Walking Seperate Paths - Chapter VIII

Title: Walking Separate Paths
Author: Tara
Rating: R/NC-17 (m/f, m/m)
Pairings: Benson/Stabler, Stabler/Beecher, Beecher/Keller, Keller/m
Summary: This is technically an AU: We know that OZ is definitely in NY, and Stabler’s wife Kathy hasn’t left yet. This is set around OZ Season 5. A child prostitution ring leaves Elliot with new answers to his own origins, and redefines a new meaning for family. I suck at writing Summaries, but this is one of my better pieces of fanfic, so enjoy.

(Author's Note: I've been working on this fic for over two weeks. It's become the monkey on my back, I've been sleeping, eating, dreaming this story, and I can't seem to get it all down fast enough. To date, I've gotten over 45 pages done in less than two weeks, a personal best for me. I just wanted to thank everyone for their amazing feedback, and of course, to the Webmistresses for allowing me to post. On to chapter VIII, everyone, enjoy.)

CHAPTER VIII:

Augustus Hill:

“Brother, I am fire, Surging under the ocean floor. I shall never meet you, brother— Not for years, anyhow; Maybe thousands of years, brother. Then I will warm you, Hold you close, wrap you in circles, Use you and change you-Maybe thousands of years, brother.

Some psychologists have spent years studying the differences between nature and nurture. Now, my momma raised me right. I ate good, went to school, did all the homework. Did that stop me from becoming an addict and a dealer? Hell no.

Why then did I make the choices I made in life? Was it predisposition? Was there something about me that screamed ‘crack addict' from the day I was born? Or was my whole life a series of moments, a ripple from each single splash I made in the river of my life? I’ll never know, and frankly, I don’t want to know. Either way fucks you. Either you fucked up or your whole life was set up to fuck you up. Who knows?

Where would we all be if just one ripple had made it’s way in another direction, hmmm? Where could we all be if we’d had the opportunity to begin again, anywhere else… Was Cain born a killer, and was Abel born a saint? Could we all have been saints if we’d just tried hard enough? I hope so, because that’s what faith is all about, and right now, the atmosphere in here doesn’t really hold much with blind faith.”

Munsie, Rockland County, June 1978:

He’s not good anymore. You promised me that he’d be as good as new. Look at how loose he is. He ain’t worth anything to me now, the little fucker. What the hell am I supposed to do with him like this, huh? Nobody’s gonna deal with him like this, and I don’t have the time to deal with nursing him up to sell. The new kid’s working just fine, and I can dump this one. Gimme your keys.

The blood running into his eyes woke him up. It stung, and he could taste it in his mouth, smell it on his face, and in parts of him all over, he could feel it drying, sticky and itchy at the same time. He itched, very badly. He couldn’t ever remember itching this badly. He wanted to scratch it away, tear at his skin so that it wouldn’t itch so much. He wanted to lift his hands and scratch it all, scrub the itch away.

His arms wouldn’t move. He tried each one again and again, and he knew that somehow, they’d chopped off his arms. His arms were gone, and he couldn’t feel his legs,; his whole body was gone from him. He could barely feel his face.

Was this heaven? Even as he though about it, Chris knew that it couldn’t possibly be heaven. Heaven was full of fluffy clouds, and angels and God was sitting on a throne somewhere listening to pretty music. Heaven didn’t smell. At least he didn’t think it did.

Smell was one of the few things that made him realize that at least a few parts were working fine. There was a sweetish rotting aroma in his nose, and it hurt from the smell.

How long had he been here? Where was ‘here’ exactly? How was he going to be here? Was this another game? HE was going to be mad, and Chris knew that there was nothing that was going to save him this time.

A noise, scrabbling and quick, came from right next to his eye, and to his horror, a rat moved into his line of sight and began to sniff at his face. Chris screamed. Over and over he screamed, his screams echoing into his ears.

~~~

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, Albany, 9:34 p.m.

Gloria Nathan dropped the insulin bottle she was holding when the screaming began. It was loud and piercing, and she sprinted past orderlies, patients, and doctors to make her way to the isolation wing.

Tobias Beecher was straining to hold Keller in bed. His face turned to her panicked, as she fumbled for the bottle of sedative in her pocket, pulling 30 ccs into a syringe.

“Please, Tobias, just keep one arm still. That’s all I need.”

He nodded, and she edged in towards him, looking for an opening. Throwing his weight onto Keller’s arm, he pinned it, just long enough for her to stick the needle into the vein. Pressing the plunger, they both stepped back and waited for the screaming and thrashing to end. Keller’s body finally began to relax, and the screaming stopped, even as his eyes moved back and forth under his closed eyelids. He was still moving, just barely, and his skin was white, made even whiter beneath the massive bruise spreading from just beneath his hairline.

“What the hell is going on?” She addressed Toby quietly, even as she grabbed Keller’s hand, reaching for a pulse.

“I don’t know. He’s been like this on and off for almost an hour. He’s been dreaming again. He’s never this violent though.”

“Again?” His head whipped towards the door, where Sister Pete stood, watching them.

“Yeah,” Toby answered her, nodding. “He’s been having nightmares for the past several weeks. I stay up with him and calm him down, and he usually falls back to sleep in the early morning. He’s never been like this though.”

Pete’s eyes sharpened as she looked at Tobias. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been asking you for weeks now if you’re alright. You’ve been looking like death warmed over for the past week.”

“With all due respect, Sister Pete, I’M FINE. Chris isn’t. And I knew that there was nothing I could say or do that was going to change your mind about him. I’d asked you to talk to him before, and you turned him down. He needs your help more than anyone’s, and I don’t know what to do for him anymore. I’m terrified that he’s going to hurt himself one of these nights.”

She stared at the face of the man in the bed, and in her heart, she made a very difficult decision. I made a choice to turn my back, and now he’s paying for it. There may be nothing I can do now to help, but at least it’s never to late to try. She stopped, remembering the photos they had all seen, and she shuddered. He’s still a child. Somewhere in that arrogant, obnoxious man is a child who never got the chance to be one. She turned to Tobias and peeled off her coat, dropping it onto the chair by the bed.

“Tobias, I can never apologize to him enough, and that’s one of the first things I’m going to do when I can speak to him privately; Right now though, what do you want me to do?”

He shrugged, glancing at Dr. Nathan. She moved Keller’s gown aside to listen to his chest for a minute, then pocketed her stethoscope. “To be honest, Tobias, there’s not much we can do right now. He has to sleep off the sedative, and wake up calmly. I’m sure that there might be a problem though, because McManus is going to wonder why you’re not back in OZ.”

“Tobias is needed here, and he’s staying here. I’ll talk to Tim. There’s a whole slew of things going on right now Gloria, and they need to make sure that Chris is ok, so the best thing you can do right now is set him up in a cot right next to Chris.”

Gloria nodded. “What about you?”

“Right now, I’m going back upstairs and I’m going to find out what the hell is going on here.”

~~~

Route 287, Albany, 10:17 p.m.

On the list of worst fucking decisions ever, getting off the highway to ask for directions was definitely in the top ten, along with trying to follow said directions at night, in the dark. Who the hell designed this place anyway? Where were the street lights?

Elliot was used to Queens, and the city. Every 10 feet there was a streetlamp, and over here, trying to find his way to a prison in a the middle of the night was not a comforting thought. Finally spotting a turn off for the prison, he continued up the road. His head hurt, and his jaw ached from being clenched the entire drive up here.

His message to Kathy had been said to the machine, every word replaying in his mind over and over again. “Hi honey, it’s me. Look, the Captain wants me to take a drive up to Oswald State Prison, near Albany. I probably won’t be back tonight. If anything goes wrong, just call the cell. Love you, bye.”

What should he have said? “Hi honey, it’s Elliot. I just fucked my partner, really used her as a sex object so that I could feel again, because this playacting with you just feels unreal. I’m headed up to a prison now, feel like I belong there, send my love to the kids. I might call you soon.” Yup, that definitely would have won the prize for worst decisions ever. He hadn’t even left Liv a note, just left her there, sleeping. He couldn’t bear to look at himself now, let alone her, covered in his bites and bruises and body fluids.

Driving had been slow torture. His thigh ached. He’d slammed it against the endtable somewhere during round two. And he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d slept.

Making a careful right turn, he pulled up to the gate. Inside the booth, a security guard looked carefully at him before asking for his ID. Flashing his badge, the car pulled forward as the gates opened, and he drove into Parking Lot D. Locking the car, he headed up to the main gates.

~~~

Pete didn’t know what was going on, but she was definitely going to find out. After seeing Tobias made up in a cot, next to Keller, she and Gloria had decided that for right now, Gloria would let Sean Murphy know where Beecher was, and inform him that he’d be staying in the infirmary for the night. At this point, specifics weren’t necessary, and the less details, the better.

Stopping at her office, she grabbed Keller’s case history. Briefly looking through it, she realized that if she had been paying attention, there were several inconsistencies. There were no schools of any kind listed, nor any home addresses. A very brief outline listed Keller’s wives and their addresses, as well as a rap sheet from his time spent in prison, but very little else.

Gathering an armful of paperwork, she walked to the stairs. Floria was already on her way down, pulling on her coat as she went. “Hi, honey, could you tell me if Leo’s still got everyone upstairs, or did they all leave?”

“Oh, no, they’re still there. As a matter of fact, someone showed up right before you did. Scared the daylights out of me. He’s nothing like him though, different in the eyes.” She shuddered, and before Pete could say anything else, she had hurried on down the stairs.

Reaching Leo’s office a few moments later, she noted the strip of light under the door and knocked. McManus answered, a completely unreadable expression on his face. She followed him in quickly, talking as she went. “Tim, is everyone still here? Keller’s just been sedated. He’d been screaming in his sleep.” Tim nodded, grabbing her arm.

There was another man in the room, talking to the police captain. His back was to her, but for a moment, his voice was so familiar to her. She wondered where she’d heard it before.

The captain noticed her, and quickly cut his conversation short. He turned to greet her, as did the man he’d been speaking with.

Tim’s voice was wry, even as she clutched her folders tighter in shock. “Pete, I’d like you to meet Elliot Stabler, of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.”

She recovered in record time, given the shock, and looked him over frankly. “I’d never believe it again, not in a million years. God is most definitely at hand.”

The man smiled at her, confused but still amused at her remark. “Why’s that?”

Cahill broke into the conversation before she could continue. “I’m sorry Sister, but I have to cute you short. Detective Stabler doesn’t have all of the facts, and I’d prefer that he finds things out in their proper sequence.”

She noted that Stabler’s eyes narrowed, just like Chris’ when he was annoyed. That half smile was the same too, and his smirk as he said, “Well, sure, after the drive I’ve had, there’s absolutely NOTHING better I’d rather do than sit down and discuss whatever bombshell you have to throw at me.”

Cragen cut in then, and his tone was angry, and even louder than Stabler’s had been. “Look, Cahill, I mean no disrespect, but there’s absolutely nothing here tonight that can’t be discussed early tomorrow morning. I am exhausted, and Detective Stabler has been up since the crack of fucking dawn. We can continue this tomorrow, and we will.” Ignoring Cahill completely, he turned to Huang.

“George, you think the Federal Government can find it in their hearts, and maybe wallets to put us up for the night? There’s a hotel down the road, and all of us can get rooms there.”

Huang held up a credit card. “Don’t worry about it. The FBI should be more than happy to accommodate you.”

Briscoe nodded. “I never could turn down a free bed and a meal. Lead on, Macduff.”

Elliot spared one last inquiring look at Sister Pete before exiting. She sat down heavily. They even had the same walk. Things were beginning to come together now, and she was beginning to wonder if maybe she should have stayed at home that day.

Elliot turned to Cragen as they made their way down the stairs. “So, you even thinking you might entertain me with what the fuck is going on here? Or am I going to have to play 20 questions?”

Cragen turned. “Look, I know this really sucks, but right now, I am under orders to let Cahill do the talking. Believe me, you need to sleep, and I know that this case is tearing at your gut right now.”

Elliot didn’t answer, he just walked away and headed down the stairs.

Briscoe nodded in the direction he’d taken. “Don’t you think that you’d better give him a heads up, Don? When this shit hits the fan that poor guy’s going to feel like you sucker-punched him.”

“Believe me, Lenny, I know. There’s nothing I can do. Cahill’s got my balls in a vise and Huang said that the best thing Elliot can do right now is to face the facts one step at a time. I don’t know what else can be done.”

Lenny shivered as the night air passed over them. They were almost halfway to the parking lot before he asked, “Did seeing him tonight scare you?”

“Who, Elliot?”

“Naw, I mean Keller. I saw those eyes and I flipped. I remember that boy screaming in my arms when he was fourteen. Watching him watch everyone else at that table gave me the chills.” Briscoe fumbled for his keys.

“I know what you mean. He gave me the chills. I’ve seen Elliot with the face on, watching some of the assholes we get through the precinct, and I tell you, sometimes he’s frightening. I wonder what it must be like for Keller to have to wear a mask every day.”

Briscoe shrugged. They were halfway down the road before he spoke again, this time with raised eyebrow and a smile. “So, how long did it take you to pick up on it?”

“What?”

“C’mon Don, you’re not that dense. You hang with Huang several times a week, you must have some decent ‘gaydar’ by now.”

“Who’re you talking about? Keller?”

“Shit. Yes, Keller! Come on, that man with him, Tobias Beecher, you couldn’t find a man more in love with Keller.”

“That doesn’t mean Keller’s gay.”

“Nope, it doesn’t except that when you’ve been reading body language as long as I have, you begin to see the signs. Keller may not be gay, but he’s fucking Beecher, and ten to you says Beecher doesn’t mind.” He turned the car on, and followed the fading taillights of Elliot’s car up the road.

“Wow, I can’t even begin to think about how I’d deal with that.” Cragen mused.

“What, being gay? Why?”

“Because if everything’s pink on Keller’s side of the fence, and he’s Elliot’s identical twin, does that mean that, you know, Elliot’s susceptible to it?”

Briscoe laughed. “Now I know you’re tired. Don, that man’s been married what…20 years? You wouldn’t find a straighter guy in your unit. Not to mention the fact that I already have 20 with Munch on very good odds that Benson and Stabler hook up before the end of the year.” He paused. “If you had said Munch…now that I could maybe believe.”

Cragen had to laugh. Lenny was right, he was tired, and his brain was just shutting down. “Thank you for THAT mental image. Just shut up and drive already.”

~~~

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, Albany, 1:30 a.m.

Gloria shuffled through a last few pieces of paper. Her back ached and she knew that unless she slept, she was never going to last through the next day.

I’ll just do a quick run through of the ward and look in on everyone before I sack out. She grabbed her stethoscope and keys and walked quietly out onto the ward.

Miguel Alvarez smiled at her from his bed. He was leafing quietly through a Bible in his hands. She smiled back and kept walking, checking each patient briefly, talking quietly with others as she made her way to the end of the ward.

Remembering her last patient, she turned left into the isolation wing, and quietly pushed open the door.

They were lying in bed together, fast asleep, Chris facing Tobias, his head tucked under Beecher‘s chin. It would have been amusing to see Keller so relaxed and off the dominance pedestal they all played, if it hadn’t been so sweet to see them so relaxed. She noted Chris’ deep even breathing, and his hands over the blanket, tucked into his chest like a child’s.

She would have missed the other person in the room if they hadn’t spoken.

“Hello, Gloria. Is everything ok?” Sister Pete was half sitting, half lying on the cot next to the bed, a book in her hands, glasses perched on her nose.

“Fine, Pete, just fine. Chris looks ok now. Do you know how long he’s been sleeping?”
“
Since I got here. The meeting upstairs let out around 10, and Tim and I talked until 11. I got here at about 11:30. Everything should pick up where we left off tomorrow. I told Tim that he should let everyone talk to Chris down here. There’s a separate entrance to the hall, and we can protect the ward. I really think Chris should be in an area where he’s comfortable.” She took off her glasses to look up towards the couple on the bed.

“Would you like me to stay for the meeting?” Gloria asked, leaning on the door.

“If that’s alright with you. From what I can tell, Chris has got his work cut out for him, and Ray and I have discussed that he should feel as though he can come to us.”

“Do I want to know what this is about? Do you have any idea why he flipped out tonight?”

Pete waited a moment before answering. “I could say that I was ten kinds of a fool honey, before I said anything else. The man in that bed was brutally molested, raped, and almost murdered as a child.” Gloria straightened in horror, looking at the man on the bed as Pete continued.

“He plays his aggression like a mask against the world, and his sexuality like a weapon. I should have known. Above all people, I should have known.”

Gloria sighed. “That explains quite a bit then. Do you know what’s on the agenda for the meeting tomorrow?”

“I could hazard a guess, but I don’t want to think about it right now. Now, I’m just going to sit here, and watch over the man that God has deemed my penance.”

“Penance? Pete, penance for what?”

“My over inflated sense of right and wrong.”


TBC...