Chapter Four: Low

Title: Oblivion

Rating: M

Category: AU/Thriller/Angst/Hurt & Comfort/UST/RST/Pre and Post "Infiltrated"

Summary: Olivia kept telling herself that everything happens for a reason but the man next to her provided solace but no reminders of the holes in her memories without creating more uncertainty as the hours march on and a flicker of pain works into her consciousness.

"Pain is not only in tears, pain is also present in smiles." -Vazad

Note: I did a fair amount of research on the way that memories can return after a head injury; memory recovery isn't exact. It doesn't have the freedom to pick or choose the perfect time to return. It's messy and flows more like a river with ample bends and rocks in its way. Some things might be quick while others are not. For this fic, bear with the uniqueness of Olivia's personality. The majority of her personality is stuck in her early 20s (just before joining the police force).

Warning: The second part of this chapter may be intense due to descriptions of violence/assault. I have a history of flashbacks. I did rely on previous PTSD-style flashbacks for the descriptions. Approach cautiously.

Don't get lost in your pain,

Know that one day

Your pain will become

Your cure.

-Rumi

3:35 AM

The underlying odor of dust was losing its prominence as the overwhelming scent of peanut sauce, fried rice, sesame chicken, and potstickers permeated from their containers on the coffee table. Elliot had opened a window to let in some of the night air and let out the stale, stagnant veil. The action, while unspoken, was exactly what Olivia had contemplated but hadn't moved to do herself. She simply studied him while he leaned over the back of the couch with a piece of potsticker still perched between her lips. He caught her looking and sparked an elongated, embarrassment driven laugh.

Elliot didn't dare say how much he missed the sound of Olivia's giggle, though.

It was entirely too late and the delirium was kicking in as a satisfied groan emanated from both of their lips along with a mutual sigh of relief. Olivia stared at the lonely pot sticker inside of the container and bit her lip as the sling cradled against her, the smirk forming in an instant. She was full but the smell alone was sparking something in her subconsciousness as she smoothed her fingers across her stomach and leaned back. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, Olivia didn't feel fear beneath the well-polished exterior of a force-fed situation. She felt nothing but comfort and Elliot belonged in that sphere.

She didn't know exactly where he belonged but she knew, somehow, that he did.

"I could pass out right here," Olivia unintentionally itched some of her shallow marks on her collarbone and winced as the pain seared through her, reminding her of the gravity of her situation as she regained eye contact with Elliot. "I almost forgot how bad these injuries are and reality just slapped me really hard."

"Do you want to take anything?" Elliot put his glass on the table and started closing up the containers, his glance in her direction as she tilted her head against the back of the couch. "I know how you feel about painkillers."

"Nothing that the doctor sent me away with because that's too much, but maybe just an ibuprofen or two?" Olivia fiddled with the outer edge of the sling, tugging at it until she could see the blistered sections of skin peering beneath gauze and cloth around her bicep, the bruising creeping up like spreading vinery. "I look like a Rorschach test that spent an hour getting smashed with a hammer."

"You look like someone who survived a fall down a hillside in pitch black and managed to come away with injuries that will heal with time," Elliot couldn't help himself but correcting her as he carried the leftovers toward the kitchen, effortlessly moving through her apartment to retrieve the ibuprofen from her medicine cabinet. "If the pain becomes unbearable, you might have to bite the bullet and take the stronger stuff."

"Why are you doing all of this for me?" Olivia was still waffling on the idea that anyone would ever want to take care of her without a second thought and Elliot was doing exactly that as he came back in with a fresh glass and two ibuprofen for her. "No one is ever nice to me unless there's some kind of caveat attached to it like getting into my pants or something worse."

"I know that the life you remember is something full of people not worth trusting but I know that if this situation were reversed, you'd be there for me just as I am for you," Elliot wanted to go deeper but the shimmering in her eyes was almost enough as he left a few his words on the back burner and sank beside her on the couch. "No one should battle this alone."

"Don't patronize me," Olivia was looking at her arm, at the diagram of tic-tac-toe from the gravel gauges and thorns that had done their best to take chunks out of her as they stood out above the black and blue. "I am serious, though, if you have somewhere else to be to—"

"I'm right where I need to be," Elliot cut her off despite the phone ringing in his pants pocket, the chime sounding over and over while he groped for it. "That'll be Kathleen, one of my kids, getting impatient waiting on an update."

Olivia's chin jerked up as he elevated the phone, the sound silencing as he pressed the answer key while she exhaled slow, nonchalantly dropping reminiscence that had burst through the fog. "She's probably just as upset at me as she is at you, though…I don't know where my phone is and I never told her I was leaving. We'd been talking every day."

"Liv, did you just recall that out of nowhere?" Elliot could hear Kathleen saying Dad over and over in his ear but his concentration was on Olivia's seamless remembrance of a piece of her memory, without struggling. "Kathleen…hold on…"

"I don't remember where I put it but I went and disconnected before I left. I know that much," Olivia was on her feet, scrambling as though it needed to be addressed immediately, the look of panic etching over her entire demeanor as she started looking through shelves and drawers. "It's just a bunch of jagged edges and one of the few things that stand out like a sore thumb while everything else continues to elude me."

Elliot's thrill in Olivia's stride far outweighed any worry he felt but she was dangerously close to panic as she slammed another drawer shut while cussing under her breath before moving to the next. One thing that hadn't changed was a lack of patience for recovery; whether she was injured, sick, or needed to take a breath, Olivia didn't like to stop. It was a trait that they both shared. Common ground, in some ways, and Elliot was keenly aware of how to tug her back from the ledge. Elliot stood and pulled her focus, the counter between them while Kathleen hummed nonsensically in his ear, his brows angling up as she stopped moving.

"You don't need to do this tonight—yes, I know, Kathleen, I'm about to say that. Don't interrupt," Elliot let out an exasperated sigh as he shushed his daughter and tilted the phone away from his mouth, maintaining eye contact with the woman in front of him that had begun to shrink against the opposite side of the counter, next to the stove. "Olivia, you need to rest and I'll help look for the phone in the morning. Kathleen knows you didn't mean to forget."

Olivia secretly didn't want to give in but the agonizing throb behind both eyes and down her entire body was reminding her of the logistical nightmare she was looking to avoid. "Getting me to cave was the goal, wasn't it?"

Elliot had already quietly said his goodbyes to Kathleen and shoved the phone into his pocket as a smile arched across his lips, indicating so much more than the truth. "One of these days you'll just learn not to argue with good advice."

"That's about as promising as the chances of a snowball surviving hell," Olivia came around the corner, a hint of paranoia trickling through her actions as she double-checked the front door, reassuring that it had already been locked. "You seem about as apt to take advice as I usually am, though…you have that air about you."

Elliot bit down on his lip and gathered the throw from the back of the couch, tugging it free after stacking the two, decorative pillows at one end. "I have my moments and I suppose they are as rare as yours, maybe even rarer."

"I was completely serious earlier, Elliot," Olivia stopped in the hallway, her hand on the light switch, watching him abandon the boots and socks to get more comfortable. "…you know you don't have to stay if you have somewhere else to be tonight. I won't hold it against you."

Elliot shook his head and reached for the lap at the far end of the couch, creating a semblance of darkness with the turn of the switch. "You should just get some sleep, Benson. I'll be right here if you need me."

Stubborn was going to win a lot of the battle but Olivia simply nodded, quietly leaving him to his own devices. She was going to let him have this little victory but, possibly, none to follow. The struggle with the bedding and the sling was hers alone. She didn't want to ask for help even though she might've needed it. Giving him the satisfaction was not in her best interest while she was still keeping him at arm's length. Olivia might've been aware of how much she trusted Elliot but knowing why was only the beginning of the battle.

Olivia sighed as she rebuilt her bubble, keeping her wits close to the vest while her body throbbed from the pain and another wave of fog mercilessly weaved through her veins.

She just wanted to sleep and wake up to every memory back in its rightful place. She wanted to know who caused the dominos to fall. It was more than a yearning; it was like fighting for air. Olivia just couldn't tell if she was still above water or if the undertow had taken her again. The only thing she knew for certain was that the hand reaching to pull her back to safety knew more about her than she knew about herself. She didn't have to guess that; she didn't have to question it, either. It was the only thing she was still confident in.

Olivia held a breath as she stared at the ceiling, in the darkness, while the moon glowed through the poorly closed blinds, and felt the tears burn. The springs sighed beneath her, cradling her battered body as she diverted her eyes toward the open door, at the last source of created light from within her apartment. She chewed her lip and concentrated on the silence, the sound of her own beating heart as panic began to rise, and then heard the weighty creak of the couch as Elliot shifted horizontally. It was then that she inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower; concentrating on the reassurance etched into his face. He wasn't the answer to prayers but he was certainly the signs she might've missed.

Olivia was desperate to feel whole again and her stomach rolled as his steel blues were already imprinting on the emptiest places.

She just didn't know if he belonged there.

But standing in that hallway,

It was all coming back to me.

Memories were waiting at

The edge of things,

Beckoning to me.

-Neil Gaiman

6:55 AM

"Ugh, God," Olivia tossed back what was left of the blankets and rolled onto her back, then stretched her toes until they popped.

Sleeping was a miserable endeavor. Maneuvering around with her arm still in a sling, Olivia had already sweated through the pillowcase and writhed so intensely that the sheets were coiled around her legs like shackles. The air swirled and an unrelenting wind battered rain against the windowpane, shuddering the room and the bed. Every breath had become labored, marred by the spasms working through her. The medication had worn off and Olivia was bitterly aware of every cramp, twinge, and sting that moved through her limbs.

It was as though she had been running for hours.

Another sigh and the bed moaned beneath her as she shifted against the pillows, sucking a breath through the space between her lips. Olivia felt complacent but oddly trapped as every hair stood on end. It was more than foreboding and Olivia felt nausea creeping in as the scent wafted through her nostrils. The air reeked of grass, heavily saturated mud, endless rainfall, and the musky undertones of sandalwood, teak, sage, tobacco, and bergamot. They clashed against the saturation of beer and bourbon, ushering a flutter of physicality that didn't belong. It never did belong and Olivia's blood pressure notched up, climbing higher as her heart thumped in her chest.

"We don't need to pretend," It was barely above a whisper but it sent her clinging to the headboard until she was wedged between the bed and the nightstand. "Don't fight it."

The sound was deep, unforgiving, and cruel, creeping in just moments before the pressure against her mouth, invading beyond the curve of her tongue until it stole the breaths from her lungs. Pawing at her as though they'd had permission. Seeking access as if she were a property line to cross and claim. Olivia felt dirty before the uncomfortable angle of her headboard dug into her shoulder blades, like the jagged, twisted branches of the bushes on the way down the hill. The line had been crossed and the chemical intoxicant was on her, in her, creeping through her veins until every drop of perspiration smelled just like him.

Just like regret and fear.

Stop. Please. Don't. Goddammit, let go.

The words were there but they wouldn't come out. They were stuck at the back of her throat as the scent of cologne crawled up her nostrils and the sensation of pressure pushed against her inseam. She feverishly reached forward, into the dark, weakly groping at what she could not see, choking on her spit. The sound of a button popping free made her skin crawl and the air passed over her skin, tearing at the parts of her that hadn't been battered and bruised. Olivia's eyes fluttered and the anxiety finally spilled over as she flailed then felt the same, searing pain across the expanse of her back that she had before.

She was falling all over again.

"Elliot!" Olivia tumbled out of the bed, landing awkwardly on her injured ribs between the window and the bed, narrowly missing the nightstand with her head. "Elliot! Please! Help!"

Elliot had lost his cool with worry over Olivia before but this was into a different realm as he skidded down the hall expecting to find her in the bed. The nightmare had gone beyond that, though, as the sight before him was beyond expectation. Olivia had curled into the fetal position, her knees as close to her chest as they would go and her chin ducked down, hiding her face. Elliot knelt just feet away and scooted forward, uncertain if she was fully awake and terrified of making it worse. The thought crossed his mind that he was the reason for her plight.

"Liv, I'm right here," Elliot soothed, barely touching one of her ankles, hoping it was enough contact to pull her from the trance she was still locked in. "You were having a nightmare—you're okay. You're in your bedroom. You're home. Safe and sound. No one is here but you and me."

"No, no, no," Olivia lifted her chin, her eyes doing more of the talking than her mouth as they darted back and forth, searching the room for signs of anything but Elliot's presence. "He was here…I know he was here. I could feel him. I could smell him. It was real, Elliot, it had to be real."

"I promise you. The only people in this apartment are you and me, Olivia," Elliot leaned onto his knees, propping his elbow against the bed, balancing his weight as she pushed the cradled, wounded arm against the wall. "You're going to hurt yourself…"

"It was real, he was—and I couldn't scream but I know I was. I wouldn't just stay silent," Olivia had a hold of the curtains and was dangerously close to pulling them from the rod above, bringing everything down onto their heads to complicate the matter. "I couldn't fight. I couldn't breathe, Elliot, I couldn't breathe."

It was clicking into place and Elliot's blood was boiling. Someone had shattered Olivia's psyche, her strength, the core part of her that made her dig her heels back in before rising above. She wasn't broken but she was as close to it as one would venture and Elliot didn't want to wager the guess of how far it went. Elliot swallowed hard and teetered against the balls of his feet, wiped the sweat from his brow, then gathered the remnants of his conscious thoughts as Olivia's knuckles went white around the edge of the curtain. He'd give anything to wander around in that nightmare to wipe away the condensation across the barrier; unveil a face and restore some of what lifted her soul.

"Liv, look at me," Elliot's fingertips grazed the trembling curves of her fingers as they continued to grasp the curtain, locking his gaze on hers as she blinked away the nightmare on replay. "I'm here, in this room, and I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia said nothing in the wake of the rippling flashback that couldn't connect all of the dots. Something was still missing even as a man's imposing size and alcohol-soaked breath was haunting every thought she still had left. Tears down her cheeks and sweat clinging to her skin, she slid forward and sought refuge in the warmth and shelter of his embrace. Elliot moved onto his backside, braced against the wall, and let her hide against his undershirt before closing her in with those arms that fit her so well. The exhale made Elliot shudder as Olivia nuzzled against his collarbone and moved both legs across his.

Elliot wanted to be everything Olivia needed despite the yearning to revel in the feeling of her slender fingers holding on for dear life.

Olivia's breaths were recovering, slowly but surely, and the sniffling was muffled against Elliot's shirt as she stared into the dim. "Why am I only remembering a little bit of it and why can't I remember his face?"

"Trauma recovery isn't an exact science," Elliot rubbed the middle of her back, his touch feather-light and reminiscent of something he'd do for one of his kids if they needed a good cry as she wiped a few stray tears. "Remembering what happened isn't going to be easy and it might come in short, hard to process bursts. There's no wrong way."

"What happens if it never comes back?" Olivia choked back another flood and looked up at him, at the only steadfast element in the wake of a disaster, with her fingers clinging to his clothes to solidify that he was no apparition. "What happens if the woman in that photo on the shelf never comes back? What if the traumatized mess is all that's left?"

Elliot swallowed hard, let her borderline destructive cynicism ruminate in his bones for a moment, and cradled her closer with less apprehension swirling. "Liv, you were able to overcome a mental block with almost no prompting when Kathleen called. You would have to work awfully hard to be a mess."

"I can't shake the feeling that it's worse than what the doctors and the nursing staff told me even though I know that the ethical violation would be astronomical by doing so," Olivia was engrossed on the details of his USMC tattoo in the flickering light streaming through the drapes and blinds, discovering a semblance of calm in the process.

"What do you mean?" Elliot could hear the exhaustion in her voice but he indulged her, directing her down any path that kept her from regressing, from losing more of her faith. "Does it have to do with your nightmare?"

"I asked if I had been…but they said no," Olivia squinted, scrutinizing the words and the twitching of her ailing arm at her side as she took a deep breath. "Something bad happened and I know I had help falling down that hill. I remember the smell of liquor, beer, and men's cologne over the smell of trees and mud—I know I wasn't alone."

"You don't have to do this right now," Elliot didn't know if he was saying it to save her from venturing into a place she might not be ready to discuss or to keep from losing his cool but every muscle in his arms twitched as he exhaled, drawing her gaze. "I know what this could do to you and I don't want to make it worse."

Olivia released her grasp on his undershirt and let the unhindered arm drop to her lap, grazing Elliot's skin on the way down, eliciting the gooseflesh and a full body shudder in the process. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her addled mind, she wondered about the number of times that he'd inhaled so sharply over her fingers against his flesh. Olivia didn't need to go there but the tangible, solid comfort resided in the radiating heat that surrounded her. The same heat that came from Elliot whether he intended to or not. Elliot swallowed hard and cleared his throat; consternation was slowly elevating but neither of them moved.

Olivia instinctively traced the outline of his tattoo with her thumb, the wheels in her head slowly turning as her blood pressure, like her soul, wound back down, where it belonged. "What happens if I stop pushing and I forget all over again?"

"You know that won't happen," Elliot licked his lips and blinked, painstakingly holding back the urge to confess all of his sins to her as his heart thumped against her shoulder. "…I'll be here to help you remember."

Do not try

To figure

Me out,

I am a puzzle

With

Missing

Pieces.

-J. Rose

9:45 AM

16th Precinct

New York, NY

The morning wasn't without its hiccups. Elliot and Olivia had captured another forty-five minutes of sleep wrapped like climbing vines on the floor after an impromptu session of twenty questions. They made it through six before succumbing to the exhaustion again, uncomfortably pressed against the wall, propped against the bottom of the sill. Elliot didn't seem to mind the extra discomfort, though. Even after his backside went numb and his head tipped backward, knocking against the wooden surface with a thud. The sound of Olivia breathing, her head against his chest, and hands occasionally twitching against his sides made every little irritation less amplified. It made the awkward moment after less so, right down to the necessary assistance after she showered.

Elliot needed to keep it spartan, pure and simple; her determination was rising and she wanted answers.

Answers that he didn't know if he had the ability to give her.

"Are you okay with this?" Elliot tapped her lower back as they came around the corner, the door to the squad room just ahead and a look of hesitation creeping in. "We can pretend like we weren't here?"

Olivia considered it and shook her head, sections of her hair still wet after the struggle that bathing had become, inhaling another deep breath. "Even if it leads nowhere, it can't be worse than sitting in an apartment where there are reminders of everything I still can't recall just screaming at me."

"Being stoic at all times is not a requirement and it isn't a hill you need to climb," Elliot was profound in his comment as his shoes tapped against the tile, no longer struggling to find words to settle the nerves.

"Sometimes, confronting demons requires another mask," Olivia beamed and met his gaze before continuing. "I know you met my mother to know how true that sentiment was. I'll be a stronghold until no one is looking and let fate decide from there."

Lord, give me strength.

They were both thinking it, as though walking into the lion's den was somehow more loaded than it needed to be. Olivia was meek and absent of her usual level of assertive gumption that flowed through her veins. If she didn't have an arm holstered in a sling, her reach would be searching for his elbow. Somehow, that didn't feel natural despite how right it might've been. Elliot smiled in her direction as they passed into the inordinately bustling space, past uniformed officers carrying paperwork to their destinations. Without him there, the task might've been too much to bear as she sucked a puff of air into her lungs and held it there.

"Elliot…Olivia…didn't think you'd be coming in this fast," Cragen was a welcomed sight from the doorway of his office, cradling a cup of coffee in a well-pressed suit with a coordinated, sensible, navy blue tie standing out against a cream-colored shirt. "You should be at home where some much-needed rest and relaxation can be attained."

"Rest and relaxation? More like isolation and stir-craziness," Olivia didn't have to fake the smile as his natural, calming energy drifted much like Elliot's warmth, giving her a moment of clarity as she scanned the room. "I needed to fill in a few…blanks."

"We need to get the Sherriff's Department from Oregon on the phone and see about getting some of the evidence sent here for further analysis," Elliot was already leading Cragen back into his office, lowering his voice with every step, partially unaware of Olivia as she lingered behind.

The fact was that Olivia had drifted, body and spirit, away from the conversation moving into the Captain's office and toward the expanse before her. Her synapses fired and sputtered as her eyes scanned every surface, every corner, and every chair, searching for meaning. Her mind was segmented, at odds with the bits of information that wanted to slip back into place but had, instead, bounced back off like rubber on rubber. It was unnerving and uncomfortable as she teetered in her heels. She was mere seconds away from spiraling as she reached out, steadying herself against the sturdy, battered lacquer. Olivia's digits met the top of a desk, found a groove where the chair slid awkwardly against it, and a smile curved across her lips.

"Can I help you?" The voice was far from gentle or demure but the face that went along with it belonged to Dani Beck and she had caught Olivia completely unaware. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Olivia furrowed her brows and shook her head as the face refused to click into place, as most were, awkwardly turning as though she'd been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. "Oh, no, I'm here to see Captain Cragen—I just got a little distracted and forgot to follow Elliot into his office."

"Oh, that explains it," Dani's helpful demeanor was waning and her smile, in equal measure, fading, as she offered her hand out to shake, purposely jutting the one that would require contact with Olivia's injured arm. "You must be Olivia…"

"So I've been told," Olivia knew that the joke was in poor taste but it felt apt as she nudged her elbow out, lifting it just enough to indicate at least one of the injuries despite how bad the rest of her looked. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met…who are you?"

"Detective Dani Beck, I was transferred in just about a week after you left," Dani purposely looked through Olivia, almost irritated at the prospect of having to see her in the aftermath of what happened in Oregon. "I've been working with Elliot. He must've told you about that. It probably slipped his mind."

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you, Detective Beck," Olivia elevated a brow, pursed her lips together, and nodded slowly as Elliot stepped into the squad room to save her from the visibly uncomfortable situation. "He probably did and it might've slipped mine…actually."

"Any developments on that serial groping case from last week? When I left for Oregon there were three suspects you were considering?" Elliot wanted to divert Dani back to actual tasks and earned a disgruntled, muted groan as she sank into her chair, pulling up a list from a file on the desktop.

"Two have rock solid alibis and the other is in for questioning with Munch and Fin," Dani flashed a smile and moved her eyes between the man that she'd been consciously vying for attention from and the woman that he held on a pedestal, mere inches between them. "Are you busy? You could sit in and make sure it's going the right way…"

"El…" Olivia gripped his shoulder and gestured toward Cragen's office, softly clearing her voice as Dani rose from her chair. "I can talk to Cragen if you need to work on a case. Please don't let me stop you from doing your job."

Olivia hadn't called him El since before she left without so much as a goodbye. It throttled Elliot, silently unraveling his frayed edges, pushing him a little further past a point of no return. It rocked the foundations of an already unsteady frame of mind as he inhaled slowly and contemplated Olivia's features, regarding her. Olivia meant more to Elliot than he could fully comprehend as each bruise, scrape, and slash became highlighted and even harder to ignore. Not that Elliot ever would try. Olivia's struggle meant more to Elliot than anything he had ever battled on his own.

After all, that is exactly what being a partner meant.

"If something else develops just give me a heads up but, I think you have it covered," Elliot knew there was no such thing as letting Dani down gently but it was the only way he could think of before maneuvering toward Cragen's office. "You okay?"

"Yeah, better than I envisioned," Olivia nodded and glanced back at the desk after Dani had already walked away, studying it for a moment before opening her mouth. "Any luck on the evidence from Oregon?"

"They are sending everything over but they took photos that we can go over while you're here," Elliot turned his head as she hesitated, nudging the small of her back as she elevated a brow and had a wisp of a smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. "Are you sure you're okay, Liv?"

Olivia hadn't stopped to breathe but as she exhaled, Elliot's words about the process being slow finally clicked into place. The desk, the groove, the chair, they all had more meaning than her brain was willing to allow until she stood still and let the air move through her, over her, and pull her in every direction without resistance. Clarity unwound and the pendulum swung as she tipped her chin while chewing her bottom lip. The words were there and they held meaning as Elliot moved a circle across her spine, lighting her on fire with goosebumps. The inspiration of chills did the trick of freeing her tongue with a shudder as she made eye contact with Elliot.

"I noticed it earlier before Dani started talking," Olivia aimed her index toward the grooves along the side of the desk, where the chair pressed comfortably against it. "I made those marks on that exact desk…and it was with that chair. I remember."

Quotes by:

Vazad

Rumi

Neil Gaiman

J. Rose

I wish this hadn't taken so long but it was one of the hardest chapters I have written in a very long time. To Cate, Aubrey, and Madison, thank you for always being there when I need someone to vent to about snippets. I was scared about this chapter because of how closely the flashback resembled one of my own. Please note; if you are suffering, do not stay silent. Reach out to someone.

Do not suffer alone.