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…suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself,
“Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!”
*
Dreaming of a rabbit can signify growth, prosperity, and the potential for new beginnings, OR
Dreams of a white rabbit symbolises faithfulness in love. Reflect on your love life, OR
White rabbits often represent new life, spiritual changes, good luck.
*
He used to read the book to his kids, that’s what it was. Remnants of a reminder of curled up Sunday mornings on the couch with Kathy and the kids- they’d tried pre-church bible study, but it never went down all that well, Eli too wriggly, Kathleen preoccupied with thoughts of some boy, the others all half-asleep and all too busy complaining: so he’d resort to bribing them with books to get out of bed.
It didn’t work at first. Eli would climb all over his lap, Dickie would be painfully vocal at how at his age, he didn’t want to sit with his father before church and read, of all things. Lizzie and Maureen were too busy chatting, Kathleen already a mirror whirlwind of her mother trying to wrangle matching socks for the twins (and yet somehow, never find them), and Kathy was, well. Kathy. She didn’t quite get it, as with most things that had come from Liv- because of course, this had.
*
She’d slipped him the ratty paperback across their shared desk at 1PP the one morning, eyes hazy with sleep as she sipped her coffee, steam rising up into her eyes.
“Heard you’re having trouble getting the kids to want to read before church, El.” she’d said between sips, “You really want them to read? Might start thinking even more for themselves- and then where would we be?” Her tone had been light, sweet, teasing. Normal for early morning Olivia, the easy back and forth between them something he cherished- deeply.
“Yeah?” the one word hung in the air between them “You sure you want to give that to me, Benson?”
She’d rolled her eyes at that, hard, and punctuated the action with another sip of coffee.
“I don’t have to offer it up.” She’d moved then, as if to take the book back, and he’d shot his hand out to take it before she could, pulling the worn cover up to his face.
“Alice in Wonderland? I don’t think Dickie is going to be leading the revolution alongside the white rabbit, Liv.”
”Can’t you just trust me for once?” She’d watched him with her chin resting on her hands, doe eyes blinking at him so slow.
“I always do.” Elliot remembered uttering. ”Usually, that’s how we get into trouble.”
*
None of the kids had gone for it at first. Dickie took one look at the book and asked if its worn pages were carrying some from of deadly disease, Kathleen made him quickly aware that only children were still reading Alice, the twins had just looked at him and shrugged. Kathy asked him where the book had come from, and when he uttered his partner’s name, had watched as his wife of… however many years it was, now, sunk down onto the couch next to him with a tired smile.
“C’mon kids.” She’d said, snuggling Maureen into her side, and pulling a blanket over her lap, leaning her head on Elliot’s shoulder, “Let’s see what Liv’s got for us.”
The kids had come willingly then, sprawled out across the couch, tucked into gaps between parents, or perching on the floor, heads leaning on other’s knees— and Elliot had read, pages turning with a soft snick, old dog-eared segments forcing a smile onto his lips as they fell under his fingers.
They’d missed church that morning.
*
Maureen had pressed a wrapped candy into his palm one day after school, mouth already sticky with candy on a rare day that he had been able to slip out of work early and pick her up.
A treat, he kept calling it, even if it really was just being a father.
“What’s this?” he’d said, glancing down at the hand resting in his, and the red, white and blue wrapper that was sitting on his palm. The black lettering was sharp in unfamiliar shapes, and a bunny stared back at him with unblinking eyes.
”A white rabbit, Daddy.” Maureen had said so seriously, “They’re good. Mina bought them in, her family loves them. Try it.” She blinked up at him with a sticky smile as he turned the candy over and over between his fingers.
When he’d eventually unwrapped it, the sweet, milky flavour had burst on his tongue, and some quote about savouring moments had ran fleetingly through his mind. Some moments, once lived in once, could never be returned to.
God only knew, he’d had a whole lot of those in his time.
*
If he was being specific, there was what his therapist had said on the three occasions that he’d stooped low enough to visit. No appointment ever made sense, was ever close enough to another that it built upon anything- they’d skipped between department mandated therapy sessions, a bout of attempted marriage councillng, a last ditch attempt to get sleeping pills after his wife died and his nights were plagued with horrors, of images that he couldn’t- shouldn’t ever have had to relive.
“I’ll write you a script.” they’d told him, once. “I’ll write you a script, but you’ve got to keep coming back, Elliot. I think we could really make some progress if you were to come back on a more frequent basis, don’t you?”
He’d lied his way through the conversation, through the office, through the pharmacy down the street, until the paper bag was in his hands and he was home, falling into bed, slipping a pill between his lips, and praying to a God that his faith was starting to fail for.
When he awoke ten hours later, six voicemails from Bell in his inbox, he felt refreshed for the first time since— since then. At the bureau, when she’d asked him what happened, where he had gone, if he had slept at all, he’d just nodded.
“And Stabler.” She’d spoken over her shoulder as she left the room, “Any nightmares?”
He’d paused before replying, fingers drawing patterns on the back of his clasped hands.
“None.” His voice was soft, a little dazed. “None at all. Just a field of white rabbits.”
*
Sometimes, three white rabbits signify the father, the son, and the holy spirit. Sometimes, Elliot wished he knew what they were trying to tell him.
*
It never got easier to not have a wife, but sometimes it made life more convenient. The constant undercover operations, the long hours, the no longer having to wave a white flag in surrender of his marriage that had been tumbling downhill for a long time. They’d fixed things in Italy, come to a cruel end, white rabbits, upon white rabbits, upon white rabbits in his dreams now. Hoping for hope.
And then it had happened- and here he was.
Limbo.
One long corridor, one white rabbit, no white flags. Silence, and a soft breeze. He would be okay if it ended like this, his subconscious whispered in the background. There wasn’t a choice, was there. If it was time, it was time. Dark hallway leading back, bright white light and that damned rabbit facing forward.
He’s late, he’s late— but he doesn’t know for what. The beeping in the background gives away a much as the rise and fall of his chest does, as much as the white rabbit does.
Nothing.
*
“Elliot. Elliot.”