This story takes place in season 15, between the episodes "Gambler's Fallacy" and "Beast's Obsession" and is my own version of what Amanda was going through in her personal life at that point in time. Olivia is still in recovery from her abduction by William Lewis and the trial, but he has not yet reappeared in her life at this point. I wanted to write about Amanda hitting rock bottom after the events of "Gambler's Fallacy" and how she tries to repair her broken work relationship with Olivia, along with exploring the feelings she has for her boss.
This story is a dark three-shot and is rated "M" for adult themes, which include sexual situations and suicidal ideation, so please take care if you feel that you might be triggered by reading this. There is not a lot of conversation in the first chapter, but there will be more in the next couple of updates.
I know I'm very behind with several of my other stories and I'm continuing to work on them, despite the massive amount of writer's block I'm currently having with those fics.
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"I'm miles from where you are
I lay down on the cold ground
I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms"
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"Hey, blondie, you think you're gonna come anytime soon? My hand is getting tired."
Amanda Rollins gives an irritated roll of her big blue eyes before squeezing them shut and concentrating as hard as she possibly can, trying to block out the obnoxious music that is blaring from the other side of the bathroom door and the raucous laughter from a few of her fellow bar patrons who are loitering outside of their locked stall. Her sweaty forehead is pressed into the cool, grimy metal of the tiny cubicle, fingertips scrabbling for purchase across the bumpy surface as the dark-haired woman pushes into her roughly from behind, unable to bring herself to care about how indiscreet they are being.
Amanda's dress is hiked up around her waist and her underwear is pooled down at her ankles, a hand larger than her own gripping the delicate skin of her hip with enough force to leave bruises while the other remains buried deeply between her legs, pumping in and out to no avail. She lets loose with a frustrated growl, inhaling the sharp scents of alcohol and cigarettes when she draws in a deep breath, trying to surrender herself to the sensation at the juncture of her thighs that should feel pleasant but is beginning to border on a little too harsh for her liking.
"Fuck, I got a cramp in my arm now," the husky voice grunts impatiently right next to her ear. "Hurry up, Georgia Peach. It usually doesn't take you this damn long to come."
"Well, maybe if you would shut the hell up, we could get this done a little faster," Amanda gasps out, desperate for some relief as those long fingers continue to piston in and out at an increasingly rapid pace, a burn that is equal parts pleasure and pain taking up residence inside her core now. "I don't want to hear your voice."
"Aww, why, sweetie? Because I don't sound like her?" The dark chuckle that follows this question only serves to ratchet up Amanda's already foul mood, and she curses herself for coming here tonight in an effort to curb the overwhelming urge to gamble; determined that those bleak, terrifying days are now behind her and she has turned over a new leaf.
In the process of trying to discard one bad habit from her life; a vice that had become potentially life-threatening at the height of all the chaos involving Declan Murphy and her sergeant finding out how she had chosen to occupy her time in her off-hours, Amanda has picked up a couple of other distasteful habits to replace that all-consuming need to gamble. While she has always been a big fan of most types of alcohol, enjoying different kinds of booze since long before she was actually of legal drinking age, Amanda has been imbibing a little more frequently lately, seeking to settle her nerves and soothe herself to sleep after long days of working under the heavy weight of her sergeant's watchful gaze, Olivia keeping such a tight reign on her at the precinct that Amanda feels as if she is being suffocated on a daily basis.
It is not the kind of attention that she wants from the older woman; her admiration and awe of Olivia upon arrival from Atlanta having slowly formed into a good working relationship between the two colleagues, with the first tentative tendrils of friendship beginning to grow amidst them, before it had all come crashing down due to Amanda's inability to keep control over her addictive behavior. Any desire that she may have had to take her blossoming friendship with Olivia even further; to transition from working at the precinct to hanging out together on weekends, going to the movies or eating at restaurants or sharing the occasional jog through Central Park, have been completely dashed in the wake of the events from a few weeks previous.
Now that Olivia's trust in Amanda has been entirely obliterated and she is holding onto her job at the Special Victims Unit by a thread that seems to become narrower and more frayed with each passing day, those feelings that have simmered deep down inside since long before her transfer to New York; the tiniest trace of hope that perhaps one day far in the future, after their friendship has had time to flourish and they have grown closer to one another, Amanda would be able to gather enough courage to reveal just how deep her feelings actually go, have been squashed.
Any chance of this happening with Olivia; of a friendship or something more, is now completely shattered with no hope of rebuilding what was lost and trying to move forward, and Amanda has been left wandering helplessly through the wreckage of her own making, grasping at any straw she possibly can to try and stay afloat and keep herself from sinking beneath the murky depths of total despair. She had already been on somewhat shaky ground with her superior even before the events with Declan Murphy had taken place, Amanda struggling with issues in her personal life and Olivia continuing to come to terms with what William Lewis had recently put her through, but she was confident that anything amiss between them could be fixed with a little time and effort.
As Amanda slumps against the inside of the dingy bathroom stall, feeling the voluptuous breasts of her companion pushing into her back and those slender fingers working so diligently between her thighs, she is dismally aware that all hope has now been lost; that she has absolutely no idea how to get back into Olivia's good graces and keep doing her job to the best of her ability. A black sort of resignation has set in over the past several weeks; a forlorn sense of loss, along with a knowledge that things will never be able to revert back to the way they were before she had screwed up so badly and that Amanda will continue traveling down a very dark road of her own making, even if it no longer involves the diversion she loves above all else.
The activity she is currently indulging in; drunken sex with a near-stranger in a public restroom of a rowdy bar, is something she had never seen herself doing in the past, an action she would never have considered taking until it had suddenly been presented to her after Olivia had chewed her out in her office and Amanda had escaped the squad room with tears streaking her face and a bruise marring one prominent cheekbone. Having taken refuge in a bar down the street with an ill-conceived plan to drown her sorrows and erase any thoughts of Olivia's grim words and the disappointed look in those beautiful brown eyes, Amanda had ended up sitting beside a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the boss she had just run away from.
This woman looks to be near Olivia's age, with the same skin tone and hair coloring, those large eyes dark and penetrating, but without the warmth and compassion that always shines from Olivia's gaze; a chilled and somewhat apathetic look greeting Amanda whenever they come into contact with one another for this kind of release. The obvious physical similarities to her sergeant were what had first attracted Amanda to her; along with a desperate need for forgiveness and comfort and a distraction from those intense gambling urges, to lose herself in something pleasurable that would make her forget about the hell her life had become, and to try and erase any thoughts of the future she could have had with Olivia if things had turned out differently. They had begun to share bits and pieces of their broken lives with one another over bottles of beer and shots of whisky, during games of pool and throwing darts, and it hadn't taken very long to move to the next logical step; screwing each other like wild animals wherever they could find a convenient spot to do so.
This woman's likeness to Olivia does not extend past the enticing physical attributes, however, and Amanda winces and swallows back a whimper when the rapid movement of her fingers thrust too deeply inside and she feels the sharp scrape of a nail along her tender walls, this degrading act that is taking place in the stall of a public restroom becoming a little too brutal for her enjoyment.
"Will you slow down it down a little back there?" she snaps angrily, throwing a disgruntled look over her shoulder and trying to disguise the pain in her voice, relieved when the quick pace of those long fingers begin to dissipate somewhat. "You're hurting me."
"Sorry, I didn't realize you were such a delicate little flower, sweetheart. I'm just trying to move things along here," the older woman replies without a trace of contrition evident in her tone. "I've got better things to do tonight besides trying to help a little blonde bitch get her rocks off. You were the one who came to me for this, remember?"
Amanda feels an immediate wash of shame as she listens to the amused giggles and heated whispers of the group of woman gathered by the row of sinks; can see them reapplying lipstick in the mirror through the thin crack between the stall door and the dirty wall, scrolling through their phones and snapping drunken pictures of one another, although their attention seems to be mostly fixated on what is happening inside this particular cubicle.
There are humiliated tears welling up in her eyes now, stricken at just how low she has allowed herself to fall; that this is not the first time a situation like this has taken place inside the bathroom of a grungy little bar, and it will most likely not be the last, sharing copious amounts of drinks and multiple sexual encounters with this brutal woman who continues to push into her from behind while Amanda tries to close her legs against the hand that now seems more like an intrusion instead of an escape.
"Ah, geez, just calm down, will ya, blondie?" There is a heavy sigh against Amanda's neck and a gust of beer-scented breath that ruffles her sleek golden hair. "I'll go slower if you want me too. Just pretend I'm her; that boss of yours who's always giving you such a hard time, the one you're in love with. I'll quit talking so you can get into the right frame of mind."
Amanda had been about to pull away and fix her clothing with the intention of making a hasty exit from this depressing place that has become her second home, to put some space between her and this awful woman who is actually nothing like Olivia at all but someone she has spilled her deepest and darkest secrets to in a desperate effort to make a connection with another human being; the words that have just been spoken make her stop short in her tracks.
Beautiful images of Olivia Benson fill Amanda's mind as the fingers buried at the juncture of her thighs caress her soaked folds at a more languid pace and a thumb draws gentle circles around her swollen clit, her back arching into the taller figure behind her and a low moan escaping her lips. Olivia's name is poised on the tip of her tongue and she tries to keep from screaming it out into the room as she imagines the gorgeous body and nimble fingers of her sergeant bringing her such pleasure, Olivia's plump lips kissing a tender trail along her neck as she swiftly guides Amanda toward that much-needed release.
A detailed storyline quickly takes up residence within Amanda's brain; that the events of the past few weeks had never actually happened, that she has never even gambled in her life and is instead involved in a loving and committed relationship with Olivia, the older woman making love to her on the bed in the apartment they share, rather than being screwed from behind in a bathroom stall by a woman she can't even stand. She can feel a delicious tingling sensation in her groin that spreads upwards into her stomach and begins to encompass the rest of her body, so caught up in the fantasy that is currently playing out inside her mind that she is briefly convinced it actually is Olivia who is bringing her to such ecstasy as she writhes and bucks in the other woman's embrace when the intense orgasm finally takes hold.
Amanda is immediately brought back to harsh reality when a loud round of applause goes up in the bathroom and echoes throughout the stall, laughter and cheers sounding from the women milling around the sinks, and she realizes just how loud her release was and that the woman who had given it to her is now laughing as well, looking smug and proud as she wrenches open the cubicle door and gives a deep bow to their audience. This gesture is met with more whooping and hollering from the drunken bar patrons, along with high-fives and smirks, and the tears that have been hovering in Amanda's eyes are now trickling down her cheeks as she hurriedly pulls her underwear back into place and yanks her dress down over her hips.
Her head is hanging low with shame and regret and humiliation as she rushes from the room amid raucous catcalls and groping hands, shoving her way through the thick crowd so she can pluck her jacket from the stool she had been sitting on and squeeze through the crush of bodies into the frigid winter air outside. Amanda is sobbing in despair as she stumbles down the icy front steps of the bar, gripping onto the railing with shaking hands so she doesn't slip, and cursing herself for being stupid enough to wear high heels in this terrible weather.
She searches frantically for a cab as she totters unsteadily along the sidewalk, wanting nothing more than to be tucked into bed in her warm and safe apartment with Frannie, and when she can't seem to locate a taxi in a timely fashion, Amanda ducks into a nearby alleyway for some shelter from the cold wind and to light up a cigarette, hoping the familiar action with help calm her nerves. Just as she is fishing the smoke and a lighter from a pocket of her coat, one of Amanda's skinny heels hit an icy patch on the gravel and her legs go skidding out from under her.
Before she can even try to regain her lost balance and keeping herself upright, arms windmilling wildly and feet madly trying to regain purchase on the slippery surface of the ground, Amanda goes tumbling onto the snowy pavement in a tangled pile of twisted limbs and disheveled hair and wrinkled clothing. She lays there in stunned silence for a moment, the wind knocked right from her lungs, staring up at the tiny strip of inky black sky that is visible between the tops of the tall buildings that rise up beside her like giants in the night, too shocked to even move or to try taking a breath and unsure if she has broken a limb or is bleeding from a wound.
When it is still fairly quiet a few minutes later, the only sounds coming from the people entering and exiting the bar in a flurry of discussion and laughter, and the low drone of music emanating from inside the walls of the establishment, Amanda realizes with a small sigh of relief that no one else had been there to witness her embarrassing fall and that she can quickly pick herself back up and dust herself off like this had never even happened; no one the wiser. She can continue on with her evening like nothing is wrong, like she hadn't just let some near-stranger get her off in a public washroom while they had been surrounded by an audience, like she isn't desperately in love with a woman who can now barely stand the sight of her in the squad room, like her entire life is not falling to pieces all around her and maybe she would be better off not existing anymore.
But instead of making an effort to sit up and get off the chilly ground, to seek out another cab and make it home to snuggle up with her beloved pet, Amanda simply lays there flat out on her back and continues staring up at the dark sky with a blank gaze as the tears come harder and flow down her cheeks at a seemingly unstoppable rate, pooling beneath her matted blonde hair to create small puddles of anguish and defeat on the filthy gravel beneath her.
She is feeling utterly lost and wants nothing more than to just give up; to give in to these demons that haunt her and won't leave her alone, to do something, anything at all to make this pain stop, to have some peace in her life and a rest from this all-consuming chaos and dread, a break from the knowledge that she has let down the most important person in her life, the woman she loves more than anyone she has ever known but who won't ever love her back.
A myriad of disturbing scenarios run in circles through Amanda's mind; charging back into the bar she had just fled and getting so drunk that she won't be able to remember her own name, searching out the nearest casino and gambling away what little money she actually has left, even toying with the idea of using her service revolver on herself to put a permanent halt to this unending agony. Each of these possibilities is mulled over in great detail as Amanda continues to lay there in a frozen lump on the ground, turning every single thought over and over in her brain and discarding them all until she comes to the one that she knows is horribly wrong and that she needs to quit thinking about before it becomes a reality.
But once she has grabbed ahold of this particular idea, Amanda can't seem to let it go and allows her numb fingers to search through her jacket pocket for her phone, grasping onto the device with digits that are rapidly becoming too cold to move properly and scrolling down the chilly screen to find the name she is looking for. Despite everything that has happened lately, all of the terrible events that they have been through together and Olivia's utter lack of trust and downright dislike of her, there is no one else that Amanda wants to talk to in this moment, no one else she would rather be with.
She is fully aware of what a terrible plan this is; to interrupt an evening that Olivia is most likely enjoying with Cassidy, but Amanda determinedly raises the phone to her ear once she has located her sergeant's number and waits with bated breath for Olivia to answer.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end of the line sounds wary and exhausted and not the least bit welcoming, but just the act of listening to Olivia speak and hearing that familiar voice is all it takes for the sobs to come bursting out of Amanda's parted lips once again; a desperate, prolonged wail of helplessness and need from a woman who is on the verge of giving up entirely, rising into the air around her to echo off the nearby buildings.
"Amanda?"
The single word spoken from her boss in response to the likely shocking and worrying noises that are emitting from her subordinate's mouth; the three syllables that comprise Amanda's first name instead of the usual 'Rollins', are instantly full of surprise and concern, and a hint of hope swirls through Amanda's complete despair; the brief thought that maybe Olivia actually does still give a damn about her.
"Liv."
Amanda can't bring herself to whimper more than the short-form of her sergeant's name in return, the constant flood of tears making it hard for her to see now and the moisture clogging her throat to the point where she can barely talk; wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in Olivia's strong embrace and for the older woman to forgive her sins.
"Amanda, what's going on? Where are you? Are you okay?"
There is a panicked edge to Olivia's normally smooth tone, a note of alarm that spikes through the usual calm, and Amanda can hear the clomping of boots on the other end of the line; a honk of a horn and the congestion of traffic, like the other woman is also outdoors on this freezing cold night.
"I don't want to be here anymore," Amanda manages to choke out through the huge lump in her throat and the clumsiness of an inebriated tongue; unsure if she is referring to the alleyway outside of the bar or the earth as a whole, the thought of wiping her existence entirely from this planet not scaring her in the least and beginning to sound like a feasible option.
"Where?" Olivia responds in a swiftly rising voice, the striding of feet sounding much more purposeful. "Where are you right now? And where would you rather be?"
Before Amanda can stop herself, the words are tumbling forth from her mouth seemingly without permission; the short sentence garbled and drawn out on another lengthy and anguished sob, her limbs molded to the frozen ground and the tears continuing to spill in an unceasing waterfall of emotion down her flushed cheeks.
"With you."
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*Songs lyrics from Snow Patrol's "Set Fire to the Third Bar"