Hello! See, I promised I'd update faster this time- and I did. Have I ever mentioned how much I love all of you? Because I really do. And if you haven't already, feel free to follow me on twitter: lucythespencer. Come see how little of a life I actually have!
A/N: This chapter covers events in Amaro's 180 and Wednesday's Child. I've altered the canon timeline a little- because for one, it doesn't make sense, and for two...it suits my creative purposes better, and isn't that what it's really all about? Me making myself happy? Anyway, there's small bits of sex and violence to warn you about, but it's really quite tame in comparison to some of the past chapters. Also, a warning for large amounts of obnoxious little brother!Nick, a small mention of Kathy and her cervix, and a tiny amount of implied rollaro that you'll find if you squint really hard. Title and quotes from hurricane by something corporate, which is an awesome song if you need something upbeat for a blah winter day. And that's all!
{shout out don't drown the sound
I'll drown you out, you'll never scream so loud
as I wanna scream with you}
Barely 24 hours had passed since Nick had come to stay with you, and you'd already started questioning the wisdom of this arrangement.
It began when you came out of your bedroom to find him talking animatedly to someone- on your phone.
"Nick. What the hell? Who is it?"
"Your boyfriend," he mouths.
"What's he want now? He just left."
Nick mimes laughing and wiping away an imaginary tear. "Not him, the other one!"
You roll your eyes, grabbing your phone out of his hand and flipping him off as you head back toward your room- because c'mon, you're not going to stand for being mocked in your own home. Gotta have some kind of standards.
~~~90 minutes later~~~
"El...fuck. Please."
He doesn't say anything in response, but you can hear his breathing getting heavier with every exhale and you let out a whine, thighs clenching and unclenching to try and relieve some of the ache between your legs.
"Please, c'mon," you repeat as you shift the phone against your shoulder. He'd been keeping you on edge for almost an hour, teasing you with strict instructions that you weren't allowed to touch yourself until he gave you the 'd played along up to this point, but now he had you turned on as fuck and told you to keep your hands at your sides, even though from what you can hear on the other end of the line, he's decidedly not doing the same. "You've gotta give me something. Anything."
He gives you a low chuckle, like this son of a bitch thinks tormenting you is funny. "You're so wet right now, aren't you...god. Bet you'd feel fucking incredible."
"Damnit, El..."
"It sucks having to hold back, huh? Kinda like how I spent 13 years wanting to bend you over my desk and fuck you right there." You're honest to god whimpering by now, the phone next to your head as you turn your face toward the pillow to muffle your voice. "You ready yet?"
"Oh my god, fuck you, I swear to-"
"Do it," he finally says, and you're coming practically before he can finish getting the words out.
~~~45 minutes later~~~
Freshly showered and satisfied, you saunter out into the kitchen and stand in front of the fridge as you look for your newest juice creation.
"That stuff smells like rotten vegetables," Nick says when you sit down on the couch next to him, looking at once both amused and highly uncomfortable. "So. Uh. You and Elliot. I'm guessing that's a thing again?"
"I don't know if I'd call it that."
"Then what would you call it?" he asks.
"We're just...we're back to being on speaking terms. We're talking."
"I'll say."
"And what's that mean?"
He stands up, clapping you on the shoulder as he walks by. "Yeeeah. Just a heads up- you're not as quiet as you think you are."
{shake down you make me break
for goodness sake I think I'm on the edge
of something new with you}
You walk into the squadroom with your head held high and a bit of a nervous smile on your face. Today is your first official day back at work post-trial, and even though you've actually come in for the last few days because of the whole shooting fiasco with Nick, you still had a hard time sleeping last night because of the anticipation. You tell yourself that everything's fine, that the nauseous feeling in your stomach will go away as soon as you sit down at your desk and get back into your old routine. You're not scared. That would be ridiculous. You've done this job for 16 years, and you're damn good at it, and that doesn't change just because it feels like the entire world now knows your weaknesses. You're the same person you've always been and this is where you belong. He didn't get to take that away from you before, so you're certainly not going to let him win now.
When you finally get settled, you look over and see that Cragen's office is dark. "Where's he at?" you ask Fin, the only other detective here with you. Nick's been temporarily banished, of course, and Rollins...well, she's late because she's Rollins.
"Meeting at 1PP," he says ominously. "Told me he didn't know when he'll be back."
You grimace, and not just at this questionable news. Your stomach feels like someone reached inside your body and shook it a few times before turning it upside down. "I'm gonna go get some water."
Fin nods, eyes trained on the screen of his laptop as you stand up- and nearly miss puking on him.
"I'm fine," you say, crouching down in front of the trashcan, face flushed from embarrassment and the sudden wave of nausea.
"Yeah, you look like it," Fin deadpans. "Here, lemme go get you a drink."
You mumble your thanks and pull yourself into a standing position slowly, cautiously. "I'll be in the bathroom..."
Your original plan was to brush your teeth, splash some water on your face, and be done with it. But a half hour later, Fin was tapping awkwardly at the women's room door and you were still throwing up.
"I'll be okay, just give me a few more minutes and I'll be back out there."
"That's what I'm afraid of. The only place you need to be goin' is home."
"But I just got here. I've been at home since before Christmas, I'm not leaving now," you protest before you start another round of dry heaving. Well. That sure strengthened your argument.
Long story short, you lost this battle. The next three days were spent mostly in bed, with the occasional trip to the couch for a change of scenery or to the kitchen in order to look around and confirm there was nothing that you could force yourself to eat right now.
Fortunately (or not), you weren't home alone all this time. Nick was still waiting on the administrative paperwork that had to be submitted before he could go back to work, which meant you had yourself a buddy with whom you could watch endless amounts of daytime TV- all the talk shows and game shows and sitcom reruns that you'd become so familiar with.
Today you must have fallen back asleep during the Golden Girls, because when you woke up, the TV had been turned off and Nick was tapping on your closed bedroom door. "Hey Liv? We've got a guest out here."
"What? Who?" It took maybe eight hours after he arrived for Nick to make himself part of the family, saying things like 'our apartment' and 'what we're having for dinner', all of which amused Brian to no end. "Nick, if you're dragging me out of bed for some kind of prank, I swear to god I will-"
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't Elliot, complete with takeout bags from your favorite deli in hand.
"Oh. Hi," you say almost shyly. "I thought you were working..."
"Yeah, well, that's the good thing about being your own boss. I don't have to answer to the man anymore. And then Junior called and said you were still home sick, so I thought I'd come by- and I brought food so you'd let me in the door." He leans over like he's about to kiss you on the cheek, but then he sees Nick watching him and straightens back up.
Nick continues to stare at you both as you go into the kitchen to put the food away and Elliot starts interrogating you about your health. "It's not fatal, I promise. Brian's fine, so I doubt it's a virus, it's probably just from lack of sleep."
Elliot nods. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you close the refrigerator door, and you exchange 'so what now?' looks before turning your attention toward your new roommate.
"Don't mind me, just pretend I'm not here," says Nick, who appears to have made himself cozy and settled in to watch whatever entertainment the two of you might provide for him.
"This is a grownup conversation. Not for you." When he doesn't respond to your warning, you sigh and look back at Elliot. "Let's just go in the other room."
"I don't think I'm comfortable with that," Nick offers.
"And I don't think I asked you."
"How am I gonna feel sitting out here knowing what's happening at the other end of the hall?"
Is this what you missed out on, growing up as an only child? "Nick, I can barely get out of bed, do you really think I'm going to- you know what, no. I'm an adult, this is my house, and I can do whatever I want! I don't have to get your permission...c'mon," you say to Elliot, giving Nick a glare to warn him that you will have your revenge sooner or later.
"Fine, but you better not shut that door!"
You click the lock closed as loudly as you can.
{so pull me under your weather patterns
your cold fronts and the rain don't matter
because the sun burns what I needed}
You awake to an unfamiliar feeling- hunger. You're not sure how long you've been sleeping, although judging by the warmth in the space next to you, Elliot must have just now left. You'd fallen asleep with his arm around you after spending an hour or so talking (yes, Nick, just talking). You weren't going to let things go further than a few lingering kisses, not when you knew Nick was probably on the other side of the door listening- and besides, you weren't lying about being exhausted. The last thing you remember is closing your eyes and smiling, your words muffled by a yawn. "I could get used to this."
"Hmm?"
"I said..." you trail off, suddenly aware of the implications of what you've just blurted out. "This is good. I'm glad you're here."
"Me too. I'm...me too."
You open the bedroom door and are about to say something when you hear Nick's voice and you pause.
"Just so you know, man- if anyone asks me, you were never here today."
"Appreciate that," Elliot says. "Thanks."
"Nah, don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you, only for her. For whatever reason, she still wants your ass around...so I've got her back. Even if I disagree."
There's no way you're going to speak up now, not when you've stumbled upon such an interesting conversation. "So what, you're on Team Dumbass?"
"Nah, still can't figure out what she sees in him. But he loves her, he treats her well...you know what my problem is with you? That you matter too much to her. I don't like it."
"And what am I-"
"I was in the ambulance with her on the way to the hospital from...God, she'd kill me if she knew I was telling you this," Nick says, and you raise an eyebrow even though no one can see you. "But she asked about you the whole time. She was so out of it and still she remembered your phone number- I kept calling and finally had to lie to her and say you're on your way, just so she'd calm down."
"I was in Mexico. I didn't-"
"But that's not what really got to me. You know what did?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
"She doesn't remember any of this. And I'm not gonna mention it to her, cause I don't wanna bring back old memories or...anyway, later on I got to see her after, uh, after everything. We were sitting there in the room, just her and me, and all of a sudden she freaks out, starts crying and wondering where you were. So I was trying to think of how to say that you weren't coming, but that's not why she's upset," Nick says, and he's right, you have zero recollection of seeing him in the hospital other than when you first arrived, so this is a new story to both you and Elliot.
"Where the hell was dumbass?"
"Munch was forcing him down to the cafeteria to eat something. I don't think the dude had had anything but coffee for the last two days. Hell, I don't think I had either, but- she's crying, I'm talking barely able to breathe, I thought she was gonna end up hurting herself. And she's begging me not to tell you, that you can't find out...she didn't have any idea about all the publicity, she wasn't even thinking about that. But she was so afraid that I might have told you, because you would be disappointed with her. That you would blame her for what happened because she wasn't able to defend herself."
"I would never-"
"That's not important! I don't know why she thought that, but it doesn't matter. What matters to me is that she'd just been through absolute hell- kidnapped, tortured, ra- she almost died, and yet the first thing on her mind is that a dude who hasn't spoken to her in years might think it was somehow her fault."
"Jesus," Elliot says under his breath, and you know even without looking that he's rubbing his jaw like he does whenever he's digesting bad news. "I'm...damnit, I know what this is about, but- she really said that to you? That I'd blame her?"
"You think I'd bullshit you about it? Look, we both know she blames herself, and I'm sure she thinks everyone else does too. But you were the one whose opinion mattered the most, even when she was drugged out of her mind."
"Fucking hell...I would never."
"But does she know that?" Nick asks skeptically.
"It was years and years ago. I was angry at myself and I took it out on her and- shit! I guess I just assumed she'd realized that I was saying things I didn't mean..."
"Seems like you've got a habit of that, getting pissed off and taking it out on her." Nick pauses, and when he starts speaking again you can hear the scowl in his voice. "I dunno what all happened with you guys before Christmas, and I don't really give a shit about the details. All I care about is that she thinks it was her fault. Again. See the pattern here?" Elliot says something you can't make out, but Nick's reply is loud and clear. "I love her, man, she's like a sister to me. More than my actual sister, even. And no one fucks with my family. Especially not after...going in to get her out of that place, it was brutal."
"You shoulda killed the fucker."
"I thought she already had. Truth was...and this stays between us...I was too busy with making sure she was okay and trying to mess shit up before everyone else busted in behind me."
"Mess shit up?"
"Yeah. Like I said, I had one minute, two tops. I knew I didn't have much time but...ah, fuck. She was fuckin terrified, I heard it in her voice, and so...I wanted to go in first, just me, cause I knew it'd freak her out to have all these people rushing at her." Elliot makes a sound of approval at hearing this. "Anyway, so I only had a couple seconds to look around but...I knew right away this hadn't just happened, if you get what I'm saying? The way he was lying there, the way that bedpost had been set aside...it was all too perfect. When she originally called me, she said she had just fought him off right then, but...it couldn't be."
You grip the doorknob tighter, wondering if Elliot will give away your secret, but all he says is "So you messed shit up a little."
"Exactly. But even now- I dunno. There's something I still don't understand. When I got in there...you could smell bleach coming from somewhere. Couldn't figure out where, but it was obvious."
"You think he'd been trying to clean up?"
Nick scoffs at that. "If he was, he did a piss-poor job of it. There was blood everywhere- shit, sorry. I'm sorry, man. Maybe I shouldn't have said that."
"So if that wasn't it..."
"The only thing I can think of- and I'm telling you this because I know you won't sell her out, not because I trust you- is that it was her, that she was the one getting rid of...whatever. Because once we got to the hospital, she made me promise that I'd lie and say I heard water running when I was on the phone with her."
"And you did it?"
"Of course," Nick says, like he's insulted that Elliot would even ask the question. "She didn't wanna tell me why, and so I didn't push. I still don't know the reason, but I imagine it had to do with...trying to make it look like it was self defense, that she didn't deliberately go off on him."
"Jesus. And she still...she assumed I'd think she couldn't take care of herself. Shit..."
"Remember, you can't tell her any of this," Nick cautions. "But God...ah. How much do you know? I mean, about what happened?"
"Too much."
"We've never talked about it, her and I, which is okay. I don't need to know all the details, but from the little bit I heard in the ambulance...I'm not gonna let any other son of a bitch hurt her. She's been through enough, she doesn't need to be dicked around by some asshole who wants to have it both ways-"
"Okay, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. It's not as simple as-"
"Hey. Man. My wife and I are separated, things are up in the air, and I don't know how it'll all play out. I don't even know how I want it to go, now that I've got a...never mind. We're not talking about me here. Point is, your life's complicated, I get that. You've got kids and...I'm not telling you to get a divorce or whatever, that's not my place. But what I'm saying is, whether you want it or not, you've got this hold on her. I don't understand it. I've tried to talk some sense into her and she doesn't want that, she wants you. So lemme ask, and be straight with me- do you love her?"
Your heart's been pounding so loudly this entire time, and now there's this momentary pause in the conversation and you swear that every beat is echoing off the walls. "Yeah. I...more than anything."
"Good. Now fucking act like it."
{the world moves faster than I knew
not fast enough to not creep up on you
and the space we put between}
"It's not really that complicated once you know how everyone's related. See, I'll draw you a family tree."
Nick picked up a piece of paper and started sketching during the next commercial break, which included an ad for leggings with some sort of 'magic crystals' in the fabric that would eat away at the extra fat in your thighs. His evenings revolved around watching this insane telenovela that you barely understood even once you turned on the subtitles, mainly because all the characters seemed to have an IQ of about 75 and no concept of cause and effect, but he still spoke of them as if they were his close personal friends.
"Now look, it's so simple. The brunette, she and the blonde are half sisters, except they don't know it because the redhead who's trying to steal her boyfriend tampered with the DNA test. But she does know that the guy with the mustache is her brother. He came to town looking for their dad, who's actually dead, but he's sticking around to try and help her find out who's framing her for murder, and- what the hell are you doing?"
"Uh, eating? I'm finally hungry," you say, gesturing to the bag of potato chips sitting in your lap.
"Yeah, but you're dunking them in...is that cranberry juice?"
You nod. "It sounded good. And it is good, you should try it."
"That's like something Maria would've eaten when she was pregnant," Nick remarks before turning back to his show and motioning for you to be quiet.
Shaking your head, you reach for another chip. That's 's no way you're knocked up, not when you just had your last period, you remember it well because it was the day of your housewarming party...which was held the weekend before Thanksgiving.
Oh.
Shit.
{well maybe this time I can follow through
feel complete, stop paying dues
stop the rain from falling, keep my ocean calm
this time I know nothing's wrong}
"You must wanna be really sure," the bored-looking cashier at the drugstore remarks, voice loud enough to draw the attention of the people behind you as she points to the boxes containing three different brands of pregnancy tests.
You give her a little one-shoulder shrug as if to say 'guess so'. You'd honestly never been in this situation before- your only prior experience was with a test stick from your roommate's stash- and you hadn't realized that there were about 2000 different kinds to choose from. Jesus, you feel like you should call Kathy and get her to help you decide. She's gotta be an expert at this by now. Of course, she'd probably just tell you to listen for the sounds of your cervix changing colors or some shit like that.
The irony of asking her for advice isn't lost on you. Hey Kathy, I might be pregnant, and there's a very minute chance that it's your husband's baby. *Very* minute. The thought had crossed your mind, of course, but you quickly dismissed it. You only had sex with him twice, both times with a condom. Compare that to however many times you'd slept with Brian...mathematically speaking, Elliot wasn't the father. End of subject. After all, you can't argue with math.
"So what one you want?" the girl asks, bringing your attention back to what's in front of you.
"Pardon?"
She rolls her eyes. "Which one do you want it to be? Positive or negative?"
"Oh. Um. I'm not sure yet, I guess," you say, much to the seeming disappointment of everyone around you.
"Hey." She cocks her head to the side, making a loud popping sound with the gum in her mouth. "I know you. You're that lady on TV, the one that was kidnapped by the crazy rapist dude."
The Greek chorus in line behind you starts murmuring in recognition, and you suddenly realize that your purchase could be giving off the wrong idea about your past with the 'crazy rapist dude'. Hot tears start forming in the corners of your eyes and God, you are so fucking hormonal today. "Yeah. I, uh..." You shake your head, grab the little plastic bag and walk away without bothering to collect your change.
He didn't rape me, you want to scream. Hell, according to a jury of my peers, he didn't do anything. At least not anything that I didn't want. Just like he said...I was begging for it.
You've gotta calm down, you tell yourself. Stress is bad for the baby, for your little bean that you've been imagining when you're awake and alone in bed all night, the one you love so much even though you're not sure it actually exists yet. Sure, the timing is all wrong and the idea of parenting is terrifying when you can barely take care of yourself some days. But it could also be exactly what you need, something that would close this chapter of your life for good and usher in a new start. Someone who you would love and be loved by unconditionally, who would give you a reason to get your shit together because you're not alone anymore. Someone who would be completely untouched by all this ugliness of this last year and wouldn't know or care about everything you've done and all you've been through.
You tug at the collar of your coat, hiding yourself as much as you can from the stares of the people passing by. It feels like everyone's looking at you. It always does. Well, everyone except Brian, who's been doing his best to not look your way at all. He's still been avoiding you, just like he has ever since the trial ended, and the combination of his long hours and Nick's presence has made it easy for him to do. Of course, you're not exactly trying to fix it. You're scared to talk to him about all but the most mundane topics, and even the thought of letting him touch you is enough to send you running to the shower to scrub off your newest layer of self disgust.
Goddamnit. You're not going to cry, not now. You can't. You have a stick you've gotta pee on.
{you don't do it on purpose but you make me shake
gonna count the hours until you wake}
Your phone vibrates underneath your hand and you nearly jump out of your seat, feeling like an electrical current is running through you.
Fin looks in your direction and frowns in that way where he's wondering what's going on but he's too smart to ask questions. "You gonna get that?"
You nod vigorously and reach down for the still-buzzing phone, hurrying toward a more private location. Everyone will probably hear the rumors soon enough, you know that, but it doesn't mean you have to make it easy for them to start digging up the dirt.
"Liv? Hey, what's wrong?" Brian sounds a little panicked, but you suppose that's to be expected when you answer the phone but don't actually, you know, say anything.
"Oh, hey, no. Nothing. Nothing's...everything's okay."
"That's...good," he says when you don't offer any more information. "You told me to call when I had a minute?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I did...I know this is probably a bad time or whatever, but I didn't want to wait and...I didn't wanna talk about it in front of Nick."
"Okay, now you're scaring me a little here. Unless we're gonna talk about when we can evict him."
"Bri...no. That's not what I..." Your fingers automatically gravitate toward a fresh scratch mark on your forearm, pressing on it until you feel the sting. "I guess I...I thought I was pregnant. But it was a false alarm."
"You...wait, what? I'm confused."
"About what? I realized I hadn't had a period since before Thanksgiving and thought that...anyway. It's not- it was negative."
"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I just started thinking about it last night," you lie. "I didn't want to bring it up until I was sure."
"But you're sure now. I mean, that's why you called, to say you're sure you're not," and gee, when you put it that way...you're starting to wonder if it was a good idea to have this conversation in the first place. Now all you need is for him to ask if you're positive that he's this non-existent baby's father. Jesus Christ, you've seen way too many episodes of Maury lately.
"Three different tests, they all said no, so..."
"So," he repeats, and then it's his turn to be responsible for an uncomfortable silence. "You know, it's probably for the best, right? We weren't really planning on it and...I'm not disappointed or whatever."
Or whatever. "Yeah. It was a long shot, anyway, being on the pill and at my age and...y'know what, I'm gonna let you go now. I'll be late for therapy if I don't, so...I guess I'll see you tonight?"
"I'm just finishing up some paperwork and then I'm leaving, so- yeah. I'll be there when you get home."
"Good. That's...good."
"You sure you're okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine. It's. It was nothing."
{you don't say 'these currents are still killing me'
and you can't explain
but the wind went and pulled me into your hurricane}