Darkest Nights

George noticed when he woke up that he didn’t feel cold anymore. He could see his breath, but he was actually sweating. He tried to remember what that meant, but thinking was like looking for someone in a fog and he couldn’t get anywhere.

That was a worrying sign too. That meant... something bad; the word was on the tip of his tongue…

He couldn’t think. He could barely breathe.

He heard his attackers come in, and watched with mild interest as they felt his forehead and yelled about a fever and how they had to be careful not to get sick. They argued for a while before he felt rough hands pulling him to his feet. He wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own, but he tried. One of his attackers grumbled and brought another cloth to his face. He was forced to breathe in the sickly sweet fumes and he blacked out again.

He woke up and blinked at the bright sunlight filtering in through gray clouds. Sky- that meant he wasn’t there anymore… then where was he?

He turned his head, wincing at the pain, and saw a hill leading up to a road. He realized that he would have to get there somehow in order to be found. He moved slightly and pain coursed through him. He went slowly, eventually standing. He took a timid step and almost passed out, but he managed somehow to hang on, step after agonizing step. Finally he was right next to the road. He collapsed, gasping for breath. He felt the cold around him but he was still sweating. A car stopped and someone ran over to him.

“Are you all right?” The person- a woman, he noticed- asked him.

“I need Elliot,” he said instead of answering.

“Who’s Elliot?” she asked him.

“Elliot Stabler, he’s an NYPD detective…” He had to focus on breathing. He struggled to catch his breath; his lungs refused to fill.

He vaguely saw the woman whipping out a cell phone. He was barely managing to stay awake. The woman finished her call and set her phone down.

“Your Elliot friend is being notified and an ambulance is on the way. I’m Kayla, and I’m an EMT. What’s your name?”

“George.” His voice sounded weak, but he couldn’t muster any more energy.

“Do you know the date or where you are? What happened to you?”

His eyes filled with tears, and Kayla set a hand on his shoulder. He winced slightly. “I dunno the date or anything. I was attacked and tortured by a group of sexual sadists.”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly, but her voice stayed calm. “Well, at least that gives me some idea of what to look for. I’ll be right back; I’m going to get an emergency blanket from my car.”

He shook his head. “It’s too hot.” She frowned and touched his forehead. She looked worried now. She walked to the car and came back with an emergency kit.

He felt a thermometer pressed against his lips and opened his mouth. Then Kayla pressed a blanket around him, making him move in protest. She noticed his motions but didn’t move the blanket.

“I can’t leave you exposed here,” she explained.

The thermometer beeped and she took it out of his mouth. She allowed a look of alarm to cross her face.

“How high?” He asked tiredly.

“105.”

Despite his disorientation, he knew he was in more danger now than he had been while he was kidnapped.

---

Elliot raced through the streets, desperately trying to get to where the call had come from. He knew it had to be George. He finally got there and sucked in his breath when he saw George.

The man looked utterly broken. Cuts and burns everywhere, chalky white complexion, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain. He introduced himself to the lady next to him.

“I’ve been able to keep him slightly more stable than he would be otherwise, since I’m an EMT. He’s been asking for you constantly,” She explained. Elliot was confused by that, but he didn’t ask. He sat down next to George.

“George, it’s Elliot. What happened to you?” He knew what had happened, but he still didn’t believe it.

“Elliot!” He tried to sit up but Elliot pushed him down.

“Save your strength, George.” George’s voice hadn’t been very strong.

George reached out, clearly wanting to touch Elliot. Elliot gripped his hand, slightly alarmed to notice how hot the skin was. “The sadists I was telling you about got me.”

Elliot closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s ok now, George.”

George sighed. “Not a lot of air in here, is there? And I’m so tired...”

Elliot noticed that George’s eyes were glazed and unfocused. “Stay awake, George.”

“Why?”

Elliot was about to reply but George was already asleep- at least, he hoped it was sleep. Kayla moved next to them and placed her ear next to George’s mouth to listen to his breathing.

“His breathing is rapid and shallow,” she told him grimly. “He’s in septic shock.”

Fortunately the ambulance arrived just then and Elliot and Kayla were able to fill them in on George’s condition. Elliot thanked Kayla and she shrugged.

“I do this all day anyway. I hope he’s ok.” With that she got in the car and drove away.

Elliot demanded to ride with the EMT’s- a uniform drove his car back to the station. Elliot watched as they tried to get his vitals under control. George was in critical condition because of the septic shock- his organs were starting to fail, and they had to race time.

Elliot sighed, taking George’s pulse. Despite the machine telling him George’s pulse was there, he wanted to feel it. What he felt wasn’t that reassuring. It was weak and thready.

He looked over George’s body. There were cuts and burns and bite marks everywhere, in various stages of healing.

George had obviously been through hell. “I’m so sorry, George,” he whispered.

They finally arrived at the hospital. There was a flurry of activity around George until he was put into a room. An IV was placed in his chest. Eventually Elliot was left with the small man, running a wet cloth over the hot forehead. His temperature was still dangerously high and though they had started him on medication to bring it down, in addition to antibiotics, it would take a few hours to days if it worked at all.

Elliot felt his stomach clench as he looked at George’s tiny figure. He wanted to kill the bastards who’d done this to his George. Wait a minute- his George? Why had he thought that?

Did he love him? He’d never let himself think that. He knew he thought the man was physically attractive. He knew he felt really protective of him- but no, that was natural. It was natural that he wanted to stay glued to George for a long time, if not forever. It was natural that he wanted to hurt anyone who looked at him the wrong way. It was natural that he wanted to reassure him. It was natural that he wanted to hug and kiss him and tell him he loved him.

He stopped fighting his emotions. He did love the small doctor.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the heart rate monitor, which beeped alarmingly before flatlining.