Update time! I told myself I was going to finish another TG chapter before the month was over, and I made it just in time. This chapter may be shorter than some, but it's progress, right?
Thank you, as always, to everyone who reads...and especially to everyone who comments either here or on twitter. I love hearing from you and y'all always make me feel so loved!
A/N: this one is pretty mild, but beware of zonkeys. Title and quotes from fallen by sarah mclachlan, other quotes from release me by the like (which is catchy as hell and a total bensidy song). Onward!
{we all began with good intent
when love was raw and young}
[Liv- Thanks for giving me a chance and letting me know you're alright. Glad we could talk and wish we could do it again but I know you need time and that's ok. Tho I hope you really will call when you're ready.]
[No- thank *you* el. It was good to hear your voice. Take care of yourself and hug your kids for me and we'll talk soon. I promise I won't leave you waiting long.]
{wish you knew I'm not the one for you
you're not the one for me and I can't stand it}
Dr. Christiansen asks how things have been between you and Brian, and the only answer you can come up with is "Okay...I guess?"
"You guess?" she repeats.
"Yeah." It feels like something you shouldn't be guessing at, something that you should be able to answer without tacking a question mark on at the end, but that's the most you can articulate about it right now. It's okay- you guess.
You've gone over a week without drinking now. The first couple of days were hard in general, what with being in pain and still reeling from your terrifying trip to the hospital and everything that led up to it, and it was easy to think that there had to be some sort of relief you could find at the bottom of a bottle just like you'd found it so many times before. Then you recalled why you kept drinking more in the first place- because you never did find whatever it was you were chasing after, but drinking seemed preferable to doing nothing, as if passing out was somehow more proactive than sitting alone with your thoughts. So you kept your promise and didn't consume anything stronger than water, not even coffee, and part of you hated to admit it but you really did feel better. You had less trouble sleeping and surprisingly enough you felt more relaxed, less paranoid about being constantly on guard against even the smallest perceived slight.
You were putting away laundry one afternoon when you remembered something, one of those tiny airplane liquor bottles that you had tucked away in the pocket of an old coat in the back of your closet. It was tempting to keep it there- after all, you'd probably forget it again soon anyway- but you knew what you had to do.
"I found this," you announce to Brian as you walk past him on the way to the kitchen, holding up the bottle for him to see before you poured the dark liquid down the sink.
"Ah, okay?"
"I didn't want you to see it in the trash and wonder where it came from," you explained, even though it was more likely that he'd be wondering where the contents went. You'd briefly considered pouring it out in the bathroom and then hiding the empty bottle somewhere until you could take it outside without him noticing, but then you'd thought about what he'd told you before, about how he hated the secrecy more than the drinking, and it made you change your mind.
He didn't say much about it, just thanked you quietly and went back to whatever he was reading. But a few hours later, during a timeout in the Rangers' game, he turned toward you and mentioned that by the way, your gun was back in the drawer where you usually kept it. He squeezed your hand and no more words were needed. You understood.
"That sounds like a step forward," Dr. Christiansen says, forever the eternal optimist. "Rebuilding trust in each other...last time we talked, it seemed from how you described it that the two of you were pretty distant mentally, even though you were spending more time together. Do you feel any closer now?"
You give her a sardonic smile. "Funny you should mention it...about spending time together and being closer and all that. Brian got this idea out of God knows where that we need to go on vacation. As in, right now. He'd leave tonight if I went along with it and it's driving me fucking insane. I mean, what is he thinking? I told him, Bri, where the hell are we even going to go...I've been away from work way too much lately to take any more time off, he's leaving again in another week or so, and we're both broke. I said why don't we just table that for now, get through the winter, and we'll talk about it in a few months. But he keeps going on and on about it anyway."
"Hmm. So it's obviously important to him- do you know why that is?"
"No idea. Before, over the holidays, we'd talked about going on a cruise this summer. Something to look forward to when all...this...was over. But now when I think about it- that was such a naive thing to say, 'when it's all over'. The trial's over. The rest of it doesn't have an expiration date." When she suggests that maybe you shouldn't rush to judgment when the trial was barely a month ago, that you might feel differently six months or a year from now, you shake your head. "But he doesn't want to wait that long! He's probably home getting packed as we speak."
"Do you feel like he's pushing you, like he thinks you should be over it and have moved on by now?"
"No. Not at all. He's never been...if anyone's pushing to move on, it's me," you admit. "I guess that maybe...well, okay. Last Christmas, so a little over a year ago, we went to the Bahamas for a week and a half. Just the two of us. It'd been a long shitty year," and you laugh to yourself a little when you say that, because at the time you had no idea that 2013 was going to be infinitely worse. "He got shot, he lost his job, someone close to him was murdered...so anyway. We decided we needed an escape- I was a little hesitant about the whole thing because hell, I didn't even know if we were seriously dating yet- but it turned out amazing. The entire time was...it was like we got a break from being those same people we had to be every day. I said fuck it, I'm turning off my phone, we're gonna pretend we're in this bubble where things back home don't exist."
"Maybe that's why he's so insistent that this is something the two of you need. He wants to go back to that place- not physically, but back to somewhere you can feel like that again."
You chew on the inside of your bottom lip, thinking this through. "What you just said, it reminds me of...I think it was right before the trial. I was looking in his wallet for something, don't remember what, and I found this little folded up piece of paper in there stuffed behind everything else. It was this horrible picture of us in our hotel room, I couldn't believe he actually printed it out because it was so bad, just this out of focus selfie that I had taken of the two of us when I'd had way too much to drink at dinner," and even now the memory of that night makes you smile, how neither of you could stop giggling like overgrown teenage girls and how you realized the next morning that drunkenness and a digital camera was a terrible combination. You'd promptly erased all the evidence but there was apparently one you missed (and thank God it was a solidly PG-rated one). "Anyway, I kinda laughed and asked him why the hell he picked that picture, out of all of them, as the one to carry around all the time. He sorta blew me off, saying he just thought it was funny or whatever, and so I kept bugging him to get rid of it. And finally, he got really quiet and he said-" You pause, letting a sudden wave of emotion roll over you before you speak again. "He said he kept it because it reminded him that there was more to us than...that we existed before all. This."
She lets you sit in silence for another few moments. "What's going through your head right now?"
"That he doesn't get it, that it doesn't work like that. I'm not that person anymore and even if I could be- that whole thing, it was just temporary. We can't stay in that bubble...I can't even get into the bubble in the first place, you know? This person I am now, I can't turn that off for a week and act like nothing ever happened."
"And it wouldn't be realistic for him to expect that- but from what you just said a minute ago, you don't think he does. You said you don't feel like he's trying to push you into being this different person, this person who's 'over it'."
"He's not," you say. "He just...the only thing he's pushing is that we go on this damn vacation right away, like the clock's ticking down to zero."
"Is it?" When you look at her strangely, she explains. "The last few times you've been here, you've talked about how you don't see the relationship lasting much longer and how you're preparing for when it ends. Maybe he's feeling some of that time pressure too. Maybe it's not so much that he's trying to change things, and more that he's trying to hold onto what he has now."
"No. That's ridiculous." There's no way he wants to hold onto you, to this current version of yourself. How could he? You may be crazy, but you're not delusional when you look at yourself in the mirror every morning and struggle to find anything worth saving. Even if love is blind...it's not stupid. Not forever, anyway. "Besides, he doesn't even know that I'm...it's not like we've talked about breaking up. We haven't made plans or set a date or something."
"But you still seem like you're in a hurry. Why is that?"
It's not that complicated. "Because I don't know what he's thinking, and even if he wants to stay together right now, I know it won't always be that way.
So I need to be the one who leaves him before he leaves me."
{I'm lost to those I thought were friends
to everyone I know}
When the knock at the door comes, you open it to find a tired-looking Nick standing in the hallway, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Come on in," you urged, and he ambled inside and plopped himself down on the couch. He still had your spare key and you had told him he was welcome to let himself in, so you try not to let yourself become unnecessarily hurt that he didn't take you up on the offer, like he wasn't sure if he was truly welcome at your place anymore. Of course, how could you really blame him after the way you threw him out before? "Don't worry, I sent Brian to the store so he won't be around to bother you."
He managed a little smile at that. "Well, I'll still keep my pants on in case he comes home early," he jokes back, referring to the time when you and Brian came home to find him lounging on your couch in nothing but his underwear and Brian very nearly insisted on taking that couch to the dumpster, claiming it was now 'contaminated'. You suspect it was just jealousy. Nick's like a little brother to you and so the idea of actually hooking up with him is beyond weird, but you're not blind- the man has nice abs.
You both laugh nervously at his joke and then go quiet, neither of you quite knowing how to proceed until you simultaneously say something along the lines of "I'm so sorry I-"
Another fit of nervous laughter. Finally Nick manages to blurt out "Really, I'm sorry. I feel so shitty about...I came back as soon as I heard, God, I was so worried."
"No, Nick, it's my fault. I didn't know Fin was going to tell you anything, and- I'm okay, honestly. I didn't intend for you to rush back and leave your family..."
"It's not a big deal. Zara had stuff going on all weekend and Maria," he says with a shrug, trying to look unbothered and failing miserably. You have a sudden recollection of a late night call from Maria when you were barely conscious- something about him stalking her, maybe?- but you decide not to mention it until your memory returns to you. "Anyway, I had a lot of time to think on the drive down and I realized I'd kinda been treating you like shit. And then I get this call that you were in some sort of accident and...are you alright? Truthfully."
"That depends. Whatever I say, are you going to tell Elliot?" you ask, enjoying watching him squirm a little.
"Liv, I swear to God I thought he knew. I was just..."
"Fishing for information? Then why didn't you call Brian?"
"Elliot and I had some things to- look, I'm sorry," he says. "I should've let you be the one to tell him, I know."
"I don't know if I would've...but, I mean, it's okay. He called me, we talked for a few minutes, it was. Nice, I guess."
"So you two are cool now?" You imitate his shrug and accompanying facial expression he gave you when you asked about Maria, and he gets the hint. "Hey, that's fine. I...fuck. I mean it, Liv, I hate how we left things and when I found out you got hurt..."
"Nick, stop. I'm-"
"Let me guess, you're fine?" he asks gently, eyebrows raised in skepticism.
You look down at your hands, at your wrist that's still bruised and swollen. "I will be."
"I know you will. But I wasn't helping things by being an asshole. I shouldn't have left you when you were obviously in no condition to be alone-"
"Hey, no. I was the one who kicked you out, remember? That's on me, and I...like I said, it's my fault. I just couldn't deal with anything after..." You shake your head, remembering what Amanda had promised you, although you still didn't know for sure how much of that she had genuinely meant. "Rollins probably already told you."
"Told me what?" he asked, looking like he truly didn't know.
The tears are starting to spill out of your eyes before the words even come out, and you don't exactly know why but you have to tell someone, you can't keep it inside any longer and Nick is the safest choice, maybe the only safe choice but- "I remembered something," you admit, not looking him in the face. "Something I didn't know I had forgotten, about...and I just didn't know what to do."
"You- wait, what? And you told Amanda?" He sits up straighter as he waits for your response- it's not that he's angry, just bewildered.
"No, no I didn't but...God, just ask her," you say dismissively, because you know they'll end up talking about you anyway and so they might as well do it with your blessing. Besides, you trust that he knows where to draw the line as far as what he tells Amanda about you, that whole argument about him entertaining her with tales of you and Elliot aside. "But I couldn't stop thinking about it, about-"
Your voice is tiny and pathetic and you hate it, especially when Nick sighs low in his throat. "God, Liv..."
"It's not an excuse," you reply as quickly as you can, making sure he knows you're not fishing for sympathy that you don't even think you deserve.
"I know, manita, I know. You're still an asshole," he promises, and that reassurance gets some kind of snort/laugh/sniffle/sob hybrid from you as he reaches out an arm. "C'mere. Can I?"
You hesitate, still sore from your myriad injuries that are hidden under layers of soft baggy clothing and not wanting to let on about how much pain you're actually in right now. You compromise on a side hug, leaning your head against his shoulder while he's got one arm draped gently over yours. Both of you sit in silence for a few minutes until your snuffling must have gotten unbearable for him and he passes you the kleenex box that's been sitting on the coffee table.
You thank him sheepishly before blowing your nose. "Sorry."
"No big deal. You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really. But I...this stays between us, okay? Not Elliot, not Brian- no one." He nods in agreement, but the sad look on his face tells you he wishes he could say more. "It's better this way. It's...they can't. They wouldn't understand." The corner of his mouth turns up a little and you're confused. "What?"
"It's nothing. Just...you and Elliot."
"What about us?"
"You two deserve each other. And I dunno if that's a good thing or not."
You frown, but he shakes his head and you know you're not getting any more out of him, so it's best to change the subject while you can. "So I guess you've seen Rollins since you've been back?"
"Uh. Yeah."
You don't know what went down between them since you accidentally on purpose tipped her off to Nick's plan for winning back Maria, but you suspect that words were exchanged and they were not kind. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
"Listen, Nick- about that. I'm sorry. I should've asked you what you were going to tell Amanda before I said anything. But," you say before he can think you're absolving him of any responsibility, "don't put me in that position next time, alright? Officially I don't know of anything going on between you two, and I want to keep it that way. So please, please be on your best behavior during office hours."
"Aren't I always?" He pulls out his phone to check something and you make a shocked noise when you see his lockscreen.
"Is that...you took a selfie with the zonkey? Where the hell was I?"
"Uh, talking to Animal Control, I think?"
You look again at the shot of a smiling Nick posing with the zonkey, who appears to be nuzzling his face. "So while I was in pain because that damn thing had just trampled me, you were making friends with it?"
"I can't help it! Animals naturally gravitate toward me. It's like they know I understand them. And besides, I've wanted to see a zonkey all my life! When else was I ever gonna get a chance like that?"
"I should fire you, y'know."
"Nah. You'd miss me too much. Hey," he says, grinning with excitement, "you been keeping up with Avenida Brasil?"
Both of you had missed some recent episodes due to your respective personal dramatics, but together you were able to construct a basic outline of what had happened and forget about said dramatics in favor of discussing the problems of fictional people (who always have a way of making you feel slightly better about your own life). "I just can't stand Nina. Every episode she sobs about how complicated everything is- but it's her own fault! She's creating issues that wouldn't even be issues if she was just honest for once. And I'm starting to suspect she's got a thing for Tufao."
"What? No way. She just feels sorry for him because his wife's cheating on him and stealing all his money while he's completely clueless."
"You really think he has no idea? I don't. He's not a total idiot, just a sucker. I'm sure he caught on a long time ago, at least part of him did, but he just won't let himself believe it." He might have married her out of pity, falsely believing that he killed the love of her life, but no one stays together solely because of that, do they?
Maybe it's fortunate that you don't have time to ask that question out loud, because Nick's frowning at his buzzing phone. "Heh, guess I should get going. Fin's wondering if I decided not to come back from lunch."
"You don't wanna piss him off," you say knowingly, pointing behind you toward the closet. "But before you leave, don't forget...the rest of your stuff you left here is in that black bag."
"Oh yeah, thanks. And thanks too for, you know, letting me crash here for so long and everything. I hope I didn't put you out too much..."
"No way," you assure him as you stand up and give him a (gentle) hug goodbye. Seeing him with that bag in hand makes it so official, that he's really leaving, and it makes you ridiculously sad even though you'll soon see him every day again once you're back to work. There's no reason to ask him to stay longer, not when the fallout from the shooting seems to have waned and Brian's not going anywhere for at least another week. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to.
"Hey, uh." He shifts the bag from one hand to the other, then back again. "Maybe, if it's okay with you...sometimes I get awful tired making the drive home late at night. If you don't mind, maybe I could crash on your couch every now and then? I mean, when Brian's not home. Of course."
You could see right through his feeble excuse and you didn't care, you didn't know if he was doing this more for you or himself and you didn't care about that either. And although you tried to sound casual, you knew the smile on your face as you squeezed his hand was giving you away. "Yeah. It'd be okay with me."
{we believed that we could change ourselves
the past could be undone}
"Olivia."
It felt like being summoned to the principal's office, standing there in Barba's doorway at the end of your first day back on the job. You told yourself you had nothing to worry about, that he just wanted to get you up to speed on a couple of pending cases, but you can't forget the last time you saw him and the stern disappointment on his face when he figured out you'd been drinking. "Counselor."
"Come on in." He motions for you to shut the door, which is just standard practice, but your heart still thumps anxiously in time with the sound of the doorknob clicking behind you. Is it better to get out in front of this, to be the one who mentions it first, or does that scream too loudly of a guilty conscience? Because there's no reason for it- the guilt, that is. You made a mistake, no one got hurt (but yourself), lessons were learned and now you're back on track. The end. "It's good to see you again. I trust you're feeling better?"
You've still got a wrist brace on your bad arm and a hint of a hobble in your step, but otherwise there aren't any outward signs of your recent misadventures. "I am, thanks."
"I was worried when Fin told me what happened. Considering the last time I saw you..."
And there it is. "I appreciate the concern, but there's no reason for it, I promise. I'm...taking care of things. So what is it you wanted to see me for? Is it about the Wolf case? Because I told Nick-"
"No, no. It's..." He rests his forearms on top of his desk, his expression careful. "I know this might not be a good time, considering...in any case. We need to talk about Lewis's sentencing. The hearing's coming up soon."
{but we carry on our back the burden time always reveals
in the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal}
Hmm, so what does this mean for Liv? Is there tension coming between her and Barba? (yes). Are things smoothed over permanently between her and Nick? (no). And where is bensidy headed? (nowhere good). To be continued...