler."
"Hi." It was Toby, managing to sound gentle and tentative in a single syllable.
"Hi." He could tell by Olivia's worried eyes that she guessed who it was, but he turned away and went searching for a quiet room.
"I'm sorry. I was in with Beth when you called this morning."
Beth was his counsellor. "That's good."
"I told her everything. About Franco's. About you."
Elliot tried to ignore the way that made his heart thump. He was helping Toby out of a hole, not forgetting what he'd done. He wasn't that much of a sucker.
"I want to apologise for Saturday night," Toby said.
"You don't have to apologise to me."
"I know I hurt you. Again."
"Toby, it's none of my business what-"
"Yes it is." His breath was loud enough to hear down the fuzzy line. "Can I see you?"
"That's not a good idea."
"I want to be the man you thought I was. I want to make it all up to you."
Elliot closed his eyes. "But you're not. And I'm damn sure I'm not." He wished for the thousandth time he hadn't kissed Toby and planted that absurd hope in his head. "You can't fix what you did. I deserve better than you."
"I know. You do, Elliot."
Elliot rubbed his head, wishing Toby would stop being so damned vulnerable. It was making this harder. He had to tell Toby-
The door banged open and Finn stuck his head in, waving a note. "We've got her."
"Hang on." Elliot covered the phone. "What is it?"
"Tamarkin. That snivelling little parolee friend of yours just called. Says she's on her way to drop off a package." He slouched out.
"Toby, I have to go."
"All right."
"I'll call." He snapped his phone shut and snatched up his jacket from his locker, joined Finn at the elevator. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Timing." An escape from Toby. An escape from Olivia, who was watching him from her desk with that special look of concern she saved just for him.
"Whatever. His PO's gonna meet us there."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Langan showed up and threw them out, but he was too late. They had Lida Tamarkin's confession to selling kids. Elliot strode through the anteroom, still feeling blood pump in his fists, the echo of his voice too loud in his ears. He still had her in his nose; the impenetrable stench of garlic and cigarettes had repelled like a layer of armour as he pushed his way in her face, it had blasted on her breath as she shouted right back that she didn't give a goddamn fuck what happened to the little brats. She was going down, not much Langan could do except trade accomplices in to get eighty years down to fifty, but the rage was still ticking in Elliot's bones because this case wasn't done yet. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Fresh air, but he could still smell her. He'd dragged all his hate up to the surface, and he had to push it back.
Leskov was sitting at Munch's desk doing his last read over of his statement, huddled like a hen in a fox house. Elliot needed to walk this off, pump weights, something to take the edge off before he talked to him but he didn't have time. He'd kept an eye on the kid since he sat on his milk crate and agreed to cooperate a month ago. Elliot had stopped by every week to make sure he was still on board, even pestered him into going to a thrift store for a frypan and a couch. Elliot wished he could pretend he didn't see Toby sitting there, cowering. Maybe then he could leave Munch to file the paperwork. Elliot could walk away and he'd never hear from the skel again, but he'd seen the way this guy hunkered down when his PO was around. And he saw Toby, and he couldn't unclench his fists.
Leskov was looking around for Munch to witness his statement and let him go. No time to curl up in lotus and get in touch with his inner om, so Elliot locked it down and headed over. He was going to make a whole mess of problems for the DOC. Elliot was opening his mouth to catch Leskov's attention when his name was barked from Cragen's office. The angry voice. Elliot looked between Cragen and Leskov, who was hunching even tighter. "Captain, I'll just be a-"
"Can you hear my tone, Detective?"
Shit. He didn't have time for a rip. If Cragen would just wait a damned minute to bitch him out, Elliot could pin Leskov down before he scuttled out of here. Elliot was going to go after law enforcement, and this was going to have to be by the book. He needed Leskov.
"Detective Stabler."
Elliot jammed his teeth shut to hold the curse. It was bullshit, but if he wanted to stir up hell, he had to keep his badge, and that meant Cragen's office pronto.
Cragen shut the door hard behind him. "You want to tell me what that was about in there with Tamarkin?"
"I got a confession." There wasn't a damned thing wrong with the way he got it.
"Yeah, and male cops physically intimidating female suspects never looks bad in court." He circled the desk, but didn't take his chair.
"I never touched her! You really think Langan's going to sell her to the jury as some kind of delicate flower?" She could have matched Elliot pound for pound, and he wouldn't have liked his chances of bringing her in against her will.
"Your temper's riding closer and closer to a place where I won't be able to protect you."
Elliot stepped back, incensed. "I was in control!"
"The hell you were! I don't know what's got you so riled up in this case but I've known you a long time, Elliot, and I know when you're putting it on." He stabbed a finger in the air. "You weren't putting it on in there."
Elliot shut his mouth. What was the point of arguing? He'd been in control, and if the captain didn't see that, then Elliot was just going to have to take the bullshit lecture.
Cragen sat, eyes still sharp but he softened his tone. "It's none of my business what's going on in your personal life until it starts affecting your job. If you need to take time off to take care of it, you have to tell me."
So this was where it started. Cragen got an eyeful Elliot's male lover in drag, and now there was special consideration for Elliot's mid-life crisis. "I don't need time off." What would he do with it anyway? Sit at home and worry about Toby. The idea of it made him tired.
"I'm trying to help you. We could save each other a lot of time and effort if you'd trust me." Cragen slouched back, looking ready to wash his hands of his biggest liability.
If he'd trust him. Hadn't Counsellor Number Two - or Three? - asked Elliot why he thought everyone was judging him? Hadn't Elliot promised himself he'd remember how well Cragen took Toby's phone number? Toby told him if he wanted trust, he had to give a little.
"I'm working on it. I'm trying to... I'm finding someone to talk to about my temper. A shrink."
The captain blinked. "Oh. Good."
It was as easy as that. That was the other side of the coin: if you want to knock someone off their game, give in when they least expect it. "Captain, if you want to read me the riot act, I promise I'll come back and take it, but I really need to clear something up with Leskov before Munch sets him free."
Cragen heaved a little sigh. "Go. But Elliot, if you don't start learning when to walk away, I'm going to start doing it for you."
"Understood."
Elliot beat it out of there. He wasn't going to feel guilty about bullying the confession out of Tamarkin. She was a monster, and god knew how many lives she'd ruined. He didn't feel good about how easy it had been to be that man.
Leskov was still waiting; thank god Munch always took so long in the john. Leskov was the other reason Elliot didn't want any time off. He sat beside him, just a little too close, and paid attention to the way he tensed.
"The statement's good?"
Leskov dipped his head in the affirmative, and accepted Elliot's pen to sign it. "Is that all? Can I go?"
"That's Tamarkin taken care of. She won't be able to use you anymore. You're free to go."
"Thanks, Detective."
"Thanks for your help."
Leskov shrugged.
"Now can I help you?"
Surprise and then suspicion crossed Leskov's face. "What do you mean?"
Elliot checked no one was too close, and lowered his voice. "I don't think she's the only one who's been taking advantage of you."
Panic now. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Elliot wanted to push, but it was a long shot to get this guy's trust, and badgering wouldn't do it. "I want to help, but I can only do that if you talk to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Leskov stood and Elliot grabbed his wrist.
He kept his voice low. "I can't do anything about what went on in Lardner, but what happens on the outside is my turf. If you make a complaint, I'll protect you."
"The fuck you will!"
"You can't just let this keep happening. You have to stop thinking like a con, stand up and be a man."
Leskov was looking around in a panic, like his scumbag PO was going to leap out from under a desk. "I don't have to do anything. You can't tell me how to live!"
"I'm trying to help you!"
"I don't want your help!" He tugged and tugged, snapped, "Let go of me!" before Elliot let him loose. "I did what you asked. Now you can leave me alone!"
"Piotr-"
"Go to hell!"
Leskov raced out, and Elliot sat back in time to see Munch wander back in, newspaper under his arm. "Ah, winning over more witnesses with your traditional charm."
"Shut the hell up." Elliot stormed back to his own chair.
"Did you get his state-"
"On your damned desk."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Thanks for calling, Harry."
"Love you, Dad. Bye."
Toby couldn't help the stupid smile breaking on his face. It was the first time Harry had ever said it unprompted. "I love you too."
Mother came in in time to catch the end as he hung up. "How is Harry?"
"Good. Great. He's decided he likes that new teacher."
She put a glass of apple juice down in front of him and sat in the armchair, kicking off her shoes. "He's calling you a lot more lately."
Toby slid his phone onto the table. "He's only turning to me because he's angry at Jonah and Marta for lying to him about Genevieve."
She heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure I can blame them for that."
"I don't. I just wish I'd known." A small, selfish streak wanted to egg on Harry's anger, win points for himself as he divided Harry further from them until Harry clamoured to come to New York, but he was a better man than that, at least. "Harry's a chatterbox, and Holly barely speaks to me. I feel like I've gone through the looking glass."
Mother waved that off. "There are going to be times your children are mad at you, Toby. It's part of parenting."
Toby jammed his teeth together. This wasn't a squabble over Holly eating her vegetables. She'd been at a brand new school for over a week, in a sea of strangers, and all she had to say about it when she got home every day was that it was fine. The teachers were fine, the classes were fine, the kids were fine. He had no idea if she was settling in or sitting alone through lunch. "Has she told you about school?"
"Of course."
"She hasn't told me anything." She talked to him about what to make for dinner, she asked when she needed money or a form signed, but she'd frozen him out of her life since San Diego. Toby needed to sit her down, talk about the screaming match at Harry's birthday, but he had no idea what to say. How could he tell her how much he hated seeing that kind of cruelty in her? How could he tell her he didn't care if it was fair, he would always be desperately grateful that Harry escaped the worst of the damage? He was helpless in the face of her anger.
Mother looked more closely at him, and Toby knew what was coming next. "She'll come around," she said softly. "I'm more worried about you. You've been so unhappy lately."
"I'm fine."
"Have you had a drink?"
"No."
Usually that was enough, but today she held on. He hated that worried look. "Have you been tempted?"
"I'm always tempted."
"How tempted?"
A raw yearning without a rest since Elliot walked out of his life. "I'm an alcoholic, Mother. I'm tempted. But I haven't touched a drop since January."
She should have told him to check his tone, or snapped back that she had every reason to mistrust him, but she just thinned her lips and checked the clock. "Holly will be home from school in twenty minutes; why don't we all go out for ice cream and we'll prod her along?"
"Sure." Holly's distance seemed like the perfect excuse for calling Elliot. Never mind the state you saw me in on Saturday night, Elliot; can you give me some parenting advice? His advice would be that someone living this sort of life had no business being a parent. But Elliot had kissed him, so Toby didn't know what the hell was going on in his head anymore.
"Have you heard from Elliot?"
Toby almost jumped. Had he said something out loud? "No, Mother."
"I can tell you miss him. Why don't you call him?"
"He doesn't want to hear from me." It had been three days since Elliot told Toby he'd call. He'd never put a date on it. What was Toby going to tell her? I ran into him at the weekend, when I was wearing make up and a dress and raw from being fucked by strangers, Mother. It had won him a few hours of pity, but it looked like that had worn off.
But the kiss...
Toby forced his thoughts back to his mother. "What has Holly told you about school? Is she making friends?" That was the rub of real life. In the empty days of prison he could obsess ceaselessly about Chris. Out here your former lover could catch you in a dress, covered in bruises and come, and you had to shove that in a box while you made dinner and worried about your daughter's freshman social world.
"She really hasn't mentioned Kelly or-"
The old-school ring of Mother's cell phone interrupted. No, Holly hadn't mentioned Kelly or anyone else. He passed the phone over, and she answered it. Her face fell. "Holly, what's wrong?"
Toby sat up.
She put her hand out, but Toby wasn't about to calm down when she looked that worried. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Tell me what happened." Her eyes went wide. "You're where?" Toby was ready to rip the phone out of her hand. "We're on our way."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
His mother drove them back to his apartment, and as she searched for a parking spot he thanked her and told her to go home. He could see she wanted to argue, but he was supposed to be the parent here; this was his issue to deal with. And maybe he was feeling a little burned that Holly had called her.
Holly was already in the front door and heading upstairs. He followed her up and inside, all the way to her bedroom, caught the door before she could close it on him and sat down without an invitation. She stood in the middle of the room and pouted.
This was the part where he was supposed to yell, or lecture, or ground her, but Jonah was right: he didn't have the stomach for it. Not with Holly. Not with Holly when she'd been giving him the silent treatment for ten days now.
Holly folded her arms and unfolded them, and sat on the bed, looking like she was determined not to cry, no matter what fire he rained down.
He wanted to ask where she got the cigarettes and why on earth she wanted to smoke and how she'd gone from the fifth grader who wouldn't dare to be late with a library book to the freshman blowing off class to smoke in the math block toilets.
He'd tried to tell the principal that it couldn't have been his daughter: it was all a mix-up, no way would Holly touch a cigarette, but Mrs Diaz could have taught McManus a thing or two about reprimanding the inmates. Toby was still stinging. Holly had been at St Edith's less than two weeks, and had already earned herself a reputation for being sullen and not doing her work. She and two friends had been caught cold when a teacher heard them coughing and choking in a stall. It was like his daughter had been replaced with an alien. Or maybe this was Holly's body-double, just like Chris was Elliot's.
Holly picked her sketchbook up from the bedside table, slid the pen out of the comb as she opened it. Toby reached forward, took the book and the pen, and laid them behind him. "You have my attention. Now what would you like to do with it?"
She just looked at him, sharp cold eyes. She'd worn her hair in a braid today, and all the shorter tendrils at the sides at worn their way loose.
"Do you want me to waste time telling you all the ways smoking is a bad idea? Or can we finally talk about why you're angry with me?"
No answer.
"If you're trying to punish me, this silent treatment is hard enough."
He'd been running through the conversations from Harry's birthday and from the plane trip home for a week and a half, stumped for how to reach her, so he'd let himself drown his inaptitude at Franco's, let himself wrap himself up in second-guessing his relationship with Chris and yearning for Elliot when fixing things with his children should have been the only thing that mattered.
"Are you testing whether I'll still love you if you act out like Harry?" He leaned his elbows on his knees. "Holly, you could burn down the school and I'd still love you. As much as I love you, I'd be angry and worried because you'd still have all the problems you have right now, plus a whole lot more, and I don't want that for you. When my life is hard, I tear it up. Don't learn that from me."
Nothing. Toby never imagined an eleven year-old girl could be so impenetrable. It was getting harder to squeeze the words out as she ignored him, picking at a thread on her blanket. Maybe he should have left her the notebook and pen: then at least he could have gleaned something from her sketches.
"I'm sorry, Holly." He had to clear his throat. "I know I'm not good at this. I know I'm not much of a father. But after all my transgressions, it's caring for Harry that you want to punish me for? You're right, I'm not the one who'll yell at Harry if he gets suspended from school for smoking. I'm also not the one who makes his breakfast or-"
"Not everything in my life's about you!" Her yelling filled the room, forced Toby back in his chair.
"All right." Every motive he'd worked through on the drive home from school had been about him. Him caring about Harry, him pushing her to live to some impossible standard, his prison time ruining her life in fifty other ways. It had never occurred to him that it could have been anything else. "So what is it about?"
She shrugged. That was the only clue she was giving.
"Did you like smoking?"
"Yes." Just a touch of defiant smart-ass. That was new. Or at least it was new to be turned on him. He'd liked it a lot better aimed at Jonah.
"Have you done it before?"
"Sure." Toby raised his eyebrows, and she dipped her head. "Twice."
She looked like his daughter, but he hardly recognised her. All this time he'd had Holly from the Elliot universe, and now she'd been replaced with Holly from the Chris universe. "Did you like being in trouble?"
"I don't care." Her eyes shifted.
"You did like it..." Her eyes crept up. Toby thought about the way she'd held up her chin in the principal's office, the way she'd stared Diaz straight in the eye. After all these years of trying to be the good child, trying not to worry Toby... "You liked sneaking off. Being someone else. Holly Beecher, mad, bad and dangerous to know."
There was that chin-tilt again.
Toby leaned back. He could understand that. Oz had been a different world when Toby came out of the Hole with a reputation for crazy. Making a seasoned guy like Augustus Hill nervous, seeing other guys, even guards, trash-talk Vern for the beating Toby gave him. Throwing back his head and howling through the riot.
"I can see why you'd like that."
She was listening, at last, so he chased the memory.
"I tried it, when I was in Oz. I wanted to make everyone scared of me."
Holly was watching him carefully. "Why did you want to scare people?"
"I wanted to..." Oh. God. Toby looked closely at her. "I wanted to scare away the bullies. Why did you want it?"
Her eyes widened.
"Are you being bullied at school?"
"No."
"Holly, you can talk to me."
"I'm not being bullied." Quietly, she added, "They just think I'm weird."
"Why?"
She shot him a look that was pure 'Duh'. "Because I'm weird."
Toby wanted to argue, of course. She wasn't weird. She was smart and brave and beautiful, remarkably composed for what she'd survived. And just the sort of awkward and shy that middle-schoolers would single out as weird. "Is it better now that the other kids think you're a juvenile delinquent?"
A tiny smile threatened, but she beat it back. "They leave me alone."
Thank god for that. "Thank you."
"What for?"
"For talking to me. I miss you."
She looked down, jaw locking tight, and Toby pushed on shamelessly. "You can't even comprehend how much I love you."
Her whole small body shuddered, and Toby wasn't too proud to seize the opportunity. He moved to sit on the bed beside her and teared him up himself when she let him pull her against his chest.
He told her he loved her again and she whispered it back, and relief made him dizzy.
When she finally calmed, he managed to persuade her into cooking dinner together. She was still quiet, but over spaghetti and sauce he managed to coax out that she liked her English class, and the cafeteria was loud and uncomfortably crowded. She'd made a couple of friends in the grade above hers. He was so happy to have her talking again that it wasn't until their plates were clean and she mentioned her friends by name - Kelly and Aisha, her two smoking accomplices - that he remembered she wasn't going to school tomorrow. His little angel was suspended for three days.
Jonah had been right about something else: Toby wouldn't be helping her in the long run if he excused her behaviour. Toby didn't know if his own parents could have done anything that would have set him on a different path, but she had to get a better grip on consequences than he'd had before he landed in Judge Lema's court.
When Holly stood to clear the plates, he sat her back down. She was coming to the office with him while she was off school, and she was going to spend the time catching up on all the work she'd let slide. From here on she'd be doing her homework at the dining table under his watch, and he was going to be talking to every one of her teachers every week to make sure her attitude had improved.
As for the smoking: that was finished. He was going to do spot-checks for contraband, and if he found anything he was going to rain hellfire. She wasn't going to be allowed to socialise after school with Kelly and Aisha until he'd met their parents - outside the principal's office - and agreed to some ground rules.
Holly was back to pouting by the time he was done, but she didn't argue, just excused herself for bed.
"And Holly?" She looked back from her bedroom door. "When I tried to scare everyone away in prison, it alienated people who could have been my friends, and it got me in a lot of trouble." He couldn't even remember how long he spent in the Hole after shitting on Vern's face. He did remember being turned down for parole - while his dad was still alive, and Chris was far away in Cedar Junction, refusing to take his calls for Toby's own good. How might things have been different, if the board had set him free then? "Now the other kids have seen how tough you are. Why don't you let them see how smart and funny and kind you are, and give them a chance to like you?"
When her door closed he buried his face in his hands. The punishments seemed like a long laundry list, and they didn't seem like enough. Holly was smoking. Not even twelve years old, and there was no way to know if this was some isolated reaction to a terrifying new situation or the first step on Toby's own terrible path. Maybe he should have told the school about Holly's past, so Diaz would understand. He couldn't help wondering what Elliot would think - if he'd been too soft, or too harsh. Maybe overreacting would be as dangerous as under reacting.
The ringing phone interrupted his whirling thoughts, and he answered it without looking. "Hello?"
"Hey. Toby."
"Elliot." His stomach went from swirling to somersault. He called. Elliot called him. Toby could taste that kiss.
"Hi. Look, I was wondering... Could we meet up? I need to talk to you." Elliot sounded all business, like a man determined, but Toby didn't care. He called.
"Of course." Toby didn't care how desperate he sounded. "Just tell me when." Toby would leave Holly to sleep and come meet him right now if he asked.
"If I can get away tomorrow, maybe we could meet near your office?"
"Lunch?" Just like the old days.
There was the briefest of pauses. "Sure."
Illustration by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
haru
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 38
Feedback conspires to debauch and corrupt the morals of society. 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: 4991 (Really quite long.)
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 38: Smoke
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 37, Something:
Elliot found Toby asleep on the couch, still in his dress. His rage was tempered by the pain of seeing Toby this messed up. In a moment of weakness, he kissed Toby, but soon remembered the rest, and backed off.
He was caught between wanting and anger and pity, but he settled for putting a stop to the worst of Toby's self-abuse. He held it together until he saw Toby naked, rape injuries marked out on his body, but Toby swore he'd asked for all of it. Elliot threw out Toby's dress, and said he'd call Toby.
Toby had a fresh injection of hope. He threw out the rest of his drag supplies, ready to get his life together.
Elliot felt Olivia zooming in as soon as she reached the precinct. He'd been saved the effort of avoiding her all morning while he was calling taxi companies and she was out canvassing for the pro from Saturday night, but she had two cups of coffee from the good cafe on 87th and his time was up. She was going to want some kind of explanation for Toby stumbling around the meatpacking district in drag, and Elliot didn't have one.
Thank god the captain was out at some in-service. Elliot didn't know how he'd ever look him in the eye again.
She put the cup of real coffee in front of him and sat on the edge of his desk. Definitely time to talk. He looked around. It was quiet, just a handful of cops and admin absorbed in their jobs. Hardly the place, but maybe this would keep it short and vague.
"Are you and Toby getting back together?"
"No! That's never gonna happen."
The relief on her face made him feel bad for worrying her.
"We broke up. That doesn't mean I want to see him hurt himself."
Olivia rolled that around her brain. "Is that what he was doing?"
"Yes!" What else could it be? Did she think Toby pranced around like that for Elliot? The homophobic asshole in the back of his mind recoiled. He wished Olivia would say something more, but he knew she'd wait. "I don't know how to help him."
"Sometimes you can't help."
"Don't tell me not to." He'd already called him, but Toby hadn't picked up.
She raised a hand. "I'm not." She was thinking it. "El... Is Toby an addict?"
The air slid out of him. "He wasn't high."
"You're sure?"
"He wasn't high. He wasn't drunk. He was stone cold sober." She wouldn't have seen the bruises from that distance. "Don't judge him for how he survived prison. He's been clean a long time, and he was sober last night."
"All right." She thought that was why they broke up. A tendril of relief slid through him. He'd gladly let her believe that over evil twins and serial killer lovers and Toby being a murderer.
Finn and Munch strolled in, and Elliot hoped this talk was going to end soon.
"You told me he was using you."
That's what it had been in the beginning, but it wasn't in the end. "Yeah, well. It's never that simple, is it?"
She was contemplating that when Elliot's cell phone rang.
"Stabler."
"Hi." It was Toby, managing to sound gentle and tentative in a single syllable.
"Hi." He could tell by Olivia's worried eyes that she guessed who it was, but he turned away and went searching for a quiet room.
"I'm sorry. I was in with Beth when you called this morning."
Beth was his counsellor. "That's good."
"I told her everything. About Franco's. About you."
Elliot tried to ignore the way that made his heart thump. He was helping Toby out of a hole, not forgetting what he'd done. He wasn't that much of a sucker.
"I want to apologise for Saturday night," Toby said.
"You don't have to apologise to me."
"I know I hurt you. Again."
"Toby, it's none of my business what-"
"Yes it is." His breath was loud enough to hear down the fuzzy line. "Can I see you?"
"That's not a good idea."
"I want to be the man you thought I was. I want to make it all up to you."
Elliot closed his eyes. "But you're not. And I'm damn sure I'm not." He wished for the thousandth time he hadn't kissed Toby and planted that absurd hope in his head. "You can't fix what you did. I deserve better than you."
"I know. You do, Elliot."
Elliot rubbed his head, wishing Toby would stop being so damned vulnerable. It was making this harder. He had to tell Toby-
The door banged open and Finn stuck his head in, waving a note. "We've got her."
"Hang on." Elliot covered the phone. "What is it?"
"Tamarkin. That snivelling little parolee friend of yours just called. Says she's on her way to drop off a package." He slouched out.
"Toby, I have to go."
"All right."
"I'll call." He snapped his phone shut and snatched up his jacket from his locker, joined Finn at the elevator. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Timing." An escape from Toby. An escape from Olivia, who was watching him from her desk with that special look of concern she saved just for him.
"Whatever. His PO's gonna meet us there."
Langan showed up and threw them out, but he was too late. They had Lida Tamarkin's confession to selling kids. Elliot strode through the anteroom, still feeling blood pump in his fists, the echo of his voice too loud in his ears. He still had her in his nose; the impenetrable stench of garlic and cigarettes had repelled like a layer of armour as he pushed his way in her face, it had blasted on her breath as she shouted right back that she didn't give a goddamn fuck what happened to the little brats. She was going down, not much Langan could do except trade accomplices in to get eighty years down to fifty, but the rage was still ticking in Elliot's bones because this case wasn't done yet. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Fresh air, but he could still smell her. He'd dragged all his hate up to the surface, and he had to push it back.
Leskov was sitting at Munch's desk doing his last read over of his statement, huddled like a hen in a fox house. Elliot needed to walk this off, pump weights, something to take the edge off before he talked to him but he didn't have time. He'd kept an eye on the kid since he sat on his milk crate and agreed to cooperate a month ago. Elliot had stopped by every week to make sure he was still on board, even pestered him into going to a thrift store for a frypan and a couch. Elliot wished he could pretend he didn't see Toby sitting there, cowering. Maybe then he could leave Munch to file the paperwork. Elliot could walk away and he'd never hear from the skel again, but he'd seen the way this guy hunkered down when his PO was around. And he saw Toby, and he couldn't unclench his fists.
Leskov was looking around for Munch to witness his statement and let him go. No time to curl up in lotus and get in touch with his inner om, so Elliot locked it down and headed over. He was going to make a whole mess of problems for the DOC. Elliot was opening his mouth to catch Leskov's attention when his name was barked from Cragen's office. The angry voice. Elliot looked between Cragen and Leskov, who was hunching even tighter. "Captain, I'll just be a-"
"Can you hear my tone, Detective?"
Shit. He didn't have time for a rip. If Cragen would just wait a damned minute to bitch him out, Elliot could pin Leskov down before he scuttled out of here. Elliot was going to go after law enforcement, and this was going to have to be by the book. He needed Leskov.
"Detective Stabler."
Elliot jammed his teeth shut to hold the curse. It was bullshit, but if he wanted to stir up hell, he had to keep his badge, and that meant Cragen's office pronto.
Cragen shut the door hard behind him. "You want to tell me what that was about in there with Tamarkin?"
"I got a confession." There wasn't a damned thing wrong with the way he got it.
"Yeah, and male cops physically intimidating female suspects never looks bad in court." He circled the desk, but didn't take his chair.
"I never touched her! You really think Langan's going to sell her to the jury as some kind of delicate flower?" She could have matched Elliot pound for pound, and he wouldn't have liked his chances of bringing her in against her will.
"Your temper's riding closer and closer to a place where I won't be able to protect you."
Elliot stepped back, incensed. "I was in control!"
"The hell you were! I don't know what's got you so riled up in this case but I've known you a long time, Elliot, and I know when you're putting it on." He stabbed a finger in the air. "You weren't putting it on in there."
Elliot shut his mouth. What was the point of arguing? He'd been in control, and if the captain didn't see that, then Elliot was just going to have to take the bullshit lecture.
Cragen sat, eyes still sharp but he softened his tone. "It's none of my business what's going on in your personal life until it starts affecting your job. If you need to take time off to take care of it, you have to tell me."
So this was where it started. Cragen got an eyeful Elliot's male lover in drag, and now there was special consideration for Elliot's mid-life crisis. "I don't need time off." What would he do with it anyway? Sit at home and worry about Toby. The idea of it made him tired.
"I'm trying to help you. We could save each other a lot of time and effort if you'd trust me." Cragen slouched back, looking ready to wash his hands of his biggest liability.
If he'd trust him. Hadn't Counsellor Number Two - or Three? - asked Elliot why he thought everyone was judging him? Hadn't Elliot promised himself he'd remember how well Cragen took Toby's phone number? Toby told him if he wanted trust, he had to give a little.
"I'm working on it. I'm trying to... I'm finding someone to talk to about my temper. A shrink."
The captain blinked. "Oh. Good."
It was as easy as that. That was the other side of the coin: if you want to knock someone off their game, give in when they least expect it. "Captain, if you want to read me the riot act, I promise I'll come back and take it, but I really need to clear something up with Leskov before Munch sets him free."
Cragen heaved a little sigh. "Go. But Elliot, if you don't start learning when to walk away, I'm going to start doing it for you."
"Understood."
Elliot beat it out of there. He wasn't going to feel guilty about bullying the confession out of Tamarkin. She was a monster, and god knew how many lives she'd ruined. He didn't feel good about how easy it had been to be that man.
Leskov was still waiting; thank god Munch always took so long in the john. Leskov was the other reason Elliot didn't want any time off. He sat beside him, just a little too close, and paid attention to the way he tensed.
"The statement's good?"
Leskov dipped his head in the affirmative, and accepted Elliot's pen to sign it. "Is that all? Can I go?"
"That's Tamarkin taken care of. She won't be able to use you anymore. You're free to go."
"Thanks, Detective."
"Thanks for your help."
Leskov shrugged.
"Now can I help you?"
Surprise and then suspicion crossed Leskov's face. "What do you mean?"
Elliot checked no one was too close, and lowered his voice. "I don't think she's the only one who's been taking advantage of you."
Panic now. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Elliot wanted to push, but it was a long shot to get this guy's trust, and badgering wouldn't do it. "I want to help, but I can only do that if you talk to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Leskov stood and Elliot grabbed his wrist.
He kept his voice low. "I can't do anything about what went on in Lardner, but what happens on the outside is my turf. If you make a complaint, I'll protect you."
"The fuck you will!"
"You can't just let this keep happening. You have to stop thinking like a con, stand up and be a man."
Leskov was looking around in a panic, like his scumbag PO was going to leap out from under a desk. "I don't have to do anything. You can't tell me how to live!"
"I'm trying to help you!"
"I don't want your help!" He tugged and tugged, snapped, "Let go of me!" before Elliot let him loose. "I did what you asked. Now you can leave me alone!"
"Piotr-"
"Go to hell!"
Leskov raced out, and Elliot sat back in time to see Munch wander back in, newspaper under his arm. "Ah, winning over more witnesses with your traditional charm."
"Shut the hell up." Elliot stormed back to his own chair.
"Did you get his state-"
"On your damned desk."
"Thanks for calling, Harry."
"Love you, Dad. Bye."
Toby couldn't help the stupid smile breaking on his face. It was the first time Harry had ever said it unprompted. "I love you too."
Mother came in in time to catch the end as he hung up. "How is Harry?"
"Good. Great. He's decided he likes that new teacher."
She put a glass of apple juice down in front of him and sat in the armchair, kicking off her shoes. "He's calling you a lot more lately."
Toby slid his phone onto the table. "He's only turning to me because he's angry at Jonah and Marta for lying to him about Genevieve."
She heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure I can blame them for that."
"I don't. I just wish I'd known." A small, selfish streak wanted to egg on Harry's anger, win points for himself as he divided Harry further from them until Harry clamoured to come to New York, but he was a better man than that, at least. "Harry's a chatterbox, and Holly barely speaks to me. I feel like I've gone through the looking glass."
Mother waved that off. "There are going to be times your children are mad at you, Toby. It's part of parenting."
Toby jammed his teeth together. This wasn't a squabble over Holly eating her vegetables. She'd been at a brand new school for over a week, in a sea of strangers, and all she had to say about it when she got home every day was that it was fine. The teachers were fine, the classes were fine, the kids were fine. He had no idea if she was settling in or sitting alone through lunch. "Has she told you about school?"
"Of course."
"She hasn't told me anything." She talked to him about what to make for dinner, she asked when she needed money or a form signed, but she'd frozen him out of her life since San Diego. Toby needed to sit her down, talk about the screaming match at Harry's birthday, but he had no idea what to say. How could he tell her how much he hated seeing that kind of cruelty in her? How could he tell her he didn't care if it was fair, he would always be desperately grateful that Harry escaped the worst of the damage? He was helpless in the face of her anger.
Mother looked more closely at him, and Toby knew what was coming next. "She'll come around," she said softly. "I'm more worried about you. You've been so unhappy lately."
"I'm fine."
"Have you had a drink?"
"No."
Usually that was enough, but today she held on. He hated that worried look. "Have you been tempted?"
"I'm always tempted."
"How tempted?"
A raw yearning without a rest since Elliot walked out of his life. "I'm an alcoholic, Mother. I'm tempted. But I haven't touched a drop since January."
She should have told him to check his tone, or snapped back that she had every reason to mistrust him, but she just thinned her lips and checked the clock. "Holly will be home from school in twenty minutes; why don't we all go out for ice cream and we'll prod her along?"
"Sure." Holly's distance seemed like the perfect excuse for calling Elliot. Never mind the state you saw me in on Saturday night, Elliot; can you give me some parenting advice? His advice would be that someone living this sort of life had no business being a parent. But Elliot had kissed him, so Toby didn't know what the hell was going on in his head anymore.
"Have you heard from Elliot?"
Toby almost jumped. Had he said something out loud? "No, Mother."
"I can tell you miss him. Why don't you call him?"
"He doesn't want to hear from me." It had been three days since Elliot told Toby he'd call. He'd never put a date on it. What was Toby going to tell her? I ran into him at the weekend, when I was wearing make up and a dress and raw from being fucked by strangers, Mother. It had won him a few hours of pity, but it looked like that had worn off.
But the kiss...
Toby forced his thoughts back to his mother. "What has Holly told you about school? Is she making friends?" That was the rub of real life. In the empty days of prison he could obsess ceaselessly about Chris. Out here your former lover could catch you in a dress, covered in bruises and come, and you had to shove that in a box while you made dinner and worried about your daughter's freshman social world.
"She really hasn't mentioned Kelly or-"
The old-school ring of Mother's cell phone interrupted. No, Holly hadn't mentioned Kelly or anyone else. He passed the phone over, and she answered it. Her face fell. "Holly, what's wrong?"
Toby sat up.
She put her hand out, but Toby wasn't about to calm down when she looked that worried. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Tell me what happened." Her eyes went wide. "You're where?" Toby was ready to rip the phone out of her hand. "We're on our way."
His mother drove them back to his apartment, and as she searched for a parking spot he thanked her and told her to go home. He could see she wanted to argue, but he was supposed to be the parent here; this was his issue to deal with. And maybe he was feeling a little burned that Holly had called her.
Holly was already in the front door and heading upstairs. He followed her up and inside, all the way to her bedroom, caught the door before she could close it on him and sat down without an invitation. She stood in the middle of the room and pouted.
This was the part where he was supposed to yell, or lecture, or ground her, but Jonah was right: he didn't have the stomach for it. Not with Holly. Not with Holly when she'd been giving him the silent treatment for ten days now.
Holly folded her arms and unfolded them, and sat on the bed, looking like she was determined not to cry, no matter what fire he rained down.
He wanted to ask where she got the cigarettes and why on earth she wanted to smoke and how she'd gone from the fifth grader who wouldn't dare to be late with a library book to the freshman blowing off class to smoke in the math block toilets.
He'd tried to tell the principal that it couldn't have been his daughter: it was all a mix-up, no way would Holly touch a cigarette, but Mrs Diaz could have taught McManus a thing or two about reprimanding the inmates. Toby was still stinging. Holly had been at St Edith's less than two weeks, and had already earned herself a reputation for being sullen and not doing her work. She and two friends had been caught cold when a teacher heard them coughing and choking in a stall. It was like his daughter had been replaced with an alien. Or maybe this was Holly's body-double, just like Chris was Elliot's.
Holly picked her sketchbook up from the bedside table, slid the pen out of the comb as she opened it. Toby reached forward, took the book and the pen, and laid them behind him. "You have my attention. Now what would you like to do with it?"
She just looked at him, sharp cold eyes. She'd worn her hair in a braid today, and all the shorter tendrils at the sides at worn their way loose.
"Do you want me to waste time telling you all the ways smoking is a bad idea? Or can we finally talk about why you're angry with me?"
No answer.
"If you're trying to punish me, this silent treatment is hard enough."
He'd been running through the conversations from Harry's birthday and from the plane trip home for a week and a half, stumped for how to reach her, so he'd let himself drown his inaptitude at Franco's, let himself wrap himself up in second-guessing his relationship with Chris and yearning for Elliot when fixing things with his children should have been the only thing that mattered.
"Are you testing whether I'll still love you if you act out like Harry?" He leaned his elbows on his knees. "Holly, you could burn down the school and I'd still love you. As much as I love you, I'd be angry and worried because you'd still have all the problems you have right now, plus a whole lot more, and I don't want that for you. When my life is hard, I tear it up. Don't learn that from me."
Nothing. Toby never imagined an eleven year-old girl could be so impenetrable. It was getting harder to squeeze the words out as she ignored him, picking at a thread on her blanket. Maybe he should have left her the notebook and pen: then at least he could have gleaned something from her sketches.
"I'm sorry, Holly." He had to clear his throat. "I know I'm not good at this. I know I'm not much of a father. But after all my transgressions, it's caring for Harry that you want to punish me for? You're right, I'm not the one who'll yell at Harry if he gets suspended from school for smoking. I'm also not the one who makes his breakfast or-"
"Not everything in my life's about you!" Her yelling filled the room, forced Toby back in his chair.
"All right." Every motive he'd worked through on the drive home from school had been about him. Him caring about Harry, him pushing her to live to some impossible standard, his prison time ruining her life in fifty other ways. It had never occurred to him that it could have been anything else. "So what is it about?"
She shrugged. That was the only clue she was giving.
"Did you like smoking?"
"Yes." Just a touch of defiant smart-ass. That was new. Or at least it was new to be turned on him. He'd liked it a lot better aimed at Jonah.
"Have you done it before?"
"Sure." Toby raised his eyebrows, and she dipped her head. "Twice."
She looked like his daughter, but he hardly recognised her. All this time he'd had Holly from the Elliot universe, and now she'd been replaced with Holly from the Chris universe. "Did you like being in trouble?"
"I don't care." Her eyes shifted.
"You did like it..." Her eyes crept up. Toby thought about the way she'd held up her chin in the principal's office, the way she'd stared Diaz straight in the eye. After all these years of trying to be the good child, trying not to worry Toby... "You liked sneaking off. Being someone else. Holly Beecher, mad, bad and dangerous to know."
There was that chin-tilt again.
Toby leaned back. He could understand that. Oz had been a different world when Toby came out of the Hole with a reputation for crazy. Making a seasoned guy like Augustus Hill nervous, seeing other guys, even guards, trash-talk Vern for the beating Toby gave him. Throwing back his head and howling through the riot.
"I can see why you'd like that."
She was listening, at last, so he chased the memory.
"I tried it, when I was in Oz. I wanted to make everyone scared of me."
Holly was watching him carefully. "Why did you want to scare people?"
"I wanted to..." Oh. God. Toby looked closely at her. "I wanted to scare away the bullies. Why did you want it?"
Her eyes widened.
"Are you being bullied at school?"
"No."
"Holly, you can talk to me."
"I'm not being bullied." Quietly, she added, "They just think I'm weird."
"Why?"
She shot him a look that was pure 'Duh'. "Because I'm weird."
Toby wanted to argue, of course. She wasn't weird. She was smart and brave and beautiful, remarkably composed for what she'd survived. And just the sort of awkward and shy that middle-schoolers would single out as weird. "Is it better now that the other kids think you're a juvenile delinquent?"
A tiny smile threatened, but she beat it back. "They leave me alone."
Thank god for that. "Thank you."
"What for?"
"For talking to me. I miss you."
She looked down, jaw locking tight, and Toby pushed on shamelessly. "You can't even comprehend how much I love you."
Her whole small body shuddered, and Toby wasn't too proud to seize the opportunity. He moved to sit on the bed beside her and teared him up himself when she let him pull her against his chest.
He told her he loved her again and she whispered it back, and relief made him dizzy.
When she finally calmed, he managed to persuade her into cooking dinner together. She was still quiet, but over spaghetti and sauce he managed to coax out that she liked her English class, and the cafeteria was loud and uncomfortably crowded. She'd made a couple of friends in the grade above hers. He was so happy to have her talking again that it wasn't until their plates were clean and she mentioned her friends by name - Kelly and Aisha, her two smoking accomplices - that he remembered she wasn't going to school tomorrow. His little angel was suspended for three days.
Jonah had been right about something else: Toby wouldn't be helping her in the long run if he excused her behaviour. Toby didn't know if his own parents could have done anything that would have set him on a different path, but she had to get a better grip on consequences than he'd had before he landed in Judge Lema's court.
When Holly stood to clear the plates, he sat her back down. She was coming to the office with him while she was off school, and she was going to spend the time catching up on all the work she'd let slide. From here on she'd be doing her homework at the dining table under his watch, and he was going to be talking to every one of her teachers every week to make sure her attitude had improved.
As for the smoking: that was finished. He was going to do spot-checks for contraband, and if he found anything he was going to rain hellfire. She wasn't going to be allowed to socialise after school with Kelly and Aisha until he'd met their parents - outside the principal's office - and agreed to some ground rules.
Holly was back to pouting by the time he was done, but she didn't argue, just excused herself for bed.
"And Holly?" She looked back from her bedroom door. "When I tried to scare everyone away in prison, it alienated people who could have been my friends, and it got me in a lot of trouble." He couldn't even remember how long he spent in the Hole after shitting on Vern's face. He did remember being turned down for parole - while his dad was still alive, and Chris was far away in Cedar Junction, refusing to take his calls for Toby's own good. How might things have been different, if the board had set him free then? "Now the other kids have seen how tough you are. Why don't you let them see how smart and funny and kind you are, and give them a chance to like you?"
When her door closed he buried his face in his hands. The punishments seemed like a long laundry list, and they didn't seem like enough. Holly was smoking. Not even twelve years old, and there was no way to know if this was some isolated reaction to a terrifying new situation or the first step on Toby's own terrible path. Maybe he should have told the school about Holly's past, so Diaz would understand. He couldn't help wondering what Elliot would think - if he'd been too soft, or too harsh. Maybe overreacting would be as dangerous as under reacting.
The ringing phone interrupted his whirling thoughts, and he answered it without looking. "Hello?"
"Hey. Toby."
"Elliot." His stomach went from swirling to somersault. He called. Elliot called him. Toby could taste that kiss.
"Hi. Look, I was wondering... Could we meet up? I need to talk to you." Elliot sounded all business, like a man determined, but Toby didn't care. He called.
"Of course." Toby didn't care how desperate he sounded. "Just tell me when." Toby would leave Holly to sleep and come meet him right now if he asked.
"If I can get away tomorrow, maybe we could meet near your office?"
"Lunch?" Just like the old days.
There was the briefest of pauses. "Sure."
Illustration by
haruend chapter 38
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