Just a reminder that this story takes place in season 13 and is a different version of events. Frannie doesn't exist in this fic.
Trigger warnings for mentions of rape, gambling addiction and alcohol abuse.
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Amanda hasn't felt quite so conflicted for a very long time.
Olivia Benson is currently standing in the entryway of her apartment, the older detective's eyes roaming curiously around the sparse and untidy space, and Amanda can't decide if she is elated to have the woman of her dreams inside her home for the first time ever, or if she is regretting the continuation of their evening together. She decides that it's a combination of the two, as Amanda is torn between wanting Olivia to stay so she can soak up more of the unfamiliar but welcome comfort from the brunette, and feigning a sudden illness so she can get drunk alone without having to worry about embarrassing herself in front of someone she respects so much.
A man that bore a striking resemblance to her old deputy chief had sat down in the booth next to them when they were nearly finished with their dinner, and a meal that was already awkward to begin with due to Olivia's discovery and subsequent examination of Amanda's bruises in the restaurant bathroom, had swiftly become almost unbearable. After convincing Olivia that she didn't need to see a doctor, they had ordered big plates of spaghetti and garlic bread and made pleasant small talk while Amanda had surreptitiously eyed the selection of wine that was being advertised on a little plastic sign sitting on their table, sweat blooming on her forehead and heat prickling beneath her skin when the man had taken a seat beside them.
Amanda's brain had been thrown into immediate chaos as the memories of her time in Atlanta threatened to have her curling up into a protective ball underneath the table or making a run for it straight out the door, refusing to say what was wrong as she observed the stranger who shared a disconcerting amount of physical traits with a person she wanted to forget existed. Olivia had instantly picked up on her extreme discomfort, and Amanda's edgy demeanor coupled with her nasty wounds had prompted her colleague to ask if they could could extend their evening together when their supper was done.
Amanda had agreed to let Olivia come home with her for a cup of tea to settle their stomachs after such a large meal, and if this social event had been taking place under different circumstances and they were spending time with each other as friends or were on a date, she would have been thrilled to have this woman in her home and all to herself for the next few hours. But with the way things currently stand between them, this situation cannot be classified as either one of those scenarios, as it is merely a senior detective who is concerned for her younger co-worker's well being, and likely nothing more. They are not yet considered friends and are certainly nowhere close to being lovers, despite Amanda's very cautious and possibly ridiculous hope for things to eventually progress in that direction, and she is unsure if they will ever move past the stage of simply being colleagues even though Olivia is now in her apartment.
Amanda is painfully aware of the giant bottle of vodka sitting in plain sight on the kitchen counter, a hot blush creeping up her neck when she notices Olivia's gaze lingering on the colorless liquid, the other woman's expression as impassive as it had been when Amanda had announced she was gay. She thinks that she can detect a hint of something hiding within the depths of those dark chocolate pools, a certain knowledge or realization of sorts, before Olivia blinks and it is gone, and there is an uneasy feeling swirling in the pit of Amanda's stomach now. She has so many secrets to conceal; far too much baggage to even consider trying to move their relationship in a more friendly direction, and knows that things need to be kept on a professional level between them; or at least as much as they possibly can now that Olivia has seen her bruises.
"So you like vodka, huh?" Olivia comments casually as she takes off her shoes and shrugs out of her coat, inclining her head toward the alcohol and looking quite at home in Amanda's personal space as she takes a seat on the shabby sofa.
"Wow, you should be a detective," Amanda quips in a neutral tone as she sits down beside the taller woman and perches on the scruffy cushions in an apprehensive fashion.
"That's an awfully big bottle for just one person," Olivia observes offhandedly, and Amanda watches her gaze sweeping carefully around the small interior of the apartment like she is searching for something. "Were you planning on sharing it with someone?"
"No one else lives here, if that's what you're trying to ask, Olivia," Amanda replies with a roll of her eyes, gesturing around the otherwise empty space to indicate that they are indeed the only two people there and guessing the brunette still isn't convinced that she is not being hurt by someone. "I live by myself. And I already told you that I'm not dating anyone."
"Well, maybe you have someone coming over later?" Olivia's eyebrow is quirked slightly as they gaze intently at each other, the blush on Amanda's neck deepening and spreading up to encompass her pale cheeks at her co-worker's suggestion.
"And maybe you're just nosy," she shoots back, unable to rid herself of these conflicting emotions; at once annoyed by Olivia's intrusion into her personal business and grateful that she actually seems to care, a tiny part of her hoping that Olivia is jealous that she might have a companion coming over to spend the night. "You're the only person besides me who will be inside this apartment tonight. And you're only here because you invited yourself."
Amanda feels both smug and guilty as a matching blush is now decorating Olivia's face, and they sit there in a silent staring contest for several seconds before the older woman breaks the ice between them. "Look, I'm sorry for asking so many questions, okay? I guess it's just in my nature to ask about certain things, especially considering what we do for a living. And I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay tonight."
"I'm fine," Amanda answers with a shrug, trying not to let on how uncomfortable she is both physically and emotionally, her midsection still pulsing with pain from her fall off the bar stool the previous night and the myriad of thoughts she is having about her colleague enough to make her head spin.
"Well, your ribs say otherwise," Olivia replies softly, Amanda stiffening slightly when the older woman places a gentle hand on her knee. "Are you going to tell me how you ended up with such a colorful array of bruises?"
"I already told you that I fell," Amanda says in a tight voice, pulling away from the tender touch even though she finds herself wanting to inch closer to Olivia on the couch. "I feel like I'm having to repeat myself a lot this evening."
"Those bruises must hurt quite a bit," the brunette responds quietly, gesturing to the blue silk blouse that is covering Amanda's wounds. "Have you put some ice on them? It might help to numb the pain."
Amanda's gaze drifts toward the large bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter, and she neglects to mention that she has other ways of numbing the pain; that sometimes she is so zoned into a game as she waits with both excitement and dread to see if her team will win, or she is so inebriated from the booze that remembering her own name is considered an accomplishment, and it makes her existence on this planet just a little bit easier to bear. When Amanda is able to forget about past events that have shaped her into the person she is now; when she is able to ignore reality for just a short while and lose herself in something that doesn't remind her of hot breath and groping hands and probing fingers, she doesn't care that she is destroying herself in the process.
"I put some ice on them before work," Amanda lies with a flippant wave of her hand, remembering she hadn't actually had time to try and soothe the injuries because she had awoken so late that morning. "But I can do it again right now."
"Don't get up," Olivia commands gently when Amanda makes a move to stand up from the couch and retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, the other woman striding right into her kitchen like she belongs there.
She feels the same mixture of vulnerability and comfort that she had experienced inside the restaurant bathroom when Olivia sits back down on the cushions beside her and motions for Amanda to lift her shirt, their bodies much closer to one another this time. She finds herself entranced by the brunette once more, tucking her blouse up to the edge of her bra so that Olivia can place the ice pack on her ribs and flinching sharply when the freezing cold object comes into contact with her bare skin.
As Olivia murmurs an unnecessary apology for the temperature of the ice, it occurs to Amanda that she has let her colleague view an uncovered part of her body twice in the same evening; Olivia the first person to see her this way since she had been with Patton. Those uncharacteristic tears are making a sudden reappearance behind her eyelids, Amanda becoming strangely emotional when she can't help but compare the two situations; the level of comfort she feels with Olivia verses the humiliation she had felt with her former superior. Amanda had willingly lifted her shirt for both her fellow detective and her deputy chief but had been forced to do so much more with him after changing her mind, and the two vastly different but slightly similar experiences are melding together in her brain in a whirlwind of emotions that cause her eyes to squeeze closed in an effort to keep the unwanted tears at bay.
"Are you alright?" Olivia asks softly, Amanda tensing momentarily when she feels a tender hand upon her knee again before relaxing when she reminds herself that it is just her colleague in the room with her and no one else. "Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, it does," she answers honestly, but is unsure if she is referring to the physical pain of her possibly cracked ribs or the emotional agony of what she had been made to endure back in Atlanta.
"How did you fall?" Olivia inquires in that same soothing tone Amanda has heard her use countless times with the victims they deal with on a daily basis. "Did you trip over something?"
As she gazes at the woman sitting so closely beside her, Olivia's huge dark eyes fixed steadily upon her and radiating with such compassion and concern, long wavy hair framing her beautiful face, Amanda is suddenly so tempted to confess everything that the words are right there on the tip of her tongue before she snaps her jaw shut again. "Yeah, I tripped," she mutters vaguely, losing her nerve and glancing away from that knowing gaze. "I lost my balance."
"Because you were drunk?"
The question that is spoken in a soft tone of voice without malice or judgment but with a strange undertone of something indefinable, causes Amanda's eyes to wrench upwards again and lock intensely onto the deep brown orbs staring back at her. She is caught so off-guard by Olivia's abrupt inquiry that she is briefly at a loss for words before nodding slowly and deciding that she can partially tell the truth while brushing off the severity of the situation.
"Well, yeah," she murmurs sheepishly, feeling that hot blush adorning her delicate features once again. "It was so stupid, really. I had too much to drink last night and slipped from my stool when I was standing up to leave the bar. I was just blowing off some steam after work, so it was no big deal."
"Why did you need to blow off some steam?" Olivia's voice is still quiet but there is a trace of firmness in her tone now, like she is treading carefully but intending to get to the bottom of the situation and figure out what is going on. "Did something happen at work yesterday that upset you? If I recall correctly, it was a pretty slow day; not much going on. Fin and Amaro were throwing spitballs at each other whenever Cragen's back was turned, just to liven things up a bit."
There is a twinkle in Olivia's eye and a slight smirk on her lips, like she is trying to get Amanda to loosen up and talk to her, and Amanda can't help but smile at the immature behavior of her male colleagues even while her stomach is turning somersaults. "It was just some personal stuff, Liv. I just wanted to forget about things for a little while."
"Do you do that often? Try to forget about things by drinking?"
"I don't really want to talk about this, okay?" Amanda's heart has begun to pound at a sickening speed inside her chest at Olivia's persistence with this conversation, and she swiftly pulls away from the gentle hand that is still resting on her knee.
The sharp movement causes a stab of pain to slice right through her ribs, Amanda stifling a cry and quickly turning her head to hide the tear that has broken free and is trailing a wet pathway down her cheek. She is stunned that this discussion and her injuries have induced the tears to actually fall, as she can't remember the last time she has cried; horrified to be falling apart in front of a woman she admires like no other and determined to pull herself together before she starts sobbing. The ice pack has fallen to the floor in Amanda's haste to get away, her shirt still riding up over her bare stomach and exposing the bright splotches of purple and blue that are scattered across her midsection, and the embarrassment that has enveloped her is overwhelming in its intensity.
"Hey, Amanda, it's okay. Just calm down, honey. Take it easy."
She comes to a swift halt on the cushions in the midst of her escape, aware that Olivia's hand is on her back now, the older woman's palm rubbing slow circles into the material of her wrinkled blouse. She feels gentle fingers smoothing over the top of her head and skimming down through her long blonde hair, before coming to rest on her shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. They remain like that for a moment, Amanda breathing hard and trying to get ahold of herself while Olivia continues rubbing her back in a soothing manner.
She is quickly becoming lost in the other woman's tender ministrations, her throat tight with barely suppressed emotion, and Amanda doesn't trust herself to turn around; afraid that Olivia will see everything she is trying to hide if they look each other in the eye again. She inhales a shuddering breath in her struggle not to break down in Olivia's presence, a soft noise emitting from between her lips that sounds suspiciously like a strangled sob; the tidal wave of emotions that are crashing down upon her necessitating the need for something, anything at all, to make them stop.
"Olivia, I think it's time for you to go home," Amanda says in a tight voice, trying in vain to keep it from shaking when she speaks. "I've had a nice evening with you, but I'm really tired now and I think I'm just going to go to bed."
"Can you turn around and look at me?" She feels Olivia's hands at her sides, very gently tugging her shirt back into place so Amanda is no longer exposed. "I didn't mean to upset you so much with my questions. I'm so sorry. But I'm worried about how much pain you're in right now."
Amanda neglects to mention that the pain won't be lasting much longer because as soon as Olivia is out the door, she will be opening that bottle of vodka in the kitchen and drowning every last speck of physical and emotional hurt until there is absolutely nothing left to feel. She holds herself rigidly on the cushions as the older woman tries again to get her to turn around, and it is all Amanda can do not to lean backwards and melt into Olivia's embrace, the brunette's curvy figure hovering so close to her own smaller frame that all she has to do is move an inch in the other direction and their bodies will be melded together.
The simultaneous need for comfort and the urge to flee are so all-encompassing that for a moment Amanda can't decide which one she wants more, covering her eyes with her hands to prevent any further tears from emerging and speaking through a tightly clenched jaw. "Olivia, please just go. I really need to be alone, okay?"
"Amanda, I don't want to leave you like this." Olivia's silken voice is a whisper of worry in her ear, a shiver running down her spine at the sympathy and compassion that she is so unused to hearing. "I don't think you should be alone right now."
"I'm always alone, Liv." The words have left Amanda's mouth before she can stop them, chastising herself for continually blurting things out in front of the older woman that she would never even think to say to anyone else.
"Well, you don't have to be," Olivia replies quietly after a beat of silence between them. "Let me help you, Amanda."
"Don't you ever get tired of helping people?" Amanda's voice is weary when she answers, her shoulders slumping down in defeat and her head hanging in exhaustion. "You do it everyday at the precinct, Olivia. You shouldn't have to do it outside of work too. Don't you ever just want a break from everyone?"
"Not from you." Olivia's response is so soft that Amanda almost misses it, her heartbeat instantly quickening its pace again, and she can't interpret the exact context of the short sentence; admitting that it definitely sounds like more than just concern for a co-worker but unsure if it's crossing the boundary line from friends into something else.
"You barely even know me, Olivia," she mutters under her breath, feeling ridiculous for continuing on with this conversation while her back is still turned but unable to bring herself to face the other woman. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because I think you're a good detective and an interesting person and I want to get to know you better." Olivia's answer is straightforward and surprising and the complete opposite of her typically closed-off personality, Amanda seeing a different side of the other woman that night and a warmth filling her heart before her usual shield goes up.
"Well, you shouldn't." Her voice is low and shamed as she blinks rapidly to hold back another flow of tears that seem determined to break loose, trying to ignore the fact that merely being in this woman's presence makes her feel more alive than she has ever felt before. "I'm better off alone and you're better off not getting too close, trust me on that. I'm damaged."
"I think we're all damaged in certain ways, but that doesn't necessarily mean we're better off alone." Olivia's hand is on her shoulder again, thumb stroking back and forth across the upper part of her arm, and despite the strong urge to do the opposite, Amanda shrugs away from the older woman's touch and gets to her feet.
"Well, I am. I've fucked up every single relationship that I've ever had, no matter what the type; colleagues, friends, family, romance," Amanda spits out bitterly, blatantly honest when she speaks now and trying to avoid looking into those piercing eyes that she can feel trained so intently upon her. "There's something wrong with me, Liv."
She forces herself to stop talking before she can go any further, before she can admit that it would be absolutely devastating if she ended up losing Olivia in any capacity; as a co-worker or a friend or a lover, if things do end up progressing to that point. There is a small part of Amanda that wishes she had never come to New York in the first place, had never laid eyes on Olivia Benson in person because now she is completely hooked on the other woman; on her kindness and empathy and intelligence and beauty. Olivia is like no one else she has ever met before and Amanda is terrified that she won't be able to hold everything inside; that she will end up spilling her deepest, darkest secrets to her fellow detective and everything will be even worse than it already is.
There is something about her interactions with Olivia that make it seem like the older woman can read her thoughts; like she knows exactly what is going on in Amanda's private life or at least has some sort of clue, as if the brunette herself has had personal experience with the torment she is going through. There is a knowledge and vulnerability that seem to lurk just below the surface of their discussions, and although Amanda's curiosity and concern is piqued, she is very aware that she has to put a stop to all of this before it's too late and she reveals something that she can't take back.
"Why do you think there's something wrong with you, Amanda?" Olivia asks softly as she gets off the couch so they are standing side by side, Amanda walking swiftly towards the door and opening it wide, very conscious of how rude she is being after Olivia has been nothing but caring and sympathetic but desperately needing her to leave.
When Amanda doesn't reply right away and the silence drags on between them until it becomes incredibly awkward, Olivia finally seems to realize that she won't be getting an answer and is no longer welcome, slowly putting her jacket and shoes on while Amanda watches with a lump in her throat. She nods without speaking when the older woman tells her that she is available any time Amanda needs to talk, urging her to call if she needs help with anything over the weekend, particularly if the pain in her ribs gets worse. Those uncharacteristic tears are welling up in her eyes again as she watches Olivia walk away down the hall, the brunette turning around to flash a gentle and worried smile in her direction before disappearing into the stairwell, and there is only one thought in her brain now as she closes the door and heads into the kitchen.
Amanda doesn't feel conflicted anymore as she picks up the bottle of vodka and removes the lid, closing her eyes gratefully before tilting her head back and taking a giant gulp.
