Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order: SVU or it's characters.
A/N: A new fic, and a new outlook on things. Just a FYI, this fic doesn't include Nick Amaro, but it does focus on Elliot and Olivia's relationship through they eyes of many different people, including E/O themselves. S12 based.
She's suffocating.
There is no other way around it, no better way to phrase it. She suffocates in his hold for too many reasons, yet not enough. Asphyxiation is a painful way to die, she knows that well.
Her whereabouts at the moment, however, is surrounding the unknown. No one- at least she hopes- is aware she's even left. She doesn't even know where she's going. A one way ticket to California gets her far in mileage, but is it not that far, that she could be sucked back into the life that once, and still is, sucking the life from her body? California is full of smaller cities and the for certain larger ones. Apartments are expensive as hell, but she's got money saved.
She doesn't know how long she's unconsciously been planning this.
Just thinking about leaving the place she's called home her whole life breaks off another piece of the broken shell that has become herself. Her soul. The apartment she abandoned; empty and more dirty than clean. Her mind drifts to the people she left behind, to the people that at one time, she thought of as family. They'll be fine without her, she assumes.
The sweater she's draped over herself isn't helping the fact she's freezing. Even five thousand feet in the air and closer to the sun, she's cold. That's really what her life has become. Chilled to the bone; in more ways than one.
Maybe California has more too offer than just space from New York.
It wasn't the polluted air that had been holding her back, charming her into the black hole that is the city. A lot of the blame falls on herself, a little on others. People she swore she won't seep into her thoughts, but they do. He always does.
Don't.
He's not worth it, she chides herself mentally, but she knows it isn't true. He mind-fucked her with his mixed signals and the Stockholm's Syndrome he forced her to endure. But she took it all in stride and even enjoyed it, because with each fight was the apology, and with each apology was the inevitable shift between them. They never shifted apart, only closer.
But he's also a large part of why she left.
She almost cracks a smile at the thought. It's sadistic of her, but she wants to see the look on his face when he comes to apologize to her once again, and he opens the door to a vacant apartment.
Her mind has become this way, only because of him. Psychologically, her mother molded her, changed her. But only one person is to blame for the emotional damage that lies within her.
Elliot.
That's partially false. She's got lots of perps to blame, even some of the victim's and their families. The ladder doesn't mean harm, except it began to take a toll, and she ignored it. Her life began to spin in circles and so did her relationships. The other parties didn't seem to be as affected as she was, however.
The plane she's on isn't exactly comfortable. Her feet feel like pins are slowly being driven up inside of them, and her back is knotting and getting more and more painful as the minutes, and hell, even the seconds pass. The man beside her has major body odor issues and continues to look over at Olivia, groan, and look away.
It isn't an ideal way to get somewhere, but at least it's flying over five hundred miles an hour. Five hundred miles farther away from her death. From Elliot, too.
She'll miss him. Even being divorced as he is, he's never going to come after her and some part of her is thankful for that because she needs to have breathing space for once. If he isn't literally in her face, he's in her thoughts. They're toxic for each other in their emotional attachment and dependence. More so, her deep reliance on him that continued to crumble.
In college, she read that psychological dependence is a branch off of addiction. Deep, deep inside of her, each touch that occurred between them fed that addiction. It wasn't sex, surely. The bond between them however, the indescribable relationship, was. Toeing the line between partners, friends, and something so much more, was a rush for her.
It also made her realize just how far she'd gone.
Eventually, they'll have to stop somewhere for fuel, she guesses either in Colorado or Iowa. She would have even considered getting off the plane then, but for the unavoidable actuality that those states are cold in the winter months. California is perfect. She doesn't want to go to Florida and roast herself in the sun. Her body just wants to be warm again.
She doesn't want to feel anything like she felt back in New York.
The jet has been in the air for nearly two hours. People around her are asleep, and even as she's gotten lost in thought, the perverse man beside her has fallen into his slumber. Now that she glances around, occasionally looking out of the small window she leans against, Olivia realizes she may be the only one awake, apart from the crew.
A few rows across from her, an old woman sits with a book in her lap. The position in which the woman is slouched she can't tell if she's sleeping or not, but it gives her a little hope knowing that she's not the only one awake.
That's another way she felt when she was in New York. Alone.
She had coworkers, a few distant friends, Simon, Lucy, and of course Elliot. But they weren't, and could never be the companion she wanted. A lover. A spouse. Someone who supported what she does and maybe even liked her partner.
Her eyes water marginally. She refuses to let herself cry, because what is she really leaving? A life she couldn't take any longer, or running for her life?
Outside of the window, the stars shine brightly in the darkened sky, illuminated by the moon.
When she first came into the unit, she profiled everyone.
It wasn't really a conscious thought, it just happened.
Before she even knew these people's names, she had critical thoughts racing through her mind. Skepticism was a big trait she found in all of them. Like their belief in humanity had been so torn to shreds, anything a person said was taken into light consideration. Even victims.
Amanda zips her leather jacket up higher, reaching out with her other hand to slap the elevator. The apartment building she's just entered isn't exactly cold, but it's sheer knowledge that what she's about to witness in any circumstance will not be positive. Yet, she just wants to make sure.
Benson and Stabler are one of the teams she's seen, but the fighting that's only gotten worse over the last few months is visibly taking a toll on Olivia. She's a hell of a woman, but there's only so much one can take.
SVU has a different feel than she was expecting. Munch often takes the back seat and stays at the precinct with Cragen and lower rank detectives. She can't wrap her head quite wrap her head around that, and how the aging man and Fin ever got to be detectives. They're polar opposites, yet she's heard from Elliot and even Fin himself, that they worked good together.
Then she feels like she was intruding, even though she requested.
Her mind drifts to a series of moments she's witnessed between the two lead detectives caught in the midst of just watching one another. They weren't romantically involved as far as she knew, and as far as she observed, but they could be damn good at hiding it. These days, micro expressions are something police officers can easily control.
Elliot no longer wears a wedding band on his finger.
She tries not to think anything of it. Fin never talks about Elliot and Olivia when they're not around, and Amanda has gathered that her partner thinks of Olivia as more of a sister than a coworker. So to him, an office affair between the two wasn't any of his business.
Not that she's a nosy person, she just wants to know for the sake of the team's safety.
The elevator doors open in front of her. It's a tad dirty and empty, same goes with the foyer behind her, but it doesn't stop her from grazing her fingers along the gun saddled on her hip. Mostly all apartment buildings around Manhattan are nice inside each residence, but the maintenance, especially as late as it is right now, isn't kept up to the high amounts people pay to live there.
Amanda taps the button on the cold elevator to close the doors, and then the fourth floor. It descents upwards and she wishes she could lean against the wall and pretend everything within this unit isn't fucked up, but she can't. There's a driving need within her to fix the five others she works close with. She doesn't want to change them, just help them move away from an ending that may come too soon, in her mind.
To her, these people are her family now.
The elevator shaft creaks and groans before landing on her destined floor. This doesn't scare her, anymore. She's used to being in an elevator almost as much as a car. Quantico had elevators in every sky high building on the base. APD had elevators. Even now, the Sixteenth Precinct has elevators.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't just opt for the stairs some mornings, though. Passing down an extra bit of exercise was never her forte, because there was always a fear within her that she wouldn't be fast enough to catch a perp, or even sprint for her life.
When the metal doors separate, Amanda's heart jumps into her throat.
The fight between Olivia and her partner two days ago was bad, even for them. It wasn't the yelling, because the blonde knew that well. The subject line, however, was. Truth of the matter was, Elliot was fighting Olivia to get her to understand that he was in fact right. Elliot was just trying to make Olivia believe, make her comprehend that she simply cannot keep putting herself on the line not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
Thing is, he's correct.
It had everything and nothing to do with the case.
They all had a day off, and Amanda hoped to hell it would be enough time for them to reconcile. But Olivia never showed for work today, and it was so uncharacteristic of her that as soon as she laid eyes on Elliot, it clicked in her head. They'd all been off today. As soon as Cragen let them go at five pm after an uneventful day of paperwork and silence, Elliot shot out of his seat and out the doors.
Almost as fast as Amanda.
She has to stop when she gets off the elevator to dig her phone, which contains the text from Fin telling her which apartment Olivia resides in.
4E.
Before she can muster up a half-ass speech to the woman behind the door, she finds herself right in front of it. Her cellphone is back in her jacket pocket now, but as her eyes drift up the door, she thinks she might need it to call 911.
The door is ajar, and the air around it is eerily cold. She would call out, ask if anyone was there, if the breath wasn't caught in her throat. Something isn't right. Her curiosity gets the best of her and she pushes the door back, bringing Olivia's apartment into her view.
In her heart, she knew something would happen. But as she steps into the dark, cold, and empty apartment, it sinks into her mind that this something has happened. She wasn't aware that Olivia was even thinking about moving out of her place, and judging by the look on Elliot's face all day, there was a little more than just a new home going on in their lives.
Amanda's steps are measured. She feels like she's intruding, like the pale yellow walls are yelling back at her to get out of the senior detective's home. The kitchen and living room solidifies her in this spot, however. Her brain is playing tricks on her, showing silhouettes of Olivia sitting on a couch where the scratches and dust now mar the floor, with her head in her hands, the shoulder's of the brave woman shaking slightly.
She blinks out of the hallucination when the door she'd just come through creaks, followed by two feet coming to a cold stop. The police officer in her automatically turns, drawing her service weapon halfway before her eyes catch up with her body's movement.
The man in front of her is barely aware she's even there. He stares out at the walls, taking in the emptiness of the room.
"Stabler," Amanda croaks, re-holstering her gun.
His eyes scathe over her, nearly missing her once again. She's known the man for not even a year, and it's not enough time to know how he reacts to a situation that leaves such a desperate, heartbroken look on his face.
Her first reaction is currently controlling her body, shifting her feet backwards one small step at a time. Elliot walks, but stumbles almost, grasping onto the kitchen counter for support. His chest doesn't expand or collapse, it's just frozen.
Amanda barely makes out his words. "She left..." he looks around the room again, then shuts his eyes tightly. "Again." She observes him and retraces her steps, all the while, hoping Olivia's sudden move has just been a misunderstanding.
But she thinks they both know, it isn't.
A/N: ?