Notes: Oh my God, I loved all your reviews - and all the awesome guesses of what this might be about. Like... a dream? Is she still trippin' on drugs? One or two of you are awfully close - well, actually kind of spot on.
Amy - I am so grateful for your beta'ing skills, for our conversations. Writing is more than just a joy with you.
It's dark. Like he's in a house with all the windows boarded up, tendrils on the outside and all. It's also quiet, which is a peaceful thing, because even when he's not with her, the anguished sounds of pain never quite leave him. They are stuck in his head like wallpapers to a wall, the kind you have trouble getting off even with soap water and an entire army of scrapers.
She's not in this house. Liv. Not even on the outside, looking in. It's just him and his even breath and that deeply satisfying feeling of being wrapped in a wonderfully warm, safe cocoon. Everything is calm and comfortable. Until it's not.
That sense of trepidation crawls beneath his skin, spreads within every fiber and sinks into his bones. The cocoon is slipping away, giving way to quicksand, pulling him in, pulling him down.
There's pounding so intense, it makes his insides vibrate. Groaning he clutches his palm to his chest, his heart racing. But it's not his heart causing that pounding, because it grows louder by the second.
It's fists against a door in an act of utter panic. Then there's her voice, faintly behind the noise, the incessant hammering, but he can't make out the words, and really, he just wants the warmth and quiet back.
It's funny, because he's become so used to her cries and whimpers and yet this sounds completely unfamiliar. His weary body has trouble catching up with his slightly alert mind.
He thinks it's his name he hears and God, can't she just not, because he's so, so tired...
"Elliot! Elliot!"
He groans. His name echoes louder and louder, as does the pounding of the door, his heart, his head until it's an almost explosive crescendo that rattles these walls and he startles awake with a violent jolt.
"ELLIOT!"
He's not in some house, there are no windows boarded up and there's no-one hammering against any doors. Instead he's right where he fell asleep, on Olivia's living room sofa. The only thing that aparrantly isn't a figment of his brain is that she's screaming bloody murder. It sends an icy shiver down his spine, and it runs marrow-deep.
Upon first instinct he's certain it's Lewis. A nightmare. The conversation with Rollins is still fresh in his mind, so is one he had with Liv a few weeks ago-that she had only wanted and needed him. For the first time something about the kidnapping feels real. It's always been something Elliot couldn't quite grasp, may not have wanted to grasp, unable to wrap his head around what the monster must have put Liv through.
He wonders if she screamed like this for him when Lewis had her, tortured her, hurt her…. maybe worse. Probably worse.
He's seen a hell of a lot on the job, some things unimaginable and unfathomable but this was Liv. He doesn't know any details, and what he knew he'd let wash over him, trying to detach of what couldn't be - because it was Liv, for fuck's sake. Of course he'd followed the news on the TV, he'd read the articles. He sorted the words into boxes. Cuts. Burns. Assault. It was Liv. At the end of the day he knew what was on the public record - but with Olivia he imagined it probably only scratched the surface of the truth.
His mind flashes back to Harris, Sealview, that goddamn undercover stint gone wrong, something he never stopped feeling responsible for. There was never an official complaint and thus no statement from Olivia, so Elliot never knew, but they all knew something happened in that basement. Liv didn't tell him a thing and neither did Fin, out of respect for her, which should have made him respect Fin more - instead he'd wanted to slam him into a locker and pummel the truth right out of him.
The edge of panic in Olivia's voice is what penetrates the fog in his mind and spurs him into action.
The door to her bedroom is open, he left it like this so he could hear her at night, in case pain bothered her again. Even from the other room he can hear her breathing heavily.
Elliot physically tries to shake the sleep from his weary body that's slowing his limbs and every movement down.
When he's finally on his feet and bolts towards her bedroom, it feels like he's tripping in the semi-dark of dawn. She's sitting on her bed, upright, and he can hardly make out the expression on her face or if she's awake or asleep and dreaming but somehow he assumes the latter because she shows no reaction to his presence when she cries out his name again, although this time it's more of a whimper, a more hopeless sound.
"It's okay, I'm here," he says quickly, walking over to her. "It's a dream, Liv… it's just.."
"I can't move my legs."
He thought he'd heard her voice in every pitch possible, but this is not one of them. Although he understood the words, he can't make sense of them, can't even process them when she repeats them.
"What?"
"My legs. I can't… I can't move them."
He slams his hand against the light switch, feeling panicked, although he's still not convinced she's fully awake and possibly, hopefully, having a nightmare, the kind that feels real even when you wake up.
He's by her side then, and Olivia's palms are on her thighs, rubbing with some serious pressure while he rubs his mouth, wondering how this is possible or what the hell to do.
"Elliot…" She's shaking now, and it doesn't help because he's trying to think and he can't think when he sees her like this, scared and distraught. Rummaging in the farthest corner of his mind he tries to remember what to do when someone can't move their legs. After an accident you shouldn't move a person but this is not a goddamn accident, she was fine. Well, in comparison. For someone who should be crisis approved, being an ex-marine, ex-cop—god, that's a lot of exes—he's utterly lost.
„El…"
„Just wait! I need to think!" He takes a breath and then, more calmly, repeats. „I just need a minute to think."
There are not too many options, are there? Either he calls an ambulance, or the emergency service Dr. Willem-Vasquez' practice is part of, or he takes Olivia to the ER himself. All of them sound like a gamble because no-one even knows Liv and her health issues.
„Doc's emergency service," Elliot decides aloud. „We're going to call the service, see what they say."
As quickly as the plan forms, Elliot is gone and back with the card and his cell, shakily punching in the number with his index-finger. At the sixth ring a woman finally picks up. He explains the issue as best as he can, then hangs up, frustrated.
„Someone's going to call back in 10-15 minutes." Which is an eternity under the circumstances, especially when there is nothing he can do. Well, except reassuring Liv that everything is going to be okay. He sits down, taking her hand as it sinks in just how scared she must be. „I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just…" There is no good explanation, clearly she got the worse deal, his legs are working fine after all. Pressing his lips together, he looks at her thighs. „Can you feel anything?"
„Not much. It's… like pins and needles when I rub or squeeze it. It's like my feet aren't even there." She sounds freaked, insecure, and yet he thinks she's holding it together quite well. If roles were reversed, he's pretty sure he'd lose it.
„No pain?"
Olivia shakes her head, and while this would count as a good thing under different circumstances, now it sounds like bad news. He helps her scoot up against the headboard when she gets uncomfortable, hoping they don't cause any more damage. There is a big, wet spot where she sat before and he swallows, looking at Liv, who has also noticed. While she looks uncomfortable, she still looks a lot more scared than anything else.
"This is all right," he assures. "It's probably normal when you have no sensation." Or it's literally fear-induced. Whatever the reason, he doesn't want her to feel like it's a big deal.
She looks not so sure to him but nods, her lip quivering. "I'm scared," she says, her voice just above a whisper.
"I know," he kisses her hair, not pulling back for a while. "Me too."
"What if…"
In that moment the phone rings and Elliot stiffens for a moment before thinking to pick up. It's been maybe three minutes since he hung up with the emergency service. He's flooded with a surge of relief when it's Liv's doctor who introduces herself, because what were the odds? At least her instructions will be the closest to accurate to follow since she knows her and Liv's particular problems. He'll take her word over everyone else's, no question.
She asks for Olivia, who feels more comfortable with Elliot listening, asking if they can be on speaker. The doctor wants her to explain exactly what's going on. She asks questions like 'Can you wiggle your toes?' -at which they are both surprised that she can, because Liv said she tried before and it didn't work as well- and 'When you pinch your leg, do you have any sensation somewhere?' -which yes, she has when she pinches a bit harder. Some more sensation returns as they talk and Dr. Willem-Vasquez stays on the phone with them as she asks them to give it a few more minutes, although she sounds alarmed. Olivia explains that the entire lower half of her body has started to tingle, and the feeling reminds her of a foot or leg falling asleep.
At the doctor's request, they try to get her to stand, finding she can't on her own, but with Elliot bearing most of her weight she manages to take a few steps, but her feet drag, her ankles try to turn, and her knees buckle. He helps Liv back onto the bed, letting the doctor know it didn't go well, Olivia cannot support herself.
Elliot's spooked by the doctor's audible concern and the order to either call an ambulance if they feel it's necessary, or get to the ER, where she'll meet them, as quickly as possible.
Elliot hangs up, slightly frustrated, because the doc's playing it close to the vest, saying she needs to see the CT scans and Olivia first, even though it sounded like she has a pretty good idea of what is going on.
Although there is a plan now, Elliot's completely overwhelmed to execute it. Get to the ER sounds fairly easy, except it is not.
"I should probably call an Über," he starts. "Do we need clothes? Should I pack a bag?" None of this is a priority, he realizes as he speaks. If she needs anything, he can still get it later. "Probably not…"
"Could you just… help me get cleaned up?" Olivia asks timidly, and he understands why. It might not be high on his list, because he just wants to get her to the goddamn hospital, and pronto, but he gets her need for a shower and a clean set of clothes.
"Right. I'll… um… yeah. Let's get you to the bathroom."
Nodding slowly she gives it her best effort. He's still supporting her more than she's walking on her own, and her feet still drag rather than lifting into a step. Elliot is relieved they make it to the bathroom at all. He's trying to steel himself for what's next, the logical steps to follow as he sits her down on the toilet lid. Take off her pajama pants. Her underwear.
He swallows, wondering how on earth he's supposed to do this and not look at her body, not make her feel uncomfortable. Hell, she'll be against him completely naked, and this time is different because he's only wearing boxers and an undershirt himself, something he only realizes now.
Olivia doesn't seem to think about these things because her shirt comes off, and she doesn't even attempt to hide behind the fabric in her hand. Instead she looks up at him. It shouldn't surprise him how well she still knows him.
„Not the time for modesty," she mumbles, and her eyes are very dark. He notices the slightest slump in her shoulders as she drops the shirt. „It's all right, Elliot. Just… get me out of these clothes." It sounds like she's trying to convince the both of them.
He nods once, twice, slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. For all the times he's imagined stripping Liv of her clothes, it's been nothing like this, and damn, he thought he'd gone through every possible scenario.
„Okay," he decides. „I'm going to help you up, and we're gonna get you out of these clothes." He counts from three to zero before pulling her up against him. She groans from the physical strain, arms around his neck, while doing her best at having her legs support her. Quickly he pushes the two layers of fabric past her hips, not caring that they are urine-soaked. „Okay, and back down. Careful… there you go."
When she's sitting safely, he slides her pants and panties off, discarding them in the sink. He's trying not to look at her, but his gaze gravitates to her body instead of her face or the wall or… anything really. His jaw sets and his teeth grind. There are more scars than he can count or process upon first glance, and a surge of nausea jerks through his tension ridden body when his eyes settle on thick, pink scar tissue that wraps itself around Olivia's left thigh almost serpentine-like. The towel must have covered it the last time because it's not something he could have overlooked even if he tried.
There's no space for him to get lost in his head now and so he tries to shake the image, the nausea, the what ifs, and focuses on what needs to be done. „Let's get you into the tub," he says gruffly, unaware of his tone until she shrinks a little more under it, and he curses himself, tries a softer tone. „I've got you, okay?"
She nods, and slowly he moves in so she can fully lean on him as he helps her up and the few steps towards the tub. He maneuvers her to the board where she can safely sit. He lifts her legs over the ledge when she fails, taking in the deep scarring across her left calf, wincing audibly. He's never seen it like this, up close, mostly because Liv didn't want him to. Or anyone else for that matter. He turns on the water, making sure it's not too hot and offers her the shower head. As Olivia gets cleaned up, he gets the biggest towel he can find and a fresh set of clothes that'll be easy to get into.
By the time she's ready to get out, he's luckily on autopilot, which allows him not to pay attention to the many distractions her body throws at him. He helps her towel off while she holds a bigger towel in front of her, so she at least gets a shred of privacy when he needs to be so intimately close. Jesus, it's like nothing's sacred for her anymore, he thinks, because he pretty much has his hands everywhere as he helps her put on underwear.
A few minutes later Olivia is fully dressed, so Elliot gets a couple of minutes to get ready, too, and to call an Über. She waits for him on the couch while he tells himself it's more comfortable for her, but what the hell does he know? She hardly has any function in her legs, and he's terrified of what it means for her, for Noah. For him.
They make it to the lobby of her building, and thank God she's moved to a place with an elevator. He's almost fully supporting her weight as she has one arm hooked around his neck, his arm around her, pulling her against him. She hardly has to take any steps, and it looks like he's going to have to carry her outside and to the waiting Über.
The elevator doors start to close as they start moving, and he slams his hand on the button to keep them open, shouting when a woman just stares. „Can we get some help here?"
With uncoordinated steps they make it to the entry of the building, the custodian coming to their aid. Unfortunately he's asking too many questions.
„Is she all right? Should I call an ambulance? Maybe she…"
„Fuck's sake, just hold the door open, will ya?" Elliot hisses.
The sharp tone is very effective. The guy holds the door open for them. Stepping outside, Olivia's body slumps against his a little more and she looks at the distance to the Über parked five cars down, then up at Elliot, shaking her head.
„I don't think-" she starts, looking at him, helpless.
„I've got you," he assures. „I'll pick you up now. Ready?"
Again she nods. He readjusts his stance to find his balance before he slips his arm around the back of her knees and tucks her frail body against him, carrying her to the waiting car.
…
When they reach the ER, Elliot helps Olivia into a wheelchair. She's always hated these things and she hates it now but she's painfully aware that she is not going to make it anywhere without one. They make it through large sliding glass doors and towards the sign-in. While she was scared out of her mind when she woke up, unable to move her legs, she's now almost internally numbed by fear of what is to come. She's not even in pain, which says a lot when normally it drives her to insanity even on better days, munching down on Percocet. She hasn't even taken her pills and it feels like there are some underlying muscle aches at the very most.
Elliot accepts the forms from the intake-nurse, asking her if, by any chance, Dr. Willem-Vasquez is around, they are expected, but the older woman merely apologizes.
"Sorry, hon. I'm sure someone will be with you shortly."
They wait for ten minutes until the doctor rounds the corner and spots them. Elliot sits up straight in an instant and gently shakes Olivia's elbow as the blonde woman walks towards the intake-nurse, then towards them.
"It's gonna be all right," he says, and she nods although she doesn't believe him.
"I'm sorry, my taxi got held up in traffic," Dr. Willem-Vasquez explains to both of them, then directs Olivia. "You're going to be taken to an exam room for vitals, okay? I'll be with you soon."
Nodding, Olivia swallows. She knows that tone, that careful gaze, like something huge is going to come. "Can… Can he come?" Elliot. She wants him there. She can't be alone now.
"Of course."
A nurse joins them, introduces herself and wheels Olivia into a room. The process doesn't take long but it's still about twenty-five minutes until Dr. Willem-Vasquez joins them in the room, apologizing.
After a thorough physical exam she takes a seat, looking at Olivia for what feels like a long time until she speaks.
"Okay. I've gone over the CT report and consulted with an orthopedic surgeon just now to be completely sure I've got the right idea of what's going on. I'd considered this before, but the symptoms didn't quite fit," the doctor explains, taking an iPad, and showing them a scan. She points out a spot with a pen. "Right here, see those bony protuberances? And here you can see the narrowed nerve root of what we call 'Spinal Stenosis', which is basically a narrowing of the spaces in the spine. Now in your case, I believe that a bundle of nerves below the spinal cord have been damaged. There are a few very distinct symptoms and I'd like to discuss those with you, so if you experienced any of those, even very briefly, I need to know, okay?"
"Okay," Olivia nods slowly, taking deep, calming breaths. She is wondering what's to come, and if this is going to lead-finally-to a diagnosis. All of a sudden she feels nauseous.
"Did you experience any severe back pain lately?"
"I wouldn't say severe. The leg pain was always much worse."
"Okay. That's good," the doctor assures, taking notes. "Any numbness or pins and needles sensation in the saddle region, so your buttocks, your thighs? Possibly even your legs or feet?"
Olivia blinks slowly and swallows. "I," she starts, exhaling shakily as the realization hits. She remembers how her foot had fallen asleep when Fin was over, how she'd wondered about that but then, in retrospect, had not given it further thought. "Yes. I've been feeling numb… I… I thought it was from… not moving enough, sitting all the time. I thought…"
"It's all right, Olivia. You don't have to explain anything, it's just important I know. For how long?"
"I don't know… a month? Two maybe. I really…"
"And would you say there's been an increase of that numbness?"
The blonde's voice is sympathetic as she looks up from her forms. Olivia merely nods, unable to say anything. All she does is wonder if this is bad. It sounds bad.
"Okay. Have you been experiencing any bladder or bowel dysfunction? Even small leaks would be important to mention."
At the question Olivia's torso stiffens. For a moment she is unable to grasp that it has anything to do with what's going on with her physically. In her head thoughts are spinning to the point she feels lightheaded. She's looking at the doctor and yet doesn't see her.
"Olivia?" the doctor prompts, but she can't speak. Instead of her, Elliot answers.
"There was an accident this morning, but, with some sort of paralysis going on, that's normal, right?" he asks, sounding insecure and shaken.
"Any incontinence or sexual dysfunction would be a huge red flag," Dr. Willem-Vasquez says, and Olivia can feel how the doctor is solely focused on her.
Olivia's head drops, and she holds a breath in, squirming under the scrutiny.
"Would you rather we discuss this between the two of us, Olivia?" the doctor offers, her voice sympathetic.
"Liv…," Elliot tries, and it seems to dawn on him why she's being so quiet. "Was this not the first time?"
With his question the realization hits fully. "I thought it was the nightmares," she whispers, unable to fully grasp there was nothing she could have done to stop it, that it was physical and not because she failed to shut Lewis out. It feels like he sits on her chest, Lewis, laughing in her face, almost making it impossible to breathe. When the doctor's pen clicks she startles slightly, her body giving a little jump.
"Based on your scans and these additional symptoms, I'm confident this is Cauda Equina Syndrome. The good news is that we almost certainly know what it is. The bad news is that CES is a medical emergency." Olivia tries to follow, but all that gets stuck in her head are the words medical emergency.
"Is there anything… what do we-?" Olivia asks, feeling her heart thumping so loud, she can hear the whooshing of her blood in her ears. Elliot takes her hand and squeezes it, and instantly she feels a little calmer.
"This is what is going to happen: I'm going to have you admitted and book an OR. You need surgery, promptly, which means today, if possible, because this is very serious. The compression causes ongoing nerve damage, and that pressure needs to be relieved. The sooner that happens, the more function we are likely to be able to salvage."
"What if she doesn't have the surgery?"
"Eventually permanent loss of function in the legs, permanent impairment in bladder and bowel control… there's really no choice here. You will face paralysis if this stays untreated."
...
By midday Olivia is in pre-op. They were in the ER exam room until an OR was booked, and then there was a flurry of blood work, surgery prep, release forms, and people in and out. It feels like they've talked to every member of the hospital staff except the top administration, and there hasn't been a moment to process what's going on.
Elliot has been with her the whole time. He hasn't moved from her side once, except to make a few calls. She thinks he's more on edge than she is, if that's even possible. He sits in a chair, knees wide apart, elbows on his thighs, and fiddles with his hands as he watches the nurse like a hawk as she places an IV. The nurse pats her hand, tells her it's just a waiting game now, and, for the first time since she woke up, everything is still.
Dr. Willem-Vasquez explained the procedure in depth, sounding confident they will be able to relieve the pressure on the nerves. Having even the most skilled surgeons grind away parts of her vertebrae with power tools doesn't sound reassuring, though. The only thing swirling through Olivia's mind is the list of what could go wrong from the consent forms, and she returns to taking measured breaths. Even so, the EKG shows her heart rate steadily rising, and she reaches for Elliot's hand.
"I'm still scared, El."
He had pocketed his phone and moved closer once the nurse had left, and he cups her hand in his. He bows his head ever so slightly and she thinks he might be out of things to say that are going to make her any less scared.
"I know." His voice is deep and raspy, like he's just woken up. He has barely spoken in the last hour, after all questions were asked. When his head lifts and his eyes find her, she sees the emotion swirling in them.
The room is thick with the what ifs that Olivia hasn't spoken out loud. They live beneath Elliot's skin too, she can see it in the slump of his shoulders, his despondent facial expression. There is a chance she won't regain mobility and sensation in her lower extremities - those were the doctor's exact words.
She tries to picture herself in a wheelchair, wondering if Elliot does the same. It's hard to imagine she might never stand on her feet again, never walk again, even with her gait as impaired as it is. Her apartment isn't terribly disability-friendly, her building is only just accessible. Hell, if she thinks about it so much of the city isn't, but despite the unknowns and the fears there's something comforting in the possibility that this is how things are going to be. She is not in agonizing, intolerable pain that doesn't allow her to think, to focus, to feel. It's like she's taking a cleansing breath after months and months of being smothered with a pillow. Not being able to walk used to be her biggest fear but after months of enduring pain that goes beyond description it seems doable, not nearly as scary. If someone presented her with the option right now, more pain or loss of function in both legs? She'd pick the latter in a second. What freaks her out is the idea of bowel and urinary dysfunction.
El's phone beeps with an incoming text message.
"It's Rollins. She says not to worry about Noah and good luck for the surgery. They're all thinking of you."
"El?"
"Hm?" He types in a reply and slides the phone back into his pocket.
"What if this is-," she nods towards her legs.
"Then we'll figure it out," he says gently, which tells her the very same things going through her head are in his. He doesn't even try to tell her it's all going to be okay, like he senses it's not.
Olivia nods and worries her bottom lip before speaking. "I need to talk to you about something," she rasps, and he rolls closer with his chair. "Noah… in case I don't come out of this…"
Instantly he shakes his head, refusing to go there. "No. No, Olivia. No…"
"I know," she says in an almost soothing tone, trying to stay level-headed and not let worry get the better of her. She needs to say this, and she needs him to listen, because the chance exists that she won't make it out of this OR alive, however unlikely that may be. "I need to say this. Listen..." She sits up with some effort, seeing Elliot nod, although he's obviously dreading whatever is going to come.
"Okay," he gives in, hesitantly.
"In case something happens to me, Amanda is Noah's designated guardian," she starts, her face serious. "But I want you in his life, El. He's… You're good for him. And you've been good to him, and if you're willing…," she swallows heavily.
"Of course," he says quickly, seemingly not even thinking about it. But this she needs him to be sure about. He can't just vanish on her son the way he did her. If she ever needed a promise from him, it is now.
"I need you to promise me not to abandon him if anything happens to me," she manages thickly, her voice close to cracking.
"Of course. I promise." Elliot's eyes get red, and she thinks he might not hold it together for long. "But you won't…"
"You don't know that," she interjects. "I never would have thought a car would hit me and I'd end up like…," she swallows and shakes her head. "...this. I know it's unlikely, but I want to have my affairs in order. Rollins has a copy of my documents, but there's nothing about you in it," Olivia explains. "Can you just get me a pen and paper, so she'll have it in writing? That this is what I want?"
"What, now?"
"Yes, now," she says. "Before they wheel me off to the OR, preferably." She tries to make light of it with a smile, but it's hard to shake the seriousness of the conversation. It spurs Elliot into action, albeit reluctantly.
The next hour is a waiting game, indeed. She uses the time to call Noah's school, explaining the situation and is lucky enough to get to speak to him on the phone. She tells him his sleepover is going to be four or five sleepovers and how the doctors are going to help her feel better, and he's excited, although it's not quite clear if it's because of her or because he gets to spend even more time with Frannie. For a moment she forgets about the surgery and all that could go wrong as she tells him she loves him to the moon and back.
When her doctor steps into the room, the air is filled with nervous energy.
„Hey. I just wanted to check in on you before we see each other in the OR. A nurse and an intern are going to take you to the operating room, and I'll be in the room with the head of Ortho, so you are in very good hands."
Olivia gets the sense this is not necessarily normal as far as patient care goes, but it's definitely kind and somewhat reassuring.
„So it's… now?"
„In a few minutes," the other woman confirms, stepping closer. „I just wanted to say that I have very high hopes for this going well."
„Thank you. I guess if it helps with the pain at least… You'll be obligated to open a bottle of champagne with me." It's a joke, or maybe it's not. For now it's still unimaginable that the pain won't be back when she wakes up. One thing is for sure, Dr. Willem-Vasquez was the only doctor who took her seriously and actually did her best to help.
The doctor laughs softly, reaching out to lay her hand on top of Olivia's. „Let's get you fixed up, but if this works? I'm not averse to opening that bottle," the blonde smiles. „I'll go scrub in now." Letting go of Olivia, she takes a few steps back, then nods at Elliot once, before telling him "see you later."
„She's nice."
„Yeah," he replies, thoughtfully. „She is."
…
He's been pacing for hours. His legs feel foreign as he's leaning against the wall, one arm bracing against the cool, white surface. He thinks how humans are not designed to endure so much uncertainty while a loved one is in surgery. He sure as hell isn't.
It's been four cups of miserable coffee from the vending machine, several texts to her people and his family, one threat to have him removed from the surgical floor altogether if he didn't sit his butt down, and a kinder nurse who's banished him from check-ins any more often than 20 minutes.
Long story short, Elloit is going out of his mind with worry as his brain conjures up every possible scenario. Unfortunately one is worse than the other.
„No. No, there are still no updates," he sighs into the phone, wishing he could give Rollins better news than half an hour ago. At least she's talking to him. No one else does, and it's a welcome distraction from the conversations he starts in his own head. „How's Noah?"
„Blissfully unaware. We're about to order dinner. The kids were having a blast at the dog park with Frannie. I'll send pictures for Liv to look at when she wakes up. They are cute as a button," Rollins says, making Elliot wonder if the cheerfulness that permeates his ear like an afterthought is for his or her own benefit. For a moment there's silence. He thinks she must have gone into her bedroom for privacy since there is nothing in the background that sounds like two happy kids. „She's gonna be fine, Elliot."
„Yeah. Yeah," he says distractedly, wanting to believe it. „She's…" At the end of the hallway he sees big double doors open, revealing the familiar figure he recognizes as Liv's doctor. She's still in blue scrubs, and from the distance their eyes meet. „Rollins, I'm gonna call you back," he says gruffly, then hangs up and makes his way towards the surgeon.
„How is she?"
"Elliot. Olivia is out of surgery and doing fine. She's in recovery. Everything went very well. We removed all the bone material that was pressing down on the nerves. We also found an infection that travelled up to one of the lower nerve roots that the contrast CT did not show. We're giving her IV corticosteroids and antibiotics to treat the infection and inflammation. There were several areas of impingement that were… more significant than we expected, so we'll be monitoring her closely. "
"So, what does that mean? Will she walk? Is she going to feel better?" All he hears is a lot of medical, and he has no idea what it translates to.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that. There is some nerve damage that won't be resolved from surgery alone, but I can't tell to what degree. We didn't catch it as early as I wish we had."
Elliot is not happy with the answer but takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. There's been a whole list of life altering consequences of Cauda Equina Syndrome that the doctor informed them about earlier, plus the rabbit hole of internet searches while he waited. It's possible Olivia will still be in just as much pain, or that her gait will be permanently damaged. He doesn't even want to think what permanent elimination or sexual dysfunction would do to her and prays she will be spared. He swallows and then clears his throat, trying to shake the worst case scenarios. "Can I see her?"
"Of course. Follow me," the doctor says, leading the way. "They should have settled her into a room by now."
Liv looks almost peaceful, despite the monitors she's hooked on. Slowly he walks closer, reaching out to push some unruly hair out of her face before he bends over and places a kiss on her forehead, just like he did when they picked her up earlier.
"Hey," he whispers, not expecting a reaction but he's giving it a moment anyway, just in case. "I'm so glad to see you. Everything went really well, the doctor said." His skin is heating because with nobody knowing the outcome yet, it feels like a massive lie. Pulling a chair, Elliot sits down, taking Olivia's pale hand in his. Absentmindedly, Elliot strokes his thumb across the back of her hand. "I just got off the phone with Rollins, and guess what? Noah's having a blast." He smiles tightly at her, feeling emotion lock his throat as he wipes under his eyes. "Damn Liv, you got me scared."
He only gets aware of the doctor's presence when she announces she's going to check up on Olivia soon, acknowledging the woman with a short "Thank you." He stays by Olivia's side for twenty minutes and only leaves the room to call Rollins, and have her spread the news. She too, is relieved, telling him to let Olivia know they are all thinking of her, and to take good care of her. By the time the doctor returns it's well past 10 pm. Olivia hasn't so much as stirred. Dr. Willem-Vasquez puts a paper wrapped sandwich and a water bottle on the nightstand, looking at Elliot. "I take it you haven't eaten all day."
Leaning back, Elliot rubs his eyes. Food isn't very high on his list. He isn't even sure what to make of this. He's had his share of hospital stays, and he hardly ever saw a doctor except for rounds in the morning, leave alone one who gives away sandwiches and water to the visitors. She got here as early as they did, so he's surprised she's still here to start with.
"You're not going to be any good to her like this." She moves towards the monitors and looks at Olivia's chart, then checks the IV bag.
"I'm fine."
"Uh-hmm," she says, glancing at him from the other side of the bed. "She's probably going to be out for a few more hours, if not until morning."
"She didn't even wake the last two times the nurses checked her vitals."
"They had her talking in recovery, and then she fell asleep. She's stable, and everything's looking great. I think she's just getting some of that sleep she's been missing out on these past few months. A nurse will change her IV bag soon."
He nods, his brain processing the information only slowly. It's been a hell of a long day.
"Eat. Drink," the doctor says. "Sleep. Doctor's orders. I will see you tomorrow."
Elliot nods at the woman as she makes her way towards the door. "And Doc?" She turns, door handle in hand, looking at him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
For long minutes he leaves the sandwich and water untouched. The interruption has him wide awake again. Elliot scrubs his hands over his face, presses the heels of them against his eye sockets until he sees bright tiny dots dancing. He looks at her then and for the first time in these hours he realizes just how peaceful and relaxed Olivia looks. Her face isn't tense with pain, the frown wrinkles are still visible but they aren't ridges, set in stone. She's soft. So, so soft. Her breath is an even hum, soothing as a lullaby.
He has forgotten what she looked like without the marks of anguish and he likes this, wants to hold on to it. If there was any way for him to just grasp this moment and never let go, never change anything about this calmness? He would. By God, he would.
What is it going to take for her to stay like this? Pain free? Peaceful? He's not sure what the morning will bring. He's going to bargain with God again tonight, for her, for her future, her sanity, her life.
His stomach betrays him, growls. The doc's been spot on about how he hasn't eaten all day. His fuel has been worry and coffee, black. Briefly his gaze flits to the table, the brown wrapping of the sandwich catching his eye. His mouth waters and after debating for a minute whether he can even stomach anything, the gaping void in his middle screams for food and he gives in. It's a good sandwich and he should remember to thank the doc again tomorrow. He drains the water bottle in one go and disposes of the waste in the trash by the door.
The night nurse steps in again, checks Olivia's vitals, changes the IV bag. She's nice, this one, reminding him that the chair's a recliner and that he's welcome to camp right next to her bed if he wants.
"She's doing well," she assures with a smile. Mary. Her voice is music in his ear for this sole reason. Olivia is doing well.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Mary announces.
"Thank you," he says, groggily, and, just like that, Mary disappears. He's alone again. With Liv. All the quiet, it's getting to him, makes his eyes burn with part suspense, part fatigue. He adjusts the chair, reclines it, tries to get comfortable on the thing.
He reaches for Olivia's hand then, stroking the patches of skin covering prominent bone ever so softly. Desire sits beneath his swirling thumb, but not in the way it did for nearly two decades. It's not some primal, visceral need. Tonight it's about just being here, with her. It's about wanting to be with her every night, even if it only means watching her sleep.
The even rise and fall of her chest, the softness of her breath, they are enticing things, coaxing him into closing his eyes. Soon his breathing pattern matches hers. Even. Soft. Freed.
...
End Notes: I hope this chapter brings some relief to you as it did to me. We're not out of the woods, but well - WE SOLVED A MEDICAL MYSTERY. Also: CES is a bitch... :( But we'll see what's in the cards, right? Let me know what you thought of this one.