A/N: This chapter really gave me a headache, which is why it took me a few days to get it finished. I hope the end result isn't as bad as my brain is trying to convince me that it is.
Girl In Red – Serotonin
Birdy – Wings (That song is basically the entire soundtrack for this fic, hence the title, so I'll probably use it for several chapters. I just think it fits them so well.)
CHAPTER 3 – STAY SAFE
Her sense of direction has always been pretty solid. Growing up more or less self-sufficient in a city like New York kind of forced her to learn how to navigate her way through busy streets. But she's coming out of a four day drinking binge, and her head is pounding, her stomach growling.
So it takes her a short moment to make sense of everything when she takes those first steps outside of the hotel after giving the receptionist a polite smile. When she first saw him, she felt like adding "I'm the woman in room 314 and contrary to what the staff might think, I'm not insane, or dead." But she opted for the smile instead.
She's grateful for her sunglasses, shielding her from the scorching sun, and she's grateful for the Tylenol she popped before leaving her room. When she swallowed the pills, she briefly wondered if she should make sure that her travel insurance was in order. Just in case she needs a liver transplant while she's here.
All things considered; the late midday heat and her dangerously low blood sugar, it would probably be best to take a cab. But she doesn't know where she's going, and she figures her muscles might appreciate the change of pace after half a week in the fetal position.
So she starts walking, ignoring how unsteady and tired her body feels.
He keeps checking his phone to see what time it is, doing the math quickly in his head, waiting to be certain that it's not too early to call. When the clock hits 3 pm and he knows that they're both up, he finally calls.
"Couldn't wait any longer, huh?" Kathy mocks on his screen.
He gives her a crooked and slightly impatient smile. "Is he up?"
"Yeah, he's here."
His smirk turns into a wide grin when Eli appears on his phone. "There you are."
"Hi daddy!"
"Hi buddy. Did you have a good flight?"
"Mhm!" Eli nods enthusiastically, like the flight back to New York is the most fun he has ever had. "The people on the plane gave me coloring stuff and a tiger!"
Elliot often wonders where he gets that easily caused enthusiasm from. It's definitely not him. "Lucky you." He says, still grinning, all while ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest from not being able to reach through the device and hug his son. "Did you sleep a bit, too? Like we talked about?"
Kathy quickly chimes in then. "Nope."
"Sorry about that." He gives her a sympathetic chuckle. "How's the new place?"
"It's good. Spacious." She smiles, and he's relieved to see that it looks genuine.
"Are you excited to start your new school?" He asks, shifting his focus back on Eli.
"Yeah."
"Good, that's good. I can't wait to hear all about it. Listen, let me talk to mommy for a little bit. I'll see you soon, ok?"
"Ok, bye daddy!"
He waits until he's sure that it's just the two of them. Not that their son has never been present for these kinds of conversations, but it's different now when they're not actually together. Now that he can't actually comfort him if Eli gets scared or upset in any way.
"I just… I just wanted to ask if you can call me after your next doctor's appointment?"
"El…" She sighs. "You can't keep worrying about me."
"Let me be the boss of that, ok?" He says. "Look, I just wanna hear how it goes and know that the new doctor is ok."
"I'm sure it'll be fine." Kathy tilts her head and looks at him with nothing but reassurance in her eyes. She always did have a way of calming him down a little with that look. "It's just a routine checkup, you know that right? And it's been two years. If I'm not worried, there's no reason for you to be."
"I know." It's his turn to sigh now. "I know... But-"
"But you worry anyway."
"I worry anyway."
"Ok. I'll call. I promise. Go get your coffee."
"On my way."
"And stay safe, El."
"You too."
She tries, really tries, to appreciate the history and the atmosphere that seems to somehow live in, and pulsate through the air of this city. The smell of it, the sounds it's making. It seems like a total waste to be here and not be able to do that. It should be a bare minimum to just lift her head every once in a while, stop for a second and take in where she is.
Instead, she flinches at the sound of someone shouting across the street. She jumps when a car comes out of nowhere, and her empty stomach turns a little as the smell of sweat reaches her nostrils when a man walks past her.
It's such a stark contrast to who she used to be, who she really is, how she used to carry herself in New York. And she's not entirely sure if the contrast is supposed to make her laugh or cry. The latter is definitely most imminent.
She keeps walking mindlessly until her overwhelmed senses forces her to slow down. And only then does she stop to see if she can figure out where she is, and more importantly; If there's a café nearby where she can hide away for a bit, if only to calm her hammering heart enough so she'll make it back to the hotel in one piece.
He has lost count of how many times he's walked this route.
In the beginning he would stop at every corner, noticing new details, new reasons to appreciate the change of scenery. By now, it's routine, his morning walk to his favorite café. It's a little inconvenient, considering that his house is forty minutes away, but it gives him a reason to walk the streets that even after all this time provides him with an energy that New York just never did.
It's becoming more and more evident to him that he's turned into somewhat of a sucker for habits. Doing the same things, going to the same places. But after years of living with nothing but unpredictability, he can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the mundane and simple things in his life; Like walking to the same piazza, to sit down at the same café, to drink the same coffee.
Absentmindedly, she stops outside something that looks like a nice enough place to get what she needs, looking at the menu like she actually cares what it says. Maybe it's like the travel book she bought at the airport, the one still hidden away in her purse. Another sad attempt at pretending that she's just a normal woman on a normal vacation. Simply eyeing a menu, considering her options for a late, Italian lunch.
Instead, her body is ridden with anxiety and all she wants is to duck into a dark corner somewhere, to create some much needed distance between herself and the world outside.
"Tavolo fuori, signorina?" The waiter who suddenly appears out of thin air is looking at her with a big smile on his face.
No, god, no. Not outside.
"Dentro, per favore."
Just get me away from the sun.
He's relieved when he arrives to find that his favorite table is available. The one that gives him that perfect view of the busy plaza, the table he has spent countless of hours sitting at, alone, with Kathy, with Eli. He realizes as he sits down that he'll be doing a lot of this from now on; Getting coffee alone, eating alone, sleeping alone.
Just like the silence that filled his house the night before, he finds the realization to be as much of a relief as it is a burden. Either way, he's not unaccustomed to adapting. He can do it one more time.
She knows her stomach is going to punish her for it later, but the two espressos she just ordered are both equally necessary. She needs something to kick start her system and food just doesn't feel like an option just yet.
As the caffeine works its way through her body, slowly pushing aside the worst of her hangover, she decides that it's time she makes at least a slight effort to reconnect, to let her small world back home know that she's still breathing.
"Amanda,
Sorry, I haven't really been in the mood to talk to anyone.
You're probably right. I'm not fine. But that's why I can't be in New York right now. And that's why I can't work. Not really sure what I'm doing here. But I'm working through it. Or I will, work through it.
Are you doing ok?
Liv."
As expected, her screen lights up no more than five minutes later, and she empties the second espresso before reaching for her phone to read Amanda's swift reply.
"Liv,
I was this close to calling the Italian police to track your ass down. And no, I'm not joking.
I'm deciding to trust you when you say that you're gonna work through some stuff. Just, keep replying, ok? I know I can't relate to what you're dealing with, but I know how it feels when you just want to shut everyone out. It's not really sustainable in the long run, you know?
I'm ok. The squad room isn't the same without you, though.
A."
For the first time since she can remember, her lips curl into a small smile. Not because of Amanda's words, but because of this unlikely exchange of emails, and the fact that is seems like the blonde detective has taken it upon herself to step in as Lindstrom's substitute.
"Do you even work anymore or are you just on constant standby to answer my emails?"
She replaces her phone with the menu when a particularly loud rumble in her stomach reminds her that the strong coffee definitely isn't enough to get her back to the hotel. But as she looks over the countless options, one dish undoubtedly more delicious than the other, she's getting more and more tempted to just let her meal be liquid yet again.
I mean… I made it outside, right? Rewarding myself with one glass wouldn't be that bad?
She's just about to look around to see if she can make eye contact with a waiter when her phone lights up again.
"Constantly on standby.
Also, Liv: Wine isn't food. Eat something. You're in Italy for christ's sake.
Reach out anytime. I mean it.
Stay safe.
A."
She lets out a short and noiseless laugh, wondering for a second if Amanda has secretly followed her here to make sure that she won't fall apart completely. She wouldn't put it past the young detective to hide behind a newspaper somewhere, just to keep an eye on her.
After all this time, there's no need for him to place an order. He knows everyone who works here, and they know what he wants. But today, he kind of wishes that he was just a random stranger, just another tourist enjoying a break from hours of sightseeing.
"Dov'è la tua bellissima moglie e il tuo bel figlio, Elliot?"
"Back in New York, I'm afraid." He hopes that the look on his face is enough to tell Andrea that Kathy and Eli are not just home for a quick visit.
It is.
"Oh, mi dispiace sentirlo, amico mio."
"Grazie, Andrea."
With a sympathetic nod, Andrea places the coffee on his table before he turns to leave Elliot alone.
After being persuaded by the owner, who she found kind of endearing but also a little clingy, she's halfway through her caprese. And she must admit that the divine food is giving her a much needed boost. Enough to make her raise her head, to finally start noticing things.
Someone once told her that everything about Italy was good looking; The architecture, the food, the landscape, and the people. And now, for the first time since arriving here it's like her mind is finally clear enough to understand what that person meant.
It's true, she realizes. Everything is a bit more beautiful here. A lot more beautiful actually.
And it makes her wonder if that's what she needs. Something, or rather someone. Maybe kick starting her system is going to require a bit more than caffeine, if she's ever going to feel human again. To feel like herself again. To feel connected to the body that he made her hate so much.
At some point I need to get back on that goddamn horse, right? Maybe this isn't the worst place to do that. At some point.
She lets her eyes roam around the room, allowing her mind to wander to places where it hasn't been in nearly a year. If she can do that, she thinks, if only for a couple of minutes, maybe it's a sign that she hasn't lost everything. Or at least, that something is still salvageable.
Maybe someone like him.
Or someone like her.
Or someone like-
She stops breathing. The heart that's been pounding wildly in her chest since she left her hotel room, since she left New York, since she came home to her nightmare all those months ago, it stops.
Him.
Everything stops. The people she was just busy studying fades away, the hectic sounds from the kitchen and the street outside dwindles.
Him.
It can't be, but it is.
Him.
She would've recognized that face anywhere, anytime, miles away.
Him.
She hears herself whisper "Elliot", and that's when their eyes meet.
For the first time in three years.
Her mind is flooded by memories, words said out loud and words left unspoken. Crime scenes and glances and innocent touches that were never really that innocent. The fights and the silent apologies and all the times she pushed her feelings aside, wondering if he did the same thing.
She had waited. Actually waited for him to show up and save her. Even though she had convinced herself time and time again that she didn't want that, that she didn't want the safety of his eyes, the familiarity of his hands. She could, and she would survive without him. She did. Nevertheless, she had waited.
And he never came for her.
"I'm your partner, for better or worse."
For weeks, months after he left, she had imagined what she would do or say if she ran into him. Would she throw herself into his arms? Forgive him just like that, no questions asked? Or would she scream at him, for walking out on her like that? For abandoning her, forcing her to question every single aspect of their partnership.
"You know everything about me… Even the parts that I'd rather forget."
And now that she's here, now that he's sitting no more than twenty-five feet away, she still doesn't know what she wants to do. And apparently, neither does he.
"I'd give you a kidney."
"Not if I gave you mine first."
A sudden feeling that something is very wrong follows the immediate shock. Because somewhere, someone is screaming. Her brain tries to register the foreign words, but her eyes are still locked on him.
And then, in the blink of an eye, all hell breaks loose.
Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. The familiar sound of gunshots, but louder and more rapidly than she's used to.
The window that separates them shatters, and only then, when she's forced to, does her eyes move away from his. Because suddenly someone is pulling her down from the chair.
"Scendere!" "Get down!"
"Aiuto!" "Help!"
"Attento!" "Watch out!"
And then, after what felt like hours and just a few seconds all at once, there's nothing but silence.
She stays on the floor, cradled up while a stranger is shielding her body. For a while she hears nothing, sees nothing. The distinct smell of Rome, has been replaced by something else.
She keeps her eyes shut, waiting to wake up. Telling herself over and over again that when she finally raises her head, she'll be back in her king size bed.
"Ambulanza! Abbiamo bisogno di un'ambulanza!
"Ambulance! We need an ambulance!"
Except, this isn't just another nightmare. The screams now penetrating the air around her are just too real.
"Qualcuno aiuti! Gli hanno sparato!"
"Someone help! He's been shot!"
The stranger shielding her is gone now and her mind goes blank as she lifts herself up from the floor, instinctively keeping her body lowered, like she's in the middle of one of the many shootouts on the job.
But this time she doesn't have her gun to provide her with some sense of security. She doesn't have a badge to give her some sense of authority. All she has is her legs currently moving her from what was supposed to be her safe spot in a medium sized café in the middle of Rome.
"Elliot." She says, slightly louder than the first whisper of his name. Because he's no longer seated where she first saw him. He's on the ground, bleeding.
"Elliot." Desperation has taken over her voice now and she has to blink repeatedly to convince herself that this is actually happening. As surreal as all of this feels, she is actually kneeling next to the only man she ever truly trusted. The man who left, after years of wordlessly promising her that he never would.
Someone, seemingly out of nowhere, hands her a towel and she quickly places it over his shoulder, pushing it down in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The time it takes for the white fabric to get soaked with red is alarming, but at least his eyes are open now. And he's staring up at her.
Maybe it's just her imagination or maybe she is dreaming after all, because in all the years they worked side by side, she never saw him looking at her like this.
"I'm sorry." He whispers. "God, I'm so sorry."
A/N: TBC.