A/N: First, thank you so, so, so much for following along and for every single review and comment. It really makes my day and keeps me motivated. To answer the question if there'll be more flashbacks: Yes, there will be. I won't spoil how many, but there are still a few flashback chapters to go until we've reached the latest flashback before we've come full circle and close to where the story started in the present day chapters (which was April 2021)

Second: I know so far this story has been mostly dark and heavy because of trauma from the past, Amanda's eating disorder and of course the heavy angst between them. Warning: It's about to turn dark and heavy for different reasons (from chapter 17) And when I say dark and heavy, I mean twisted AF. No, I'm not gonna write a rape. But there will be violence, sexual assault and a lot of psychological terror.

All though I will definitely feel tempted to, I can't apologize for that in every single A/N, and at the end of the day it's my story and my f'ed up brain doing the writing. You can decide to join the ride or abandon the ship if it gets too much.

I will of course continue to add TWs for each chapter when needed.

For this one however, just a TW for talk about eating disorder. And it's set right where we left things in chapter 13.

CHAPTER 15 - AUGUST 2021

When she puts the pen down, Amanda's hands are shaking and her eyes are red from crying. She's tempted to read through what she just wrote, but decides against it because she knows it'll only lead her to question every single word and whether giving it to Olivia is a horrible idea.

She knows that if she doesn't give it to her now, she'll probably end up burning this letter within a few hours. So she walks out and into her kitchen to find her phone. A tiny smile appears when she reads the text from Olivia, sent less than two hours ago.

"Where are you?" She types quickly, and before she can put her phone down, it vibrates in her hand.

"Just got home. You ok?"

"I have something I need to give you, can I stop by?"

"I'll be here."

She is still contemplating turning around and throwing the letter away when Olivia opens her door.

Too late now.

"Want to come inside?"

"No, I... I can't. Sienna is bringing the girls home soon. But I wanted to give you this."

Olivia's expression changes from disappointment to confusion in a heartbeat when Amanda hands her the letter.

"It... Well, I guess it speaks for itself. Read it when you're ready and when you're alone."

"Ok?"

"And also... I'm gonna try and get a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I was wondering if I could get the day off. I normally wouldn't ask, but to be honest I'm a little..."

She bites down on her lip then, willing her tears away.

"Tired?" Olivia asks with a soft voice.

"A little." The detective admits.

"Need any help with the girls? I can ask Fin to run things for a few hours."

"Thanks, but It's fine. Sienna is helping me out, picking them up after daycare. Honestly feel like everyone but me is raising my kids at this point."

"That's definitely not true, Amanda. And the most important thing you can do for your girls right now is take care of yourself."

"I'm trying."

The captain tilts her head and smiles softly. "I know."

"I should get going. Just... read the letter." Amanda gives her a quick and unusually formal nod, but as she turns around to leave, Olivia grabs her hand and stops her.

"I'm really, really proud of you, Amanda. So proud." And then she gently places her hand at the back of the detective's head and kisses her forehead. Amanda allows herself five seconds to just stay in the moment before she pulls back, looks at Olivia one last time, and then she leaves.

Looking back, she would've done so many things differently, if she could. She would've said "Thank you. I really needed to hear that". She would've never left. Stayed there in Olivia's doorway, with the other woman's lips planted firmly against her forehead, feeling safe and loved.

When Olivia finally closes her bedroom door and sits down on her bed holding the letter in her hands, her heart is pounding in her chest because she has no idea what to expect when she unfolds the piece of paper that Amanda gave her two hours ago.

For all she knows, this might be her way of ending things all together.

With that in mind, she takes a deep and trembling breath and then, she reads.

Liv,

This feels stupid.

We see each other basically every day, so I should be able to say these things to you face to face.

But, I'm back in therapy, so I guess I do stuff like this now. Write letters.

First: I love you.

Just keep that in mind while you read. I love you. I've always loved you. And I will always love you. No matter what happens between us.

I should probably start by making a few things clear:

No, I don't have any other secrets to throw in your face. I haven't gambled in seven years. I understand if you find it hard to trust me now, but that's the truth.

And, I wasn't sick during my pregnancies. I guess, when it's not just your body anymore that's kind of the ultimate motivation to do the right thing. So I didn't do anything to harm my girls.

But yes, I've been sick for a long time.

So long that at some point, I don't know when, it just became a part of who I am. And lately I've felt like it's the only thing that makes me, me. And maybe that's why it feels so impossible to stop. Because I don't know who I am without it.

Sometimes, I feel like I just exist for everyone else; The girls, the job, Frannie, my family, and yes, sometimes you. Like I don't have anything that's just mine, you know? A place where no one depends on me, no one judges me, and I just get to react the way I need to. A place where I don't have to be the grown up.

I know that sounds childish. But I'm really fucking tired, Liv. Really fucking tired of being the grown up. I can't really remember a time where I didn't feel like I had to be the responsible one, when I didn't have to worry about everything, all the time.

In many ways, this is like an addiction, too. Because I get restless and shaky when I don't do the things that keeps me sick. Even though I know that it's hurting me, and only makes me feel better for a short moment.

I know it doesn't make any sense. I guess, unless you've dealt with it yourself, you can't really understand the power that it has over you.

And I know you, you've probably googled your ass off and made yourself go a little crazy by now? Well, trust me, google isn't really gonna help you with this one.

I never felt like I met any of the classic criteria to actually say that I have an eating disorder, and maybe that's why I never told anyone.

And it's not about getting skinny, or thinking that I'm fat. I don't necessarily like my body, but I don't walk around thinking I should lose another thirty pounds or anything like that. I don't even own a scale.

The problem is feeling full, having food in my stomach. It makes me feel anxious and powerless. When my stomach is empty, it makes me feel invincible.

Make it make sense, because I really don't know how. But I'm gonna work on that.

Stress makes it worse. And what happened with Bucci was definitely a trigger. And then covid happened and there was so much isolation, so little control and so much fear all at once.

Lewis was also a trigger. I hate myself for bringing him up like this. But I'm supposed to be completely honest here, and that's the truth. You already know I blame myself for what happened. Less after we talked about it all those years ago, but I don't think I will ever be able to completely forgive myself. I'll try, though.

And by now you're probably thinking "if stress makes you sick, then this job might be a tiny inconvenience" and I don't blame you for thinking that.

But honestly, this job has also kept me healthy for long periods of time. Stress and adrenaline is not the same. And when I do my job well, it keeps me focused and gives me a reason to eat, because then I deserve it.

I know, pretty fucked up, isn't it?

I'm not sure if I'm ready to delve into all the reasons I got sick in the first place. I'm gonna work on that, too. My parents, my sister, the high school bullying, the academy and Patton, it's all intertwined. Making things progressively worse through the years. But that's something I'll keep... exploring (apparently that's the kind of words you start using when you pay someone to listen to your problems).

Speaking of problems. I think I have some idea of what makes it worse, but I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes things better, what makes me healthier.

The girls, obviously. I did pretty good between getting pregnant with Jesse and having Billie. That's probably the healthiest I've ever been. And I really thought that it would last. That I could finally do it. I mean, I quit gambling right, and that almost cost me my career, so why couldn't I do this when I know that this can literally cost me my life, leaving the girls without a mother?

Of all the pain that comes with this disorder, that's the worst one, for me at least. Knowing that what I'm doing is extremely dangerous, reckless and stupid. Having so much to live for, but not being able to stop. The shame can be pretty suffocating.

So what makes it better?

The girls. The job sometimes. And then there's you. Wonderful, amazing, maddening, brilliant, beautiful you.

You make it better.

But, you also make it worse, as terrible as that might sound. Loving you isn't always healthy, and it definitely isn't easy.

I know we're different, but we do have something in common. We both come from a place that has made us believe that we don't deserve to be happy. And maybe that's why you keep pushing me away every time we get too close.

Maybe that's why I get sicker when I allow myself to be happy with you.

It's not your fault. Except for being just as much of an idiot as I am, afraid of what will happen if we decided to actually go for this, you've never done anything wrong.

Now that I have your attention, and since I'm writing this letter anyway, I have a few other things I need to say.

I'm so proud of you. So, so proud.

You truly are the strongest and bravest person I know. I know you had an entire life before me, that there are things you probably haven't even told me yet. But for the ten years I've known you, I've watched you walk through fire time and time again, and you never cease to amaze me.

I realize as I'm writing this that I should definitely tell you that more often, face to face, because god knows you need to hear it.

And I know you. I know that as confident as you may look, I know that you sometimes struggle, that you question yourself too often, that you beat yourself up. I know you sometimes feel like a bad mom because of your job. But trust me when I say that Noah is the luckiest kid on this planet, and he loves you so much.

Jesse and Billie loves you, too. And Frannie. I know she kinda favors me, but that's only because I feed her. It's nothing personal.

Jokes aside, it really saddens me sometimes, how much time you spend questioning yourself. If only you could see the way people look at you. The kids, the rest of our squad. All the people you've helped.

If only you could see you like I see you.

If you did, you'd know just how much happiness you actually deserve.

And that's the thing. I know what you deserve. I know that you deserve so much more than I can give you right now. And that's why I'm making this commitment, that I will do everything I can to get healthy.

I know, I have to want it for myself. I can't do it for anyone else. But fuck that. I can do it for me, and you. For us.

So, there you have it.

I kinda feel like the ball is in your court now, and I need for you to make up your mind. I know that it probably feels unfair and like I'm putting too much on your shoulders.

But that's where we are.

I need to know, because if you don't choose this, or choose us, then I have to move on. We both do. I don't know how exactly, but we can't keep doing this.

And no matter what your choice is, I will still love you, always.

So what's it gonna be, Liv?

A/N: It might take me a couple of days to get the next chapter finished, but hopefully you won't have to wait too long.