Notes: I hope you guys are doing well in these uncertain, scary times. Please stay safe. Hope this will brighten someones day. Amy - you rock! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

...

"Olivia, how are you today?" Allen the nurse genuinely smiles down at her, his voice more cheerful than the first time they've met. She wonders if he thinks it will somehow brighten her day, deciding it's annoying. This time however, she doesn't let her sour mood show, knowing it's not his fault her life is miserable.

"I'm fine," comes her curt reply.

"Great. Ready for your pre-exam?"

"Do I have a choice?" Olivia asks but doesn't sound hopeful.

"Not really," Allen says sympathetically and watches as she gets up with a tight face to mask the pain. "You'll have to take it up with the Doc, I only do what she tells me to do," he says easily and shrugs mock-helplessly. Although Olivia doesn't smile, she is a little amused. Allen leads her to the exam room, walking more slowly than she suspects his natural pace is so she can keep up.

Once in the exam room they go through the routine Olivia knows from all the doctor's appointments.

"You're running a bit of temperature," Allen tells her. "Have you been feeling poorly?"

"A bit under the weather." She's had a headache for the past couple of days, a sore throat and a clogged nose at night.

"Okay. Everything else looks good to me. I think Dr. Willem-Vasquez should be ready to see you now, otherwise it will only be a few minutes," Allen explains before he takes her to the room the doctor has seen her for the previous appointment. "Do you need anything? A glass of water, maybe?"

"Uh, no thanks," Olivia tells him. Allen is attentive and she feels bad about being so annoyed with him when they first met. It wouldn't surprise her if she was one of his more difficult patients.

"Alright. If that should change don't hesitate to let the Doc know." Allen winks at her and then he's gone, leaving her alone at the office. She's been sitting all morning, and her ass is a little numb. The door has barely closed when the doctor enters, smiling warmly.

"Olivia," she says in greeting, making her way to her chair behind the desk, a file in her right hand. Her hair is pinned up in a bun and she isn't wearing scrubs. Instead she's sporting a white pair of pants and dusky pink t-shirt. She folds her hands on the counter, focusing on Olivia. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

While Dr. Hader had always seemed kind of distracted, it feels like Dr. Willem-Vasquez is truly taking her time and pays attention.

"A little better," Olivia says truthfully. "I'm no longer nauseous on the new medication." She rubs the side of her thigh absentmindedly.

"That's great. I'm glad to hear it." She opens the file and scans it very briefly. "You hardly lost any weight, 0.4 lbs. I think that's about as much progress as could be expected in terms of holding weight," the doctor says and she sounds like she's genuinely happy.

"I don't have much of an appetite."

"I think that's normal after feeling nauseous for months. Just try eating three small meals for now, give yourself and your stomach some time to adjust. As long as you're not losing worrisome amounts of weight, you're doing fine. Some fluctuation is expected. How's your pain on Percocet? Is there any improvement?"

"It's better but only for about two hours after I've taken it. After that it's about as bad as with Vicodin, maybe a little worse. It's hard to tell."

"Okay," the doctor says and nods but she's looking troubled as she glances at the file again. "We really shouldn't up your dose. I'd like to do some research and consult with a fellow doctor to see what else we could try with medication, so for now let's not change anything. I'd like to take a look at your MRI, show you what I've found." She starts working on the computer, then turns the screen for Olivia and starts pointing at a spot with a pencil.

"So we took an MRI of your lower back and right here it looks like there are narrowings of the nerve root, however it doesn't explain your symptoms and the massive amount of pain you are in."

Disappointedly Olivia nods, lips pressed together in a thin line as she swallows. Of course there is no actual conclusion. In fact it's exactly what she has expected. It shouldn't cause that hollow feeling of depression within.

"I am going to do more research, Olivia," the doctor says with conviction. "I may not know the answer yet but we are going to find it. Unfortunately it is going to take time. Until then I want you to see a physical therapist for what we call 'transformer therapy', which is pilates-based and will strengthen your core and posture. I also think meditation and relaxation techniques could help, there is material I can recommend."

"Ah, I don't think-," she starts and shifts in her chair. "That doesn't really work for me."

"Have you tried it?"

She hasn't for pain but after Lewis in particular Dr. Lindstrom had worked on different relaxation techniques with her to help her settle down before bed or after anxiety attacks. None of it has done anything for her. She failed at trying to shut out all the things that distracted her - the hum of the fridge that was audible in the living room, the quiet ticking of the clock in the bedroom, and most of all her ever racing thoughts.

"I have. With my erm… with help from a different doctor. F-for stress." She deliberately leaves out that it was for post traumatic stress disorder.

"Well, I think that it could be worth giving it another try. What seems to be the issue?"

"Erm… I… I can't really focus on those CDs and breathing techniques-they all just… I guess I'm doing it wrong."

"You're not doing it wrong, Olivia. You're probably just not responding to that particular method of listening to audio. It can help to try and memorize steps for progressive muscle relaxation and not use a CD, work your way down from head to toe, see if that works. Or have someone, a person who can help calm you down by their presence, their voice or both to guide you through a meditation or relaxation technique. It's not going to be a miracle cure but we can find paths for you to walk on and make little steps forward to manage pain or insomnia better."

The doctor is looking at Olivia encouragingly and she gives in with a little nod. It's not going to help, she already knows this, but she won't be told that she was being a difficult patient who refused the help offered to her. If nothing else, it'll at least help keep Elliot off her back. He'll be a happy camper just as long as someone's dedicated to 'trying' things.

"I'll have Allen put together a list of materials, including some articles for you. We'll lend you an acupressure mat, it can be quite uncomfortable for a few minutes but should start feeling much better after. You can use it up to thirty minutes. Many patients use them right before bed as it helps them fall asleep better," Dr. Willem-Vasquez explains. She turns the computer screen back to its original angle and starts typing. "I'd like to see you in," she bobs her head side to side for a moment. "four weeks. See what transformer therapy will do in terms of strength. They need to work on your posture and using both crutches. I'd like to do an examination of both legs after that time to see what's changed so please allow some time. Also bloodwork, I see here that your white count has been slightly elevated last time, which could be lingering from sepsis but I don't want to take any chances here. It could also be a minor infection lingering somewhere. In any case, I want us to monitor you as a whole, not just the leg, as long as things don't add up."

"Okay." While none of it sounds promising, Olivia appreciates the woman's dedication. It's not hard to understand how Elliot was convinced by all the positive reviews he's been talking about before she started seeing Dr. Willem-Vasquez. The woman reminds her of herself, or well...the person she used to be a year ago. Olivia hadn't given up on victims, either, but fought for justice with them until the very end. Unfortunately there wasn't always a worthwhile outcome and Liv fears that it's a fate she'll share.

"You don't sound pleased," Dr. Willem-Vasquez points out, folding her hands, her eyes looking pointedly at Olivia.

Olivia gnaws at the inside of her lower lip, responding with a tiny shrug of her shoulders before taking a labored breath.

"I didn't expect anything when I came here today but…" It's even more disillusioning that she was right about it than she could have anticipated.

"I understand that it must be incredibly, incredibly," Dr. Willem-Vasquez repeats with emphasis, "frustrating that I don't have any answers for you. But pain management is not a sprint, Olivia. I wish I could tell you what's wrong, what causes you to be in so much pain or why your leg is so heavily impacted after your surgery. What I need you to focus on right now is that everything we try-be it in terms of medication, physical therapy, physical exams, more MRI's-will tell us something-even if it only rules things out. Eventually that will help us find answers and a treatment that works."

Liv exhales shakily, her eyes starting to burn with rising tears. She turns her head away and hugs herself, embarrassed with the display of emotions. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the other woman says in a gentle voice. "It's a lot. And it's not just you, you have a child which only makes things more complicated. But we will figure this out, Olivia. Okay? I need you to give me some time. More than that I need you to focus on physical therapy, even though you felt like it didn't work for you before. And I highly recommend for you to go and seek psychological counseling, as well. There are several support groups for chronic pain patients, too. If you ever feel the need to talk to someone who experiences similar problems, I can refer you to a group close to where you live."

"How's that going to help?" Olivia wonders aloud. It's been hard enough to open up to a therapist, she'll be damned before she's going to do it in a group setting in front of a bunch of strangers again.

"It helps some patients to feel less alone, less isolated with the issues that come with their illnesses and subsequent pain. But I know it's not for everyone. It can't hurt to keep in mind that it's a possibility, though."

Olivia doesn't give any sign of a response, trying to wrap her head around going back to physical therapy.

"Is there anything else you want to discuss? Any problems that arise in your daily routine?"

Olivia pauses, considering if she should say something because she hates how much she is struggling with the most simple daily activities.

"I find it more and more difficult to shower. I have a tub and I get in okay most of the time but even with a anti-slip mat I have trouble getting up."

"That makes sense. I can prescribe a chair. In your case I think one with back and arms will be most helpful. You're living alone, right?"

"Yes."

"Let's go with a light model then so it'll be easy for you to move and lift when your kid needs to take a bath."

"Okay. Thank you."

"If there's anything, don't hesitate to call or drop an email. I'll see you in four weeks, unless there's something you feel needs immediate attention. Remember, you can always make an earlier appointment with Irene. Allen will meet you with the relaxation materials in the waiting area shortly."

Olivia nods briefly, then hangs her head and draws in her bottom lip before clearing her throat and straightening to get up.

"Thank you," she murmurs, grateful, although like before, she's leaving with a hollow feeling inside.

…

When Liv comes out of the building, a rather big cloth bag in one hand, the crutch in the other, the very first thing Fin notices is her gait. Her torso is tilted to the right, she takes slow steps, and her good foot almost seems to drag. Fin checks the traffic before he exits the car.

"Hey, Liv," he greets her, trying to keep his face as cool as his usual demeanor. Quickly he walks around the car to open the door for her.

"Hi. Thanks for picking me up," she says, sounding weary. She's out of breath, making him realize how long it's been since he's last seen her like this. Probably after chasing a perp when they were still working together.

"No problem. You need anythin', all you gotta do is call." His involvement in picking her up from her doctor's office isn't her doing. Stabler had called him a couple of days ago. If Liv had any say in it, he figures she would have taken a cab or an Über. Hell, she probably would have walked, if it meant not having to ask for help. "You doin' alright, Liv?" He takes the bag from her, finding it's not heavy. The tight smile she puts on at the question is solely for his benefit, he thinks.

"Yeah. I'm good," comes her short reply as she steps close to the vehicle and slowly bends over to support herself on the seat.

"You need help with that?"

"I'm good." It's sharp and followed by a rough exhale. "Sorry. Just…"

"It's fine. You got it," he offers easily, although it's painful to watch how much difficulty she has getting into the car.

"Yes. But thank you." When she closes the door, Fin tosses the bag in the back and gets into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life and swiftly the car pulls onto the street. For a few moments there's fat silence in the vehicle.

"Your appointment go okay?"

"Hmm," she hums, looking out the window on the passenger side. "They didn't find much."

"Shit. That sucks."

"I gotta pick up physical therapy, but I think it's a different course of treatment," she explains, her voice uncharacteristically monotone. "She basically insisted I try relaxation methods," she then adds with a curt snort.

"Sounds like that's not up your alley."

"I'd rather she'd prescribe some proper drugs that actually work," she breathes heavily.

"Stabler said they changed your meds. That didn't help?" He glances at Liv quickly, seeing her slowly stretch out her injured leg as she massages the thigh.

"For about two hours, then it's back to normal. Pain's getting worse, too," she looks at him for the first time when they hit the first traffic light. "Probably I'm just imagining that," huffs Liv.

For a moment he just stares at her, torn. He's a cop and technically so is Liv. He waits a few more beats until the light turns green and he's got something else to focus on before he speaks. "Have you tried more unconventional methods?"

"More unconventional than meditation that's supposed to send me in a state of total relaxation?" She jokes with a tight voice before chuckling cruelly.

"Off the record?"

That seems to catch her attention as he can feel her eyes boring into his profile.

"If I wasn't a cop, I'd say I know someone who knows someone who swears that weed's the shit for pain and relaxation," he mentions casually, as if he wasn't discussing illegal drug use with her.

If Liv's appalled by the suggestion, it doesn't show. There is no obvious reaction coming from her, so he deems the situation safe enough to press on.

"Just sayin'."

For a couple of minutes they ride in total silence but next to him Liv is getting fidgety until she finally speaks to him again.

"You wouldn't by any chance know how to… erm," she pauses, clearing her throat. "Never mind."

"How to get your hands on somethin'?"

"Yeah," comes her throaty response, nervousness radiating off of her. If there's ever been proof of how much pain she must be in, this is it. The Olivia Benson he knows would never even think of touching this stuff and here she is, wondering how to get some pot just to make her suffering manageable.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Liv. I got you covered," he says, glancing at her quickly. He can hear her swallow audibly.

"Off the record?" She repeats his words to him. "You're a good friend."

…

She can't believe that she's actually asked her former colleague and friend to supply her with marijuana. She's forty-nine years old and has never taken a drag of a joint. The stuff smelled so nasty, she couldn't even be tempted in college when most of her friends got high regularly. While she's not proud of it one thing is for sure: Olivia is about ready to try anything, as long as she'll get some relief.

She doesn't even care if Fin consumes or only hangs with people that do. When it comes to their personal lives they've always maintained an unspoken rule of don't ask, don't tell.

"You hungry? Because I could eat." They are only seven blocks from her place, and although she doesn't have much of an appetite she realizes she should probably eat something.

"Uh… sure."

"Want me to stop somewhere? What are ya in the mood for?"

"Actually, I have soup at home and I don't think it'll keep for much longer."

"Not 'xactly the burger I imagined, Liv," he smiles at her.

"It's gonna keep Elliot off my back, he insists I eat it."

"How's that going, you and him? He a lot to handle?"

"He's being… Elliot," she shrugs. "I know he means well and I'm glad he's helping out but…" The man is putting his entire life on hold for her, so she shouldn't complain. And yet she wishes he'd give her some room to breathe sometimes.

"Want me to tell him to back off?"

"Tried that. He's ignoring it in typical Stabler fashion," Liv grimaces and makes a sound of discomfort.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I just need my pills." It's past twelve and she's taken her medication at five-thirty this morning, so the pain's going to border on unbearable soon. Olivia silently prays there's going to be a parking space close to the entrance of her building.

By the time they get to her street Olivia is breathing hard, doing her best to keep from groaning out loud with every exhale. "Can you just let me out, I gotta…"

With no questions asked Fin stops the car, looking over at her. "Just leave the bag, I'll meet you inside."

Quickly she nods and unfastens the seatbelt. The screaming pain is starting to make her feel nauseous and it's going to take a good thirty minutes for her meds to kick in. Cold sweat forms on Olivia's forehead and she hopes she's going to make it to the elevator okay. "I'll leave the door open, I might need twenty, thirty minutes," she cautions, planning on staying in her bedroom until she feels better.

"Got'cha."

When it takes Olivia a good minute to get out of the car she is grateful for how uncomplicated Fin is. He's not ordering her to wait and let him help, giving her the time she needs instead. Slowly limping towards the entrance, she hisses underneath her breath, upset with herself for leaving her pills at home.

By the time she gets to her medication, Olivia is no longer able to stand upright. She crashes on her bed and groans, trying to keep her body from tossing. Thirty minutes, she tells herself over and over but time seems to crawl. If she wouldn't know Fin's going to be here any minute, she'd allow herself the freedom of sobbing but as it is, she's clamping her jaw shut so tight, it's making her teeth hurt.

Olivia's spent when her body relaxes under the oxy. Closing her eyes she takes a few conscious breaths. All she wants is to stay in bed and not get out until Noah comes home. Fin probably wouldn't even mind if she told him to leave. Enticing as the thought is, she slowly braces herself on her hands and sits up. She's sweaty and could do with a change of clothes but all she does is move to the bathroom to splash some cold water in her face.

Fin sits on her sofa as she returns, looking at her, his concern shining through. Whatever he's thinking about her longer absence, he keeps it to himself.

Olivia slowly limps toward the kitchen, clearing her throat to get the weariness out of her voice. „Can I make you coffee? Something else?"

„Nah, Liv. I'm good."

She gets some water from the fridge, then takes out the small container of broccoli soup. It's uncomfortable to stand, although the oxy kills the worst of the bite in her lower back and leg. She braces against the work top to steady herself as she microwaves the soup, deciding it's less of a strain on her already-exhausted body than moving back and forth between the kitchen and sofa.

Five minutes later she fills the steaming soup into bowls, realizing she needs some help, if she wants it or not. Her good leg is dead, making her wonder how on earth she cut off circulation while on her feet.

"Could you put this on the dining table?"

"Anything else?" Fin is quick to do what she asked while she's trying to get her leg to work.

"Spoons maybe. Over there," she points at the drawer. Sensation slowly returns to her leg and after another brief moment she follows Fin to the dining table. She feels like walking on a bubble.

The soup is good. She's still surprised that Elliot can cook. She finishes half of it before deciding she wants to know more about whoever they brought in as Captain. Fin's her best bet at getting actual answers.

"So, how's the new guy?" Instead of looking at Fin she stares into her bowl.

"He's not you," comes his non-committal reply. "'s acting all tough, pissin' all over the place to mark his territory," he says, pulling a face when Olivia glances up at him. "Doesn't have a knack for vics, if you ask me."

"Sounds like a charmer." She tries not to be affected by this, knowing someone without enough empathy is running SVU now.

"'s not like anyone could fill your shoes, Liv."

„Doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" She asks sadly.

„Does to me."

„Returning was my only plan," Olivia says above a whisper, feeling a lump forming in her throat. „Now I don't even know what's next."

"Maybe it's time that you focus on taking care of yourself, Liv. You got your twenty in, you can retire. Do some advocacy work from home, maybe."

She looks pointedly at Fin and shakes her head slowly. "Can't even do that anymore. I hardly get through the day while not doing anything." She glances away, ashamed of the extent of her weakness when she was so strong once.

„Your focus and ability may be limited, don't mean you can't do nothin', Liv. Just gotta take it slow, girl."

„That's what it means, Fin," she manages wearily, looking back at him with clouded eyes. „I'm in so much pain, I don't function. At all. Some days I hardly get Noah ready for school in time and that's almost two hours already. By the time he leaves the house I'm so exhausted, I can hardly pick myself back up from the couch. I c- I can't think most of the time, I don't sleep more than two, three hours most nights. Can't really take care of the apartment, either," she mumbles, glancing around. „Elliot can be a lot but without him I'd sink in dirt and clutter. Work is… is out of the question." Saying it all out loud is the first time she realizes how quickly she's deteriorating. Around the time she quit therapy she still managed tidying up and cleaning, taking care of herself. Now, without Elliot taking care of everything, she'd be lost.

„Man, Liv, that's rough. There's gotta be something they can do."

„Nothing helped that the last three doctors found. At least this new one's still looking but I doubt she'll be able to help much more than she has with the new medication."

„You know we're all here for you, Liv. If there's anything we can do to help…"

„Thanks Fin," she says, her voice thick, knowing there's not much that they can help with. But she appreciates their willingness, knows all she's got to do is ask and they'll be there.

„Noah doin' okay?"

„As okay as you can expect under the circumstances. He's scared. And I'm no good at telling him it's gonna be all right. Elliot's trying to pick up the pieces but…" God, she hates how it sounds as much as she hates that it's completely true. El's picking up the pieces, he's making sure Noah still gets to have a little fun and is distracted when she's at her worst both physically and emotionally.

„It's not working?"

„I don't know," she admits. „We're waiting so he can start counseling at the end of next month." Her heart breaks knowing her son needs counseling because of her at all, that her health condition aside, she's not able to give him enough emotional stability to cope with the changes. Olivia hopes Noah will like the child psychologist and they don't have to keep looking for someone else. „I'm really messing this up."

„You're a great mom, Liv," Fin tells her earnestly.

„I'm a disaster," she retorts in a flat tone.

„I messed up real bad with Ken, so I know when someone's a disaster. You ain't it, Liv. Even battling this you'll find your groove. Just gon' take time, is all."

He gets up, looking at the soup bowls. „Mind if I clean this up?"

She does actually, but she's too tired to do it on her own. She just admitted to Fin that she's incapable of doing the easiest tasks, so what does it matter if she lets him? Defeated she nods at the dirty dishes. „Knock yourself out."

…

The metallic taste of blood is the first thing Olivia registers. It seems to pool in her mouth like saliva when she's getting sick. Or maybe she is getting sick, she thinks, as she slowly tries to lift her head. Moaning, she braces on her hands in a weak attempt to push her torso up from the ground. Her head hurts as she moves it and, whimpering, she closes her eyes. She manages to regain head control at the second attempt and spits out the blood in her mouth. She opens her eyes and there's offensive crimson on pure white. There's so much blood. Too much.

She hit the ground so suddenly, she couldn't even cry out. Her jaw explodes in pain and she wonders if she's broken something. Touching her chin with two fingers, Olivia finds it is wet, then realizes blood is dripping from it. Slowly it dawns on her that she split her chin open.

"Shit," she groans quietly. More blood accumulates in her mouth and from the feel of it she assumes she must have bitten her tongue. Gradually the rest of her body starts to hurt. Her teeth and head first, then her hands, her knees, one elbow. She cups her hand over the cut, trying to catch the blood. It takes a while until she gets into a sitting position which allows her to reach the towel. She presses the cloth to the cut on her chin but it does little to stop the bleeding. Head and face wounds bleed like crazy, and she knows it most likely looks worse than it is.

She tries to think despite her throbbing head, coming to the conclusion she needs to pull herself together despite the burn of unshed tears and check out the injury.

Scooting against the tub she tries to focus on something else than the taste of blood in her mouth. It's the taste of Harris and Lewis. It's the taste of utter terror and despair, that sentiment of being a caged animal, ready to do anything, anything for survival. Suddenly she feels physically sick, spitting another mouthful of blood and saliva out before taking a ragged breath. She sits against the tiles and closes her eyes for a few moments, feeling too woozy to stand up.

Eventually Olivia manages to pull herself together. She takes a few conscious, cleansing breaths and slowly gets up in a standing position. She reaches for the crutch, using her free hand to staunch the wound with the towel. The banged up knee makes her limp worse. In the mirror she inspects the gash on her chin that's still bleeding more than she would like.

Holding the cloth to the cut she first notices she's got streaks of blood all over her torso, making her look nothing short of Carrie.

"Damn," she whispers, then takes a look at the wound that is still bleeding. She tilts her head up, inspecting the split closely, realizing she definitely needs stitches. First of all she needs to sit though, because she's trembling like a leaf now that the initial shock is wearing off.

Logistics are her priority now. She needs to get cleaned up and for that she needs to sit. The toilet is too far to reach the sink and although a shower would be the quickest option there's no way in hell she'll get back into the tub and risk another nosedive. To get a chair she'll need to leave the bathroom and face Noah, possibly even ask him to help her and she can't go with blood all over her without further traumatizing her child.

No matter how she looks at it, she'll have to grit her teeth. Sit and calm down. Stop the bleeding. Get cleaned up. First she should call someone who can take her to the ER and take care of Noah while they stitch her up, though. First instinct is to ask Rollins, but dragging two kids to the hospital is out of the question. Which leaves Fin and Elliot, and while she would prefer Fin, she knows that Elliot will be better with a potentially shaken up Noah.

Olivia takes it slow despite her anxiety over Noah seeing something he shouldn't. She manages to slow down the bleeding and, with some difficulty gets herself and the mess on the floor cleaned up so only a couple of blood stained towels remain in the tub. She puts a bandaid on her knee and a bigger patch across her entire chin, deciding that looks much better than the gaping wound.

Another five minutes and she is dressed, ready to face her son and get him ready as well. He's curled up on the sofa, watching cartoons, and while he's distracted she decides to get an Über and call El.

Olivia retreats to her bedroom, quietly closing the door as she dials Elliot. He sounds groggy with sleep as he picks up, which isn't surprising around eight on a Sunday morning.

„Hello?"

„Hey. El," Olivia starts slowly. „Sorry to call so early but, erm…" Her voice is low and insecure.

„Liv?" Suddenly he sounds wide awake and alarmed. „What happened?" He knows how out of character it is for her to call him at all, especially this early on the weekend.

She swallows, realizing her voice is as shaky as her bruised leg when she speaks to explain. „I, erm… I have a bit of a situation here. I, I fell and split my chin open," she exhales when she can hear him gasp.

When he was alarmed before, he's plain panicked now.

„You what?" He speaks more abruptly, and she can hear his sheets rustling. „Are you okay?"

„Yes, I'm… fine. A little banged up. I'm pretty sure I need stitches, though."

„Stitches?" It sounds like he's erratically moving around. „I'll be there as quickly as…"

„No, wait. I got an Über in twenty. Can you meet us in the ER and stay with Noah when I'm going in?"

„An Über. Okay. Um… okay. Yeah, I'll meet you there. You're sure you're all right?" Elliot inquires, worried.

„I'm good. Oh, and if you could get something for Noah to eat? He only had some cereal an hour ago and…"

„Food. I got it. If there's anything, promise to call, Liv. Please."

„I will," she agrees, then hangs up, mentally preparing herself as she walks back to the living room. Noah, clutching his favorite cuddly toy, is engrossed in his cartoon until she sits down next to him. His big, blue eyes settle on the patch across her chin inquisitively and she speaks just before he does.

„Hey, sweet boy, mommy's got an owie, and I think I need the doctor to look at it. How about you go and pick two small toys and your favorite book for Elliot to read to you? Does that sound good?"

„How did you get the owie?" He wonders worriedly.

„Do you remember how the last time Elliot took you to the playground you tripped and hurt your knee?" Olivia asks softly, forcing a tight smile that hurts terribly for Noah, continuing as her little boy nods. „The same thing happened to me. Only I hurt my chin."

„Can I see it?"

„Not right now, but I'm gonna show you later, okay? Now let's pick what you want to take."

„Does it hurt, mommy?"

„Only a little bit." She gets up and luckily Noah follows suit.

„Like when I hurted my knee?"

„Exactly."

…