disc: its been almost ten months since an update and i still don't own these characters
A/N: I don't have any excuses for not updating. Life has just been crazy upon crazy upon crazy. but don't worry, i already have the next chapter nearly finished so expect a second update soon!
Also, thank you to one of my best friends, purpleomaddy for giving this a quick proofread!
Chapter Twenty Eight - Rash
It was far too simple for her liking.
In order to understand it, she needed the fiasco. She needed the complicated words and the complicated steps. In order to understand how fucking horrible it was, she wanted to be able to completely misunderstand it all.
Instead, it was boring and basic. God, if her life was going to fall apart, she at least deserved it to be chaos.
It was as simple as two pills and three appointments a week for six weeks. Of course, she knew there was bound to be bumps in the road. There would be nights where her body would become overwhelmed with hell and there would be days where everything went wrong.
In some ways, strange ways, she preferred the simplicity. It didn't feel like any true part of herself actually wanted the chaos. The part of her that was living in the darkness was what craved the dramatics of what was to come. It felt unfamiliar.
Or maybe she just didn't know what the fuck she wanted.
Elliot had moved in. It took her a few weeks to realize that she actually did want that. At first, the apprehension came from the fear of his pity. She didn't want his pity. But, he knew her well enough to figure out how to make it feel like more than pity.
Parts of her were giving up on the things in life that weren't essential. Keeping even the bare minimum requirements in her life up to date was hard enough. Things like eating meals and brushing her hair were so damn exhausting. He was there to help with that. When her body was too tired and her mind was too numb to even remember what hunger feels like, he was there with a plate of whatever seemed appetizing. It was as if he could sense it in her. No matter what it was that she needed, he was ready and waiting with it.
A natural born care-giver.
She was too tired to beat herself up for relying on him.
Two pills, three appointments, a whole lot of hope, and Elliot Stabler. If she would survive, that's what she depended on.
_eo_
It started with a rash. She had no clue that another one of the scariest moments of her life would begin with something so small and simple. A raised patch of red skin on her outer thigh. Day three after beginning chemotherapy, the effects started to take place.
There was a lot she didn't have energy for anymore, one being the embarrassment of having Elliot hold her hair back as her stomach rejected its contents. On any normal occasion, she would've shoved him away for trying to help her. God, when was she going to learn that normal occasions were over? She wasn't leaving a vic's house, losing her lunch in a nearby shrub while Elliot pretended not to hear. That was back during easier times - easier times that seemed so hard.
She hid the rash from him. He was already concerned as it was, she didn't need him to be even more worried.
He'd moved in, settling in nicely to the former guest room. He didn't have much stuff other than necessities - most of his belongings were at the studio apartment he had rented for his time with the kids. A dresser, toiletries, some clothes, and his favorite movies. He didn't need much else. But she knew that being around hadn't eased his mind as much as he had hoped. On the off chance she was actually awake, she could hear him when he tossed and turned in the night.
It wasn't a disruption to her. Just sad.
His worry for her broke her heart. But even the sound of him tirelessly flipping over in his bed did bring her some sense of relief. He was here - she wasn't alone. No strangers from out-patient care would have to be around her during her time of need. Just Elliot.
She knew that in a few weeks, his time off of work would come to an end. He'd have to return, given that he had no lawful reason not to be at work. They weren't married and he wasn't the sick one. In the eyes of the force, he should be at his desk right now.
Deep down, she didn't want him to go back. She'd never have the ability to admit it to herself, of course not. But it was the first time in her life that the shoulder she was leaning on was meant for her to lean on.
On the other hand, the idea of him coming home to her after work… well. She wanted to refuse to get used to that. However, it seemed to be their brand - doing things out of order. Or wrong all together. He would be coming home to her, but not really. Not coming home for her.
God… they were roommates.
If it didn't cause a crippling ache in her chest, she would've laughed at that.
_eo_
The rash was growing as days passed, but her clothes covered it. It's a side effect, she told herself. Doctor Keller had warned her that her body would be under attack. Rashes and nausea and a litany of other horrible things were on their way. She didn't let herself believe this was any different.
It was coming on winter now, covering her skin wouldn't be out of the ordinary.
Every morning when she woke up, there was a glass of water placed on her bedside table. She never actually heard him come in, but it was always there. Next to the growing row of orange bottles. Two chemo drugs, an antiemetic that didn't work, something to help with the headaches, and more ibuprofen than she had ever seen in her life. There were others too, she just couldn't remember what they were for.
Elliot remembered. He kept a constant list.
And every morning, next to the glass of water, her medications were already plucked from their respective bottles.
Her joints hurt too much to open the child-safety locks on the bottles, and her brain was so damn foggy she would likely forget to even take them.
She was right about him being a natural born care-giver. He was methodical and meticulous. He thought of the small things that would normally go right over her head. Things like Gatorade and Pedialyte in the fridge. Soft and easy foods that she could handle eating - at least for the most part. Chapstick for when the chemo made her skin crack.
She should thank him more often - she thought. Except, every time she did, he told her that he knew she would do the same for him. And he was right. If roles were reversed, no force of nature could have stopped her from being by his side for every moment of it. Holding his hand just as tightly as he holds hers.
_eo_
Hiding secrets with two detectives under a roof was damn near impossible. Especially when Elliot was as eagle-eyed as he had been.
She'd known the moment his brows had furrowed that he'd spotted it. Sitting on her couch, both of them cradling bowls of chicken soup, he saw her leg. The rash had spread further, meeting halfway down to her shin now. She tried to readjust the blanket to cover her leg, but he saw it from where he was.
"Liv?"
"It's a side effect, it's no big deal." she rasped. Her mouth was sore, just like everything else. But it had reached a point where her voice sounded distorted.
"Does it itch?"
"No." Yes.
He grabbed the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. "You're lying, there's scratch marks on it."
Yes, it itched like a thousand fire ants had crawled up her leg.
"Keller said to expect something like this. I'll put some rash cream on it after I shower," she rushed to get the words out, hoping it would quell his anxiety.
It wouldn't.
He gave her a wary eye as he turned the volume back up on the TV. There was no use in arguing about it. He was worried, she wasn't - story of their lives.
"Have you ever seen this episode before?" Olivia asked, taking a slow sip from the spoon in her hand. She was never one for suspenseful shows, but even Elliot couldn't deny that she always seemed happier after watching X-Files. He had only been living with her for a short period of time and even he was starting to believe in aliens after watching so many episodes.
"This is the Cops one, right?" Elliot grinned softly. "I think I have seen it, actually. They shot the whole thing like a Cops episode?"
"Yeah," she nodded with a hint of a smile.
"I remember turning it on once thinking it actually was Cops, next thing I know that coroner dropped dead in front of Scully from the Hantavirus." Elliot snorted through his nose and rolled his eyes playfully at the ridiculousness of it.
"It wasn't the Hantavirus!" Olivia exclaimed as much as her voice would allow. "It was the monster using their biggest fears against them! Her's just happened to be the Hantavirus."
Elliot sighed, not bothering to hide his smile. "Good grief."
_eo_
11:30 in the morning and she wasn't out of bed. A normal occurrence as of recently. Chemo was depleting her of nearly all her energy. It was getting harder for her to sleep at night from the pain in her body, and by the morning time she was exhausted from not sleeping.
He knocked softly on her closed bedroom door, not wanting to startle her. "Liv, you up?"
"Yeah," she responded weakly.
The door opened carefully, as if he was bracing himself for what he was about to see. "I'm gonna run out and grab some groceries. We're low on Pedialyte and I don't want you to run out. You gonna be okay for a little while if I step out?"
"Mhm," she nodded, throwing her aching arm over her eyes. It was too damn bright in her room and she was beginning to wonder why on Earth she had painted the walls white. It only made it brighter.
He spotted the pills on her bedside table. "You take your meds yet?"
"Not yet," she grumbled. "Was sick earlier. Didn't wanna throw them up."
He walked over to her side of the bed, scooping the pills into his hand and lifting the straw towards her lips. "Here," he handed the capsules to her as she slowly sat upright. "I can stay back if you want, I'll go later."
She downed the handful of pills, cringing as she sipped through the straw. Her head shook. "No, no, I'm good. I'm gonna try to get some sleep."
"Okay," he nodded cautiously. He pressed his hand to her forehead. "You don't feel warm but you look a little red."
"I have poison in my body," she slumped back down against the pillow. "If I turn into the color of a shamrock, I'll be worried. But I think flushing is normal."
"Okay," he chuckled at her dismissal. "I've got my phone on me, call me if you need me, okay?"
She didn't answer, just offering him a weak thumbs up as her eyes closed. He shut the door behind him as he departed, leaving her and her aching body behind. Her eyes burned with the need for sleep, and who was she to deny herself of it?
The rash was worse, but Elliot didn't know. After the night he had seen it, she had managed to cover it up. Though, it was spreading to her other leg and up along her stomach. That didn't help the fact that she wasn't able to sleep at night since she was up digging her nails into it to try to relieve the pain. Her skin itched like burning poison ivy. It's normal, she reminded herself. It's normal because right now she had toxic chemicals in her body.
Elliot worried too much. She was afraid that if she started to worry too much, she'd never get better - spending too much time finding things wrong rather than right.
Her eyes burned worse, forcing themselves closed to alleviate the ache of sleeplessness.
The last thought that ran through her mind before being consumed with sleep was how her throat was starting to itch.
_eo_
Elliot entered the apartment carefully, trying not to rattle the grocery bags too much. Olivia looked so exhausted when he left - more so than usual. He'd heard her up in the night, the sound of her body flipping side to side on the mattress.
He spent a lot of nights listening now. Just listening. Fatherhood had trained him to sleep lightly, managing to survive on only a few hours of thinly veiled rest. He knew there would come a day when he'd be thankful for that awareness. Still, he prayed otherwise. If something happened to her in the night and he wasn't able to catch it in time, he'd never forgive himself.
As soon as he had settled the groceries into their respective locations, he tiptoed down the hall towards her door. As carefully as possible, he cracked it open just to see if she was asleep.
What he saw was not a welcomed sight.
"Holy shit, Liv!" he shouted, running over to the side of her bed. Her breaths were barely audible and when they were able to be heard, they were more of a wheeze than an inhale. Her face was red and blotchy, swelling towards being beyond recognition. He mumbled several curse words under his breath as he tried to recall his first aid training.
Unconscious, anaphylactic shock… turn them on their side.
He did the best he could to move her onto her side, using pillows against her back to keep her in the position. His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted back to the kitchen to grab his phone. That's when he saw his radio on the counter and realized that it would be faster to go straight to dispatch.
"SVU portable to central, 10-99! I need a bus at 203 West 89th street! MOS found unconscious, showing signs of anaphylaxis. She uh - she has cancer. We need a direct route to Sloan-Kettering. I repeat, 10-99!"
"Central to SVU portable - how long has she been unconscious?"
Elliot rushed back towards her, his brain swimming in adrenaline. "I-I'm not sure! I was gone for about an hour." He pressed down on her neck, desperately searching for a pulse before he felt a weak thrum under his fingertips. "She has a pulse but it's thready."
"SVU portable - there's a pile up on 5th and Madison. Traffic is at a halt and 2/3rds of our EMS members are there. Do you have your squad car?"
"Yes! Yes I do," he shouted into the radio. His free hand was patting her cheek, trying to get her limp body to wake up.
"Does the MOS have an Epi-Pen? Or anyone in the surrounding area?"
He stopped to think, closing his eyes as he did a deep dive into every word of information he had filed away in his brain about Olivia. He could've sworn that several years of memories swarmed in front of his eyes as he racked his brain.
Shellfish.
April 5th, 2002. Munch brought in crab rangoons from take-out one day and Olivia wouldn't go near him for the rest of the day.
Without responding to the radio, he shot back up towards the kitchen, rifling through every drawer and cabinet. The last drawer he checked, he spotted the bright yellow pen. He made it back to her bedside at the speed of light. Uncapping the blue top, he remembered the rule of thumb that he had been taught when they discovered Maureen had a peanut allergy. Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh.
He pulled down the blanket that was over her legs, revealing the bright red rash throughout her entire body. With one sharp thrust, he plunged the orange-capped needle into her thigh until he heard it click. Holding it in place, he picked up the radio and called back in.
"I administered the Epi-Pen," he sighed with relief. "Now what?"
"Load her up in your squad car, I'll guide you on a route around the blocked off roads."
With her still unconscious, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed out of the apartment. Luckily, the doorman spotted them as he made his way out towards the lobby, holding the doors open for him to keep his speedy pace.
The doorman followed him out to the squad car, helping Elliot lift Olivia into the backseat. The finagled with the seat belt as best as they could, haphazardly buckling the belt over her body. In a quick moment of clarity, he saw her breathing had somewhat evened out, coming steadier despite her unconsciousness.
With his reds and blues flashing, he sped out of the parking space faster than he'd ever driven before.