A/N: Oops. I shamefully forgot to post this and as I was getting ready to post the final installment, I thought I'd better do this first. Wow. That's embarassing:) Thanks, everyone, for hanging in there and for all your kind words. You rock!
"Say hello to the posterchild of the NYPD." Munch slapped the paper on the desk.
"What the…" Fin abruptly removed his feet from the desk and stood to get a closer look.
"Son of a bitch. Damnit, Owenson." Cragen stormed into his office and slammed the door shut. The blinds slapped against the glass several times before stilling. A few choice words could be heard through the walls of his office.
"Wouldn't want to be her. Damn. Elliot's going to blow a gasket. Where is he?" Fin glanced around the room, realizing he hadn't seen either one in a while.
"I saw them going upstairs earlier. I think Liv had an appointment." Munch found it hard to read any further and, with a quick flick of his wrist, sent the offending object into the nearest trashcan.
"It's just like them to do this. What do they think this is? Leverage to get her to talk? If she wanted to, she would have by now." Fin shook his head and bit off a piece of his candy bar. He glanced down into the receptacle and stared at the image. Even in black-and-white, he could tell it was her. The bold, thick letters above the image portrayed Olivia to be a glorified hero. Under the picture was the caption "911 tape reveals what really happened in the fiery crash that claimed four children and two adults".
"Didn't know Olivia called it in." Fin peered over the desk and craned his neck to read past the folds in the paper. Just like many, he was drawn into the text. He hated that he was so interested.
"I don't think she did. The way I heard it was she was first on scene and tried to help the people inside get out. Grapevine says a bystander heard the explosion, came upon the scene and called it in. Guy just stood there and watched. Can you believe the insensitive prick?" Munch shifted his glasses back on his nose and sat down in a huff.
"Figures. I don't know why people read this stuff. Should be a crime. Probably all twisted around." Fin wrapped up the remains of his candy bar and tossed it in the trash on top of the paper.
"Yeah, well, a lot of things should be against the law. You have the Mendoza file?" John held his hand out and grabbed the phone to make his calls. Thankfully, work had been slow enough to where he didn't need to bother Olivia and Elliot.
xxx
"What first led you to believe something was off? What sticks out in your mind?" George crossed one leg over the other and sat back.
"The excess speed. It was going really fast. As it went by, I saw that there were kids in the back. I knew it was going to end badly so I started to run toward the van." Her legs bounced up-and-down slightly as she spoke.
"How did it end? What happened?" George could tell by the way her legs suddenly stilled, that she was nearing the point of no return.
"Uh…the…the…van…it slammed into the tree. The horn started going off. I…I…I got there and the uh…people in the front were already gone. Then, I thought I heard something. The yelling." She spoke in fragments, her sentences a jumbled representation of the events.
"Then what?" George waited, expectedly.
"I tried…I started pounding on the glass but it wouldn't break. I grabbed the handle and it was too hot. The back of the van had filled with smoke. I couldn't see inside. The kids were screaming but I couldn't get them out. I kept screaming at them that I was trying. I was trying." She started to openly sob.
"You did the best you could. The metal was too hot for you to hold. What'd you do after you found out you couldn't open the door?" He urged her on, knowing it was good for her to get it all out.
"I tried to find something to get the handle with. I went back to the van. I had the cup in my hand. I promised I was coming back. The fire was loud and the horn was blaring and I yelled as loud as I could that I would help them. I promised. I…then someone pulled me back. Damnit, I was close. The van blew before I got the chance. They didn't scream after that." She stared down at her hands. Her breath hitched. A hand came into her view, holding a Kleenex. She took it and dabbed at her eyes with shaking hands.
"C…can I hold you?" Elliot spoke for the first time. He'd sat there and watched her wage a battle with her memories that he wasn't sure she'd win. A slight nod was all he got in response to his request. He reached out and enveloped her into his arms. She clung to him and sobbed like he'd never heard before.
"Oh, God." Olivia grabbed fistfuls of Elliot's shirt in her hands. She tightened her grip when he moved, afraid he would let go.
"Shh…I'm just scooting closer. I'm not leaving." Elliot rubbed a hand down her back and up again in a soothing manner. He looked over his sobbing partner at George. He raised his eyebrows, a silent question. What do I do?
"Olivia, I know this is hard for you. I need for you to hear this, though." George cleared his throat and waited for the broken woman before him to turn and face him. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip, leaving two wrinkled masses of fabric in her hands' wake.
"Wh…what?" Olivia felt Elliot's hand take hers and squeezed it as she covered their joined hands with her free one.
"The autopsy results came in. By the time the fire reached the back of the van, the children were already unconscious from the smoke. Olivia, do you understand what I'm saying?"
"What? But I heard them. I…" Olivia's voice trailed off as she racked her brain for what the new piece of information could mean. She shook her head, hoping the information would settle into a more meaningful manner.
"They passed out, Liv. The fire killed them but they weren't conscious when it did. Right?" He looked to George, who nodded.
"I…I don't understand. I let them down. It was my fault. I heard them and I didn't save them. I swore I was coming back." She tried to pull her hands out of Elliot's grasp but couldn't.
"Olivia, Melinda is the best at what she does. She gave me a copy of the results the minute she found out. She knew you'd want to know." George walked over to Olivia and kneeled on the floor beside her chair. He looked up at her as realization hit. Finally.
"I've spent so many nights reliving that moment. I think about it all the time. Then all the other stuff came and I was so sure. I just don't…I…" She fumbled for the words to explain how confused she was.
"There have been countless studies about this. The mind fills in the blanks when something like this happens. You knew there were children in the van. You were upset that they didn't make it. Your mind led you to believe that it was your fault. Then, as you started to remember, the picture became a little distorted and you started to believe certain things happened. It doesn't make you crazy or delusional. It's just that, after the fact, the guilt becomes so great that your whole understanding of how things actually happened becomes altered. Let go of the guilt, once and for all. You did all you could do. Accept that and move on." George patted her back and stood.
"I…" Olivia let out a long, ragged breath. She sat there until she felt herself being pulled up.
"Come on." Elliot led her out of the door and down the stairs. He jerked his head toward the door when he spotted Cragen. The older man understood, and nodded.
"They didn't suffer." It was a statement, more than it was a question. Her mind repeated it, as a mantra.
"They didn't." It was all he said. The ride home had been silent. He kept his eye on her. She had a far off look, like she was back there at the scene. He wondered how long it would take her to stop going back to that place.