A/N: I felt kinda bad about the cliffhanger, so here you go.
Amanda felt numb when she walked across the dance floor and towards the table. She didn't know how to look anyone in the eye, and suddenly she felt herself desperately craving a cigarette.
She hadn't smoked in years and now it was the only thing she wanted. That, and to get away from this place.
She flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Amanda."
Elliot. The last person she wanted to talk to right now.
"I don't know what's going on with you and Liv, but you need to fix it."
"Easier said than done, Elliot. You of all people should know that. And I don't even know why I just said that because it's none of your damn business."
He held up his hands in a surrendering like gesture. "I know, I know. But she's in some kind of trouble and the last thing she needs right now is to be alone."
"Don't you think I know that? I've tried, Elliot. For months. She won't listen to me."
"I know. Never met anyone as stubborn as her."
I might hate your face, but I'll drink to that.
She was just about to break away from Elliot to find her girls and let Fin and Phoebe know they were leaving, when a waiter walked towards them with a slightly confused look on his face.
"Amanda Rollins?"
"Yeah?"
"Olivia's husband wanted me to tell you that she didn't feel well and that he was taking her home."
"Olivia's hus-"
Amanda felt the room spin then.
The car. The picture. Serena and Joseph. The postcard.
She had walked away from her. She had let this happen.
I let it happen. I failed her. Oh, god.
"She doesn't have a fucking husband." It felt like she was screaming, but the words left her as barely a whisper.
It wasn't Lewis. She was pretty sure about that. But not entirely.
He's dead. I think.
Am I dead?
She tried to lift her head but it was so heavy. Her entire body felt heavy and she couldn't move her arms or her legs.
"Welcome back, Olivia."
Not Lewis. Or is it?
"I was beginning to worry."
How kind of you.
"I know, I know. You're pretty tired, huh? That's ok."
No, it's not ok.
"Just take your time. We have all the time in the world. Well, not really. But you'll be awake for the grand finale."
Grand finale? Torture. Rape. Murder.
She finally managed to lift her head, but her eyes were still closed. She needed to see him. She needed to know it wasn't Lewis.
But I can't be. I had his brain in my hair.
"Do you want some water?"
She really did. Her mouth was so dry and her lips felt glued together.
But she couldn't.
He could drug her again.
Maybe it wasn't water, maybe it was vodka.
And if she drank something, anything, she would need to pee, and she didn't want to go back to that bathroom with him.
Wait, it's not him. Not him. Not in a beach house.
Where am I?
"No water? Fine. Just let me know and I'll grab a bottle for you, ok?"
She felt herself nod and she didn't really know why.
Just open your eyes, Olivia. Open your goddamn eyes.
She was blinking now.
It's a start.
"Hey... let me see those big, beautiful brown eyes."
Ugh. Did Lewis have a twin brother or something?
The flashbacks were out of control. She was on a chair in her apartment. She was in that bathroom in the beach house. She was handcuffed to a bed.
Breathe. Just fucking breathe. That's all you've gotta do. That, and open your eyes.
"There she is."
That face. She had seen that face before. On a wall somewhere. A picture.
She blinked a few times again, forcing her eyes to focus.
"Recognize me?"
Yes. Yes, I recognize you.
Richard Wheatley.
Everything happened so fast. One minute Amanda was talking to Elliot, the next she was ordering Lucy and Sienna to take the girls and Noah home to her apartment.
"Just... don't upset them. We don't know anything yet. They've already been through so much."
We've already been through so much.
She cast a quick glance over at where a small group had gathered around the waiter, trying to get as much information as possible on the stranger who claimed to be Olivia's husband. For a second she shared a worried look with Elliot, before she started running towards the restrooms.
Maybe it's just a misunderstanding, maybe she's still in there.
With Kat on her heels she ran down the hall and forced herself not to think about the conversation she had just had with Olivia. She was barely able to think straight and her own angry words mixed with Olivia's did nothing to help her.
"Liv?"
Nothing. It was dead quiet. No signs of anyone ever being in there.
No blood. No signs of a fight.
Right now she couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or a really, really bad thing.
"Kat, go and ask the staff for security footage from the back entrance. Now."
"Amanda..."
"NOW, Kat!"
Five minutes later they were standing in a cramped office behind the restaurant kitchen, staring at a screen.
"There."
Shit.
"He drugged her."
"Who is it?"
"She can barely walk."
"Everyone shut up!" Elliot yelled before he leaned in to study the screen.
"Richard Wheatley." He whispered.
Kathy. Elliot. Wheatley. Me.
What?
"You're Richard Wheatley."
Her voice was hoarse, but surprisingly steady.
"Correct, Olivia. Good job."
"What do you want?"
"I want to tell you a story."
A story. A story is better than rape.
"But first, there are some preparations to take care of."
Instinctively, she looked down at herself. She had her dress on. It was torn down by the hem, but she was still dressed. Her arms were handcuffed behind her back and her ankles were tied tightly to the legs of the chair. Not good, but not really the best position to rape someone in.
Jesus, I need a new job.
"Relax, Olivia. I'm not going to touch you. Don't get me wrong, you're a very attractive woman, but I'm not really into that."
Rape? Or women?
He started to move then and she flinched instantly. It didn't matter what he told her, her body was still prepared for pain.
She breathed a short sigh of relief when he moved away and over to the table in front of her.
She tried to see what he was doing, but his back was in the way. Only when he turned around and took a few steps to the side, did she see what it was.
A computer, with a number on it. 12:00.
Suddenly he walked towards her and she flinched again, pushing her back against the chair.
Like that's gonna help.
He just smirked when he saw her reaction.
"Poor thing. You're really traumatized, aren't you?"
Yes. And you're not helping.
He stared at Olivia for a few seconds before he knelt down in front of her, pulled out his phone and moved it under the chair.
The fuck?
She tried in vain to move her legs. If she could just magically break free, she could kick him. Get away.
"It's almost story time, Olivia. Just give me one more second."
And then he was in front of her again, holding up his phone so she could see the screen and the picture he had just taken.
A bomb.
She was sitting on a bomb.
A fucking bomb.
She wanted to laugh.
Literally burst out laughing.
She had felt like a ticking bomb for years. It was all too fitting.
Should I beg for my life, or applaud his eye for symbolism?
"You get it now, right?" He said with a smile on his face. "12 hours, the bomb, you. Boom."
"I get it."
"Good. You're a good detective."
"Captain." She shot back.
Might as well pull some rank before I die.
He walked back to the table, stared at her momentarily, and then he pressed the button.
The shift from 12:00 to 11:59 hit her like a bullet to the chest.
Fuck.
Her brain had been working in slow motion since waking up. She had been so focused on opening her eyes, convincing herself that this wasn't Lewis.
Now that she was certain she wasn't in some godforsaken beach house, she was able to process the fact that this wasn't much better.
And then she let her mind wander.
To Amanda, to last night, the sex, or whatever that was. The wedding, and that song. The fight in the hallway.
So fucking stupid. So fucking stubborn.
The kids. Fin and Phoebe. Elliot. Fuck.
All of this because of me.
She had wanted to laugh before, from the irony and the symbolism. Now all she wanted to do was cry.
She wanted to go back to the night before. Tell Amanda how scared she really was. How she was terrified of something happening to her or the kids. But also explaining how she was so fucking sick and tired of living in fear. How she had spent so much time recovering from Lewis. How all of this made her doubt her abilities to be a good captain, and more importantly a good mother and a partner.
She wanted to go back to the night before and tell Amanda how much she loved her. Kiss her, like they normally kissed. Touch her, like they normally touched each other.
She wanted to go back to the dance floor and pull the blonde so close that there could be no doubt about how much she needed her.
So fucking stubborn.
I caused so much pain. And for what?
He pulled out a chair, sat down slowly, and smiled again.
"Story time."
A/N: …