A/N: We're back in 2021 and dealing with some heavy stuff, again. TW for eating disorder (only conversation wise, no actual behavior).

Also; If you're struggling with food PLEASE reach out to your doctor, a therapist or anyone in your life that you trust. I was sick for 22 years, and lost so much because of this nasty disease, so I know how incredibly hard it is to get help and get healthy.

Happy to say that today I'm healthier than ever and that it IS POSSIBLE no matter how many years you've been struggling.

Ok, back to the story and our poor girls.

CHAPTER 13 - AUGUST 2021

"This feels a little weird."

"Meeting me for coffee?"

"No, no. Talking to you about..."

"About her." Phoebe nods as she finishes Olivia's sentence.

"But you're the only one who knows about us and the only one I could think of that might have some insight into what's going on with her." The captain gives a quick and polite smile to the waiter when he places their order down on the table, but as soon as he leaves them alone, the smile is gone.

There haven't been many reasons to smile lately.

"I'm confused." Phoebe admits as her hands come up to cradle the large mug in front of her. "And to be honest, all I saw were two women standing suspiciously close together in a public restroom. I don't feel like I really know anything. So give me something to work with here."

Olivia leans back and sighs when she realizes that the woman sitting in front of her is right. She can't really talk about this without actually talking about it. "Fine. Like Amanda told you, oh so eloquently in your wedding, we've kinda had this... thing. Going back nine years."

"That's a lot of years."

"It is." Olivia nods while looking down at her coffee.

"And now it's getting complicated?"

"It has always been complicated. We've been through so much, together and apart, but somehow she's just been this… safe haven."

"So, what changed? And what insight is it that I supposedly have?"

"Everything and nothing changed. We started acting more like a couple, we had that first real "I love you", but we, no scratch that, I freak out every time we try to address it, to make it official."

She's suddenly flooded by memories from the fight at the cabin, kicking herself for not being able to just say and do the right thing, whatever that might've been.

"And where does my insight come into this?"

The captain clears her throat and shifts a little in her chair. Finally talking to someone about her relationship with the detective is hard enough as it is, talking about Amanda's health is a whole lot worse, because it makes it so painfully real. "Your sister. I remember you telling me about how she was... anorexic?"

Realization spreads across Phoebe's face then. "Amanda is sick."

"I don't think it's anorexia. To be honest I'm not sure what it is, but yeah, she's definitely sick."

Phoebe's usually warm smile is replaced with a sad look in her eyes as she reaches across the table and grabs the captain's hand. "God, Liv, I'm so sorry."

"And just so you know, she knows I'm talking about this with you, so I'm not going behind her back or anything like that."

"Good, that's good." She says as she lets go of Olivia's hand. "They hate it when you do that."

They. People with eating disorders. It just seems so ridiculous and out of place that Amanda suddenly belongs in that group. And yet, it makes perfect sense.

Ever since that night in New Hampshire, Olivia has been going back in time, analyzing every little detail she remembers. Trying to pick the memories apart and understand when she should've known that something was wrong.

All those times the blonde had excused herself after a lunch in the break room, or when she had skipped lunch all together because of a sudden "errand"? When she complained about not getting back in shape fast enough after having Billie, or when she was late to work and her eyes looked red and glossy? That time when she nearly passed out after chasing down a suspect only to blame her dizziness on the heat, even though no one on the squad knows how to handle a sweat quite like their southern detective?

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

"So, that's where we are. I'm in love with a woman who's been dealing with a deadly disease for twenty seven years and I didn't even know."

The other woman gives her a sympathetic look then. "You really shouldn't beat yourself up, Liv. That's how it works. People with eating disorders are masters at hiding it, until they just can't do it anymore."

"But I'm a detective for Christ's sake, I should've noticed it. It's literally my job to notice things."

"Excuse me for being blunt, but it's not like the last nine years have been rainbows and sunshine for you either. And like I said, people who are sick like that... hiding it is part of the illness."

"I just... I'm so worried about her, but I'm also... really mad. I don't understand why she felt like she couldn't tell me." Admitting her anger feels absolutely horrible, but she's been unsuccessful at ignoring it ever since she opened her eyes to the brutal truth three weeks ago.

"There is so much shame that comes with an eating disorder. And in my experience, the longer a person has been sick, the more they feel like it's just a part of who they are. It's like an identity thief. And the more they get sucked into it, the harder it is to crawl out and ask for help."

"I feel so lost here. I'm so used to being on top of things, being in control, knowing what to do, and now I have no idea."

"Do you love her?"

Olivia's response is immediate and without hesitation. "Yes."

"Like, want to spend the rest of your life with her love her. No more fucking around. Literally."

Screw it.

"Yes. Yes, that's what I want."

When she actually says it loud like that, she's flooded with a mix of immense relief and a heavy sorrow. Relief for finally being able to say it, sorrow for the fact that it has taken her nine years to do it, and that it might be too late.

"Then just be there for her, Liv. Let her know that she's loved, that you'll support her, that she can trust you. Be that voice that helps her fight the demons she has in her head. Be her advocate. Be in her corner, because god knows she's gonna need someone in that corner if she's going to beat this."

I can do that. And if it takes kicking and screaming to get to the other side of this, then I'll still be there, cheering her on.

Olivia immediately pulls out her phone as soon as Phoebe is out of her arms and turns around to leave. And then, she finds Amanda in her contacts.

"You've reached Amanda Rol-"

She hangs up and decides that a text will have to suffice.

"I know you asked for time. Just wanted you to know that I'm here when you're ready to talk. Miss you."

Amanda is too anxious to focus on anything except getting the next hour over and done with, and so she doesn't notice how her phone vibrates against the countertop in her kitchen.

Instead she waits impatiently in front of her laptop. Her leg is bouncing restlessly and her normally comfortable sofa suddenly feels like a pile of rocks against her nervous body. She's just about to change her position for the fifteenth time when Dr. Hanover appears on her screen.

"Hi, good to see you again, Amanda."

"Thanks for seeing me like this." The detective returns her smile a little awkwardly. "I'm just not... I don't think I'm ready to set foot in your office just yet."

"That's very understandable, and after covid this is the new normal anyway. I'm just glad you reached out. It's been a while."

"It has. A lot has happened."

"So, let's just jump right into it."

Easier said than done, but ok. Let's go.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you, during our first sessions."

"Clients rarely are."

"The thing is..." Amanda timidly bites down on her lip, bracing herself for the string of words that are about to tumble out of her. "I think I've had an eating disorder since I was fourteen. I mean, maybe it's not even an eating disorder, I have no idea. And also, I've been sleeping with Liv for like nine years but maybe that's completely irrelevant, or maybe not, I-"

"Wait, let me stop you right there." Dr. Hanover says as she holds up a hand.

Amanda leans back on the couch then and tries to catch her breath after her rushed and messy speech.

"What kind of an eating disorder?"

"I don't know. Mixed? Is that a thing?"

"It can be. Why don't you tell me what you're struggling with before we worry about a diagnosis."

Diagnosis. So clinical, so foreign.

"I've been throwing up since I was a teenager. But I don't do it every day, I can even go months without. Like when I was pregnant. I mean, obviously I threw up when I was pregnant, but I didn't make myself sick. I guess I run a lot too, but I don't know if that counts."

"Do you feel like you have to run to deserve food? Or do you get stressed if something stops you from running?"

"Sometimes. Yes."

"Then it definitely counts. And when you throw up, is that because of a binge or...?"

"Not always. It depends. Sometimes I just do it because I'm stressed, sometimes it's more... planned."

"Has it always been like that?"

There are so many reasons why she has never talked about this, and she has to fight the urge to not throw the laptop across the room when the shame of it all overwhelms her.

"All I know is that when I started doing it at fourteen, it gave me this… temporarily escape from everything that was going on around me. And over the years it just kinda became my thing."

Dr. Hanover nods a couple of times, and Amanda finds that it's impossible to read the expression on her face. Her hands start to fidget in the time it takes for the Dr. to start talking again.

"Ok, so here's what I want you to do. I want you to make a doctor's appointment as soon as possible and do a full work up. And then I'm gonna need you to talk to your doctor about a meal plan."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. If we're gonna work through this together, we can't do it with a brain that's low on fuel. You have to start with your body first."

"But I don't know where to start." Amanda admits, kicking herself for how childish she sounds.

"Are you comfortable with your current doctor?"

"He's ok."

"Talk to him. If you feel like he's not the right person to help you with this, there are lots of specialist out there who can. You have to do this for yourself, Amanda, but that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

"Fine." Amanda says followed by a single nod. "I'll make an appointment."

"Good." Dr. Hanover gives her an encouraging smile before she continues. "And you mentioned something about Olivia that sounded important?"

"Hm, yeah. I think I'll need like twenty sessions if I'm gonna get through that story."

"Sounds complicated?"

"In every sense of the word."

"What's going on between the two of you right now?"

Everything. Nothing.

"She didn't know that I've been sick. Found out when we were on vacation a few weeks ago. And then we had this huge, ugly fight and now we're doing a time out."

"Time out?"

"I didn't know what else to call it. But yeah. I realized when we were driving home that... That I can't breathe. I can't breathe when I'm around her."

"What do you mean?"

"Not knowing what we are. Never knowing if she will suddenly decide to find someone else. Doing the relationship thing without actually being in a relationship, and hiding it from everyone. It's... I guess at some point it turned into this massive weight. Which I guess is kinda ironic given what I just told you."

"Have you told her that? The part about how you feel like you can't breathe?"

"No, but I did say that we both needed some time to figure things out. But we work together, it's not like I can avoid her completely."

"And how is that? Working with her now?"

"I mean, we have nine years of experience with pretending everything is normal and fine, so that's not new."

"Still, things sound more intense now?"

"They are." Amanda admits, suddenly feeling deflated, like she just finished a goddamn marathon. "To be honest, I'm kinda exhausted."

"No wonder. I mean, with your health, everything that's going on with Olivia, being a single mom and having a high stress job? Anyone in your situation would be exhausted."

It's weird having someone say it out loud like that. For so long she has convinced herself that she's fine, that she just have to push herself a little harder, ignore the way her hands seem to shake constantly, and how she barely sleeps at night. But hearing Dr. Hanover's validating words makes her realize that she just doesn't have it in her anymore.

"I guess you're right." Amanda mumbles, almost more to herself than the Dr. "I don't really have a plan, though. I mean, I was the one who suggested our time out, but we can't exactly keep doing that forever. And I really miss her, I just... don't know how to talk to her right now."

"Have you considered writing her a letter?"

She stares at the other woman with a confused look on her face. "A letter? Like a real, actual letter, on paper?"

"Yes." Dr. Hanover laughs. "On paper. A good old fashioned letter."

"No... Why?"

"Some people find that it's easier to get things out in writing, when you don't have to worry about the other person's immediate reactions and feelings. You can just write what's on your mind, without holding back because you don't have to be scared of what she'll say or do. And she can choose when she wants to read it, when she's ready."

"Ok..."

"Look, it's just a suggestion, and if it's not for you, don't do it."

"I'll think about it."

She feels absolutely drained when she finally closes her laptop, grateful that she still has a few hours before Sienna comes back with the girls.

More than anything Amanda just wants to lay down in the fetal position and sleep for as long as she possibly can. Instead, she takes a deep breath, walks into her bedroom and finds a notepad and a pen.

She stares at the blank piece of paper for a few minutes, having absolutely no idea where to start, but knowing that if she doesn't do this now, she probably never will.

MANHATTAN PSYCHIATRIC CENTER

"So, Henry." The redhead smiles as she starts collecting her things to leave the room. "I've been thinking about what you said, about talking to detective Rollins in person."

"And?"

"I think I might be able to assist with that, if that is something you feel would help with your recovery."

I knew you'd somehow come in handy.

"So you think it's possible, what we talked about?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way. Just be ready tomorrow morning at nine am."

As the door closes behind her, a small smirk spreads across his face.

I can't wait to see you again, Amanda.

A/N: What happens tomorrow at nine? And what's in the letter? Relax, unlike L&O I'm not gonna drag it out. But first, another trip down memory lane in the next chapter.

(Also, I'm guessing by now everyone has figured out who Henry is talking to? So raise your hand if you hate her with your entire soul.)