Writing has been very difficult for me lately, especially when it comes to finishing the final chapter of a story, but this little idea popped into my head and I wanted to run with it. It's just a tiny hurt/comfort one-shot that takes place in the present time.
I'm slowly but surely trying to work my way through my other stories, so hopefully there will be more updates soon. :)
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She just can't shake him.
He is all around her and inside her, his presence filling up every corner of the precinct and sucking all the air from the squad room until she can't draw in more than the shallowest of breaths. Logically, she knows that he is not here; that he is most likely hundreds of miles away from New York, but that doesn't stop her brain and body from reacting as if he is standing right there in front of her, those dark, penetrating eyes boring straight into her own.
Before she can give any consideration to how abrupt and concerning her departure might look to anyone else, Amanda is shoving her chair away from her desk and scrambling to her feet, ignoring the alarmed looks on her colleagues' faces as she sprints down the hallway toward the bathroom in an effort to rid herself of this ghost from the past that is determined to keep haunting her. Everything seems to have come crashing down in the blink of an eye and she is stunned by the speed and suddenness of it all; that after so long without a nightmare or a flashback or even a fleeting thought of him, it has all rushed back to consume her because of something so simple.
After interrogating a suspect earlier in the day that bore only a passing physical resemblance to her former deputy chief; an older, refined man who had moved there from Atlanta a few years ago and had a penchant for raping younger women with long blonde hair, Amanda had quickly become unraveled at the seams when he had tossed out a casual, "See you later, darlin'," in a smooth Southern drawl as he was escorted from the room. The familiar pet name combined with the slick voice and the predatory gaze that he had fixed upon Amanda's body, those probing eyes raking up and down her slim frame in a slow, almost lazy fashion, and that coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, had set her heart pounding and her skin crawling and she hasn't been able to get him out of her mind since.
Now, as she stands there on shaking legs that are barely supporting her, small hands clutching onto the cold porcelain sink with an iron-clad grip, Amanda finds herself staring into the mirror with wide, panicked blue eyes, her own reflection shimmering and changing as she gazes into the dark orbs of the man who had done her so much harm in the past, having mistakenly thought that he no longer had such a hold on her. Amanda's heart is pumping faster with each passing second, beads of sweat lining her forehead as her breath comes out in short, panting gasps, and she struggles to reign in her whirling thoughts and spiraling emotions, trying to tether herself to reality before it disappears completely and she is consumed by unwanted memories of the past, drowning in a black pit of despair.
Amanda doesn't even notice that she has now company in the bathroom until a strong, warm pair of hands are wrapping around her own and unclenching her fingers from their rigid position on the sink, her slender digits grasping so tightly onto the porcelain that her knuckles appear bloodless. As she looks into the mirror again, relief floods through her entire being when there is only her own reflection and Olivia's peering back at her, the taller woman hovering worriedly behind Amanda's smaller form and their eyes meeting in the smudged glass.
"Let go, Amanda," she hears Olivia command softly over the roaring that has taken up residence in her ears, the lieutenant gently prying her fingers one by one from the sink until Amanda's arms have drifted down to her sides and hang there limply, like she doesn't know what to do with limbs that suddenly feel so much heavier than usual.
Olivia's hands move away from her own, the brunette's palms sliding up her arms to her shoulders, fingertips digging into the fabric of Amanda's blazer ever so slightly before turning her around so they are standing face to face. They gaze at each other in silence for a moment, Olivia's fingers moving over her shoulders in a languid massage, Amanda's muscles slowly uncoiling themselves under the tender ministrations of her boss and friend and loosening into a more comfortable position.
"What happened out there?" Olivia questions in a tone of quiet concern, her hushed voice echoing in the otherwise empty washroom. "I looked up from my paperwork just in time to see you running out of the squad room like you were about to be sick. I would ask if you're okay, but I think the answer is obvious."
"I'm okay," Amanda states reflexively, her reply automatic after years of pretending that everything is fine when it's clearly not, and the response sounding untrue and somewhat robotic, even to herself.
"Amanda," Olivia murmurs reproachfully, the other woman's grip tightening incrementally around her shoulders. "Please be honest with me."
"Well, I guess I'm not really that okay," she admits in a barely audible whisper, her gaze falling away from Olivia's to focus on the cracked and stained tiles of the floor, the fairly quick turn from withholding the truth to actually acknowledging it a true testament to how far their friendship has come over the past while and how much more at ease she feels in Olivia's presence.
"Alright, thank you for your honesty," the older woman replies softly, her hands caressing up and down Amanda's arms with a gentle, grounding touch. "Can you tell me why you're not okay? Does it have anything to do with what happened in the interrogation room earlier? I saw the way you reacted to the suspect, even though you tried to hide it and brush it off afterwards."
Amanda stiffens in an effort to put a halt to the trembling that has started up in her body once again, minute shudders that radiate from her head all the way down to her toes and swiftly getting stronger until she is shaking violently and her legs are threatening to give out beneath her. There are sudden loud voices in the hallway right outside the bathroom and as the door begins to swing open, she is vaguely aware of Olivia grabbing onto her wrist and herding her into the largest stall at the end of the row of toilets for some privacy while she tries to pull herself together.
There is a tiny space between the wall and the metal stall, and Amanda can see a group of women gathered around the sinks, arguing boisterously about how many years in prison some guy named Joe should get, and another deeper, male voice coming from the hallway outside and adding his opinion to the conversation. They yell back and forth through the door for a moment, and in her confusing and whirling torment, Amanda is briefly convinced that the man in the hall is Charles Patton and he will be bursting into the room at any second to hurt her.
Before she can stop herself, her knees are buckling and she is slumping into Olivia's curvy figure with a soft moan of fear, her nose pressing into a sweet-smelling neck and silky hair that bears the faint scent of vanilla tickling her cheekbone. "Make him go away," she pleads urgently into Olivia's ear, grabbing onto the sides of her lieutenant's blouse with fumbling fingers as any shame that she would normally be feeling in this situation is overtaken by anxious terror.
"The man outside the door. Make him go away," Amanda clarifies when she feels Olivia hesitate against her like the other woman is unsure of exactly what she means, before her boss is calling out in a no-nonsense tone for everyone in the room to quiet down and vacate the premises.
"But I have to reapply my makeup," a shrill female voice protests, followed by similar noises of dissent from the rest of the group, and Olivia immediately directs them toward another bathroom nearby.
The small group troops out of the room with irritated grumbles, their voices mingling in with the deep male one waiting in the hall and quickly fading into the distance as they walk away, the door closing behind them to envelop Amanda and Olivia in silence once more. Amanda is aware of the taller woman's arms winding around her waist and holding on tightly to keep her upright, strong hands sliding up to the back of her blazer to rub wide, sweeping circles across the material, and she is practically melting into Olivia's embrace now.
"Charles Patton is not here, honey," Olivia suddenly whispers, Amanda feeling the brunette's hold around her tighten when she jerks in shock, briefly certain that her boss is able to read her mind. "I know you were triggered by the suspect we interrogated earlier and that he reminded you of Patton. He even reminded me a little of him as well. But he's not here, Amanda. He's not in the interrogation room or the hallway or this bathroom. It's just us here, just you and me."
"I know that, Liv," Amanda mutters in return in what she hopes is a tone infused with strength and confidence, but one that wobbles noticeably instead. "Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It's just that...our suspect...well, he kind of threw me for a loop. I wasn't expecting it. I've been absolutely fine for a long time now; Patton rarely even crosses my mind anymore. But everything just came rushing back to me earlier and now I feel like I'm going crazy..."
A wave of tears blur her vision as Amanda yanks herself away from Olivia and scrabbles with the lock on the door, her hands shaking so much that she is unable to grasp ahold of it and ends up slumping against the cool metal of the stall in defeat, resting her head on the hard surface. She is overcome with embarrassment and shame at the way she is acting in such mundane circumstances, this day just like any other that they've had over the course of her time at the Special Victims Unit, interviewing one suspect after another as they try to close their cases as quickly as possible, and no reason for her to be on the verge of an epic meltdown.
"Just take a deep breath for me, Amanda. Slow down for a minute, okay?" She feels those soothing circles start up again on her back and long fingers running gently through her hair as she stands there with her forehead pressed into the door, not even daring to throw a glance over her shoulder at Olivia in case she breaks.
"It's perfectly normal to have a momentary lapse; you're not going crazy." The brunette's voice is soothing and reassuring, and Amanda is blinking rapidly now in an effort to stem the impending flow of tears, not quite sure if she is about to have a breakdown due to the horrific memories of Charles Patton or the compassionate kindness of Olivia Benson. "Sometimes a certain case or suspect or victim will bring up something from the past; something that we would rather forget. It's happened to me too, from time to time, and I know the rest of our squad has had experiences like this as well. It's nothing to be ashamed of, honey."
"I'm sorry, Liv," Amanda croaks out through the lump that has risen in her throat, empathy for her lieutenant rising up to overthrow her own fear and shame. "I'm sorry it's happened to you too. I'll get myself together, though. I need to get back out there. I'll be fine, I swear."
"There's no rush," Olivia says softly, Amanda feeling those tender fingers wrapping around her upper arms now, and she knows the older woman wants her to turn around so they can talk face to face again. "Just take your time."
A quiet sob emits from between Amanda's lips before she can stifle it, overwhelmed with the events of the day and riddled with remembrances from years gone by that she would give anything to forget, and this time when Olivia gives a slight tug on her arms, she lets the lieutenant turn her body so they are facing each other. Olivia's dark eyes are glittering with warmth and understanding, and Amanda's eyelids flutter briefly closed when an olive hand rises to stroke tenderly along her cheekbone, the taller woman murmuring words of comfort that begin to infuse her with a sense of calm.
There is still a lingering fear residing there, though; images of her former deputy chief and the forced intimacy of the time they had spent together resounding through her mind and lodging there like she will never be free of it again, and Amanda finds herself holding her arms out to Olivia in a silent plea for more than just emotional comfort and support. Her own action takes her by surprise, as she is now doing it willingly instead of just slumping against her boss like she had done earlier in an effort to keep from falling to the floor, eager to be physically close to Olivia while the older woman continues to soothe her and desperate for these haunting images to be erased from her brain.
"Please, Liv...if it's okay...I want you to..." Her voice is halting and unsure, a pink blush of embarrassment tingeing her pale cheeks with bright spots of color as she bites down on her bottom lip and continues to speak in a very soft tone. "I need you to hold me again."
Amanda gives the brunette a tremulous smile as she is immediately enfolded into the safe and strong arms of a woman that she trusts with her life, her head coming to rest on Olivia's shoulder as they embrace in the privacy of the bathroom stall, and the ghosts from her past slowly but surely beginning to dissipate.