"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; PTSD." George handed Elliot the printout he had been reading. He watched the detective skim over the highlighted information.
"I'm no expert on this, George, but this is Liv." He hit the papers with the back of his hand before leafing through them.
"Yes and no. As I told her, each case is different. There will be times that she will experience all of those stages of trauma. They can go in order or they can be shuffled. I'm going to tell you the same thing I went over with her. This has to be on her own time frame. Don't go in there expecting her to be back to normal in a matter of days. Her time table could be in weeks or even months. What you can do is be there for her.
"Give her space. When she's angry, give her a chance to work through that anger. When she's upset, give her the privacy she needs but let her know you're there if she needs a shoulder to cry on. And she will cry. It's inevitable. She's kept it all in but the dam will break. Give her space but don't let her run so far away she loses herself. She's going to need you and the guys to keep her grounded in all of this. What she saw, no one really knows for sure. I don't think we can begin to comprehend what that was. I'd also be willing to bet she's experiencing a little survivor's guilt. I'll know more when we talk later on. I know you want to help, but you're doing so much for her right now by just being there. You'll be fine, Elliot. So will she." George stood and offered Elliot his hand while he patted him on the back with the other.
"Thanks, George. This is a little overwhelming. I guess it pales in comparison to what Olivia is going through, though. I wish I could take her place. I wish it were me on that street." He dropped his hands to his sides in defeat.
"I know you do. You've got at least three guys out there that feel the same way, but you and everyone else have to get past that. You have to be there for her because if she doesn't have you all, she's going to fall; hard. Something tells me you won't let that happen, though." He winked and opened the door for Elliot. Elliot simply nodded before leaving, obviously feeling the burden of his best friend's anguish.
Elliot walked out of the room and into the bullpen. He noticed Olivia was not at her desk, and he quickly shoved the information in the top drawer of his desk. He sat down heavily in his chair and rested his face in the palms of his hands. He had never felt helpless. He heard someone clear their throat and lifted his head up.
"Resting on the job, partner?" Olivia smiled softly. Elliot looked as exhausted as she felt.
"Just waiting for you, you lazy bum. How's the file room? Is it all you ever dreamed it be, Liv?" He met her grin, feeling awkward inside for her knowing where he had been the past half-hour. If she was uncomfortable by it, she was hiding it well.
"It's going. When this is all over, if I ever see a copy machine again, it'll be too damn soon." She chuckled and sat down in her seat, facing Elliot.
"That bad, huh? I remember getting familiar with the number two, letter tray. I swear, that thing has more paper jams than…I don't know. Twice, yesterday alone." He shifted in his seat and sat up straighter.
"You could have told me it was having problems, you know. And why didn't anyone ever place a service call?" She shook her head. Sometimes she felt like the mother hen of the whole precinct. She'd taken on that role lately, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. She wanted people to see her as a cop, foremost. The era of slaving over a hot stove and cleaning up for the female counterpart was over. She challenged anyone to tell her where her place was.
"Well, that's what you're here for, dear. Where's the number even at?" He knew he was egging her on. He watched for signs that his attempts at humor were not being appreciated.
"Where do you think? In the manual. I'll let you ponder what that is for a while. Cragen said I could leave early today. You got plans?" She bit her lip, anxiously. She'd been dreading the moment she had to leave for quite some time. As the hours ticked by, her stomach had knotted up. Her palms were sweaty under her bandages and her face was on fire.
"Yeah. With my partner." He noticed the anxiety overtake the features of her face. He knew her well enough to know she didn't want to go home alone. He watched her visibly relax.
"Are you sure you don't have plans? You don't have to babysit me, Elliot." She debated whether he was simply being nice or if he really did have the night open. She didn't want to prevent him from having a life.
"You're my plan, Liv. I thought we could swing by your place and get some more clothes. Maybe rent a movie and get a pizza. What do you say? It'll be like old times." He started gathering up the files on his desk and put them in the proper trays on his desk.
"Throw in some Ben & Jerry's and you've got yourself a deal, Stabler." Happy to have some company, the smile returned to her face once again. She stood up and nudged her chair in with her knee.
"I guess I could make that happen. Ice cream, movies and pizza it is. Let's blow this joint." He let her take the lead and snatched the papers from his drawer. He put his suit jacket over them and walked out alongside Olivia.
Xxx
"Elliot, get her out of here." Cragen poked his head out of his office and jerked it in the direction of the door. Seeing the younger man nod, he returned to his work.
"...and if you call me one more time , I'm going to come over there and…" her threat was cut off when Elliot snatched the phone from her grasp.
"Excuse me, but how did you get this number? Uh huh, and were you aware that this number is for official, police business? Do you realize that I could have you thrown in jail for harassment? No, that's not a threat, and yes I believe we've gone through this before. Leave Detective Benson alone or I will be talking to your superior. Count on it!" He placed the phone back on the hook and looked up at his partner.
"Do people not understand the word no anymore? Damn idiots. All of them. Hateful bastards." She ranted, her arms flailing as she paced the floor.
"I know you're upset, but it's not a good idea to piss off the press, Liv. Casey is handling it. Come on, let's get out of here for a while." He grabbed his wallet and turned to leave.
"Is that what you call handling it? Letting these blood-thirsty people call ten times a day? I've got three more on my cell phone, Elliot. Is that what you call handling it? Is it? Look at me, damnit!" She opened her phone and shoved it in his face.
"What?" He took the phone and scanned her calls before turning it off. He was disgusted. The calls had to stop. They were pushing his partner over the edge.
"I can barely function now. I'm so damn tired. The minute I try to close my eyes, I…I'm losing it, El." She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She counted to ten and took a few deep breaths. She hated how incompetent she sounded.
"I had no idea. Why didn't you come get me, Liv?" Ever since she'd stayed at his house, they'd gone to bed at the same time. He had no idea she wasn't sleeping. He thought she'd gotten a few hours, but he had a feeling she hadn't gotten any for the past few days. She had to be running on fumes.
"I don't need you to tuck me in, Elliot. I'm not one of your kids." She glanced around, realizing she'd said it louder than she should have. Luckily, the squad room was relatively empty, save for a few smart individuals that found it in their best interests to mind their own business.
"I know. I'm sorry. Look, it's lunch time. You know how I get when I'm hungry. Come on. I'll buy. Think of some movies you want to rent for tonight. We'll pick them up while I'm out." He watched her open her eyes. She stood there, debating his offer. He finally saw a brief nod and let out a sigh of relief.
xxx
She tossed and turned in her sleep. She could feel the searing heat of the handle beneath her fingertips. She pulled back her hand and gasped as it burned her skin. She could hear the screams over the sound of the fire. She searched the ground for something, anything to break the glass. She spotted a plastic cup on the ground. She picked it up, prepared to use it to pry open the scolding handle. She turned back to the flaming heap of metal and was met with a shocking wave of heat as the gas tank exploded. Her eyes went wide. She felt two hands tugging on her arm. She struggled to break free.
Elliot walked quietly to the kitchen. Olivia had crashed during the movie and he didn't want to wake her up. She had started to nod off, but the moment he suggested going to bed, she protested until he finally gave up. She claimed she was okay, but he saw it in her eyes. He was growing concerned for her lack of sleep. When she finally succumbed to exhaustion, he couldn't be happier. She'd been asleep for three hours. He'd watched their usual handful of movies alone. He heard a faint noise and stopped halfway to the kitchen. His senses were heightened and he heard it the moment it started. Sobbing. He quickly tossed the items in the trash and wiped his hands on a nearby towel before making his way over to the couch. Olivia was whimpering in her sleep and he swore he could feel his heart break. He reached out and took her arm to gently shake her awake, but it was roughly pulled from his grasp.
"No! Let me go!" She was thrashing around, her voice hoarse as she screamed. As she was led farther and farther away, she could hear a voice in her ear as she stopped struggling. The voice grew more familiar with each step.
"Shh…it's okay. Wake up for me, Liv. Come on, sweetie." He held his hands out, fingers splayed. He didn't want to touch her but he wasn't sure what he could do to comfort her. Her breathing was ragged and raspy as she sat up and looked at him. Her eyes reflected the terror she had witnessed.
"Oh God." She whimpered and bit her lip. The images flashing through her mind grew dimmer with each passing second. She struggled for air, her lungs starved for oxygen.
"Olivia, you've got to breathe. Take a deep breath. One breath. You can do it." He sat beside her on the couch leaned down so his mouth was even with her ear. He continued his mantra.
"I…I can't….I…help me. Please." She struggled to take in the smallest amounts of air. Spots danced before her eyes. She panted, breathing heavily. She felt his hand take hold of the back of her head and force it between her legs.
"It's okay. You're okay. Just take deep breaths. You've got to calm down. Count to three. See? You're okay." He eased the pressure of his hand and moved it to rest on the small of her back. Moments passed like hours and it felt like years before her breathing grew less labored.
"Elliot." She clamped her eyes shut, afraid the images would return. She reached behind her and grabbed his hand. She held onto it, afraid to let go of the one thing anchoring her.
"I'm here. I'm right here. It's okay." He squeezed her hand and brushed away the locks of hair that obscured her vision. He smiled at her warmly, hoping to convey that it was safe. That they were on his couch in his living room.
"Make it go away. Please." She started to sob uncontrollably, finally letting go of the emotions that she'd been holding in for so long.
"I'm trying, honey. I'm trying." He brought her head to his shoulder and felt her fingertips dig into his back. He rocked her slowly, hoping the smallest of gestures would ease her pain.