Author Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews from the first chapter, they are meaningful to me. Again, any and all feedback is much appreciated. Trigger warning for flashback reference to William Lewis assault. SVU characters are not mine. Reference to actual artwork that is not mine. Please enjoy!
Olivia has the vacant stare in her brazen brown eyes. If she were another person looking at herself, she would recognize that look. It's the look worn by countless victims over the years that she has witnessed. It is look of the haunted. It is the place of the in between. Do you want to come back, stay, or go? I can see through these eyes. I see the assault, the rape, or the attack happening over and over again. I see the crime, the perpetrator, but mostly I see the cloudiness from my tears. What I really want to see is a sort of normalcy, any amount will do, and a part of my soul. Never did she think haunted eyes could say so much or so little, except now they are her eyes. She understands all of it now.
"Pull the trigger Olivia, or I will. Do it now!" It's that damned monstrous voice again. In one minute he will insist upon her holding the heavy gun in her hand. To pull the trigger, to possibly end her life. She HAD to do it. There was no other option in that moment, there never really is, isn't that the point these days? Everything is always about saving the victim, and really it ought to be. But to what extent does it become okay to possibly blow your own brains out, killing your unborn baby, you did not even know you had, in exchange for sparing a twelve year old Amelia? Amelia who just wanted to be in school that day.
What a fucking messed up world, she thinks. Now Tucker wants her to lie and say she killed William Lewis. They want her to compromise herself even more, all to make the damn NYPD look less tarnished, more credible. With the horrific flashback and equally horrendous realization that she could potentially lose her job as a decorated police officer, possibly face jail time; she marches on, walking aimlessly.
The world is grateful for small graces and large miracles, as her attorney Rita Calhoun, and Lieutenant Murphy, pull her tired body out of the line of the on coming taxicab. She's in such a bad way that she practically walked into oncoming traffic, sleepwalkers have the ability to do this.
"Olivia!" Strong hands pull her back to safety.
"Sorry, I just didn't see it." All three of them wonder if she is talking about about the taxi anymore.
It is hours later that she kept walking, meandering the busy New York streets, and overcrowded sidewalks. Her squad family members texting and calling her constantly, they are all so worried. Currently, it feels like she is trying to swim through quicksand, even sending a text message to say she is okay seems to laborious. Why lie anyways, she doesn't really seem okay. Rational parts of her brain are trying to communicate with other parts of her brain, to reason with Olivia that Lewis is gone, dead even. It is physically impossible for him to leap out of a corner, or to hide in her apartment, or to torture another human being again. Overwhelmingly, the thoughts that have taken residence in her psyche are gruesome images, taunting snippets of dialogue, and threats and that remind her that William Lewis will always be alive, even if it just in her mind.
Olivia has been on the fourth floor, standing and staring for almost twenty minutes. She cannot feel her legs, or make out the fact she is even wearing her sensible work boots. Her eyes travel back and forth, following the patterns and drips of the paint. People at the museum walk by, in front and in back of her. A few people have said "excuse me," and have even bumped into her. She is simply lost to this painting. In another time and place, it would be strange that such a strong spirited and independent police officer would become so lost, so enamored with a damn painting, but that's just it, nothing seems to make sense right now.
Having grown up in the city that never sleeps, Olivia knew instinctively where the Museum of Modern Art is located. What she cannot recall is how she walked here. She did though. As she becomes aware of here surroundings: fourth floor, MOMA, and the only Jackson Pollack painting they have on display. Not my Grayed Rainbow, but it makes me feel something, other than sheer suffocation.
The tears are flowing and they will not stop. She's among dozens of visitors, and staff at the museum. Olivia has the most urgent need to flee before she has a breakdown in public. She craves space, a place just to breathe.
"Mam, this way. Please come with me." A security guard by the name of Reggie grounds her with his voice, he is a stranger in the sea of strange, but in the moment she will take it. He leads her out the emergency exit. He is tall, sturdy and professional in his black suite jacket. As they walk down another flight of stairs it leads them to the Sculpture Garden. It is outside, where there is air to breathe, to fill her lungs with. There are still people milling around, but when she cries silently she will feel less on display, feel less shredded.
Reggie eyes her cautiously. "My mother suffers from severe panic attacks. My dad is a cop, I uh, saw your badge. I have no clue about you, but you look like you just needed to get the hell outta there. But, please if I have it all wrong..." His voice falls flat. Reggie is second guessing his decision to help her. He know he broke all kinds of protocol, leaving his post, using the emergency exit, and for what is not completely sure. This lady is not even talking.
Olivia finally makes true eye contact with Reggie. "No Reggie. Thank you, really. You saved me in there. Just thank you." With that she walks away and is breathing again. In the Sculpture Garden, she finally texts Nick, Fin, and Amanda that is okay, because in that very moment she is.
Her brain and body are dividing and conquering, separating and dealing. Vaguely, she is aware that she is pregnant. The nausea reminds her of a bad carnival ride at Coney Island. How her body has managed to hold onto a fetus is astounding at this point, considering the stress and shock of the recent of events. Olivia has managed to make an urgent appointment with her gynecologist for 8:30 am. tomorrow. They were already overbooked and tried to schedule for next Wednesday. It took major convincing and begging, the tipping point was the mention of her age, 45, and the words "unknowingly consumed wine." They now will get her in right away.
The remaining wine bottles have been dumped down the drain, the glass sits in the recycling bin. It is ironic to Olivia, she feels like the last year of her life has been in the recycling bin as well. She threw out the rest of Brian's hard liquor and the last of his beer. She can still feel him in her apartment, the sounds of the Knicks scoring their baskets. As she sits on the kitchen floor, cleaning up a wine bottle she threw in a haste of emotion, Olivia looks over and sees the gaudy bull skull with horns that Brian had insisted upon decorating the apartment with. She remembers moving it around several times, until finally it was placed on a lower shelf where it could hardly be seen. Sitting on the tile, surrounded by shards of glass, she's laughing and crying. God, she misses Brian.
The irony of everything is not lost on her.
While Olivia is the consummate overachiever in life, sleeping is a task she has always failed miserably at. She's awake at 3:23 am. crying for the third time in the last two hours. The internet can be a sea of misinformation, but she has a read enough words on her screen about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome to know that her baby could seriously be hurt, especially given how early she is in her pregnancy. Olivia's own mother who was not keen on having her in the first place had managed to largely abstain from alcohol during her pregnancy. This was during a time when doctors were giving little warning about even doing so. This baby that Olivia is carrying is beyond wanted, yet questions remain about the baby's health.
When sleep does finally come, it's broken and jagged, and full of painful nightmares. Lewis is taunting her about her child, "Olivia, come on now, you really think you deserve to be a mother, that you can handle it?" "I bet if you have a little girl, she will grow up to me just as much as fun as you. Or better yet, how about a boy, he might take after your daddy?" Olivia wakes up in a panic, dripping in sweat. She practices her deep breathing, calmly drinks her water.
"I promise little baby. Mommy is a mess right now, but no matter what I love you so much. We will be okay." This time she places her hand over her stomach protectively, Olivia is slowly coming into the idea of finally being a mother.
Her final dream of the night. She is with a little boy, who is about three years old. He resembles Eli, but it is clearly not him. In this dream Olivia has the feeling that this is her son, he is happy and healthy. They are finger painting together. There is paper on the floor, his paints are everywhere. Chubby little fingers dipping into the colors, they are running across the paper making colors, shapes, and patterns. Olivia and this little boy are laughing with joy, she is so happy in this dream. This is the type of dream you hold onto, the kind that grounds you even in the darkest hour.
Dr. Sandy Martinsdale has been a mother twice already, she has delivered hundreds of babies, and she five years younger than Olivia. Olivia cannot stop her fears of inadequacy. While she can provide a home full of more love than anyone she has known, the rest of puzzle pieces make her nervous, causing undue anxiety. What is she going to do about Brian, and what to tell him? Her apartment is too expensive and yet too small for a child. But the biggest hurdle, is making it through the pregnancy with a healthy a baby. That seems to be the biggest question of all.
"I just can't imagine that the baby could be okay. There was an assault, and drinking. I took a test months ago. It was negative. My job changed, I had more wine. Look, I know it sounds awful. I know more than anyone, I just, I can't." Olivia is crying again. She was once an immoveable fortress, now she's just as human as everyone else.
Dr. Martinsdale lays a calming palm on Olivia's tan forearm. "Olivia, please stop for a minute. We need to take one thing at a time. We don't even know if there is anything to worry about yet. Let's get some facts, if anything comes up, we take one thing at a time. Okay?" With her even keeled voice Olivia finally calms.
"Okay, I can do that. One thing at a time. My weight, I only gained about 7 to 8 pounds, is that normal?"
"Olivia, I would like to start with an ultrasound, we want to get a good look at your baby, and get some measurements. Then we figure out how far along you are, we can discuss weight gain."
The immediate prospect of having an ultrasound to see her child is not lost on Olivia, she is dumbfounded. She is a bundle of nerves and excitement. She wishes to be a regular mother, who has nothing but sheer and utter joy, but guilt and fear of the unknown are driving this course.
"Lift up your gown for me. That's it, good. The conductive gel is a little cold feeling. So Olivia, if we can find out, do you want to know the sex of the baby?"
Dr. Martinsdale's warm bedside manner explain why it was so hard to schedule an appointment with her.
"Um, I uh, didn't really think of it. I dreamt I was having a boy though. Can we tell this early?"
"Well, I am not sure. We don't yet know how far along you are yet. Let's see here."
The doctor is slightly going back and forth on Olivia's stomach with the ultrasound transducer. Swooshing noises can be heard. Then the noise of joy. "Hear that Olivia? That is your baby's heart beat, it is a really strong one too." Finally, tears of joy.
"Let me take some measurements here." Typically the ultrasound technician would be doing this work, but her doctor is being thorough and extra careful with the knowledge of what has been happening.
"The baby's head is the perfect size, the body is on small side, but still within normal range. I am seeing normal movements for your gestational period. I know we don't have an exact date of your last period, but I would say you are about 15-16 weeks along right now."
"You said on the small side, that is something I did."
"Olivia, listen to me, please. You cannot spend the rest of your pregnancy second guessing everything you have done or not done. You need to keep your stress levels low, and try to stay as healthy as possible. I would recommend an amniocentesis. There is a slight risk with doing the test, but based upon your age, and precipitating factors, it is best to know as much as we can. The amniocentesis will test for major chromosomal deficiencies"
"Yes, do whatever test we need to. Tell me please, will this tell me if the alcohol has caused any damage?"
"I am going to be straight with you here. The first months are the most important, when it comes to alcohol consumption. The amnio won't tell give us a full scope of that. The only way to truly see if there is any damage, or Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, is upon delivery."
"Oh god, what have I done?" Olivia starts crying more.
"Olivia, please let me remind you. You are doing everything you can now to have a healthy pregnancy. It's obvious how much you love your baby. Babies are born perfectly healthy from worse circumstances. We can't change the past, we can fight like hell for the future though."
Seven days later, Nick, Amanda, and Fin are at Olivia's apartment celebrating the Grand Jury's decision not to indict. Murphy had politely declined the invite, while he is their leader and current protector he wants to maintain a professional distance.
Olivia's knows how he separated the 'bigger truth from the littler truth.' This fellow officer saw qualities in her worth fighting for. She didn't tell her work family what Murphy had done to save her shield, in the end they probably would have done it for her too.
"So Liv, when are you coming back? I miss my partner." Nick is on his second glass of wine.
"I don't know guys. I have some vacation time coming, I need a little more time to get my head on straight, you know? But yeah Nick, I miss your sorry ass too."
They all laugh, and it feels good.
Fin is always good for calling Liv on her bullshit. "So where's Cassidy, and don't tell me he is workin' undercover or some shit like that?"
"Could never pull one over on you Fin, huh? Brian and I broke up a couple of weeks ago. Nothing dramatic, I love him, he just isn't my person."
Nick's feathers are riled. "So Liv, what was all that crap at the hospital about you calling him?"
"Look, Nick. I appreciate that all of you care, really I do. You're the closest I have got to family. But I don't have to tell you everything, I didn't want you to worry."
Olivia stands up from her couch, stretching and yawning. Her friends take the hint. Amanda eyes Nick, and swats at Fin. "Hey Liv, it's getting late. We are going to take off. I have to get these boys home and in bed, or Murphy will my ass in a sling," Amanda laughs at her own joke.
"Okay, thanks for coming over, and for everything, really." Olivia is so grateful for all of them.
She finally sleeps better that night, it is not perfect, but she does not remember Lewis haunting her during the night.
It's 10:30 am on a Thursday, she is stretched out on her couch in dark gray yoga pants, and light gray sweatshirt. Olivia's hair is tied up in messy ponytail. These days she dresses for herself alone. Things that make her feel comfortable and beautiful. Now, in the quiet and solitude of her apartment stretch pants have won out.
Her only required venture out for the day will be Dr. Lindstrom's office for a 6:00 pm appointment. There is a high chance Dr. Martinsdale with call with the results of her amniocentesis before the day is done. She has been casually trying to exist for the last seven days, pretending that life changing results were not right around the corner, now that they day is here, she is questioning the rationale of said coping mechanism.
"Little baby, little baby, Momma is going nutty here. I think you are little boy, but I could be wrong. I just want you to be happy and healthy. But, if you are sick." Olivia starts crying again. "I'm sorry baby. Mommy isn't always a big ball of tears, you will see. Anyways, if you are sick, you and me, we got this. I love you no matter what." This promise is the easiest one she will ever make and keep.
She has joined two message boards in the last two hours, and posted four times, so this is what boredom looks like. It is easier bonding with women online whom she will never meet. There is less room for judgment, there is a weird community feeling on one of the mom-to-be message boards. She wrote a bit about her fear about the wine drinking, of coursing she left out the glaring details. Olivia is not as alone as she once felt she was.
The phone finally rings a little after 2 o'clock. Immediately she knows it will be Dr. Martinsdale.
"May I please speak with Olivia Benson, this is Dr. Martinsdale."
"Speaking, yes hello doctor. Do you have the results of my amniocentesis?"
The doctor hesitates for a few seconds too long. Immediately, Olivia thinks her world is about to end. "Please, just tell me."
"Olivia, how are you feeling?"
"Don't placate me, I give bad news to parents everyday. Just tell me what I have done to my baby."
Dr. Martinsdale is dealing an atypical patient. Olivia is a reader of all things people, even over the phone she is beyond perceptive. Normally, she would get a gauge of how the patient is doing, then work into the results, whether they are good or bad. Amniocentesis tests always come with varying degrees of stress, even when they are normal.
Her voice is more pleasant than Olivia expects for someone who is about to deliver devastating news.
"Olivia, we aren't completely out of the woods yet, but we have good news so far. Everything came back good, you have no chromosomal abnormalities, and your amniotic fluid is normal."
Silence.
"Olivia, are you there?"
"Yes, doctor. I was just so sure something would be wrong. I know that sounds bad but. Really, I am okay so far.
"Yes, Olivia. You and your baby girl are doing just fine."
Baby girl. Doing just fine. Baby girl Benson.
"It's a girl? Wow. It just seems so real. Thank you doctor."
"Let me put you on hold, I will get Shelly on the phone to set up your next appointment. Olivia, you will make a great mother."
Judge Judy has been playing in the background for 22 minutes. It is not the type of show that Olivia usually lets herself indulge in, it requires little no brain activity. For that she's content. She has an hour and half to kill before she leaves for Dr. Linsdstom's office. Her grocery shopping will be done on the way home. Her life will consist more of planning than it used to, it provides an odd sort of contentment.
Her mind still has a thousand places to sort out, but for a brief few minutes watching boring television is just fine. It is something that people do everyday, in fact people have babies everyday. They raise children everyday.
A daydream is carrying her far away. Far away from her apartment, from Judge Judy, and from the precinct. In this daydream she imagines herself in Central Park with her daughter. She has Olivia's hair color, and Brian's eyes. When her daughter is older, she might be sassy and stubborn like her mother, and might tell bad jokes that she thinks are funny just like her father. There are million combinations of Olivia and Brian, in any child they sound wonderful to her mother.
Olivia realizes how hungry she is, the first time in hours that she has not been grossly nauseous. Kitchen cupboards are being slammed open and shut as she looks for her favorite peppermint tea. Finally, finding it all the way back, it is a struggle to reach for it. As the tea kettle whistles loudly, she missed the knock on the door the first time.
She hears the second and third time. It is odd timing. Everyone that would be coming over, came over last night. She has yet to tell Brian. Without much thought, she considers it to be a person who has the wrong address, the quicker she gets rid of them, the quicker the she can drink her tea in the quiet April afternoon.
"Just a minute, I think you have the wrong..." as she swings the door open.
"What the hell?" Olivia mutters more to herself, as she slams the door shut. This is not happening, certainly not today.
Of course, he is not going to give up. When Elliot wants something, the selfish bastard never gives up.
"Liv, open the door. I just saw you, I know you are in there. Please, five minutes."
Olivia opens the door six inches, Elliot uses his body like a wrecking ball and pushes the door open further.
"I don't have time for your shit. What the fuck do you want?" Olivia's cheeks are an angry red, and her eyes are warning of an impending tropical storm.
"I saw you on the news, police brutality my ass." Elliot is not holding back anything.
Olivia walks quickly into her kitchen, she cannot face him. He does not get to know her now. Any part of her life is off limits to him. If she turns around too soon she might crack down the middle, might break into shards of glass like the glass on her kitchen floor from the other day. She steels herself against his oncoming onslaught. How dare he come into her home, to try and tear down her walls.
"I get that I have no rights, not after all this time. But Christ, Liv, I ain't fuckin' leaving." There is a timbre in his voice that is stronger than she ever remembered, it breaks the last of her. She has yet to turn around again, but she knows from the seconds she saw him that his body mass is a force to be reckoned with. He's wider than before, not softer.
"Get out of my house, I have nothing to say to you." Nothing, except my spirit was crushed by you, my once best friend.
"Too bad, I have plenty to say." Because he likes to take, and cannot take no for an an answer, he steps close to her. He places strong grip on her bicep, and hauls her around so she has to look him in the eye.
What they both see is utter devastation. Elliot, like a lion, is full of fight. Fighting for her, not against her this time.
"No!" She is raw, and opened. She is so certain that she would not fall apart because of Elliot Stabler. Olivia swore he would never claim any part of her, any part. Yet, she is crying.
"Yes, Liv." It is the way El uses her nickname. His eyes are wet with tears too, he is not the only one has been living in the abyss.