The leftovers of the box mix pasta that she'd eaten earlier had grown cold on the coffee table while the choices of TV entertainment had become raunchier, and Olivia knew it had to be past 11 pm. She should be considering heading to bed, but instead, she remained lounged on the couch in an old Journey t-shirt and her underwear.
Swirling the glass of wine in her hand, she barely watched the TV screen. Her phone was in her other hand, and she'd been staring at the screen on and off ever since she'd arrived home. Elliot's contact info stared back at her, and her thumb had hovered over the call button more than once.
He doesn't wanna talk to you. She told told herself, turning the screen to black once more.
She rolled her eyes at herself, and tilted the glass against her lips again. She had a pleasant buzz in her head, and she knew she shouldn't ruin it by doing something incredibly stupid, but at the same time, calling Elliot while her inhibitions were lowered had never seemed more appealing.
Everything felt unfinished and undone right now, like a damn cliffhanger that never ended. She wanted closure, needed it, if she ever hoped to move on beyond this moment in time. She'd always thought their relationship would end with a volcanic fight, an explosive rift which ripped them from each other's arms. Not this. Not this excruciating, sudden silence which left her drifting through uncertainty.
Opening her eyes, she felt her heart pounding. She wasn't sure if it was from the wine or the fear. Lifting her phone with a trembling hand, she unlocked the screen, and stabbed the call button before she hesitated again. She pressed it to her ear as the sound of the ringing swirled dread through her stomach.
Come on, come on… She mouthed the words, her eyes fluttering shut as she listened to the shrill jangling repeat until her head ached with it.
BEEP….
The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable-
"Damnit." She stabbed the end button, impetuous tears rising to burn her eyes.
She shoved herself out of the cushions and tossed her cell to the coffee table where it clattered against the glass. Clasping her forehead in her hands, she stared of the floor as the silence buzzed around her, a wordless reinforcement of what she already knew.
He's gone. Forever.
She closed her eyes against the burgeoning tears, loathe to let them fall once more in the lonely space of her wretched, little apartment.
Bring!
She started, jolting up straight when her phone abruptly began to ring. She stared wide-eyed at the device where it vibrated facedown, desperate to believe that Elliot had finally decided to return her calls.
With a trembling hand, she snatched up her phone, and flipped it over. The LED display shone across her flushed cheeks, scintillating with hope through the tears in her eyes, but the hammer of disappointment fell quickly, almost too quickly for her to emotionally process.
The name on the screen was not Elliot's. It was Amanda's.
What the fuck! She wanted scream. What do you fucking want, you stupid, blonde-
Releasing a ragged growl, she jumped up from the couch, praying fervently for the self control she needed in order to not throw her phone out the window and smash it to pieces on the concrete below. She paced around the coffee table, clutching the device in her fist until the anger subsided and the ringing cut off sharply, leaving only the sound of her raspy breathing in her ears.
Reality surged ahead then as she stared at the walls of her little home that she'd once been perfectly content with. There'd been a time when a man would enter her space and leave the next morning without so much as a second thought from her. A time before she'd opened the door too wide, before she'd let the whole of herself come spilling out to someone who'd never been reliable enough to support his own feelings, much less hers...
Jesus, Olivia Margaret, get a hold of yourself. She thought in bewilderment as she stood in the center of the room, enveloped with such strong emotion and self loathing for a moment that she could scarcely breathe. She lifted a hand and scraped her fingers over her face, attempting to wipe away the tears and the pathetic reaction.
She'd nearly forgotten that Amanda had even called by the time she swallowed down the knot of dread into her stomach. When the phone began to ring again, she flinched, and pressed her eyes shut hard for a moment.
She needed the strength she'd always so easily drawn upon, but she supposed perseverance would have to do.
Lifting the cell, she reluctantly answered the call, carefully hiding the recent outburst from her tone.
"Benson."
"Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you up."
Amanda's Southern drawl permeated the apology, and Olivia hated the way it seemed so sincere. Why would the other woman care about her comfort or lack thereof? They barely knew each other and what they did know hadn't formed anything close to a friendship. In fact, the whole acquaintance had become quite the opposite.
"No, it's okay." Olivia forced herself to reply in an even tone, reminding herself that she still had to be professional. "What's up?"
"Missing kid." Amanda replied.
"Where's Cragen?"
"On his way."
"Wait, where are you at?"
"At the mom's house." Amanda explained. "I was at SVU when the call came in."
"And you're just now calling me?" Olivia snapped, spinning around from her planted position in the middle of the living room.
Shaking her head, she held back explictives from her lips as she grabbed her crumpled pants from the floor. Balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she began to dress.
"I called Cragen first on my way over." Amanda clarified, a gritty defensiveness rising in her voice. "I didn't want to waste any time."
"What's the address?" Olivia asked, ignoring Amanda's explanation and her own desire to obliterate it completely.
"122 West 75th." Amanda answered in a clipped tone. "I'll see you then."
With a click, the call came to an end, leaving Olivia struggling on the other end with the button of her pants. She came to a halt when she realized that Amanda had hung up on her, obviously too focused on the case or too frustrated with Olivia's attitude to put up a front of amiability.
She let the phone slide from her ear into her palm, and stared down at the black screen where her reflection gazed back at her, an excruciatingly self aware oracle of judgement. She pressed her eyes shut as a wave of guilt came over her once more.
Amanda had done nothing wrong, yet she could not help but find fault with her every action. She didn't want Amanda to win, but at this rate, neither of them would be winning anything, least of all each other's approval.
Shoving her phone into her pocket, Olivia strode towards the door. She snatched her coat from the hook, and headed out the door. When the cold, fall air hit her, she settled her hand into her pocket where her NYPD badge rested. She wrapped her fingers around it, and held on for dear life.
xxxxxxxx
Half a dozen police cruisers lined the curb, casting red and blue orbs across the street like some kind of morbid carnival, and on the sidewalk a couple of unis were organizing a search of the immediate area.
Amanda watched the commotion from inside the silence of the SVU she'd driven to Dana Halstead's brownstone, frustrated nearly to the point of anger that she cared so much about Benson's opinion and acceptance. Her hands were shaking around her cellphone in the wake of her call to Olivia, and she could feel the illogical emotion that had become far too familiar in the recent weeks building in her chest. She'd spent the last three weeks pandering to the woman, and it had garnered her nothing but hurt feelings and the same creeping sense of unbelonging she'd experienced in Atlanta.
Why do you even try? She berated herself, staring hard at the scene beyond as she tried to clear the misting of tears from her eyes. You're a failure to her. Just like everyone else.
She'd always considered herself an independent person, but in reality, she was from a small, backwoods Georgia town, and she'd barely managed to set foot beyond Atlanta in all of her twenty-nine years until now. Her life trajectory had been headed towards never leaving at all until things had changed. Atlanta had changed. Once a refuge from her family in Loganville and the memories of childhood, the beautiful city had become as much a prison to her as the town of her youth. Running again, even further than before, had seemed better than staying and facing the massive pile of cards that were stacked against her.
Now, nearly a month in New York had gone by, and it was shaping up to be just as much of a disappointment as Atlanta. If she had hoped for even one small thing to turn in her favor, it had been Olivia.
What a fucking joke. Amanda thought as she shoved her phone into her pocket.
Shouldering the door open, she slid down onto the sidewalk. The weather was just turning towards the autumn season, but Amanda had hardly adjusted to the Northern temperatures. Tugging the lapels of her coat around her neck, she strode towards the brownstone ahead of her. She took the steps two at a time, and flashed her badge to the uni at the door.
"Special Vics?" He asked.
"Yeah. Where's the mother?"
"Living room. Down the hall to your left."
"Thanks."
She grabbed the front door handle, steeling herself. The woman were always the worst, the mothers especially. She'd signed herself up for a lifetime of watching the female species be abused, tortured, and killed, but it never became any easier, especially after Atlanta …after him...
She shook her head as though a simple rattle of her brain could dispel the memories before she stepped inside. The door fell shut behind her, locking her inside the darkened hall, and she stood there for a moment, listening to the low mumble of voices just beyond the corridor. Beneath it all, the soft whimper of a woman's voice scratched against her ears.
Her arms prickled as she took a step forward and the hardwood creaked beneath her boot. She ignored the dread in her belly, and forced herself towards the light spreading itself like beacon at the end of the hall.
When she turned the corner, the scene unfolded before her as it had a hundred times. The first time she'd witnessed a parents' distress over their missing child she'd thought to herself, I will never see something so disturbing ever again. As it turned out she'd been wrong about a lot back then.
"Mrs. Halstead?"
The woman on the couch glanced up with watery, bloodshot eyes, the depths of them haunting Amanda from inside her pale, gaunt face. Her thin lips trembled as she nodded slowly and clutched a tissue against her cheek.
"Hi. My name's Amanda. I'm with the Special Victims Unit."
She advanced slowly towards the couch, offering a sympathetic smile as she sat down next to the fragile woman.
"Hi." She whispered, patting away the tears that swelled without constraint from her the corners of her eyes.
"I understand your son is missing." Amanda began gently, allowing the mother to form as much of the story as possible.
"Yes. Rory. He's fourteen." Dana replied, her voice trembling as she offered her other hand to Amanda.
The school photo quaked in her fingers, and Amanda hesitated for a moment before she took it. The boy in the photo was pale like his mother, unsmiling and somber. His collar length hair had obviously been dyed deep black and his tired eyes were lined in black kohl.
"I see." She murmured, grimacing as the obvious signs of unbelonging and loneliness in the single photo. "And how long has he been gone?"
"Um… Yesterday before school he told me he was going to a friend's house to stay the night last night. He's done it plenty of times…. I know the family. It's never been a problem-" She cut off sharply with a muffled cry, and clasped the tissue over her nose and mouth. "But I think I should've known something was wrong… Right?"
"You think he left on his own?"
"He never went to Jacob's house!" Dana exclaimed, her desperate gaze flinging towards Amanda's, infused with guilt and dread. "When he didn't come home from school today I called Jacob's mother. She didn't know anything about this!"
"I understand." Amanda assured her, calmly, before pulling out her notebook. "So he's been gone since about 3 or 4 yesterday."
"Yes, his friends saw him start walking home from school, but he didn't come here."
"Okay… I'll need to speak with Jacob and his school mates. What school does he go to?"
"Manhattan High.
"And what about Rory's father?" Amanda asked, carefully, watching Mrs. Halstead's reactions with a studious eye.
Dana shook her head slowly, barely meeting Amanda's eye as she murmured, "No. He's been gone for a long time."
"Okay… Does Rory have a subway card, a credit card or anything like that?"
"A subway card, yes."
"Good. If he used it we can find out where he's going. We'll also need to track his cell, and take his laptop or computer if you have one, and we'll also check all the hospitals and precincts again." Amanda replied as she wrote down key words on the notepad. "Do you mind if I take a look at his room?"
"Yes, of course, go ahead." Dana nodded. "It's upstairs to the right."
"Thank you." Amanda said as she stood from the couch and stuffed notepad back into her pocket.
"No… thank you." Dana whispered, reaching up to touch her arm.
Amanda smiled tightly before she added, "My captain will be arriving soon along with one of my colleagues. We'll find Rory."
Dana nodded once more, and Amanda turned away before the pain in the woman's eyes could wind through her heart any deeper.
Heading up the stairs, she felt the air rush back into her lungs. She felt more comfortable here as she slowly opened Rory's bedroom door. There'd be pieces here, pieces of a boy who didn't quite belong, and she could fit them back together until the picture became clear again.
She stepped inside, and her blue eyes drifted across the posters of metal bands and movies. She wandered in further, examining the bookshelf full of comic books and manga, neatly organized in chronological order. She ran her fingers along the spines before pulling one out, and flipping through it. She passed over the pages of a manga that depicted two high school boys, and an abundance of sexual content. She placed it back on the shelf, and ran her thumb along the spine again.
Poor kid. She thought, biting her lower lip. What are you hiding? A boyfriend? You shouldn't have to go missing to be with your boyfriend…
She left the bookshelf and opened to closet to an array of dark colored clothing and boots covered in straps and buckles. Glancing up towards the top shelf, she grabbed one of the boxes stowed away there and pulled it down. She tore open the tape, and sifted through the stack of CDs that Rory had obviously abandoned for Spotify, finding the same taste of music that he had displayed on his walls. She nearly put the box back before she noticed the matte cover of a magazine gleaming at the bottom. She carefully extricated it though she was already certain she knew what it contained.
"Amanda?"
Olivia's voice startled her, and she jerked, her heart racing as she slapped the gay porn magazine closed.
"Jesus, you scared the fuck out of me." She snapped, tossing a glare over her shoulder as Olivia's tall figure filled the doorframe.
"Mrs. Halstead said you were up here." Olivia offered, ignoring Amanda's annoyance.
She stepped further into the room, her eyes skating over the walls just as Amanda had done, and Amanda found herself still, watching her. It was unusual to see her like this, bare-faced, hair in a messy ponytail, clad in jeans and her trench coat. The lapels were loose against her shoulders, and Amanda caught sight of the low cut t-shirt she was wearing beneath.
Fuck. She ripped her eyes away from the detective, cursing herself for her own thoughts when she'd just been enraged with her only half an hour ago.
"You wanna catch me up?" Olivia asked, briskly.
Her tone felt like a splash of cold water on the heat in Amanda's chest, and this time she welcomed the icy reality. There was a missing kid, and besides that, a bleak future for their relationship.
"Here." Amanda said, pulling out her notebook. "Catch yourself up."
She tossed the notebook across the room, and Olivia barely managed to catch it, her expression reading shock for a moment before she clenched her jaw against her lapsing muscles. Her dark eyes bounced between Amanda and notebook for a moment, something like a warning hiding in her eyes - don't test me; I'll bite - but Amanda was feeling bold and frustrated.
She turned back to the magazine, her mouth tight as she examined the worn pages, some earmarked and falling out. His one indulgence was hidden inside the closet, and the significance of that could not have troubled Amanda more.
Olivia had been quiet as she read over Amanda's notes, and the next time she spoke her voice was closer. Amanda stiffened as she felt her hovering behind her shoulder.
"What's that?" Olivia asked as Amanda lowered the magazine.
Amanda sighed and glanced up at the dark closet space again.
"Don't you ever wish parents would wake the fuck up before their kid is missing?"
"You're blaming Mrs. Holstead?" Olivia's tone was overtly incredulous, and Amanda rolled her eyes.
Turning around, she shoved the magazine into Olivia's hands.
"Look around, Liv. A nice house, a mother who makes good money and indulges all of this." Amanda spread her hands towards the gothic, teenage display of rebellion. "What does he have to be sad about?"
Olivia's brow furrowed and she glanced down at the magazine. She nodded slowly, silent for once.
"You think he ran off with another boy?" She asked at last. "Someone older? Or just left..?"
"I don't know yet." Amanda replied. "But I've been in this kid's shoes. Running doesn't fix shit."
She wandered past Olivia towards the bed. The sheets were thrown back and rumpled, and she sat down slowly at the edge before lying back. She stared up the ceiling, the same ceiling Rory had stared at every night as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't gay.
"You've been in his shoes." Olivia's voice finally broke the silence, and Amanda closed her eyes for a moment.
Olivia was intuitive as ever.
"Sure." She finally managed to whisper. "Misunderstood teenage seeking validation…"
Her breath trembled when she felt Olivia's presence draw closer, and her lids fluttered open to see the other woman standing above her, her eyes narrowed and intense. Amanda stared back at her, a warmth flooding her cheeks in a slow bloom. The silence lengthened almost painfully, and Amanda wanted to bolt up from the bed.
She'd come a long way since she'd been in Rory's position, but not beyond the point of caring about whether people knew she was gay or not. It wasn't something she typically announced though she'd convinced herself she wasn't hiding it, only omitting it for lack of necessity. She'd let her tongue slip in front of Olivia of all people, and she chided herself and her subconscious desire for the other detective.
Finally, Olivia broke their gazes, and glanced back done at the notebook, allowing Amanda to breathe again.
"So." Olivia murmured, tapping the notepad against her open palm. "What would you do if you were Rory then?"