A/N: It's been a while. I know. I'm sorry. Here's a long one to make up for it.
Do you remember what you told me after that? I do. I'll never forget it.
-Elliot
Tears sprout in Olivia's eyes as she clenches them shut. Her hand reaches out instinctively, but instead of Brutus's soft coat, she feels only the cheap comforter.
What am I doing here?
She misses the furry companion she's come to love. She misses the quiet neighborhood, the little house, the green grass of her yard. She misses Casey and Murph and Raúl, who've come to love her and her them.
And most of all, she misses him. The man that loves her, that she loves, that has changed nearly every aspect of her life for the better, and that saved her in more ways than one.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting to gain by coming back here, but now things are clear. New York isn't her home anymore; home is where all of her amazing memories were made. Home is where she jumped from a plane for the first time, where she shot an AR-15, where she rode a sailboat. Home is where her baby was conceived, and most importantly, home is where the man she loves will return.
If he returns.
Olivia wipes the tears away, and begins to type.
To: ElliotStabler
From: OBenson4015
Subject: Hey
Date: 5 Mar, 21:00 PST
El,
I remember. I told you I'll be right here waiting for you.
Please call me when you get a chance.
-Liv
Elliot closes the internet browser, and swallows the lump that's formed in his throat. What was he expecting when he sent that email? For her to tell him that everything is okay and she'd never even think about leaving him? He should know… this is just as hard for her as it is for him.
He reaches for the phone, but hesitates, wishing for one more moment of ignorant bliss. One more second with the thought that she's fine at home, working and taking care of Brutus and okay with their limited phone calls and emails.
He's a damn fool if he ever believed that.
A strange mix of fear and excitement swirls in the pit of his stomach as he dials the phone number he knows so well. He can't wait to hear her voice again, he's just terrified of what it will say.
One ring. Two. Three. Is she even going to answer at all? And then, instead of a fourth buzz, her soft voice hits his ear. "Hi."
"Hey," he says, knees growing weak. "A-are you okay?"
He can just hear the tears that pool in her eyes. "No, I'm not."
"Liv," he chokes out, fighting his own tears and the heaviness in his chest. He can't stand to hear her like this, like she'll shatter at any moment. How will he be able to comfort her when simply hearing her like this breaks his own heart?
"I need you to talk to me," she says. "That email… just talk to me."
The wheels in his head spin, but he's getting nowhere. He needs to show her how much he cares, but without sitting in front of her, looking into her eyes and pulling her close, he has no idea how to do that. Words always seem to escape him in situations like these.
"I love you," he says, words finally coming. "I know you're afraid, I'm afraid, too. But remember what we talked about? We're in this together, for better of worse."
She sniffles from the other end. He nearly dies where he stands. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Elliot."
"Olivia, what's the matter? Please, you've got to talk to me."
"I-I... I had to get out of Newport," she whispers. "I'm back in New York."
His heart skips a beat and the world is suddenly crumbling around him. She's gone. She left him, left the life they'd started to build behind, broken the promise she'd made as they sat together on his couch, holding each other close. How could she do that?
Elliot swallows, tries to keep his breathing even, but his heart is beating erratically and he can't seem to force air through his lungs. "What are you doing there?"
"I-I just needed some space to think," she mumbles.
"To think," he repeats. "What does that mean?"
There's a long pause. Elliot collapses back against the wall. His heart constricts, his chest feels like it's caving in. He's going to have a heart attack. That's how he's going to die over here, not from a bullet, not from an IED, he's going to drop dead because she still isn't saying anything.
"Olivia."
"Elliot," she whispers.
"Listen, whatever's bothering you, it's okay. Just…" His voice cracks. He takes a deep breath, and says, "Just talk to me, please. I-I can't help if you don't talk to me."
"I-I…" He hears her breath deeply into the phone, and another long moment of silent suffocates him. "I-I'm pregnant."
He's frozen. Everything around him is still; there's no noise, no movement, nothing except for her words, echoing over and over and over like the firing of a machine gun. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant.
"Y-…y-yo… what?" Pregnant. His mind whirs as he works it out in his head. Pregnant means a baby, means Olivia's gonna be a mom, and also means... "I-I… I'm gonna be a dad?"
"You're gonna be a dad, El." Her voice comes out in a whisper, so soft and delicate and he wonders briefly why she's being so gentle talking with him.
"H-how far…?"
"Almost four months."
Four months… four months… that was right before he left. Elliot's thoughts are immediately drawn to one of the last nights they shared together, under their warm blanket in his backyard. Even now, he remembers it like it was yesterday. Yeah, he thinks. It makes sense now. It figures that night so filled with passion, so special, would produce something so beautiful. A baby. She's gonna have a baby, his baby.
Elliot wishes more than anything that he could reach out, take her in his arms and pull her to him, kiss her, rest his hand on the tiny bump that no doubt has started to form on her belly. There's a little life in there, a little life that he helped create.
He's gonna be a daddy.
Warmth rises in his chest. His smile is so wide that his cheeks hurt. This was the absolute last thing that he expected, but the thought of it is just so perfect. He can't wait to see her again. He can't wait to go to doctors appointments and pick names and look at sonograms... they're having a baby.
"Elliot," Olivia says, and he realizes that he's been silent for several minutes. "It's okay, I-I know you're not ready. It's the worst possible time, I get it, I'll just..."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell is she talking about? Does she think he wouldn't want to stay...? "You'll just what?"
"Figure something out," she mumbles. "The point is, you're not obligated to-
"Stop." He can't listen to this anymore. "Stop, Liv, just- what the hell are you talking about? If you think you're going through this alone, you're crazy. Listen, I know this wasn't planned. Shit, it was the furthest thing from planned, and you're right. It is the worst time. But-
His voice cracks. He takes a breath and swallows. "But there's absolutely no one I'd rather do this with than you. We can be a family, Liv, we can- five months, I'll be home, I'll get back to you before… I'll be there for you. You, our baby… our baby, Liv."
He hears her sniffle. "I came here because I thought I needed to get away. But I realized that there's nowhere else I'd rather be than with you. I-I want to be a family, but I-I just didn't know if…"
"If I wanted the same thing," he finishes, a knife piercing his heart at the thought. How could she ever think that?
"I-if you'd come back," Olivia whispers. "If you'd…"
"I'm coming back," he rasps. "You hear me, 'Livia? Please, just go home. Don't stay in New York all by yourself."
When she speaks next, he barely hears her, whether it's because of his thumping heart and the raging blood in his ears or her whisper, he's not sure. "Don't worry about me, El. Focus on what you're doing over there."
I can't focus on what I'm doing here if I'm so damn worried about you.
Elliot wants to reach through the phone and shake her. What the hell is she thinking?
"If I do that, are you gonna go home?"
"I don't know," Olivia whispers.
Don't be an asshole. Don't confirm her fears.
He swallows once. Twice. Opens his mouth to say something, but can't think of anything that won't hurt more than help. He's already deep in a hole. Deep in a hole that I did nothing to dig. He drops his head, gripping the phone to his ear with white knuckles. He was so elated, so full of hope, and now everything is threatening to crumble around him.
"Olivia," he rasps. "I wanna be with you. I'm not the one running 'way from this, I'm not the one sayin' that you gotta go through this alone. We can do this together. I'll be there, for you. I want to."
He waits a minute. Two. Still, she says nothing. The only thing coming from the other end of the line is her breathing, and he swears she's on the verge of tears.
"Didn't you hear me?" he says. "Say somethin'."
"I heard you," Olivia says finally. "I-I just don't know if…"
"If what? If I'm telling the truth?"
"I don't know," she whispers. "Elliot, I-I just don't know, okay? I gotta go."
Don't be an asshole. Don't confirm her fears.
"Fine," he rasps. "I love you."
And the only thing he's met with is the dial tone.
Elliot slams the phone back down on the receiver. He runs both hands through his air, clenching his eyes shut as he tries to keep the fire in his stomach down. It burns up into his chest, and he swallows, chewing furiously on his bottom lip before finally, red forms behind his eyelids as the heel of his foot meets the plastic chair he'd been sitting on.
He's out the door before the loud bang as the chair hits the floor.
—-
Elliot's going to kill him if he finds out.
Murph sits on the couch, elbow resting on the arm, head resting on his hand. He's been trying unsuccessfully for a week to think of something he can do besides just sit and wait.
He's visited Olivia's place twice. Both times, the car was in the driveway, but all the lights were off and the house was empty. He knows she left, he just knows it- he just doesn't know where she went or if she'll be back. What can he possibly do if she doesn't come back? What will he tell Elliot if he returns from Iraq and she's still gone?
Hands squeeze his shoulders gently and the light smell of cinnamon wafts through his nose. "What's the matter over here, why are you sulking?"
Murph sighs as his gaze drifts up to the pale redhead that stands over him. "Olivia. I'm worried about her."
Casey purses her lips as she sits down next to him. "I know, me too."
"Feel so useless, y'know?" he mutters. "My buddy asked me to do one thing and I couldn't even do that. I let her walk right out of his life."
"You didn't let her do anything, Shay. Maybe this is what she really needed, to get away for a little while. I can't imagine how hard it must be for her, sticking around here and being constantly reminded that he's gone."
"Yeah, but she's not alone. She has the two of us." Isn't that exactly what he's been trying to tell her this whole time?
"I know. I just don't think she knows," Casey says.
"I hope she figures it out before it's too late. I can't stand sitting around and waiting like this."
Her long, thin fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders as her lips descend to his jawline. "She'll come to her senses eventually. She knows what she's left behind here, you just have to give her some time."
Murph's arms encircle her and he pulls her onto his lap. "I hope you're right." For now, though, there's no use worrying about it. Right now, Olivia is going to do what's she's going to do and there's not much he or anyone else can do to stop her. "Now, Counselor, there's something you can do for me."
"What's that?"
Murph's lips crash against hers. Casey's hand immediately grips the hair on the back of his head as she returns the kiss, and slides the inside of her thigh along the outside of his. He's just about to slip his hand under her shirt to run along her bare skin when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Casey groans and slides off of him. "Who is it?"
He digs around the pocket of his jeans for a moment before finally pulling out his phone. The screen displays an unfamiliar number, so he flips it open immediately. "Hello?"
"Murph."
"Hey, buddy," Murph says. "How's it going?"
Elliot sighs. "Well, I was alright until about ten minutes ago."
"Olivia called you?" Murph guesses, frown deep on his face. He should have guessed he'd be getting a call like this.
"Yeah. How long has she been gone?"
"A week. Listen, man, I tried to stop her. I told her Casey and I would be there for her, but she didn't listen."
"She hasn't been doing much of that lately. I've been trying to tell her, I've been trying to-
His voice cracks, then trails off, and for a moment, suffocating silence overcomes the pair. Murph rubs his eyes, silently begging the knife slowly piercing his chest to ease up. This is far worse than getting his shit kicked in during a sparring match. At least then, he knows that he's helping somehow.
Finally, Elliot says, "What the hell am I doing wrong, Murph? Why does she keep… fuck."
"Nothin'. You're doing everything you can, she's just…" Murph pauses, "She's just scared, that's all."
"Scared," Elliot repeats. "Fuckin' scared. Isn't it supposed to be innocent before proven guilty?" His voice rises with each word, the hurt turning to venom. "I've done nothing to deserve this, been busting my balls trying to- I'm sick of this shit, man, I'm fucking sick of it."
Murph opens his mouth to speak, but Elliot's voice comes over the line again, the anger dissipating quicker than it had formed. "We're having a baby. We're gonna be parents and all's she can think about is running away because she's scared. I've never done fuckin' anything to make her think I'd leave her. She thinks I'm gonna leave her! What kind of douchebag lets the mother of his baby hanging?"
"She doesn't think you're a douchebag, she's afraid something's gonna happen to you over there."
"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do here, man," Elliot mumbles, defeat laced deep in each word. "I'm grasping at straws."
"Don't worry about her, Elliot," Murph says. "She might be confused now, but she'll come around. You take care of business and let me and Casey worry about her. I've got her phone number, I'll make sure she gets back home where she belongs."
Another moment of silence overcomes the pair before Elliot finally speaks again. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to call just to start bitching."
"Bitch now, just make sure you get your ass home, how's that? You're gonna have a baby to take care of soon."
"If Olivia doesn't decide to stay in New York," Elliot mutters.
"Don't worry about that, I'm telling you. Me and Casey'll take care of her."
"Alright," Elliot says finally. "I'm gonna… I've gotta go."
"Alright, buddy. Shoot straight."
"How's he doing?" Casey asks, hand running gently over Murph's shoulders.
He sighs and falls back against the couch cushions. "Not good at all. We've got to do something, Case."
Casey nods. "But what?"
"I don't know." And that's the worst part.
—-
"If you think you're going through this alone, you're crazy."
"You don't hafta be alone in this."
Guilt swirls in Olivia's stomach. She's sitting on the bed in the shit hole motel, legs drawn to her chest, tears in her eyes, the broken twinge in Elliot's voice impossible to forget.
"I'll be there for you. You, our baby… our baby, Liv."
He's never lied to her before. Everything he's told her, everything he's promised her, the truth in his words was always evident, and even if they weren't straight away, he's always been able to prove her doubts wrong at some point down the line.
Olivia takes a deep breath and reaches for her phone.
"Olivia?" The familiar voice on the other end nearly makes her sigh sigh relief.
"Hey, Murph."
"What's going on, how are you?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry, everything is fine."
"Everything's fine? Elliot called me," Murph says. "I've known him for twenty years, I've never heard him so upset. What is going on?"
A knife pierces her heart. "Murph… you've got to believe me, I-I never meant to hurt him. I-that's the last thing I ever wanted."
"Please, just go home."
"Please."
She'll never forgive herself for being the cause of that pain. What the hell is she doing? He's worried about whatever missions he's assigned, the guys around him, his own life and now she's making him worry about her, too?
"It looks like the only thing I've been good at lately is hurting people."
"Oh, come on, now," Murph says gently. "You know he's worried about you because he loves you. He would never want you to have to go through this all by yourself, that's why he asked me to look out for you."
The tears slip down her red, raw cheeks. She wants to say something, anything, but no words come. She's sorry. So sorry that she hurt Elliot, that she keeps making Murph play the middle man like this, that the only thing she could think to do when things got tough is run away.
"C'mon back. You have all the space you need to think here, and this is home. Wouldn't you feel better at home?"
"There's one more stop I have to make here," she whispers before she can stop herself. "I'll call you. Okay?"
"Alright," Murph says. "Anytime."
Olivia hangs up the phone, drops it onto the mattress next to her and takes a deep breath. She has one more stop to make, and this one is going to be the hardest.
—-
Olivia stands in front of the apartment building, hands shoved deep in her pockets, knit hat pulled down over her ears. It's not snowing today, but her breath still comes out in frosty puffs and her cheeks already feel like ice. People rush past her, shoulders bumping hers, but her eyes are locked onto one of the windows on the second floor.
"Well, well. Look who's finally awake."
She promised herself that she would never come here again. Then again, she's been breaking more promises than she's been keeping lately, so what's one more?
"Do you need to get inside?"
The voice makes her jump. She turns, where there's a young man standing in front of her, dressed in a charcoal suit with his keys in his hand.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Here, I'll open the door."
Without another word, the man slides the key into the lock and holds the door open for her. "There you go."
"Thanks," she says, slipping past him.
The moment she walks down the lobby with the cement floor and the high ceiling, it's like she never left. She sinks down onto the big wooden bench and stares at the stairway that disappears beyond a high arched opening. It's in the middle of a workday, so the lobby is deserted. Olivia watches a mother herd two small children into the elevator, and her hand instantly drifts on her belly. Which will this one be, a boy or a girl? Will they look more like Elliot, or her?
She hopes the baby will look like Elliot. That way, if he doesn't come back to her, or if she stays right here in New York, she'll always have a little reminder of him.
"Olivia?" A portly man dressed in a pair of ragged jeans and a gray t-shirt approaches her from the hallway that leads to the first floor apartments. A smile spreads across his plump cheeks, and when he speaks, his voice come out in a deep, gruff Brooklyn accent. "Hey, sweetie, how are ya?"
"Hey, Derrick. I thought I told you never to call me sweetie," she says, rolling her eyes playfully. He'd been her landlord for all of the years that she lived in this place, and she still remembers the disappointment evident in his eyes when she told him that she'd be moving. They weren't friends, not any more than a landlord and tenant would be, but as a cop, she guessed she was easy to rent to. Her money always came on time, she was quiet. No complaints ever came from her place, and in a bind, she guessed that it was always nice to have a cop in the building.
"Sorry, old habits die hard, y'know," Derrick says. "It's good to see you. So what's goin' on? I thought you moved out to Cali."
"I did. I just came back to…" she hesitates, glancing around the lobby for a moment before her eyes return to the man. What exactly is she doing here? "I'm just back for a visit."
Derrick nods, sitting down next to her. "I was hopin' you'd come back to your old place. It's been a nightmare trying to rent it out since ya left."
"A nightmare? What do you mean?"
"It's been a revolving door. I can't keep folks in there for more than a few months before they hear the urban legend about the cop that was assaulted in there."
"Is there anyone in there now?"
"No, it's been empty for a couple weeks now."
"Could I see it?"
Derrick stares at her with a questioning gaze. He looks her up and down, then asks, "What would you wanna do that for?"
Olivia shrugs. "I just want to take a look at it. Can you let me do that, Derrick? Please?"
Derrick digs in the pocket of his jeans for a moment. "You were always one of my favorites. Alright, here. Just return these when you're done."
"Thank you." Olivia takes the keys and starts up the stairs.
She'd been exhausted that night. The only thought in her head had been stripping off the shoes that were making her feet burn and the stiff blue uniform. She hadn't been thinking about watching her own back, she hadn't been thinking about a man lurking in her place, waiting for her, waiting to…
Olivia swallows hard as she stops in front of the apartment that has '2F' in brass letters nailed into the door. The keys jingle in her hands as she fiddles with them, feet frozen in place, arms unable to extend, to slide the key into the lock.
What the hell is she doing here?
Her heart is now pounding in her throat. Finally, she slides the key into the lock and it makes that familiar grinding sound. When the door opens, the hinges creak, just like they did when she was still living here.
The first thing she notices is that the place has been fully renovated. The whole thing has wood floors, except for the kitchen that's separated from the living room by a big granite island. In the little galley, there are light tiles that she has to admit look good. All of the appliances have been replaced with stainless steel, the walls painted a crisp, bright white.
Olivia would move, walk around, see how much the place has changed, if her feet weren't rooted to the spot.
This is the exact place he hit her over the head.
This is the spot he rendered her helpless. This is the spot where she stopped being a cop and became a victim. A victim. A victim. No matter how many miles she travels, no matter who she meets and what she does and how much she tries to forget, she'll always be a victim. Nothing will change that, nothing. "C'mon, I know you know your way around a cock."
Olivia Benson will always be William Lewis's victim.
The keys fall from her hands and clatter loudly to the floor. Her head spins, her stomach does flips, she swears she's going to vomit right where she stands.
"Yeah, that's it. You're gonna like it inside you even more."
She manages to make it to the bathroom before she does. Her knees hit the cold, hard tile as her body heaves. Tears form in her eyes, her nose stings and her throat hurts as the contents of her stomach hit the bowl of the toilet. Finally, just when she thinks she can't take anymore, her stomach settles. Olivia flushes the toilet with a shaking hand, and falls backwards against the wall. Her body is weak, the tears in her eyes aren't going away and the ice in her chest just makes her want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
His hands are on her. God, they're like fire. She curls into a ball, breath trapped deep in the bottom of her lungs. The cigarettes are on her skin, burning. His teeth are sinking into her bottom lip, drawing blood. Tears stream down her face. She tries to catch her breath, but it feels like she just sprinted ten miles.
"You're the strongest woman I've ever known."
Olivia takes a deep breath, and wipes away her tears away as her eyes fall on the bedroom door. She is stronger than she was the last time she was here. She can do this. With the memories of Elliot wrapped around her like a security blanket, she approaches the door, wraps her fingers around the knob and twists.
The room is completely empty, there's a new carpet and new paint on the walls. Finally, she takes a deep breath, takes one, two, three, four steps into the middle of the room.
"No one can hear you, Officer Benson. We have plenty of time to play."
She freezes. There's suddenly a brick in her throat and once again, she can't breathe. He's taunting her. Even from beyond the grave, even when there's absolutely no way he can ever come back and hurt her again, he's still taunting her.
"You will never go through anything like that again. Ever."
The first time Elliot said that, she was skeptical, to say the vest. But the moment after that, when he held himself above her, felt his heart beat steadily against her chest, she really did believe him. And now, the memory of his voice is soothing. It cuts through the fire on her skin and the patronizing tone that mocks her. His hands are on her, holding her, pulling her close, laying kisses along the scars on her stomach. That moment in his bed, the second his lips touched her skin, it just seemed like everything was better, everything was okay again. He made these moments, the moments in this apartment, seem like they were miles away and in a different lifetime.
He's the only one that's been able to take away all of her pain. Despite all of her doubts, he's protected her, made her more happy than she ever thought she could be. So why is she pushing him away?
—-
Most of the men are happy to have a day off. Elliot's not so thrilled. The hours of free time do nothing to help the sinking feeling in his chest that's been there since he hung up the phone with Olivia. He's outside, alone on the rifle range they've set up on the edge of camp, sitting with his rifle focused in on the makeshift target.
The early afternoon sun seeps into his skin, which he can feel beginning to burn. The heat is unforgiving; sweat saturates the back of his shirt and runs down his forehead and over his eyes, nearly blinding him. His head hurts and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth.
Not to mention, his aim has been absolutely atrocious. He's hit the target six times, none in the bullseye.
Elliot squeezes off one more shot, and when it hits the lower corner of the target, he sighs in frustration, flips the safety on, sets the rifle across his lap and digs into the pocket of his pants for his pack of cigarettes.
He quit smoking two deployments ago, but as soon as he hung up with Olivia, he needed something to calm himself down. So he walked up to Garrett, asked him for a pack of smokes and grabbed his rifle before heading out here.
But the stifling heat, blinding sun, coarse, hot sand and even the cigarette that now balances between his lips do nothing to help calm his nerves.
The hot rifle slips down onto his chest as he falls back against the hard ground.
"You're doing everything you can, she's just… scared, that's all."
Obviously everything isn't enough, because she's still in New York. Elliot takes the cigarette out of his mouth, drops his arm to the side and flicks the piece of ash off. He watches the small puff of smoke slip from his lips and dance up towards the sky, then finally disappear before closing his eyes. What the hell is he gonna do now?
A few minutes go by. He thinks he should probably go inside, not just because of the sweat that slicks every part of his body, but also because he remembers that he is still in a war zone and an attack can come at any time. Before he can decide one way or the other, a shadow looms over him. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
Elliot's eyes crack open. Garrett stands above him, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised.
He replaces the cigarette between his lips and takes another pull, shaking his head. "How the hell do you and Juliana do it?" he rasps.
"What?"
"Olivia's back in New York." His heart pangs just from the thought. He thinks about returning home to an empty house, living a life without her. He can't do it. Not when he got a taste of what his life would be like with her, not when he knows how happy he could be. She's the one thing in his life that he's been missing all these years, the one thing that really makes him feel complete.
Garrett takes a deep breath and sits down next to him. He takes out his own pack of cigarettes, lights one up and takes a drag, then another one, exhaling slowly before answering. "It's tough for 'em. Really tough. The first time I deployed, Jules didn't answer my phone calls for three months."
"Why not?"
"She was afraid that once she heard my voice, she'd break down in tears." Garrett shakes his head. "So she thought not answering at all would be easier."
"At least she didn't run across the country," Elliot mumbles.
"But has she been answering your calls? Your emails?"
Elliot sits up, sets the butt of the rifle on the ground in front of him and slips the cigarette back between his lips. "Yes, she has."
"I've seen the way she looks at you. You've got nothing to worry about," Garrett says. "She's gonna be at home waiting for you when we get back."
Either way, there's nothing he can do from here. He sent his email, made his phone call. As much as it hurts to sit here and wait, that's exactly what he has to do. Finally, he nods. "We've still got four months. Maybe you're right."
Garrett slaps him on the back. "I am right. Now come on, let's get back inside with the A/C, I'm dying out here."
Garrett jumps to his feet, holds out his hand for Elliot, and they walk back into the building together.
—-
As soon as Olivia gets outside, she leans against the wall of the building and gulps down a few breaths of fresh air. She feels like she's been up in that apartment for years.
Her watch reads three in the afternoon. With one more heavy breath, she pulls herself from the wall and heads towards the subway station.
In the motel, she packs up her things, and scrolls through her speed dial.
"Hey, Liv," Murph greets after three rings.
"Hey. I made my stop," Olivia says, "and I was wondering… could you pick me up from the airport?"
A/N: Thanks for reading. Click on that lil box below and let me know what you think :)
Have a great morning/afternoon/evening!
-Stabson
