Part Thirty-Five
After
Olivia had never been to Minneapolis, and after having spent a total of ten minutes there, including time taxing down the runway, she wasn't sure she could claim that she had been. She felt strange, almost like she was in a dream as she boarded another plane, damn near identical to the one she'd just been on. She wanted to commiserate with Elliot about it, but she was afraid to interrupt the silence he'd lapsed into since he'd given up the photo of his kids.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she felt like another trip, if maybe she could just declare that she was staying right where she was. Even if the Simonovichs had followed them out of Manhattan and tracked the helicopter to Rhode Island and also somehow managed to keep up with the multi-vehicle road trip into Vermont, Olivia was quite positive they weren't also aware of the trip to Minneapolis. And if they were, she almost felt like they deserved to win.
Glancing over her shoulder at Elliot, she muttered, "Wonder where we're headed this time."
"Hopefully somewhere with food. I'm starving," Elliot grumbled back, easily as bored with the traveling as she.
This time, an agent nodded at her before she and Elliot flopped into their seats. Olivia could hear the heavyset man's belt buckle smacking into each row of seats as he turned sideways to fit through the aisle. "You guys have any personal effects?"
Homeless and identity-less, the pair shook their heads. Between the two of them, all they had was seven dollars in cash, which wouldn't cover lunch, so she mentally added penniless to the list.
"You got any food?" Elliot's voice was hopeful and Olivia wanted to joke that if the large man had any food, he probably had already eaten it.
He shook his head. "We already had dinner."
Too irritated to finish the conversation, Elliot turned to stare out the window. With a shrug, Olivia responded to him. "We didn't."
Elliot turned back to pipe up, "Lunch either."
The agent nodded. "I'll see if anyone has anything, but the flight to Tulsa is only about an hour."
With alarm that she couldn't quite hide, Olivia fairly squeaked. "Tulsa?" She glanced at Elliot, pleased to see an equal amount of trepidation on his face. "As in Oklahoma?"
The man chuckled as he walked away.
Elliot glared at him over the seat before leaning over to whisper at her. "Bet you five bucks he's from Tulsa."
"You don't have five bucks." She looked back at him and didn't bother to whisper. "I cannot live in Oklahoma. I will die." She waited to see what, if anything, he would do. When he did nothing, she continued. "Fuck, I will kill myself."
Elliot was laughing, leaning the seat back as far as it would go. "You promise me it'll be a murder-suicide and I'll promise not to turn you in." After a few minutes of silence, he leaned his head toward her and grinned. "Maybe I can get a tractor. I always wanted to have a tractor."
Olivia didn't dignify his comment with a response. She was too busy trying to tell herself the idea of a hot, sweaty, shirtless Elliot on a tractor didn't turn her the fuck on. It was an uphill battle.
The agent never returned, leaving them to determine that he must not have been able to find any food. Elliot bitched about how the jerk could have had the decency to tell them, while Olivia tuned out the familiar sound of his voice and contemplated what their new lives would be like.
When the plane touched down, Olivia half expected to see Laurey, Curly and all their friends dancing around and roping cattle. The fact that there were no covered wagons lined up did little to settle her fears. She was a city girl and if someone thought they'd be able to hide her out in the country somewhere, it was never going to work. She would never blend in. She knew it.
Olivia looked around hopefully as she made her way down the stairs to the asphalt runway. Although there were quite a few planes, regular commercial sized ones too, across a large pattern of paved roads at, what she assumed, was the regular airport, Olivia didn't see any another puddle jumper anywhere close.
It was disappointment, she told herself, that made her reach out for Elliot's hand. She'd need to dig her nails into something to stop herself from demanding they take her somewhere else. Throwing a tantrum over her location she guessed would probably have no effect other than alienating the people on whom she needed to depend for her survival. In her other hand, she clutched the small bag she had from the hospital, filled with a few weeks' worth of her medications. It was the only possession she had; the only thing that was her own, besides the clothes on her back, and even those pill bottles bore the name Jane Doe.
The group of agents accompanying them led them to a maroon minivan. Once Elliot and Olivia were loaded inside, the group retreated to the plane. The plane was already speeding away from them before the man in the front seat turned around to face them.
"I've got some stuff here for you." He shook out the contents of a large Ziploc bag onto the console between the front seats. He then grabbed a plain leather wallet from the pile and offered it to Elliot. "Here's some ID for you for tonight." He picked up a second wallet, a silly pink clutch with a dainty handle attached decorated with rhinestone daisies, and held it out to her. "And for you."
Any other time, Olivia would have shared a hearty laugh with her partner regarding the ridiculously girly object she was given, but this wasn't any other time. There wasn't a damn thing funny about any of it. She mutely accepted the wallet.
He picked up the last item, a pair of plane tickets and handed them to Elliot. "The IDs in those wallets will get you on the plane." He looked back at Olivia. "You have your medicine?"
Olivia nodded, only half listening, feeling nervous about looking in her new wallet. Her new life was in there. She wasn't sure she wanted to look. Elliot hadn't.
"Can I have it?" The man seemed irritated; as though he'd been through the process so many times he couldn't understand why other people hadn't.
"What are you going to do with them? I need my pills." She hated how she sounded like some kind of a junkie, but the statement remained true.
"Take anything you need for the next few hours now. There will be another agent on the plane with you. Your pills will be checked in her luggage. She has credentials, so she'll be able to deal with any security issues that arise."
Olivia was scared. She'd already been through so much and yet, she knew none of it had really sunk in. It was a lot of shit in a very short period of time. Her hands were shaking as she sorted through the multitude of bottles, looking for the ones she took in the evening. Hell, she didn't even know which ones she was supposed to take in the evening. She'd seen two doctors since she'd last taken them and both had warned they were going to change the pills she was on. And the night before she'd just taken whatever the nurse handed her without paying any attention to what it was. She wanted to kick herself for not having read the instructions from the hospital during the hours of traveling. Somehow, she'd expected that she'd have time to sit and read them with some modicum of privacy, except she wasn't sure when that would possibly be. It appeared she was going to be attached to Elliot for the rest of her natural life.
She looked at the paperwork quickly, checking to make sure the three bottles she'd pulled from the bag were right. Taking one pill from each bottle, she replaced them in the bag, along with the paperwork. Having Jane Doe's discharge instructions with her would only raise suspicion if anyone checked. Olivia handed the bag over the seat and eyed the tablets in her hand.
"Got anything to drink?" She accepted the lukewarm coffee the man handed her with a grimace and choked down the pills she needed to live.
Elliot watched her carefully, only turning back to inspect the plane tickets after she handed the cup back. "San Diego?"
A glimmer of hope ran through her. California was not Oklahoma. California was not landlocked. She might be able to survive in California, even if it was alien to the New York lifestyle. "Is that the final stop?"
The man smiled and shook his head. "I don't know." Then he turned around and drove the short distance to the main airport.
Olivia half expected a posse of armed men to open the door when they arrived, and so sat stupidly waiting for instructions when it didn't happen.
The agent nodded over the seat, indicating the third row of seats. "Your carry-ons are back there. There are some clothes if you want to change, some toiletries."
Reaching for the door handle, Olivia paused and looked back at him. "Um, will we be in contact with someone else? How will I get my medicine back?"
The man just smiled. "The agent will contact you on the ground in San Diego." Then he turned back to face the front, put on his turn signal and gave every indication he was entirely finished with them.
After she got out, Elliot grabbed the bags from the back and climbed out as well, shutting the door in time for the van to speed out into traffic. "Well, we got more than two sentences out of him. I guess that's an improvement, right?"
Olivia watched as her pills, which had remained with the man in the front seat, disappeared around a turn. "This seems a bit ill-planned."
Shrugging, Elliot opened his wallet, sliding his license out far enough to read it. "Bill Henderson." He scoffed. Olivia couldn't blame him. He didn't look like a Bill.
Catching the way security seemed to watching them, although she acknowledged that it could have been utter paranoia, she took a glance in her wallet as well, loudly announcing, in case anyone cared that she was just making sure they had everything they needed. Speaking much more quietly while pretending to lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, she added, "Apparently, I'm your wife, Kelly."
With a sigh, Elliot shouldered both bags, stubbornly refusing to let Olivia carry her own, and headed inside.
After they checked in, they headed for the bathrooms to change. Though she hated the idea of donning clothes that weren't hers, she hated the idea of staying in the filthy ones she was wearing more. Besides, she thought, she was going to be Kelly Henderson and Kelly Henderson did not have an emotional attachment to clothes simply because they were the last ones she picked out when she was someone else. She figured Elliot was happy to be changing too, since she'd had a few hours in a hospital gown in between while he hadn't had even that tiny reprieve.
Apparently whoever had picked out the clothes had been given very limited information. The underwear and bra, which she only decided on trying because they had tags on them, were a good two sizes too small. With the option of her own disgusting two day old pair of panties or a brand new pair that was crawling up her ass before she even moved, she decided she could deal with the discomfort. The bra, however, was simply not going to work. Not only did it barely clasp, but the cups were so small that she looked like a cheap whore. She didn't want to scare Elliot away, nor did she want to attract undue attention, and so, she opted for her own bra and decided she'd just have to deal with it being dirty.
The jeans, naturally, were a size too big, slipping so low on her hips as to reveal the way the elastic band of her too-small panties were cutting into her skin. The sweater was also way too big, so big, in fact, that she might have suspected it was meant for Elliot if not for the pale yellow color. At least, she thought with a shrug, the length of the sweater would keep her from revealing her intimates if her jeans fell off.
Lastly, there were a pair of socks and running shoes which were, oddly enough, exactly the right size, and she was happy to put on something comfortable. Making her way out of the stall, she brushed her teeth at sink, brushed her hair, and dabbed on a bit of face powder with items someone had been thoughtful enough to provide. Satisfied that she looked a little less like someone who was sick and being smuggled through a tour of the United States, she tossed her old things in the trash can.
She wasn't Olivia Benson anymore. She didn't need Olivia Benson's clothes.
Reaching for the door handle, she paused and had second thoughts. No one had to know, she rationalized. Quickly, before she could rethink it, she grabbed the gray hoodie she'd been wearing, the one she'd stolen from Elliot years earlier, the one she liked to delude herself, when she was alone, still kind of smelled like him, and stuffed it in her carry-on. One thing. One nondescript gray hoodie. There was no way in hell someone would be able to identify her from that.
With her security blanket zipped up inside the bag, she stepped outside the bathroom, bumping immediately into Elliot.
"Jesus, I was about to come in there looking for you." His manner seemed calm, but Olivia could tell from one look in his eyes that he was absolutely frantic.
She tried to reassure him with a smile and then with a squeeze of his hand when he reached out to take her bag from her once again. "Sorry, I had a little problem with sizing."
He looked down, taking in the sweater than hung to her knees and laughed. "Yeah, me too. I think you made out better."
Looking somewhere besides his face, Olivia realized what he was talking about. Whereas her outer layer was too big, his was quite snug. Both his faded jeans and the long sleeved dark gray tee-shirt he wore fit him like a glove. And fuck if he didn't look damn good in them.
With a playful wink, she licked her lips and slowly raked her eyes up his body. "Yes, I think I did."
He stared at her dumbfounded for a moment, then his cheeks suddenly flamed a bright red that extended to his ears and down his neck. Elliot swallowed hard and looked away. "We – uh – plane – um-"
Giggling at the way the she'd thrown him and feeling like she'd earned a point for any woman who'd ever walked past a construction site in a skirt, she cleared her throat. "We've got time before our flight. Should we get something to eat?" As she spoke, she remembered the five she had, the one that had been in her khakis when she'd tossed them in the trash. Not that five dollars was going to buy much, but it was all they had. She was just turning back to get it when Elliot stopped her.
He was holding up a pair of twenties, grinning like he'd won the damn lottery. "Did you check all the pockets in your bag?"
She shook her head, feeling stupid that she'd only been concerned with her clothes and making herself presentable. She reached for the zipper of the front pocket when Elliot held the bag out for her, finding her own pair of twenties. "Oh, thank god."
Elliot held his elbow out to the side and smiled. "Would you care for dinner, Mrs. Henderson?"
Laughing at the inanity of it, she slipped her arm through his. "Yes, Mr. Henderson, I would."
Whatever the hell kind of mess they were in, at least they were in it together.