Failure to Thrive-Chapter 2
Spoilers for "Paternity"
Disclaimer: They are not mine, just on loan for my amusement…and hopefully yours.
A/N: Thanks so much to all of you that reviewed the first chapter, your words of encouragement were greatly appreciated.
Olivia toes the grass with the tip of her shoe and digs her hands deeper into her pockets. She feels a little light headed and her vision slides too slowly when she turns her head quickly. She squats down and presses her hand against the cool marble seeking some relief from all the things raging inside her. There's a small sad smile on her lips.
She sits down and pulls her knees up against her, staring intently at her mothers name cut with perfectly linear lines. It feels hard and unforgiving.
"I'm sorry mom. If you were hurting like this I….I wish I had been kinder." She squeezes her eyes shut not sure of her actual beliefs but hoping it matters that she's here. "I fucked up." In her head she can see her mother's sympathetic smile. Her mother knew all about the things in life that could tear you up without actually killing you. She knew about events that could deform and scar you in ways other people couldn't see. Sometimes crippling comes without the breaking of bones. Her mother would usually listen when Olivia wanted to talk, mostly because Olivia only did so when she knew she was sober. If Olivia used too much profanity her mother would sigh heavily and ask her if her education didn't arm her with a better vocabulary. She drops her forehead to her knee, feeling the cold of the earth climb up into her. Things were so much simpler then. Her problems were a bounced check, a fender bender, a date so bad she just shouldn't have gone at all. She turns her head and brushes her cheek on her jeans and in a flash she feels his jaw as it brushed against her during the hug. The pain spirals in her, ripping to shreds the delicate hold she had on her emotions. The tears start again and she's so tired of them she doesn't even move to wipe them away. She lets them run over her nose and across her cheek to her knee.
"Mom…" She can't say anymore, she just hopes that however this works her mother knows what's happening. She doesn't know what advice her mother would give her but despite her tears a small smile comes to her face. She wouldn't take it anyway. She never had, it was just that for those few moments they were like a normal family. It was a very small family but still connected in all the ways that mattered. They were a mother and daughter talking things over, solving life's problems. It was fragile between them, sometimes it went well and other times it didn't. It was all Olivia had ever known.
She's cold now, the ground is leaching the heat from her body but she doesn't want to go. Her mother was the only person in the world that belonged only to her. She figures that counts for something. Right now it feels like a hell of a lot. Her mind skips over the last year, back to the night things shifted between them. He had been trying to date and it wasn't going well. He walked into the restaurant that night and proclaimed he was done. They had only recently become comfortable talking about it but she was laughing and asking him why. He had stopped and just looked at her in the strangest way, until she was uncomfortable and he noticed. He smiled at her then and just said it was because dating was what everyone told him he should do but it wasn't what he wanted. It had happened in that moment of silence while he looked at her. Something quiet that grew, a tender shoot breaking through the earth and into the light without making a sound.
She tugs at blades of grass as she thinks about it hoping that somehow she can let it go. She's starting to tremble from the cold and fatigue. She can't remember when she ate last, or what. She wonders how hard it is to just wake up and be someone else, to reinvent yourself into a new life. She managed undercover without loosing her mind even though that wasn't a woman she would choose to be. Maybe she has it in her to be someone else. She touches the tombstone and realizes it would be impossible. Her mother never succeeded. No matter whom she tried to be everyday she was being eaten alive from the inside out by the truth. Olivia stands up, wavering slightly while spots of grey dance in her peripheral vision. She looks to the horizon as the rays of morning sun reach between the buildings of Manhattan, the city is already buzzing with life. Standing there at her mother's grave she has never felt so completely alone. She tells her mother good-bye and says she will try not to be such a stranger. It makes her laugh, a morning love session from her old friend irony. She understands her mother better now than when she was alive. She walks slowly to the curb and waves down a cab. She wants another hot shower to warm her up and then maybe she'll be able to sleep for a little while.
Elliot sits in the chair looking at his son, he's not sure the child is his but he knows that either way he is already his father. Somewhere in the last few months he folded the child into his definition of being a father. When Kathy told him she had seen other people while they were separated a small part of him was relieved. She had gone on with her life. He fucked up a lot with women but they were people and some things he knew from watching them. When his wife told him to leave almost three years ago, there had been someone else in her life. She may not have slept with him, she may not have even dated him but someone saw her. Someone saw her as a person, not a wife or mother. Someone treated her in a way he hadn't in a very long time, like she really mattered. That's why she left. She had hope that there might be a future out there without him in which she could be happy again. Someone gave her that hope. It doesn't make him angry but it does make him wonder.
When Kathy opens her eyes Elliot is sitting next to the bed holding the baby. It's early, still dark outside and she's known him long enough to know that means something is on his mind. She holds her breath; sure he's going to go back to the paternity issue.
"Hey, good morning." She smiles at him and waits.
"Good morning." He doesn't look up yet, just smoothes his finger over the baby's cheek.
She sighs heavily, knowing there is no way to get anything from him without just taking it head on. His communication skills have never been his strong suit. "What brings you by so early El?"
He looks up then as though he's been waiting all morning for her to say those exact words. "Now that we have some time alone I'd like you to tell about the accident. Everything you can remember from the time you were hit until I came through the door." She's relieved that it's about the accident but his tone is off, it's his work voice, his cop voice. She wants to ask him why he wants to know but can't bring herself to do it. He has a right to know the events surrounding the baby's birth. What bothers her is that she doesn't think that's why he's asking.
Once Kathy begins to tell him he gets up and sets the baby in the small bed next to hers. When he sits back down it's in the chair next to her bed. He's bent forward with his head in his hands so she can't see his face but he can hear her. Occasionally he asks her detailed questions and it surprises her that he's paying such close attention. She finds that she remembers more as his questions prod her memory. Slowly the events unfold for him and the scene becomes clear in his mind. When it's over he squeezes her hand. The baby starts fussing so he gets up and hands him to his wife to feed. He tells her he has to go into work for a few hours to finish up some paperwork for Cragen and then he'll be back with the rest of the day free. The girls are coming by in a couple of hours and he's bringing the twins in later in the day. She smiles at him as he talks about their children and he's filled with guilt. He wonders how they can mean the world to him and somehow still not be enough.
He whispers good-bye to his son and kisses his wife on the cheek. He calls Olivia again but she doesn't answer the phone. He snaps it shut in frustration and heads out on his first errand. He needs a couple dozen good steaks to take to the firehouse.
Olivia's body hurts and she's not sure now if the doctor actually told her it would or if she made that up for Cragen. Either way she has aches and pains popping up all over the place. Her neck and shoulders hurt whenever she moves, her right arm and left hip are both too stiff and her headache is back with a screaming vengeance. She's freezing, trembling from the inside with chills rooted to her bones. She walks into the apartment once again stripping to get into the shower with tears running down her face. She isn't sure when she started to cry again. It may have been when the cab went by the precinct or the look of the man holding the fair haired toddler at the light, she can't remember. It doesn't really matter anymore. She sees herself in the mirror and cringes, either she's very pale or the bruises have gotten darker, maybe both. There are dark circles under her swollen eyes and they're red from the crying. A dirt stain is smudged across her cheek. It must be from where she wiped at her face waiting for the cab. Her eyes look dark and empty even to her, like the eyes of so many broken women she's seen over the years. She glances down at her hands, at the cuts across her palms and how she's shaking. She carefully removes her holster and hangs it on the back of the door. It seems heavier than she ever remembers it being. She doesn't recall putting it on when she got dressed but it's so much a part of her it must have been automatic.
The hot water rushes over her and her cuts all spring to life, stinging as the water rinses over them again. Her chest is bruised from her seatbelt and she watches the color rise and fall with her breathing. She's still breathing. She touches the bruise and feels her heart beating within her. She half expected not to hear anything at all. The sound of the flat line alarm fills her ears again and she squeezes her eyes shut. She stands there for a long time, until the water starts to run cold and her heart beat gets louder. It takes her a moment to turn off the water and realize that the sound is a steady pounding on her door. For a second she thinks about going to the door as she is and opening it so he can see what he's done to her. She knows she won't do it. The one thing he doesn't need her help with is guilt. She pulls on her robe and towels her hair to keep it from dripping. She fingers her bangs down over the bruise on her head. As she comes out of the bathroom she hears him talking to her. Telling her that he's going to count to three and then break down the door. She hears him count, hears the silent hesitation and then the crash as he shoulders the door. There is a small sound of wood splintering and before she can think she yells out.
"STOP!" The silence swirls around her. She knows that he's standing there, waiting, pumped up with adrenalin and anger. She sighs and walks slowly to the door. She knew he wouldn't give up without a fight. She just doesn't have the energy right now. She turns the locks and the click of the metal sounds deafening in the room. She walks away then because welcoming him in is out of the question.
Elliot sat with the rescue team for over an hour while they recounted the events of the previous day for him. He said he came to thank them for saving the people he loves. It was as close to the truth as he could get without giving anything away. He asked them about the accident, told them he didn't have the reports yet. They are brothers in arms in a big city and they didn't hesitate to sit him down and offer him the professional courtesy of the truth. Kathy's version was filled with emotion and outlined by panic. She was missing large pieces from being in and out of consciousness. These people were trained; they recorded every minute of the event. Olivia had climbed back in the car before they could stop her because no one else could fit and they needed his wife's vitals. She put on Kathy's collar, started her IV line, and covered her as she was cut out of the car. She held her hand and comforted her, kept telling her she was doing a good job. When they took his wife from the car to the ambulance, it was Olivia's name she called out not to leave her. Now they may both scream her name in the dark.
The EMT from the ambulance told him of the ride in, the birth of his son and the near loss of his wife. He assumed the women were friends and commented on how well she did helping to deliver his child, how steady she stayed, how calm. He asked Elliot if his partner was single and without hesitation Elliot told him no, she was very involved. His stomach turned with every detail until he was physically sick. He asked question, he absorbed their graphic answers, each one felt like swallowing glass. They asked about his wife and child and shook his hand when he said they were fine. He thanked them; his eyes appeared to be shining with gratitude. Only he knew he was drowning in pain.
By the time he got in the car he knew she was shutting him out, closing him down and cutting him off completely. His fists curled around the smooth steering wheel, his knuckles white, his grip too tight. He needed to see her and this time he would break down the door if he had to but he was going to see her. She had no right to make this decision without him, to just dismiss him to deal with this alone. They had come too far together. He wanted to believe that but the sound of her came back to him. It made him think of an animal with its leg caught in a trap, wailing in pain but so determined to be free that they would chew through their own limb. He can see the frantic look he knows was in her eyes, the way she must have thought about moving only to realize she couldn't leave. His wife and child were in the car. A sound wrenched from him, a desperate sound of realization. He picked up speed, his heart pumping. He was afraid, more afraid than he had been in the helicopter because the screaming in his head told him this time he may have already lost her. She would chew through everything they had ever been to each other in no time to set herself free. She wouldn't care how much she bled, wouldn't care that she had to limp away. No one knows better than he does how determined she can be.
He has been listening to the water run for a long time, too long for a shower. He isn't completely sure if it's coming from her apartment or the neighbors. He pounds louder. He talks to her through the door, yells and pleads and finally tells her he's going to break the damn door down. He pumps it with his shoulder, hard, one time. On impact he knows that her solid door with two lock is not going to break for him. He hears her yell from the other side of the door and freezes. The silence stretches on for so long he thinks for a second it was a figment of his imagination. He's breathing hard, worked up from the ride over and his anger at her ability to ignore him. He tries to hear above the rushing sound in his ears and just as he is about to lunge at the door again he hears the click of the first lock. He stands perfectly still as the second one is turned and the bolt slides back. He takes a deep breath; all the ranting and ruminating from the last 24 hours have left him with a lot to say. He waits, but when she doesn't open the door he turns the knob and opens it just enough to step inside. At the sight of her every word inside him turns to dust.