Chapter One: Retrograde
Title: Oblivion
Rating: M
Category: AU/Thriller/Angst/Hurt & Comfort/UST/RST/Pre and Post "Infiltrated"
Summary: The undercover operation in Oregon takes an unexpected, unpleasant turn for Olivia Benson as an injury turns her life, and career, upside-down leaving her with pieces of her memory scattered in the wind.
"The worst possible yearning is missing the person who is standing next to you." - Wyatt
am·ne·sia
/amˈnēZHə/
noun
noun: amnesia
a partial or total loss of memory.
"they were suffering from amnesia"
Note: Walton County does not exist and neither does Hillsden, Oregon. I grew up in Oregon, so I am using Eugene, Oregon as the basis for my "model" to get the point across. Some of the places within context do exist (just not the towns or counties as they are presented). Please note, this is a departure from the SVU timeline. Consequential episodes that followed or were concurrent will not apply.
How strange
To dream of you
Even when
I am wide awake.
-Anonymous
11:30 PM
Saturday, September 16th 2006
Prospect Park Apartments
Walton County, Oregon
The rain hadn't stopped in days and the hillside was slick with the stream coming down from the blacktop, from the grass, and the solid layer of mud that had been dragged with it. Flash flood warnings had been issued off and on for most of the valley and higher elevations were being placed on an advisory for slides. It was a mess and fall had taken hold, shifting the wet weather to a torrential downpour that soaked a good pair of jeans clean up to the knee. The deeper into the woods one drove, the more likely that the blustering breeze and stinging precipitation would become closer to a preview of hail, slapping against metal with purpose. The wind blew and the trees shuddered, soaking the ground even more as the muted, amber light flickered above the drive.
It was eerily quiet. Probably too quiet.
The ambient sounds of rustling in the bushes and the snapping of twigs barely registered above the whistling of the gusts. Even the muddled wheezing from the thicket of underbrush was hardly audible as a set of headlights moved closer, spraying the sidewalk and the poorly maintained hedges with the murky water. There wouldn't be much left of the dirt by morning and the sweeping away of the topsoil was just the beginning. The groan emanated from a gap in the fence and the shadows converged as crimson met mud, only to become part of the earth.
"…Help me," Her voice was soft, ragged, and spent as she managed to slide out from beneath the twists and spirals of brush, covered in cuts and bruises. "Please, God, help me."
Wisps of wavy, dark brown, and amber locks cascaded over her face as the uneven cement bit into her knees and palms while she struggled to crawl forward. Disoriented would have been putting it mildly as she lifted her head for a moment, the blood streaming from two unknown points above her hairline and her nose. Dizziness set in, doubling the image in front of her as it rippled through her, nearly bringing up the contents of her stomach. She listed forward, saving herself from meeting the pavement head first as she slid her arm forward before rolling onto her back. The agonizing cry was loud as her eyes rolled back from the surge of pain. It carried through her, from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet.
A solitary porch light went on in the distance and the squeal of an ungreased hinge echoed in her ears. She slowly blinked and a distant flash of a memory burrowed into her brain of a wide, breathtaking smile and steel blues that ripped her soul asunder. As quickly as it entered her consciousness, it sputtered and went dark as the pain seared through her skull. There was nothing for her mind latch onto. It was slipping away like sand through her fingertips.
"Anyone, please," Her lashes fluttered as she struggled with consciousness, with reality, as the ground beneath her gashed the skin along her elbows. "…Help."
"Oh, my God," An elderly woman clad in a bathrobe and slippers ventured into the brisk, wet night after the movement had been just enough to set off the motion sensor in front of her home. "Perry! Call 9-1-1! Someone's been hurt!"
"Judith, you be careful out there!" Perry was gruff and the tone alone caused every hound in the neighborhood to start in on the barking as his wife knelt to help.
Judith's curly, graying locks and pale blue eyes were a relief but not quite a comfort as her injured company did everything she could to sit up. She struggled against the assistance, fighting as though she were back at the start, thwarting off what had sent her reeling. Judith perched on her knees, soaking her pajamas and robe in the process, while Perry continued to scurry around inside. The presence of a stranger had unsettled the balance of their everyday sort of life, and nothing seemed right as the world shifted once more. The blood was everywhere and the plethora of thorns from blackberry bushes, the line of roses, and the mass of holly leaves had done their fair share of damage to her bare limbs and feet. The bruises were bright, fresh, and indicated a lengthy tumble. She'd been through enough.
Someone had robbed her of so much more than safety.
"I…can't," the sobs were gut-wrenching and she was on the border of hysterics even as Judith's warmth surrounded her. "I…need…to…go…home."
"I'm here, I've got you. No one is going to hurt you anymore," Judith held the back of her head, delicately avoiding the damage as the rain battered them from above. "Help is on the way…Just hold on. You're safe now."
In the distance, sirens began to blare. Judith held on, cradling her as the flutter of lashes began to close over mahogany and Chesnutt irises that belonged to the mystery that had clawed her way out of the shrubbery. A mixture of tears, rain, and diluted blood soaked the material of a ripped shirt as the blue and red lights spiraled until they blurred together. It would look like a blackout and the sensation was comparable to the warmth slowly seeping away even as the breaths began to soften and heartbeats were like thunder in her chest. Something was slipping away.
Something was scattering like leaves in the wind.
6:00 AM
Sunday, September 17th 2006
Travelodge
Hillsden, Oregon
The room reeked of cheap beer, the remnants of vodka, and sweat. Agent Dean Porter had been burning the candle at both ends and his home away from home reflected every bit of his disinterest in keeping up appearances. The suitcase was half-propped against the wall, ties dangling over the side of a pair of pants in desperate need of an iron. He needed to shower. The urge to shave was winning as he stroked his chin while reaching for a questionable cup of water on the nightstand. He contemplated it and shrugged at the prospect that it had been there for a while.
One must die at some point. Might as well take a roll of the dice today.
The television flickered, glowing blue against the dingy surfaces of every wall as he lied there like a starfish against the headboard; arms extended out with his legs widely spread. It was mildly pathetic when examined from the outside but Dean didn't seem to care. He dribbled as he drank another mouthful and nearly choked on it as the previous night's indulgences came back to haunt him in the form of a raging headache. He had no one to blame but himself, though.
Somehow, slipping further into a bender didn't seem entirely unattractive as he watched a rather robust fly land directly on the neck of an empty beer bottle.
"Son of a fucking bitch," Dean was melancholy, at best, and the smirk on his face was from the reality of waking up in the middle of nowhere again. "I hate it here."
Another blistering of rain pelted the window and captured his gaze as he slid out of the bed, assuring himself that the window was closed. He shoved the stopper in place and watched the sideways direction of the downpour as it hit the pavement beneath a lamppost. It was too early to be awake but the dull, melancholy light was more than enough to make him wince as he pushed the drapes the rest of the way shut. It wasn't dark enough but it would suffice. Dean pivoted his hips and turned the volume up as the news was barely underway on his grainy television set.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We bring you breaking news this morning, with Lonnie standing by, just outside of Holy Cross Hospital with details of an unidentified woman being brought in overnight with critical injuries," The newscaster's suit was perfectly pressed and a loud shade of coral, the buttons of her silk shirt casting light from the poor lighting inside the studio.
Dean furrowed his brow and continued to hover in front of the TV as the studio sent it out to the rainy scene in front of Holy Cross, where the flashing lights of an ambulance were still going in the background. He notched up the volume a little higher as he scooted onto the edge of the bed, straddling the corner while reaching for the half-empty bottle of water on the dresser. Lonnie was having a fair amount of technical difficulties but the introduction was clear about a woman, with a severe head injury, had been brought in overnight. She was absent of identification and hadn't woke up yet, it was looking a little grim.
"…To protect the woman's privacy, we are only going to offer up a description of her at this time," Lonnie's raspy voice was downright irritating but Dean was listening while scrutinizing the words as he set the bottle back down. "She just under five feet nine inches tall, brown, shoulder-length hair, and brown eyes."
"Why does that sound like…" Dean was already reaching for his phone, dialing the number and waiting impatiently for anything but hung up after six rings. "Olivia."
It couldn't be real, though, could it? She wouldn't have been that reckless, would she? Dean palmed his mouth and redialed while he paced the floor. Setting up a voicemail for an undercover operation wouldn't have gone far. It's a landline in an apartment and she wasn't supposed to be here this long as it was. It continued to ring, almost to a buzzing, and surpassed double digits as he tore open the curtains.
"Goddammit, Benson," Dean ended the attempt and started yanking clothing from the suitcase, aimlessly shoving his feet into a pair of pants as the wind throttled outside.
At the back of Dean's mind, the thought was already blooming of the state he'd find her in once he arrived at Holy Cross. The loose possibility that it wasn't her was slowly fading away as another jolt of pain worked its way through his skull. Having to rescue an NYPD officer from whatever mess she had gotten into was on his shortlist of things he wasn't interested in doing. He couldn't help but stare at the television as he worked the zipper and yanked a shirt on. It wasn't frustration, it was something deeper and clouded by the looming hangover, as he reached for the water once more, draining the contents.
As he buttoned the final button and reached for the rental keys, the description scrawled across the bottom of the screen and set off a final mechanism.
This was going to be a very long morning.
6:30 AM
Holy Cross Hospital
Walton County, Oregon
There was a stagnant, high-pitched buzzing in her ears. It came before nausea as the bright, white light filtered through her lashes and delivered a punch to the ocular nerve as she tried to open her eyes. The beeping of monitors and the static hum of a muted television softened the chatter of hospital staff as she rolled to one side, bumping the heavily bruised section of her face in the process. She gasped and winced as she groped for the controls to sit up, narrowly missing the line leading out of her arm as she focused on the door. She wanted to vomit all over again as the room began to spin.
"Miss, settle down, settle down," A nurse scurried back in and pushed another pillow behind her, guiding her back onto the comfort of a thick support as the balance didn't quite catch up yet. "…you've had a rough night and we can't have you pulling your IV out."
"You know, I do have a name," She looked down at the tape and her stomach turned as the golden curls from her nurse's loosely wound bun caught her eye, the double vision weaving in and out as she struggled to focus. "Where am I?"
"You're in a hospital in Oregon, honey," Her pools of blue and green were soft and calming as they searched the deep, confusion addled mahogany ones partially shielded by long, impressive lashes. "That is a relief to hear. What's your name?"
"Olivia…Olivia Benson," Olivia hadn't said it out loud and it sounded foreign as she gingerly touched a bandaged spot along her hairline. "Everything is a blur…wait, did you say Oregon? How did I get here?"
Olivia wanted out of the bed. She wanted to look in the mirror and see the damage that had been done. There was a rotten ache in her soul as the gaping, blank space seemed endless even as she grimaced at the lines on the floor. It was there, somewhere, being held hostage in the abyss, and the key was floating at the bottom. Far from the tips of her fingers and just out of reach.
"You don't remember anything, Olivia?" Her nurse was speaking slowly, softly, and seemed to be concentrating on not adding to her distress as she checked the levels on the IV bag and pushed another round of pain killer into the drip. "You don't recall what happened to put you here?"
Olivia was staring at her arms, at the deep bruising and little gashes that had begun to develop across the surface of her skin, deepening the shock as she shook her head, swallowing the tears. "I remember the rain and the woman on the sidewalk when the sirens came. I don't understand. Please, tell me how bad this is…please tell me it wasn't rape because I don't know if I can handle not remembering and being violated on top of it."
"The doctors know you hit your head, likely from a fall," The nurse gathered the fingers on her free hand, squeezing it just enough to capture her attention as she cleared her throat. "You showed no signs of that kind of trauma. Are you sure you don't know what happened to you, Olivia?"
Olivia sighed, the relief evident as the void in her consciousness felt endless with every breath as she glanced at the door again. "The last thing I remember…was…I don't even know. I was getting paperwork for the NYPD and it's all…I don't know."
"How old are you, Olivia?" The nurse asked a question, almost with a sense of irony beneath it, and held out a plastic cup filled with cold water and ice chips. "Do you remember what year it is?"
Olivia grazed the gauze again, the panic rising as she stared at the floor while searching for the words. "I'm…twenty-four…it's 1992? I think? I don't know. Is that wrong? Is that the wrong answer? That sounds like it's not the right answer."
"Oh, of course not, Olivia. There's no wrong answer, dear," She was trying to soothe but it was coming out half-patronizing and it only made the sinking feeling worse as Olivia held back the gag as her stomach rolled once more. "Everything is fine."
Something was wrong and no one was telling her yet.
10:50 AM
16th Precinct
New York, NY
The bustle of the squad room had kept Elliot from allowing a thought to bloom. It had kept him from staring at the display of his cell phone, adding another day to his mental calculation of not hearing Olivia's voice or seeing her face. It had kept Elliot from exercising another lesson in futility by dialing her disconnected line for the hundredth time. He hadn't been sleeping and the nights that he could were met with the same set of circumstances—waking up alone in a cold sweat wondering how he'd gotten there. He needed her endless, often unwanted, advice and to hear those irritating sighs that made her so perfectly Olivia.
Elliot couldn't help but feel a little responsible for her absence even though he knew, deep down, there wasn't anything he could have done.
"Earth to Elliot," The sound of Dani Beck's voice was the last thing he wanted to hear but there it was, like nails down the chalkboard as he reached for the nearly empty cup of coffee. "Rough night? You look like hell."
"What kind of question is that? Every night is a rough night," Elliot's voice was flat, void of emotion, and a little monotone as he lifted his eyes just enough to acknowledge her presence. "Every morning is rougher."
"You're a ray of sunshine," Dani cradled her cup of coffee, smirking at him from behind the rim as she took the first sip of java and sighed into the atmosphere. "How long has the Captain been on the phone with the door shut?"
"You know, you're awfully nosy today," Elliot rolled his eyes and started pulling apart paperwork in his inbox that still needed to be processed, purposely putting it on her as he set up his piles. "I try not to go making it a habit of listening in on Cragen's phone calls…but you're welcomed to try."
"Don't act like you're not thoroughly intrigued by the prospect of a closed door, blinds tilted up conversation that he's obviously been in for long enough to dispel a lengthy set of dialogue from," Dani had been done with her paperwork and the lack of interest in busying her self with something else was more than evident as she ignored the phone ringing next to her. "Come on, Stabler."
"Answer your phone," Elliot shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he could hear the distinct turning of Cragen's door. "You have work to do and so do I."
"Elliot, my office," Cragen had that tone that wasn't quite irritation but it wasn't jovial, either, after the door swung open, squeaking on its hinges, the expression pensive as he stared through the back of Dani's head. "…now."
"Ooh, that can't be good," Dani watched him rise from his seat and move toward the door, the concern on his face as he pushed a couple of papers away from a corner of his desk as he passed. "Deadman walking."
"Captain?" Elliot could feel the glacial presence of his boss as he passed through the doorway, his hand still on the handle as he furrowed his brow at the back of his head.
"Close the door, please, and have a seat," Cragen cleared his throat as he pilfered through a drawer, busily searching through everything in his poorly organized space as Elliot hesitated to close the door.
Elliot studied his boss's movements as he pulled Olivia's shield, badge, and information sheet from a file while he became increasingly pale and haphazard as he moved around the room. "Boss, what's going on?"
"I don't know how else to say it so I'll just say it," Cragen turned his head as Elliot sat down on the other side of the desk, his eyes glued to Olivia's name across her shield as the light shimmered across it. "Thirty minutes ago Agent Porter called me to inform me that there'd been an accident…"
"Is Liv okay?" Elliot could hear his own heart beating into his throat as he was already picturing the worst while his head began to swim. "Captain?"
"Liv was hurt but she's conscious and I need you to pack a bag. We're on the first flight out to get her aimed in the right direction," Cragen knew that ripping the Band-Aid off had taken skin with it but he had to as he made eye contact with Elliot and swallowed hard. "There's more but I don't know how you're going to handle it…"
Elliot felt the wind go out of his lungs as he squeezed his fingers along the back of the chair he'd been sitting in, ready to drop to his knees at any second as he shook his head slowly. "No, you're gonna have to tell me. I can't wait until I'm across the country to find out what happened, Captain."
"The doctor treating Olivia mentioned retrograde amnesia," Cragen held a breath as he nodded slowly and reached for her things, putting them into the bag he kept tucked away in his desk.
"Jesus," Elliot held his palm to his mouth and exhaled through his fingers, the flashing image of his panicked partner and best friend looking at everyone as though they were nothing more than a stranger was already working his last nerve. "She's not going to know who we are, is she?"
"There's a chance she's not going to remember anything or anyone but herself for a while," Cragen exhaled slowly and pushed a drawer shut, the determination written on his face. "We'll stop on the way to the airport and get you packed."
Elliot blinked in hopes of waking up from the nightmare that was unfolding before him that had been far too real in a matter of seconds. The bile swelled in his stomach as stale coffee came back up to slide across his tongue, nearly leaping forward as he rose from his chair. He had too much to do and vomiting across the Captain's desk was low on the list as he moved toward the door. Even his inordinately patient superior had shed his skin, unveiling the less put-together version of himself as he ran through a series of numbers on the phone in front of him. Liv was the one thing that tied them all together and they were facing an unraveled reality as the words "she's not going to remember" hovered in the air like fog.
"Let me just call Kathy and give her a heads up that I'll be dropping by," Elliot cut through the static and maneuvered into the squad room, his eyes narrowing as he pulled the cell phone from his pocket.
"What's going on?" Dani couldn't have had worse timing interrupting him as he rifled through his desk for his belongings, pulling a set of keys from a center drawer. "Elliot?"
"Shit, she's not answering," Elliot hung up, shoved his phone into the same pocket, and evaded that stare from Dani as she elevated both brows expectantly. "You're going to be on your own for a while…Captain Cragen and I have to take a trip to Oregon."
"To Oregon? Why? What's going on?" Dani had the receiver propped against her shoulder, not listening to the chatter on the other end as she rolled her chair forward, putting her positioning a little closer. "What about me?"
"What about you?" Elliot didn't mean for it to sound cold but it came out rhetorical and unfeeling as he made eye contact with her, finally crossing the bridge he had been avoiding. "You're staying here and doing your job while I go get my partner out of a hospital in the middle of nowhere. She'd do the same for me."
"Elliot, she left this department, she's not your partner anymore, I am," Dani had buried the thought but it was crawling to the surface as she pensively pushed her index against his bicep to capture his attention. "Or is it really because you'd do anything for your precious Olivia?"
Elliot didn't have time to argue with Dani about the semantics of what Olivia was. It didn't matter that the desk Olivia once sat at now housed another Detective or that he spent numerous moments wondering when she was going to walk back in the door. Knowing something had happened to her had flicked a switch within Elliot's soul and the sour taste at the back of his throat wasn't going anywhere. It was settling in, reminding him of the last time he'd seen her face. They'd both gone through the wringer and the job was taking a back seat to the safety of each other.
Elliot didn't know how to feel and somewhere, he knew, neither did Olivia.
"I don't know what you think this is but Liv doesn't just stop being my partner because she took another assignment," Elliot lowered his voice and uttered it, driving the point home with the slam of a drawer, pressing his lips together. "I promised that a long time ago."
"So, it's just that easy for you to go running to her rescue every time she needs you?" Dani had a moment to think as she stood, half following him toward the doorway.
Elliot grimaced and shook his head in disbelief over the nearly territorial way she was acting toward him, without necessity as he was thinking solely about Olivia's condition. "You know what? Yeah, it is just that easy."
It's a bit of a mean place to leave it but it is also…such a deep place to go. We have a journey to start and this is going to be such a solid fic for me to delve into. I hope you join me.
To my girls in the group…you did this.
Quotes by:
Wyatt
Anonymous