Author's comments: A little role reversal, anyone?

Better Days

Chapter Seven

Part One

Olivia yawned, and the days drew on at a maddening sluggish pace. Elliot had been tirelessly searching for Wheatley for days now. Olivia worried about Elliot, out there on his own, because she knew Wheatley would be looking for him too. And her.

She only knew of two things that could take her mind off the unbearable lethargic hours that seemed to never pass—sleep and food. Sleep was not an option. She tried, and sometimes she even got a few hours put away. But most of the time, sleep eluded her like an escaped dog.

So she went to the fridge. There was nothing instant—she would have to make something. But everything she thought of required milk, and she was out. She sighed.

Pulling on her coat for the first time in days, she realized now how long it had been since she'd set foot outside her door. How she had managed to stay cooped up in here for so long with so little sleep was beyond her. That would explain why she was so on edge. Well…that, and the fact that she'd been kidnapped, hung, and tortured like a piece of meat just a fistful of days ago.

She had taken exactly one step outside her apartment when the trembling began. It started with her hands, always her hands. But then it worked its way up to her face, causing her lips to twitch and quiver. And then her legs grew weak, and she wondered how she would be able to walk to the store. She didn't want to face anyone like this, but she needed the milk.

The trip to the bodega was fraught with imagined perils. She knew what the car that held her detail looked like, and that they were only here to protect her. But when they followed her, she still felt as if someone was out to get her. What if Wheatley had bribed her guardians? What if they'd sold her out?

She quickened her pace, despite her weakened knees. She quickly made her purchase and exited the store, her gaze darting around for signs of danger. This was no way to live. She made a note to start looking for Wheatley herself, even if she only searched online for clues of his whereabouts.

Her phone went off when she'd almost reached her building. She tried to check the number, but it was blocked. She shook her head and started to tuck her phone back in her pocket when the notifications sound chirped. Still walking, she glanced down to see that it was a text message, also from a blocked number. When she opened it, she halted mid-stride. The world around her started to fade into blackness, and her legs went numb and she had to catch herself before she dropped to the ground.

There, on her screen, was a close-up picture of Noah, and she could tell that it was recent. In the photo, she recognized the safe house where Noah had been dropped off, and he was smiling, busy playing with a light-up fidget spinner, apparently unaware that someone was capturing his image with their phone.

"Oh, no…" Her own voice dripped with a deep anxiety. "Oh no you don't."

She looked up from her phone and studied the scenery around her, trying to find Wheatley's face in the busy scene, like a dark version of Where's Waldo. If he was watching for her reaction, he was hiding himself well, probably from somewhere indoors.

A message popped up below Noah's image, saying, "Nobody is safe. Give yourself up. Elliot too."

A surge of panic squeezing her chest, she started to dart off in one direction, and then changed her mind and rushed off the other way. Visions of Wheatley luring Noah into a van clouded her brain, making decisions almost impossible. Her heart pounding so loud she thought it might deafen her, she called the only person she could think of in the moment.

"Elliot?"

"What's wrong, Liv?"

Surely he heard the agitation in her voice, which sounded in her ears just like it was—a mother fearing the loss of her child. "Wheatley sent me a picture of Noah. He knows, El. He knows where he is. We have to get him out of there."

"Oh, God. Okay, Liv—"

"Right now, Elliot!"

"I'm doing it." She could hear his fingers snapping at someone. "Just give me a minute, okay? I'm on it. Stay on the line."

She brought her fingers to her lips, listening to a hurried conversation in the background. The discussion was taking much too long for her, and she ran her hand over her head, unable to stop her incessant fidgeting. "El?"

But he was finishing up talking to someone. It took him much too long to return to her, but he did. "Liv? We've got it taken care of. He's moving as we speak, escorted by a fleet of cars, and they're making sure nobody's following."

"For how long?" She was close to tears now.

"What?"

"How long before Wheatley finds him again, El? If he even makes it to the next safe house…I want to see him." But she immediately knew it was a bad idea. Relentlessly pacing, she said, "No, forget that. I know that would just put him in more danger. Maybe move him out of state? Scratch that—too far from me. Oh, God, El, I can't do this."

"Liv…" She wished she could see his face, that they could all three be together in one room right now, and that being that way wouldn't put Noah's life in danger. She closed her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of Elliot's voice instead. "We'll get him to safety, okay? I promise. Do you want me to come home?"

"Yes, please," she whispered.

Her gaze flitted around again, searching for Wheatley's face one more time. If she did find him, she didn't care, she would whip out her pistol and shoot him in front of everyone. Instead, she looked down at her phone and hit the "reply" button.

"Fuck you Wheatley," she wrote, and hit send.

"You first," he sent back, with a smiley face. She wanted to throw her phone in the street and watch it get run over by a car, but before she could do anything that impulsive, she got one more text from him. "BTW, love that color blue on you."

She glanced down at her blue blouse as a reminder of what she was wearing, and then scampered into her apartment before he could swoop her off the street or hit her with a sniper shot.

Part Two

To get back to Olivia, Elliot had to battle a traffic jam and construction, and he nearly hit a pedestrian. He understood why she was frantic. Noah was her child, and he himself had nearly taken a shotgun to Wheatley's head when he'd messed with Eli. When he got into her apartment, she was waiting, wide-eyed and twitching with anticipation.

"Where is he? Is he safe?"

"He's fine. He's good. Just got confirmation that they got him into a place that's guarded like Fort Knox—"

"There's always a way in. Especially for someone with Wheatley's pull."

"Liv." He grasped her shoulders. "I know you're worried. It's going to be okay, alright? I promise."

She looked ready to protest, but she closed her mouth and took a deep breath. "Are we any closer to finding him?"

He glanced away at the ceiling, wishing he could give her a better answer. Instead, he pulled her to him, hoping that a hug would help her relax a little. She hugged him back, but she was tense, every muscle in her shoulders taut. "I'm sorry, Liv. You know I'm trying. He's dug in good. At least we know he's near, although that's not necessarily a good thing."

She pulled away from him, lost in thought, her finger jabbing the air. "No, actually, that might be a good thing." She took a breath like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself. And then she looked at him with trepidation. "Elliot, you remember that thing you said you'd do for me if I asked?"

Already he was shaking his head, and he tried to interject with a soft, "No, no, no…"

But she talked over him. "I won't feel safe until it's done, El. I can't relax knowing that monster's out there ready to pounce on my kid. My son, Elliot."

The last time she'd asked him to kill Wheatley, she'd been out of her mind from lack of sleep and pain meds. Today she was standing here completely sober, and serious as hell. He ran a hand over his head. "You can't ask me to do this, Liv." He couldn't think of a good reason. If anyone had the right to ask him, it was her. He owed her so much, and she deserved safety for her son, and for herself. She'd been through too much already. But he didn't think she had any idea how much an act like this would change her, damaging her for the rest of her life. He didn't know how to convince of her that, so he said, "You just…can't."

She huffed out a sigh and turned away from. "Well then, just find him, and I'll do it."

"Liv, no." He grabbed her from behind by the shoulder, and she yanked away from him.

"Get off me, El."

"Look, I'm not going to let you ruin your life—"

"You're not going to let me? You gave up any say you might have ever had in my life when you took off for a decade with your wife."

"Are you crazy?" He instantly regretted the words, and she looked at him as if he'd slapped her. "C'mon, Liv. You're upset. I get it. But that's what it is—it's anger and fear caused by recent trauma causing you to think like this."

"No, I'm sure, Elliot. You said you'd do it—"

"I know what I said." He ran a hand down his face. "Look, if I find him, and I go to take him in, and things get violent, like they always do with him…"

She stared at him with steely eyes. "Not good enough. I want to know he's going down, whether you do it or I do it. And I will, El. I made the mistake of letting Lewis live, and I paid for it dearly and nearly lost my life."

"Look, I know that was devastating for you, Liv. Maybe it's why you're over-reacting now—"

"Over-reacting?" She nearly shouted the word. She shoved past him and headed toward the bedroom. "Get the fuck out of my way until you grow a pair of balls, Elliot."

He wanted to yell at her, wanted to give her the full force of his wrath, but he reminded himself that she was still fragile, her suffering still fresh and amplified by Wheatley's actions today. So he just stayed planted and watched as she went into her bedroom and slammed the door.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure he wouldn't go ahead and do it, blow a hole in Wheatley's head, for her sake. But she couldn't know that it was at her request, or she would be the one who ate guilt sandwiches for the rest of her life. At any rate, he knew that he was going to have to act fast and find Wheatley before he found them, or before Olivia did something she could never live down.

Part Two

Elliot had no idea what it was like to live under the shadow of William Lewis' fury. So it was no wonder that he couldn't understand how urgently she needed to find Wheatley and take him down. Elliot had never been tormented, tortured, sexually assaulted, forced to watch others be tortured, nearly killed. He'd never seen someone who'd committed those atrocities arrested and sentenced to prison, only to have that person escape to inflict even more on his victim. He'd never had to wonder whether the next time his trembling finger pulled the trigger of the gun pointed at his head, he was taking his last shaky breath.

Obviously, he could never understand what that was like, and why he needed to end this twisted game right now. And so, she lay on her bed and ruminated, forming a plan in her head. If she couldn't get Elliot to go to Wheatley, she was going to have to draw Wheatley out in her own way.

It was decided. She would spend this one last night making up with Elliot and blissfully snuggled in his grasp. Because tomorrow, while he was away, she was going to make her move and end this for good.