DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are
property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first of a three part story (although it can technically be a stand alone so don't feel like you have to wait for the rest of it to be written before you read!). I'm working on the next part now, which will act as a companion piece to this from the POV of Alex. The third part will bring the story to a close. It's the first time I have written an SVU fic, therefore feedback would be greatly appreciated. Words of encouragement or constructive criticism are welcome, but if you are mean to me I will be mean to you (and my dad is harder than your dad :-p)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Tears of the Forsaken
Elliot found me afterwards, cradling my gun in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. It's funny now I actually think about it, when I was younger I would never touch the stuff, whisky was my mother's domain, the domain of a career alcoholic. To drink it was to become her, and that was something to be avoided at all costs. But now, now it has become my crutch, my method of escape and I hate myself for it. I hate myself even more for allowing the only happiness in my life to leave without so much as a hug goodbye.
I never told her, but I like to think she could see it in my eyes and that no words were needed. As she got in the car to leave my whole being was screaming out 'I love you'. And the worst part was I could see she felt the same. In that one second, even through the tears brimming in my eyes I could see.
Now, now she is as good as dead. In some ways it would have been easier if she had died from that bullet, or at least not come back to say goodbye because then it would be over. I would have been hurt, but at least I could receive some closure. As it is, I know she is out there somewhere, living her life, maybe she will even find someone to share it with, someone who isn't me. So, I can't move on, can't get past the if only and what might have been.
I don't think Elliot realized until he found me tonight but he reacted with a capability I had never attributed to him. Although, considering our job, I shouldn't really be surprised. Rape is all about stripping a person of their power, their control and that's a little how I feel now; I can't imagine what Alex is going through, at least I have the comfort of people like Elliot. She has no one and my heart aches at the thought.
I could almost see the exact moment when it registered in Elliot's mind that I wasn't just mourning a friend, but someone who meant a whole lot more to me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and that was all it took for me to break down, just the reaffirmation that he cared. I folded myself into his arms and cried until there were no more tears, but still my body continued with wrenching, tearless sobs.
I think I must have cried myself to sleep because the next thing I remember is waking up in my bed; Elliot dozing in a chair across the room. I don't know who it was that said 'a problem shared is a problem halved' but I think they were on to something. Although the pain was still there I felt better than I had since she left and my mind was steeled with a new resolve. I would do everything in my power to get her back; I would destroy Velez by any means necessary.
2 Years Later
Once again, the night finds me rolling a glass of whisky between my hands. I don't drink it anymore; months ago I realized it was destroying me, just like it did my mother. If there was ever going to be a hope of getting Alex back in my life I needed to stay sharp, keep my wits about me, and that didn't include getting mind numbingly drunk on a regular basis.
We've finally got Velez, after all this time. An undercover agent the FBI sent down has been gathering intel for the last nine months. I don't envy his job but sometimes I wish I was the one to go undercover. Then, one night, I could have popped a bullet in his head, no one would have been any the wiser; just another gangland murder. I probably wouldn't have been able to live with myself afterwards, but thinking about it brings a smile to my face.
Tomorrow we go after him and by lunchtime he should be in custody; the list of charges will be pages long but the only ones I care about are the murder charges, those are the ones that will have him put to death. That is the only way it will be safe for Alex to come home; thank god for our policy of speedy executions, if all goes well Alex could be back in six months.
Although it is technically an FBI operation the whole of our squad is going on the raid tomorrow, it took some pulling of strings and calling of long owed favours on the part of Cragen, but he managed to get us front row seats to the most satisfying arrest of our careers. No one messes with one of our own.
The Next Day
Velez is dead! I'm still in shock and can't quite believe what happened. It seems our undercover agent got a few facts wrong. There were only meant to be a couple of bodyguards with Velez, but when we busted into his warehouse there were about ten other men there. I'm still not sure who they were or what they were doing there, but that doesn't really matter.
As soon as 'FBI' was heard all hell broke loose, there were bullets flying everywhere. Of the eleven bad guys in the warehouse the final count was five dead, the rest, with only superficial injuries, were taken into custody.
When Velez was identified as one of the dead I almost fell to my knees. Elliot came to my rescue again, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me outside, away from anyone who might question my sudden inability to stand.
What happened next was a complete blur; I have vague recollections of being put in a car and someone, Elliot I think, driving me home. The only thought running through my head was that it was finally over, Alex was safe again, she could come home.
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