Amanda is huddled up on the floor of her bathroom, back resting against the closed door, legs pulled up to her chest and arms locked around her shins, face buried against her knees. She is absolutely distraught, the lingering, blurry images from her nightmares completely banished from her brain now, as the only thing she can concentrate on is Olivia; how she has caused pain for the other woman, has possibly created irreversible damage, irreparable harm, to the friendship that has taken years to build, a relationship that she now cherishes very much.
She is trying to ignore the incessant tapping on the door behind her, but Olivia is nothing if not persistent, and she has clearly not been swayed by Amanda's terrifying nocturnal behaviour, because she is still here, even after being clawed across the stomach by her colleague's sharp fingernails.
"Amanda, please open the door." Olivia's voice has that soft, soothing lilt once again, and it only serves to make the already suffocating guilt even worse.
"Go away, Liv."
"I'm not going away after you asked me to come over here in the middle of the night." Olivia's voice is firm now.
"Well, you didn't have to drop everything to come here," Amanda answers, a note of petulance in her tone, and she bites her lip, feeling a swell of anger for herself, knowing the older woman deserves nothing but her kindness after everything she has done for her; but there is also that spike of jealousy again when she thinks of Olivia showing up here, looking beautiful instead of sleep-rumpled, obviously having been engaging in other activities before Amanda had ripped her away from them. "You must have better things to do with your time than being attacked by your co-worker while sleeping."
She hears a sigh from the other side of the door. "So you're upset that I came over?"
"No, Liv." Amanda's voice is broken now, and she swallows back another wave of tears, aware of the ones that are still streaming unchecked down her face, as she has not been able to stem the flow since realizing she had injured Olivia.
"Well, if you're not upset about it, then open the door and let me in," Olivia reasons gently.
"I can't."
"Why not, honey?"
"Because I hurt you." Amanda is practically choking on her words now. "You're afraid of me."
She hears the light scratching of fingernails against the door now, like Olivia is trying to soothe her through the barrier between them. "I'm fine, sweetheart, I promise. It's just a few small marks; I'll live. You did scare me at first," she admits. "But it was because I was sound asleep and didn't know what was happening. It took me a minute to remember where I was and why I was here."
"You're here because I'm a pathetic mess," Amanda murmurs, her voice so low she is not even sure if Olivia can hear her. "I understand if you're angry with me," she adds, louder now. "You have a right to be."
"I'm not angry, Amanda, I promise. What am, though, is worried sick about you. We need to talk, so please open the door."
Amanda closes her eyes, feeling the tears seeping out from beneath her lashes, and she tightens her arms around her shins. "I can't, Liv. I don't want to hurt you again."
"You won't," Olivia assures her softly, and Amanda hears a slight shuffling on the other side of the door, a sliding sound against the grain of wood, a brief shaking, like the older woman is now mirroring her position from the opposite side, and is sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, their backs against each other through the barrier of wood.
There is silence for several minutes and Amanda's head is leaning back against the door now, eyes still closed, the tide of tears finally beginning to slow. She is exhausted and afraid and somehow lonelier than she has felt for a long time, despite Olivia being right there behind her, on the other side of the door. She feels trapped inside her head, the dark thoughts swirling around her; that urge to just leave the apartment and seek out a place, any place at all, to gamble her money away, but at the same time feeling that need to stay put, that there are monsters out there waiting to get her. She has never felt more pathetic than she has at this moment and she is chewing her bottom lip so hard in shame, that she tastes blood, and reaches up to swipe a hand across her mouth, fingers stained red when she pulls them away.
"Amanda, please let me in," Olivia finally says, apparently resolute in not giving up and not leaving her alone.
Amanda remains where she is for another minute before expelling a deep sigh and reaching up to unlatch the lock. She slides quickly across the floor in an awkward backwards crab walk, away from door, looking warily up at Olivia as the older woman enters the room. She has the bizarre urge to climb into the bathtub, just to create another barrier between them, as if she is suddenly going to leap up off the floor and attack her boss with her fingernails again, and she shakes her head at her own ridiculousness, resolving to stay put where she is and not give Olivia another reason to think that her employee has completely lost her mind.
"Amanda, you're shaking like a leaf," the older woman points out gently, when she gets a look at her. "You're exhausted and freezing, honey. You need to put something warmer on and go to bed."
Amanda hasn't even realized that she is trembling, the goosebumps from earlier making a reappearance, and popping out along the bare skin of her arms and legs. She folds further into herself, suddenly feeling how cold she actually is, and wanting the older woman's arms around her again, but she tries to clamp down on the urge to slide forward across the floor when Olivia kneels down in front of her; doesn't voice what she is feeling.
"Honey, what happened to your lip?" her boss asks softly, reaching out to place a hand on her jaw, but Amanda turns her head away from her, Olivia's fingertips grazing her cheek before falling away.
"Nothing, it's fine," she mutters, wiping her arm across her mouth, and noticing the thin line of blood smeared along her skin.
Olivia unrolls a wad of toilet paper and hands it to, before sitting back on her heels. "It doesn't look like nothing."
Amanda shrugs, putting the toilet paper to her lip to blot the small amount of blood. "I just bit down too hard; it's not a big deal."
Olivia is looking closely at her, a frown fixed on her perfectly made up face, and Amanda stares back at her for a moment before glancing down at the other woman's sweater, imagining the scratch marks underneath, and wondering if she had caused Olivia to bleed just like she herself now is. "I think you're having a really rough night," her boss says quietly, and Amanda shrugs again, feeling tiny and pathetic under the intense scrutiny of the older woman. "What were you dreaming about?"
Amanda tries to stop herself from shrugging for a third time in a row, and whispers "I don't know; I can't remember." She can't seem to get the shaking of her body under control now; whether it be from the cold and her lack of appropriate clothing, the fact that she had physically hurt her boss, or the lingering remnants of her disturbing dreams, she is not sure.
"Honey, are you scared?" Olivia questions gently, moving closer to her on the floor. "You're safe here with me."
A corner of Amanda's lip quirks up in a humorless grin. "It's funny that you keep saying that, Liv. It's quite ironic, actually. You keep repeating that I'm safe with you, but it turns out that you're the one who's not safe with me." Her mouth drags down in a sob as she says the words, a whimper escaping her throat, and she has to swallow back another onslaught of tears. "I may be scared, but I think you are too," she adds, a hitch in her tone now. "You're scared of me."
"Amanda, I am not scared of you," Olivia says firmly. "Would I be in here with you, if I was? Stop putting words in my mouth. You are the one who thinks I'm unsafe with you, not me. I never said that. I know it was an accident; I know you didn't mean to do it."
"Whether or not I meant to do it is irrelevant," Amanda argues. "It happened, Olivia; I hurt you. I can't trust myself not to do anything else while I sleep, so it's probably best that you just go home for the rest of the night."
"I'm not leaving," Olivia states, that stern note in her voice a warning for Amanda to stop with this line of conversation. "If you think I'm leaving you alone right now, you're crazy, Amanda."
"I am crazy," she insists. "That's why you should leave. What if I hurt you again?"
"Okay, that was a poor choice of words," Olivia sighs. "Is this happening a lot when you sleep, Amanda? I noticed some things when you stayed with me last weekend. You seem very unsettled, like your nightmares are really controlling you, like you're having trouble distinguishing between what's real and what's not, especially when you're just waking up."
"I have a lot of bad dreams," Amanda whimpers, realizing she must sound like a whiny little girl, and wishing she was able to stop acting this way in front of her boss; feels stupid and silly huddled there on the floor in her skimpy tank top and polka-dotted pajama shorts, while Olivia sits before her looking like her usual perfect, immaculate self, confident and unruffled.
Her head is resting on her knees and she closes her eyes again, feeling the desperate pull of sleep, even though she wishes to remain awake; and when she feels her boss' fingers combing lightly through her tangled hair, she doesn't pull away this time. Olivia's touch is so grounding and soothing, and despite her best efforts to stay away from her, she finds that she cannot. She is backed quite literally into a corner and the older woman is blocking her only means of escape, but she doesn't try to make a move to get away, and instead shifts infinitesimally closer to her, that need for comfort edging out the need to put some distance between them so she doesn't hurt the other woman again. She is so cold and exhausted and confused about so many things, that she finds herself pushing gently back against Olivia's hand, urging her to keep going.
They sit there quietly for a few minutes, and Amanda is aware of Olivia shifting subtly closer to her again, fingers still threading through her hair and gently untangling the snarled locks. She turns her face toward her, head still resting on her knees, and meets the older woman's gaze, Olivia staring steadily back at her. Her boss strokes a hand over Amanda's cheek, causing her eyes to close again, and then she speaks, her voice soft.
"Honey, I think you need to talk to someone about this. You've been through a trauma and it's coming out in the form of anxiety and nightmares and sleepwalking, or whatever it is that's been going on."
"I do talk to people," Amanda murmurs, feeling lulled into relaxation by the continuous caressing of her unruly blonde hair. "I've been going to meetings every single day."
"That's amazing, Amanda, and I'm so proud of you for doing that, for trying to keep your addiction under control," Olivia says gently. "But I'm talking about seeing a therapist, someone qualified to help you deal with the trauma you've been through, someone who will give you some coping mechanisms for getting through these horrific nightmares and panic attacks."
"Don't worry, Liv, I've already booked a consultation appointment," Amanda answers, the lie slipping out of her mouth before she can stop it. Her heart rate picks up and she has to fight the blush that is threatening to spread across her cheeks; tries to convince herself that it isn't exactly a lie if she's at least thought about booking an appointment, even if she hasn't actually gone through with it yet.
"Amanda, that's great," Olivia replies warmly, and she is sure she can hear a note of skepticism in her enthusiastic tone, but then the older woman's hand slides down to squeeze the nape of her neck in a comforting, proud gesture, and Amanda thinks she's in the clear. All she has to do now is get up the courage to actually book the appointment, and then what she has just said to Olivia will no longer be considered a lie.
She chews on her lip again, trying to stem yet another sharp flow of guilt that she is not being truthful with the older woman, and then tastes blood once more, the warm substance creating a metallic taste in her mouth and trickling down her chin.
"Oh, honey," Olivia murmurs, leaning over to wipe some toilet paper across the smear of blood and then holding it against Amanda's lip for a moment, until Amanda takes it from her, pressing it against the small wound.
Their gazes meet again and Amanda finally raises her head from her knees to fix Olivia with an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry I ruined your night, Liv," she says softly.
The older woman smiles at her, although there is a hint of sadness in her expression. "You need to stop apologizing for everything, Amanda. You didn't ruin my night." She is quiet for a moment, looking like she wants to say something else, and Amanda regards her intently, waiting for her boss to continue. "It was already ruined anyway," Olivia adds quietly, the words said almost under her breath, as if not wanting anyone else to hear them, and Amanda raises her eyebrows at her before frowning deeply, concerned for the other woman now.
"What? What do you mean? What happened?"
Now Olivia is the one who is shrugging and glancing away from her, and Amanda reaches out to place a hand on her arm before hastily pulling back, the image of the scratches on her boss' stomach stuck in her brain, playing on a loop, and she is terrified of hurting the older woman again, even though she is now awake and in control of her thoughts and actions. She has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach now and has to resist the urge to gnaw on her injured, bloody lip once again.
"Liv..." She trails off and Olivia looks at her again, that sadness in her smile now apparent in her dark eyes, and Amanda's heart aches for her. "I know I pulled you away from something. Did I...did I screw something up for you? Something important? I mean...I know you have a life outside of the precinct, outside of Fin and Carisi and I."
"No, Amanda," Olivia replies softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her ice cold arm. "You didn't do anything, I promise. What was done was already done, okay? It had nothing to do with you."
Amanda is frowning at her again. "So the situation with me was basically just the icing on the cake of an already shitty evening?"
Olivia smirks slightly and gives a hollow chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," she murmurs. "But I don't mind being here with you, Amanda. I want to be here with you," she clarifies firmly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to go through this all by yourself. I'm here anytime you need me, okay?"
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Amanda asks softly, curiosity and concern for whatever Olivia's situation is now outweighing the guilt and shame and fear that is still wrapped around her like a cloak. "You can talk to me too, Liv. I hope you know that this goes both ways. I'm here for you as well."
"I do know that, Amanda, thank you," Olivia says quietly, squeezing her arm again. "I appreciate your willingness to listen, especially with everything you're going through right now, but I'll be okay. It's really not that big a deal, particularly in light of what's been going on lately."
"Olivia, just because I'm going through something, it doesn't mean what's happening with you doesn't matter," Amanda snaps, her tone coming out more harshly than she means it to, and she winces briefly when she sees the other woman's surprised look. "Sorry," she whispers apologetically. "I just don't want everything to be about me, okay?" She stares hard at the older woman, wanting to convey her depth of feeling on the subject, needing Olivia to know that she is capable of being more than just the hopeless, pathetic mess of the past several weeks, that she can at least try rise above her own despair and agony and be there for others, especially the one person who has been taking such good care of her, who has been so unwavering in her attempts to help Amanda escape this darkness.
She is adamant on getting Olivia to talk to her about what is going on, to share her feelings and see Amanda as her equal, as someone who can also be comforting and available when things get rough, but then the older woman suddenly shifts positions on the floor again, her sweater riding up like it had out in the living room and the deep red scratches on her stomach are displayed before her once more. Her breath catches in her throat and she swallows down a wave of nausea as she realizes that Olivia has downplayed her injuries, that the nail marks look much worse than she had originally assured Amanda that they were; that they look quite a bit more appalling in the harsh light of the bathroom than they did in the dimness of the living room.
She can remember more clearly now, being out on the couch with her boss, lying on top of her and thinking it was someone else pinned beneath her, someone she needed to get away from, someone who needed to be punished for the things they had done to her, the pain and humiliation they had inflicted upon her; remembers digging her fingers deep into the tender skin and raking them across the flesh in a sharp downwards motion, satisfaction coursing through her when she had heard the surprised, wounded shriek from underneath her, glad that she had been able to give back a little of the hurt that she had received.
"Amanda, it's okay; they're not that bad," Olivia is quick to assure her, obviously having noticed the stricken look on her face, the sudden tensing under the touch on her arm, the need to shift away again, out of her reach.
It is too late, though; the panic from earlier slamming back into her like a train, the calm that Olivia's presence and touch had induced completely obliterated, and Amanda is gasping for breath once again, the anxiety suddenly pulling tight like a noose around her neck, unable to keep her eyes off of the terrible injuries, and still seeing them imprinted in her brain even after Olivia hastily pulls her shirt back into place, murmuring apologies like she herself is the one who has done something wrong.
Amanda gets unsteadily to her feet, wobbling away from Olivia on shaky legs, hissing in pain as she scrapes the back of her leg on the cabinet as she backs out of the bathroom. "Liv, you need to go home," she chokes out, her chest tight, her stomach clenching. "I'm a monster. I don't want to hurt you anymore."
"Okay, Amanda, come on, enough now," Olivia says sternly, scrambling to her feet as well, and holding her hands out on front of her, a gesture she is starting to recognize now, one that the older woman seems to use when she thinks Amanda has gone off the deep end and needs to be brought back to reality. "You are sleep deprived and half frozen and traumatized, and you are blowing all of this extremely out of proportion. I am absolutely fine. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. You need to get over this and get dressed in something warm and get some much needed rest. You're not thinking clearly right now. You are not a monster; that couldn't be further from the truth."
"No, I am," Amanda whispers, completely unconvinced, as she continues to back out of the room and into the hallway, the walls seeming to shimmer again as the dizziness takes hold of her once more, and makes her head swim, giving everything in the apartment a slightly unreal quality.
"You're not," Olivia insists, following her slowly, hands still raised up as she speaks. "You need to talk to someone, sweetheart. The sooner the better, alright? When is this consultation appointment that you booked with the therapist? Is it soon? If it's not soon enough, I can try to get you in to see my own therapist again."
Amanda stares at her blankly and sees the frown etched across the older woman's features now.
"Your therapist, Amanda," Olivia says firmly. "The one you just booked an appointment with. How long do you have to wait?"
"Uh..." Amanda scrambles for an answer, realizing she has been caught red-handed in her lie, but unable to say anything else, as her heart is roaring in her ears now and she feels the invisible hands around her neck again, squeezing so tightly she can barely draw in a breath.
"Amanda..." Olivia sighs and shakes her head. "Did you lie to me?"
"Liv..." Amanda is seeing black spots in front of her eyes now, and she finds herself reaching out for the older woman even as she continues with her escape.
"What?" Olivia is reaching back, an alarmed look on her face now. "Honey, you're having another panic attack; it's okay, just try to calm down."
"Liv, I'm going to pass out," Amanda murmurs, and falls into Olivia's outstretched arms, holding on for dear life, as her knees buckle beneath her.