Disclaimer: I don't own L&O: SVU or any of its characters, it/they belong to Dick Wolf/NBC. This story is just meant for entertainment purposes and I am not making any profit out of this nor do I intend to. It's all in good fun.
A/N: OMG! You guys would not believe the busy weeks that I have been through. Research paper after research paper, preparing for an oral speech after speech-it's insane! My intention was to update Sunday but family showed up unexpectedly and I had to go and mingle, so I thought, okay this is fine-it's whatever, I'll just update when they leave and somewhere before the Oscars start. Yeah, it didn't happen that way cause one of my cousins invited me to watch Alice in Wonderland on that somewhere in between. That movie was amazingly awesome! For those of you who haven't seen it-it's a must! Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There have always been my one of my favorites, even from that first Disney movie adaptation. I didn't quite understand it when I was younger, but, that's what I love about it, the confusing, nonsense, curious elements. I also randonly just have to say, congratulations to Sandra Bullock, Jeff Bridges, Mo'Nique, and Christoph Waltz! I love all those movies. As you can tell I love watching movies, hahaha. Oh, loved Sandra, Cameron, and Jennifer Lopez's dresses, my three favorites. Also Miley (dress seemed a bit tight, but it's all good), Demi, Queen Latifah, Tina, and Mo'Nique looked great. Okay, so resuming with SVU. I am so happy new episodes are back! Having Kathy and Mischa guest star was cool and what's even cooler is that Kathy got to lock lips with both Meloni and Hargitay. Why they didn't show the kiss between Olivia and Babs, it's so ridiculous-it's ridonculous! Like, Hello, this is America and SVU-we know what goes down. You know, why not make us bathe our eyes in Holly water next time? OMG! And then what's up with the ending of Savior, like WTF? You can't just leave me hanging like that, Jeez! Well, anyway my conclusion was that she made the decision for them to go on with the surgery and then the baby girl couldn't endure it. I went with that in part because I don't think Mischa is guest starring again, but this is just my opinion. Anyway, I want to say thank you to LawOrderFan01, who let me know that the Meloni leaving SVU was a hoax as soon as I vented about it on here. Also, to Yasona Black. I'm glad my story was to your liking and hope it stays on your good graces, but, only time will tell. Thanks, for your constructive criticism on the flashback thing that wasn't so clear to you, I made a mental note to remember the flashbacks in italics. Oh, and no, Olivia is not into the whole label thing, but, it goes with the grand scheme of it all. You'll see later how that goes into play with the whole story. Okay, so, this chapter was inspired by Fuel's Leave The Memories Alone. I hope you guys like it and um, you can let me know what you think, that's cool or, if you don't want to that's cool too. Well, I know I rant a lot and vent a lot, get over it, I'm over it-we can move on now, it's whatever. Arrivederci Signore e Signori!
Memory...is the diary that we all carry about with us.
-Oscar Wilde
Leave The Memories Alone
Contesting to go back to sleep proved to be useless. I didn't and couldn't go back to sleep, even after I was done reciting all Homeric Hymns known to man-by heart! The faithful seething of the rain would not stop pounding against the rooftop and windowpane. I shoved the pillow laying on my left, over my face, trying to muffle the noise in the background. Not that my efforts mattered because it didn't work, when the rain silenced into a soft whisper in the wind, was I only able to obtain my sanity again.
On mornings such as these, a typical debate against myself would be disputing the pros and cons of getting out of bed, but today, it's effortless-anything is better than laying lazily, sprawled in all directions, and scrutinizing on what today could have been had I stayed in New York. I leap out of bed, striding inside the restroom to shower, and then fixing myself fairly before tidying up the room a bit.
I race down the stairs craving a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. I popped open all cabinets, searching for something to snack on, but, to my dismay-all cabinets are absolutely empty, not even tiny specks of cookie crumbs are visible in the tucked away corners.
"Great." I run my hands through my hair, hearing the grumbling sound of my stomach in protest. "Just great."
I sink my weight further onto my elbows, gracefully stationed on the countertop, my eyes examining the modest kitchen to distract from my countertop, of which I'm somewhat hovering over, is made of wood. They must be making a comeback. I suppose it could be related to the fact that they prove to be long lasting when taken care of properly. The solid wood also helps exhibit a warm, relaxing feeling into the room. It goes well together with the hardwood flooring, offering a welcoming touch-perfect for a setting such as Portland. The designs of the paneled walls remind me of the ones in Elliot's apartment kitchen. Not that they are the same or anything, but, for some reason that was the first thing that came to mind when running a finger along the patterns. It seems kind off odd that I would remember them so clearly because I'd only been inside a total of three times. Although he had never said it out loud, everyone and their mother knew he disliked being in the hostel compartment of those four enclosing walls.
Gah! I mentally scold myself for standing here awkwardly with my tangled thoughts of him. In my defense, it's completely out of my jurisdiction, it's like...like an automatic reflex. I can't ignore it, it bounds my reason.
Over in the adjoining common area or family room is a row of pictures. Pictures of people that I'm sure were models-picture frame models. First, a picture of a man and a woman in an intimate picnic, I almost felt as if I was intruding and should look away. The next, a baby girl in the arms of her mother, others of people who could pass as family members, but most are of the same couple and child. It is reminiscent of that one episode of Friends where Phoebe learns the guy in the picture frames her grandmother keeps around is not the man she always thought to be her father but the Macy's picture frame model. The collage of pictures also reminds me of the time Elliot, Kathy, and the kids invited me over for dinner to celebrate my birthday. Sure, it was a month late, but it's the thought that counts. Well, that and the fact that work was at an all-time low in those days. Elliot had taken me on a tour around their home to view their family collection of pictures much like the one in this house-taunting before me, the sparkle in his eyes was hard to miss when he talked about his family. He could go on a talking rampage about them when one was willing to listen, it was a very comical sight to say the least.
I'd had to make the mental note of telling Dean to remove them, at least until I left back home. I want all memories of a past life that I once lived away from clouding my view in this new life. I know that it is a much easier task to say than actually perform it in actions, since everything apparently sets me back in time, but I need to make an effort-starting with the abolishment of these pictures. Drowning in the sorrows of memories was the last thing I needed now. I kept emphasizing to myself the importance of leaving the memories alone, to kept from dwelling in the past because it distracted from the now-the present where my job was counting on me the most. These pictures were just to much to take in. I shouldn't see things as how they are and compare them as how they used to be.
It seemed so stupid to think of this now, being in this house, brought on much unprecedented thoughts that maybe I would have kept in the dark had I not been taking shelter in this unknown. I've always been good at ignoring things like these but at times when I'm resorted to reflect-they creep from the shadows of insecurity to insult and kick me like while I'm down.
I felt as if the walls of this house were closing up on me, elevating a feeling of unwanted claustrophobia. I had to get away, being here was far more impossible than I'd expected. It made me feel bitter.
I didn't want to face the light of day, but I couldn't stay in this house anymore. I enrobed the puke, mustard-green jacket that Dana had given me outside the airport. That thing was starting to grow on me.
Taking the keys from the coffee table and placing them in my jacket pocket, I made my way outside the front door, making sure to lock up. I opt to walk rather than drive around. Fresh air will do me good if it is an escape I'm seeking. The air was a little misty, not enough so that you couldn't see where you were going though. The wallowing of my boots against the puddles of rain went in congruence with the fuzziness of the air. If you tilted your head to the left a little and squinted your eyes a bit, it kind of looked like New York. Okay, so, um, maybe it doesn't, but lying to myself makes me feel at ease and that's all that matters, right? Whatever works.
"Hey!" I heard a man say but dismissed it, not believing it was my attention he demanded.
"Persephone," the man honked. "wait up!"
Persephone? Persephone? Sounds familiar and of importance, I almost feel like I should know. Oh, wait, right, now I remember! Ninth grade Greek mythology class, Ms. Vasquez. Persephone, Zeus and Demeter's daughter, Hades' wife, goddess of spring, queen of the underworld. No, that's not it. Wait, no, yeah, yes it is.
"Where are you going?" He commanded, parking his car along the sidewalk.
"I don't think I'm who you're looking for. I don't even believe we've met. I'm new in town, sorry." I affirm, picking up my pace, not bothering once to look at him.
Jeez, you'd think your average level of crazy would be lower in a green community like this, but it's obviously the same everywhere you go.
I hear him slam the door to his car, shuffling his feet on the pavement. "What the hell are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?"
Why can't some guys just get a clue? What's it going to take to get him to back off?
"What's your problem?" He grabs the curve of my elbow, bringing me in to face him.
It all happened so fast, and before I knew it, the bottom of my palm connected with his nose.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?" He spoke, barely audible, he hands glued to his face.
"Well, I'm sorry, but if you had just kept your hands to-" I stopped myself, catching a glimpse of the man's face.
Where have I seen him before? I lower my stance to get a better look at him.
"She's a professional, don't worry-she said! She's cooperative-she said! She's a-"
"Dean? Is that you?" I ask, feeling awful about my actions.
"Yes, Dean!" He yells, annoyed. "Who else were you expecting your first day here?"
Uh-oh, this can't be good. Oh my gosh! Persephone James! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"Dean-" I try apologetically.
"Look, I know we got off to a patchy start, but, come on!"
Oh, God, is that blood? Okay, now it's official-this is definitely not good.
"Dean, listen to me, it was completely unintentional. I didn't mean to, I thought you were someone else. This new name thing...well...it's going to take me a while to get used to. I really am sorry."
I take doubtful steps, closing the space between us, unsure of whether he is the understanding type. I finally reach him, asking for permission to take a look at the aftermath, batting my remorseful eyes once for sympathy.
I can see his hesitation and I don't blame him. We're still trying to get used to each other, our partnership teetering to balance on shaky grounds and then this happens. Can it get any worse than this? Really, can it?
"Please, Dean, just let me see if you're okay, yeah? That's a lot of blood you're spilling there."
"I'm fine, forget it." He grips the bridge of his nose, lifting his head upward to stop the blood. "I've got a fragile nose."
I nod, "Weaker than your fragile hands?"
He glares sideways, "Not now, okay."
"Right, not the time." I agree. "Here, at least let me help you get cleaned up. Would you allow me that? It's the least I owe you."
"Show me the way." He waves.
"No, no, no, you keep your head up. I'll guide you." I take his upper arm but he halts.
"What?" I question.
"Well, this seems to me like a trust exercise. You, guiding me blind, yeah, I don't think that I can trust you. I mean, for all I know you could be guiding me to my death by plunging forward into traffic."
"Okay, allow me to entertain your statement for a second here while we stand." I pretend stupidly to be in deep thought. "Mmm-hmm, yeah, oh, of course-what traffic are you referring to exactly? Look around you, these streets are empty!"
"I don't think you're excluding the parked cars." He mentions.
"Right, because parked cars are known to cause bodily damage to an innocent bystander, who can't even tell right from left. I thought you said this wasn't the time?"
"It's not. I just didn't think you'd take it so seriously." He admits.
I roll my eyes, "You're an idiot."
I continue to assist him towards the house, opening quickly, and ushering him inside. "Just stand and try not to make a mess."
"A mess? Are you kidding me, this mess is your fault."
Flashback...
"You know, you could put the gun down. At least, then you might find her. Otherwise, she's gonna die. She's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it'll be all your fault. Just like that little boy. How's your neck?"
"It's not the same thing, Olivia. You know that."
"Yes, it is, Olivia. God, you two, couple of screw-ups."
End Flashback
"Hello, Olivia, Earth calling." Dean expressed.
"Yeah, what's up?" I shake my head, trying to regain focus.
I literally have know idea what is causing all these...memories. It must have been something he said, it's always something someone says that causes me to go on these one way trips. That much, I'm sure of.
"This nose bleed just doesn't seem to want to stop, can you hand me a napkin or something because there's a mess waiting to happen." He voices in staggered breaths, due to the dripping red liquid.
I nod my head, looking around the kitchen for napkins, and finally settling on a lonely cloth near the sink.
"Here, take this."I place the white cotton cloth in his free hand for him to take. "Better?"
"Yeah...at least, I think so." He utters. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." I smile, gracelessly. The guilt eating me alive. How could I not know it was him calling? I mean, sure, Dean is a douche-lord at times, but, should I have hit him unintentionally? Probably best that I had not. "Uh, would you like to sit on the couch or something?"
"I don't know, I wouldn't want to make a mess or anything. God forbid." He sprays in his arid sarcasm.
"Not if you keep that cloth composed, you won't." I advice, aiming to make the situation lighter among us.
I hope that came out in a friendly tone, it was becoming harder to hear myself speak with the ringing in my ears. The smell of his blood was starting to get the best of me. It hope it's not evident in my face either.
I could slowly see him make his way to one of the couches, my face inclining against the chill surface of the white wall, creating as much distance between us as I could without appearing to be rude.
All around me I could see the spinning of the room trying to pass hints of my consciousness ousting to the outskirts of nebulous recollection in annihilation. I close my eyes, breathing in and out silently through my mouth, using Dean's voice as the center of concentration.
"Olivia, have you been hearing anything I-oh, wow, hey are you feeling okay?" He asks, his voice alarmed and sharp.
Yes, I heard you...speaking, Dean-but not really paying attention to what you were saying.
Now, though, I am aware of what he's speaking and saying. How could I not? I could feel his worried presence standing next me. I should perhaps assure him I'm fine just so he can step back with his reeking stench and all.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." I take three steps back on wobbly legs.
"You look pale. Are you feeling lightheaded?" He inquires.
"It's probably because I haven't had anything to eat, but then again, how could I when there's nothing in this house." I mutter, strongly clasping the thin thread of consciousness left due to the mindful repellent in proximity.
"About that," He ran his left hand through his "Benicio del Toro" hairdo, letting it rest on the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just left some money inside an envelope in one of the kitchen drawers. I guess we're even now."
"Even?" I look at him skeptically.
"Well, I forgot to call and tell you about that, and then, you bloodied me outside. So, we'll call that even."
"What I did to you doesn't compare to what you did-on any scale." I try not to intake air from his direction, turning instead to my left.
"Okay, well, why don't I take you out for breakfast and you accept. It'll be like our own peace treaty, so to speak." His cheeks flushed the lightest shade of rosy pink and I pretend not to notice.
"I don't know," I voice weakly, feeling my mind reaching a streak of dimness. "what if someone was to see us together and then our whole cover will be blown to pieces? We're already pushing it by being here now."
"Yeah, you're right. How could I even suggest it?" He offers a smile.
His mood falters underneath his exterior and I know I should say something back, but nothing would form in complete, coherent sentences. I was just in a strain, I couldn't. I already felt sick to my stomach-focusing was hard enough as it was already.
"Do you mind if I clean off the dry blood." He removes the once white as snow cloth and my stomach churns again at the sight and smell of metallic crimson.
"No, not at all. The communal bathroom is...you know where the east bedroom...where I'm staying?" I try to communicate, but know I'm wavering downhill.
"Well, I didn't know that was the bedroom you chose-"
I roll my eyes, annoyed because I feel like I am just nano seconds away from passing out in front of him. "So, you know, right?"
He nods his head.
"Well, instead of going to your...nevermind, just follow in my steps. Get it, got it, good." I take diligent and meticulous steps, sniffing the air before it surrendered to the pollution of his territorial essence of iron scent.
"Okay, we're here." I motion for him to enter. "I'll just-"
"Do you mind if I dispose of the cloth here?" He asked.
"Well, don't you...wouldn't you like...rather keep it as a souvenir?" I suggest, desperately. I don't think I'd like that scarlet, flushed fabric seeking shelter anywhere I'm stationed at. Having it out of sight and out of mind is where I would like that cloth to stay.
"Are you seriously proposing that I do?" He chuckles and begins to wash off.
I follow the sanguinary, lethal, crimson trail, circling down the drain. I race out the doorway, making a hastily escape. Dean would not appreciate the display of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
I found refuge in an empty hallway, taking controlled breaths to calm my ventilation.
"Hey." Dean spoke hesitantly, with cautious steps to match his tone.
"Yes." I whisper back. Just stay away, I thought. These are the effects of your cause.
"I thought I'd come to make sure you're okay. You bolted out of the room in the blink of an eye, what gives?"
Declaring Dean as one to not hover over someone-was a huge mistake, one that I will not be making again.
"I need to be alone, please." I force out the words, choking on them as they come.
I hear his footsteps approaching, each louder than the one taken before. "You look green." He states, simply. "I think it's safe to say, it's a homage to that jacket you're wearing."
"Go away." I say, positioning myself so I could walk ahead, afraid to raise my head to meet his gaze.
"Can you even walk on your own?" I don't have to look up to know his stare is fixed on me, analyzing my every move.
I shrug, "Why wouldn't I be able to, I'm fine."
I'm not one to ask others for help when I know I am more than capable of watching over myself. Did he expect me to proclaim and acknowledge my unbalanced stability in hopes that he would lend me a helping hand? I'd crawl if I had to.
Dean seemed genuinely worried about my well-being that he finally decided to go against my word and put his arm around my waist, pulling my left arm over his shoulder. My body betrayed me and I found myself slanting laboriously into his hold over me on the way to the east bedroom.
"If you could just let me sit to regain myself, I should be back to normal again." I tell him, pointing at the bed.
He helped me maneuver myself to the bed and get settled. I was still a bit dizzy, so I slouched over on my side. It seemed to have helped my cause, subsiding the whirling inside my head to a minimum.
"Olivia?" Dean called, nervously. "Olivia?"
I compressed my eyes together, sensing that horrible feeling starting to inch it's way out into the horizons. Or, maybe it was just the feeling of nausea and I was trying to keep from throwing up.
Flashback...
"Olivia." I heard his distinct voice in the distance. "What's wrong?"
I felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing me in this state. He'd surely never let it die down.
"Are you in pain?" He sounded worried this time around.
"El." I pronounce.
"Liv." He mimicked, he crouched down next to the flat bench I laid on. His presence so close, I could feel his cool-mint breath on my skin, and it proved to be a complimenting antidote for my scorching skin.
I had to make myself understand that if his innocent actions flared this tingly sensation within me, then, it might not be a good idea to keep him around for the time being. "Go away." I groaned, arms still over my sealed eyes, blocking anything from furthering my headache.
"And miss the sight of you internally battling the three stages of hell? Nah," He shrugs, playing off of my expression. "I'd rather savor the moment."
I glared at him and he reciprocated with a grin, resting is left arm on my stomach, his right palm holding the weight of his head.
"You look dreadful." He coughed to hide his laughter.
"You have a unique way with words, El." I place my arms on my stomach as well. "Charming."
"So, tell me, how is it that you're a detective and you can handle rapists, pedophiles, criminals, etc., but cringe at the sight of blood?" He asked, amusement lingering-animating his manner.
I opt to ignore him, pressing my lips together, all while fighting the urge to eject the contents of my stomach. I raised one hand to my clammy forehead, whipping the little beads of sweat.
"Does this apply to your own blood too?" He continued to probe, still fascinated by my rarity.
I sit up, causing his arm to fall on the way. Everything would have appeared to be normal had I not sat up so harshly. "Head rush." I spill the words, shutting my eyes.
"Just lay back down." He sat opposite of me, clutching on to my shoulder blades in attempts to help me steady, since I refused to lay again.
The nausea was seeping gradually and I felt as if I had regained all previous strength lost, so, I decided to test the waters just to make sure. I opened my eyes carefully, the room seemed not to be spinning any longer and there was only one Elliot starring back at me. Things were back in order.
"I suppose so, yes." I revert my eyes away from the somber, oppressive image of lockers and glance towards Elliot.
"You suppose what, exactly." He removes his clamped hands away my shoulders, crossing them over his chest, as he furrows his eyebrows.
I sigh, rolling my eyes, knowing that gratifying smile painted in delicate strokes-all to well. "Blood makes me squeamish." I confess in humiliating weakness. "Are you satisfied or would you like me to paint you a picture? Or, maybe, you'd prefer that I explain with apples and oranges."
"What can I say, when I'm right-I'm right!" He grinned.
"Ha. Ha." I ready myself to stand, but, bump my head with his as he tried to get to his feet too.
"Ow." I whimper softly, gazing into his eyes as we both fell back to our previous positions.
"I believe that's my bad." He admits, chuckling a bit. "Hmm, let me take a look." He draws in forward, cupping my chin in his large hand, tipping my head sideways-examining thoroughly. "No apparent signs of blood, you should fine."
He met my eyes and we both froze-unmoving. Neither of us spoke, choosing instead to tip the hands of fate, starring in each others eyes-dangerously for an immeasurable amount of time.
I felt a magnetic wave pulling me in further-a commanding, unstoppable force, the little voice in the back of my head insisted that that I stop, persisting aimlessly that this could only end badly and from there-preceding to worse. He must have felt the magnetic pull too because he moved closer, throwing caution to the wind.
His fevered breath trailing on my lips made it impossible to think clearly, worrying me deeply because now was the time I needed to the most. He dropped his eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes again, asking for permission and I did not have it in me to deny him that.
He tilted his head slowly, inching forward and just when he was about to touch his perfect, architecture lips with mine, something inside spurred the sound of reason, making it possible for me to turn away.
He sighed, waiting patiently for me to redirect back to him.
I wanted to be able to able to look him in the eyes, but, I just couldn't sum up the courage.
"You look better." Elliot murmured against my cheek, "This shade of color synchronizes with your natural skin tone. It suits you." He slid off the bench to leave the locker-room.
A seldom part of me embarrassingly believed he was provoking the rush of rosy glow to redden vigorously.
Had he gone entirely mad? Had we?
End Flashback
"How you feeling?" He asks, the crease in his forehead demonstrating concern.
I give him my attention, grateful for the interruption.
"Much better." I reply.
He studies my delivery, searching for the sincerity.
"Thanks." I add.
"Okay, well, I can see that you are doing better, so, I'll just leave you to be and catch up with you later." He smiled, rising from the bed.
"Wait, what about the whole EDG thing? Isn't that the reason you came in the first place?"
"I left a file on the nightstand with everything you need to know. You should do fine." He guaranteed. "I'll lock up and you just stay here and rest."
He waves, stepping out into the hallway. "Oh, and don't forget to get something to eat." He winks.
I nodded, stiffing the laugh I felt inside. I rolled on my side, clutching my arms around my waist only to remember I was still wearing the jacket. I stripped it off, along with my boots, and fell back comfortably.
I fastened my eyes, secluding the images and voices from my subconscious for another time or day.
