Hey, anybody still here? If you are I want to thank you so, so much for not giving up on this story. I am still determined as hell to finish it and I am forever grateful for everyone who has continued to read and to ask about it from time to time. It helps me get the motivation more than you probably know. Thanks again and without further ado...chapter 35
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Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sharp rapping on her front door awoke Amanda with a start. She gasped awake, her whole body seizing as she was yanked out of the merciful unconsciousness she'd finally found. Her eyes jarred open to the sudden, searing light flooding through the window. Despite the clouds that hung heavy in the sky beyond the pane, her eyes struggled to adjust while the weight of sleep was slow to lift.
For a moment, she was disoriented by her own apartment after spending two and a half weeks in various hotel rooms in Atlantic City. Then the previous evening rushed back to her...
Olivia.
She sat up abruptly from her spread eagle position on her stomach, her heart still pounding as her hands groped the empty bed next to her. It felt like only a few minutes ago that Olivia's body had been molded against her own, cradling her into the peaceful respite of sleep.
But instead of Olivia's warm, inviting flesh she found only cold sheets and disappointment. Her movements slowed to nothing as she sat in the middle of the bed, taking inventory of the inescapable loneliness that always seemed to find her in the mornings.
The knocking came again, and she shot a gaze towards the open bedroom door and beyond to the living room. She wouldn't dare to hope that it was Olivia.
Throwing back the comforter, she slid out of bed and quickly pulled open her dresser drawer. She found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and wrestled into the clothing as the person outside her door knocked insistently once more.
"Just a second!" She snapped as she managed to cover herself and run her fingers through her hair.
Storming out of the bedroom, she approached the door just as the intruding visitor knocked a fourth time.
"Jesus Christ, hold your six white horses." She snarled, flipping the deadbolt.
She pulled the door open, prepared to verbally lash whoever had awoken her from what she was certain would be her last good night's sleep. Instead, she stopped short when she came face to face the last person she'd expected to see outside her door.
"Captain?"
"Amanda." Cragen greeted her with a nod, his brow furrowed and his dark eyes reflecting concern from beneath his golf cap as he took in her disheveled appearance.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" She stammered, suddenly self conscious of what she was wearing, the way her apartment looked, the bags under her eyes. Most of all, she feared what he had learned of her time in Atlantic City and all of its implications.
"I didn't want you to come in to the precinct so I came to you." Cragen replied, motioning towards her apartment. "May I come in?"
"Uh...y-yeah…" Amanda agreed in a stutter although every thought in her mind was screaming no.
Her stomach was turning at his words, a thousand terrible scenarios already flying through her mind at the rate of a speeding train. The wreckage when she finally went off the tracks wouldn't be pretty.
She stepped back, allowing him to enter, before she quickly closed the door and hurried to the living room. She began to anxiously tidy the mess she'd left in her wake when she'd departed all those days ago. She'd been in a frenzy, and the evidence of it lay about in haphazard piles. She dumped everything into the recliner, and motioned for Cragen to sit on the couch.
"Can I get you anything?" She asked, crossing her arms over her breasts as she cursed herself silently for putting on a white T-shirt.
"No, that's okay, Amanda." Cragen replied, removing his hat.
He'd ignored her offer to sit, and instead stood across from her, regarding her with an expression of apprehension that unnerved her.
"What's this all about?" She asked at last, her voice barely rising above a raspy whisper.
The fact of the matter was she already knew, and a part of her wanted to throw herself down in front of him, and pray for forgiveness and a second chance. Unlike Olivia, however, she'd already had a second chance with Cragen, and a third, and soon to be a fourth if he'd be so gracious.
"You're being placed under a protective detail." Cragen said at last, his frown deepening.
"Protective…" She sputtered, shocked by his revelation.
It wasn't at all was she had expected. She'd been prepared to atone for her sins; not receive protection for them.
Slowly, she put the pieces together, feeling like a fool for not realizing sooner that the NJPD would've contacted him immediately. She was a cop in a foreign state, involved with a man who was wanted by White Collar Crimes. Contacting her captain had most likely been Nyle's first course of action.
Humiliation overcame the shock running through her veins and she struggled to come up with a proper response to the protective detail. She obviously had no choice in the matter, but a part of her had to protest. She wanted no more attention paid to one of the most horrible nights of her life, and her boss being so intimately aware of what had transpired in the alley only made her feel more invaded and ashamed.
"I… I don't think that's necessary." She managed to pose her rebuttal in a husky tone. "I mean, they know the guys who did it. They're gonna get them. I just -"
"Amanda." Cragen stopped her, taking a step towards her as though he'd physically comfort her.
She recoiled, turning sharply away from him. She paced across the room and sank down on the pile of clothes she'd tossed on the recliner.
"I talked with Detective Nyle." Cragen continued softly. "We had an in depth conversation about this DeFranco character, and I've decided you've more than compromised yourself and your safety is at risk."
Bracing her hands on her knees, Amanda stared down at the floor as tears rose quickly in her eyes.
"For how long?" She whispered, her voice breaking.
"Until he's apprehended."
"And what about my job?"
"I haven't decided that yet." Cragen answered, seizing her chest in another wave of dread. "For now… you'll be placed on leave."
Amanda pressed her eyes shut, felt a tear slip down her cheek. Her leg bounced as she tried to physically and emotionally process the words coming out of his mouth and the implications that followed, but it didn't feel as though any amount of time would suffice.
"Is it because of Lewis?" She finally asked, her stomach turning at the simple mention of the bastard.
"It's because your life is possibly in danger, Amanda. You didn't follow my orders. I gave you time off in order for you to get yourself together. Instead, you ran off to Atlantic City - the last place you should've been."
"I'm sorry, Captain." The rough apology broke through the hard knot of dread in her throat, and she sank down further over her knees.
"Not sorry enough, obviously." He replied, his tone strained. "I have given you more than enough leeway with the gambling and the reckless behavior, Amanda. Now, I understand that some terrible things have happened, and I do not want to come down on you, but I have to be frank. You are in no position to carry a gun or badge right now."
She stared down at the floor, tears slipping from her lashes as she tried to control the sobs that continuously worked their way up to her tongue. She pressed her lips together hard, swallowing over and over until she could contain the bursting emotion in her chest and stomach.
Finally, she stood from the chair, and clenched her hands at her sides as she fought every urge to collapse to the floor. The floor was blurry in front of her as turned towards the hallway.
"I'll be right back." Her voice broke the silence in a harsh, raspy whisper, and she hated the sound of it.
She ducked into the hallway and back into the bedroom where she'd awoken only a few minutes earlier. Amanda glanced at the bed, reflecting on the sense of doom that had enveloped her as soon as her she'd become conscious. It was too painfully relevant to dwell on now as she forcefully yanked the bedside table drawer open. She swallowed hard against tears, against anger, against every desire to scream in agony as she stared her badge and service weapon lying inside.
She'd sacrificed the most sacred things to have the privilege of being a detective of the NYPD, but perhaps she'd sacrificed even more to have the privilege being Olivia's. In this moment, where she was about to hand over pieces of herself that had become as ingrained as character traits, she could not decide which one - or either - had been worth the pain.
She forced the tremble from her hand as she grabbed the gun and tin from the drawer. Straightening, she pressed her eyes shut until the throb of agony and the pulse of emotion faded enough for her to move. It took another minute for her to force herself to walk back towards the door, down the hall, and to Captain Cragen.
He was still standing in the middle of the room, still waiting, still judging with eyes that had seen all this and more already. She couldn't say that he didn't understand, and she couldn't say that what he was about to do was unfair; but when she found herself in front of him, she wanted to beg one more time.
Just one more chance. Please, I'll make you proud this time.
But the words never came from her mouth. Her tongue was too tied up in tears that she wouldn't let past her throat.
He held out his hand. She stared down at her own holding her badge, reciting the feeling of the metal and leather in her palm, telling herself that it wouldn't just be a memory forever. Her eyes flickered shut just for a moment as she turned the badge on its face in Cragen's palm. Then it was just the gun, heavy in her hand, and she wanted to let it pull her down to nothingness.
"Amanda…" Cragen tone was soft and coaxing, and she wished she couldn't feel the pity rolling off of him in waves.
"It's fine." She cut him off abruptly, forcing a shrug and a quick smile. "I'll get it back."
Thumbing the release button, she disengaged the magazine, and passed both pieces to him. He took the gun slowly, his brow furrowed in deep lines.
"Amanda, listen to me." He warned, slowly. "I've been in your position before, and trust me, you don't want to go down this path."
She pursed her lips hard, shoving her trembling hands into the pockets of her sweatpants.
"Yeah, I hear you." She whispered, but they both knew it was a pacifying lie and nothing more.
She couldn't hear anything but the dead silence buzzing in her own head.
"Amanda," He repeated, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder.
His grip was warm and reassuring like that of a father's, but all she wanted was turn away and hide. One father had lead her to this life. Another could not save her.
Shrugging out of his grasp, she shouldered past him. Grabbing the front door handle, she pulled it open and stood the side, a blatant invitation for him to leave. He'd come to perform a certain duty, and it did not matter whether he had wanted to or not. It was done.
He stood across the room, his face etched in deep concern before he slowly tugged his hat back on, and strode towards her. She glared down at the floor, her jaw clenched as she tried not to collapse. She'd already proven herself incompetent enough.
"Get back into GA." Cragen ordered, quietly as he paused in front of her. "If not, there is nothing else I can do."
Amanda's jaw worked against burning tears, and her chest compressed with rage.
She hadn't asked for any of this. She hadn't asked for a dead beat gambler of a father, or passive, alcoholic mother. She hadn't asked to be raped or to become an addict just like the man who'd abandoned her so long ago. She hadn't asked to fall in love with Olivia, and yet she was here, wishing with every fiber of her being that she would look up and see her face, full of hope and radiance. It was once all she needed to believe in the world, and even at times, herself.
Those days were gone.
The tears felt cold in her eyes as she glanced up at Cragen's stony expression. His brows tightened, and he seemed as though he would say something more for a fleeting moment, but then he looked away with a sigh and headed out into the hall without any further hesitation. Amanda watched him go, tears of frustration building in her chest until he disappeared from her sight.
Releasing a loud cry, she slammed the door, rattling the walls of the apartment; but it wasn't enough. Rearing her foot back, she kicked the closed door, once, twice, then three time until she was sobbing and gasping for air. She sank against the unyielding surface with a groan.
The world was crumbling, and she with it. It would take an act of God to put it back together, and as far as she could tell, she had been forsaken.
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Olivia had spent plenty of nights on the hard cots in the precinct's bunk room, a dozen more slouched against the door of the cruiser door while her partner kept watch. As a child, she'd learned to curl up against the couch where her mother had passed out, too small to lift her dead weight but too afraid to leave her. At some point, she'd realized she could fall asleep anywhere if she had to.
Awakening on Lindstrom's couch, she vaguely thought that a therapist's sofa was the last place she'd expected to find a place of rest. It certainly wasn't the strangest location, but perhaps the most unsettling.
She shifted on to her back with a groan as her cheek peeled away from the leather. Her hips were stiff and her mid back felt like it needed a good crack, but the physical discomfort was the last thing on her mind.
She and Lindstrom had talked long into the night, though various lengths of silence and deep, unfettered sobbing. She'd spilled it all. The abduction, the torture in the apartment, the ensuing entrapment in the trunk followed by the attack on Vanessa's parents. Lindstrom had offered her a break from the horrifying recollections more than once, but she had refused, urged on by Brian's final words to her.
Get some help before you hurt someone else.
By the time she had made to Lindstrom's the night before the pain and guilt had been unbearable, and that thought that everything - including her own abduction and the torment of innocent people - had been a result of her own poor judgment. The only way to possibly absolve herself of it all was to make some kind of confession, to regurgitate it all before it made her sick inside. Lying here in the early morning light, she wondered what pieces of her had gone with it. She could feel gaps and holes inside her body, an aching emptiness that screamed with an unknown pain and longing.
Lindstrom had repeated over and over that what Lewis had done was far from being her fault, but she just shook her head. He didn't know about Amanda or Brian or what had conspired in Atlantic City, neither had he questioned her on it. She dreaded the day that he did. He was a therapist for a reason, and with that came an intuition and an ability to read a person's behavior and words. She possessed a similar skill of her own when it came to perps and victims, and she could barely imagine explaining her actions to herself, much less Lindstrom.
She stared up at the high, cream-colored ceiling, wanting to shatter into a million pieces all over again in the fresh light of day; but the tears did not come.
Finally, when the sun had shifted overhead, she sat up on the edge of the couch and stretched out her neck until it popped loudly in her ear. Her shoes were still on her feet, and she only had to grab her jacket from the back of the couch before she was prepared to slip out the door.
She checked her pockets for her keys and her phone as she pulled the coat on her arms on her way to the door. Tugging her phone out, she checked for the time and notifications. Foolishly, she hoped for something from Brian or Amanda, but instead she grimaced as her period tracker cheerfully reminded her that she only had two days left before she was hit with another unnecessary blow to her fragile state of mind.
"Fuck off." She muttered, shoving the phone back into her pocket, and taking her keys out of the other.
She had little idea of where she would go once she left Lindstrom's office, but she just knew she had to get of this space. She felt raw in her mind and in every part of her body, and the imposing aura and each piece of furniture felt like an assault upon her bruising flesh. She'd recalled things last night that she has tried so hard to bury and forget, things that she'd turned over so many times in her head, things that fell into a grey area in between; and she had prayed it would give her some relief. As she left the building, she couldn't tell whether it had or not.
The bright, warm morning shone down upon her, but she glared against the rays of sun that would seek to melt her cold, rigid exterior. She couldn't afford to break down again.
You have to start taking care of yourself, Olivia. Lindstrom had warned her. Amanda may be important to you, but you are more important right now.
She'd nodded slowly and murmured her agreement, but it was a much harder concept to grasp than she'd imagined. She'd had the strength to put those ideas into words last night as she knelt had Amanda's feet, but she didn't know if she could follow through in the coming weeks.
As she trekked down the sidewalk, her mind was filled with snapshots of flushed, pale flesh, bright blue eyes and tousled blonde hair. Her heart ached in her chest, and more than anything, she wished that she'd close her eyes and reach out to feel Amanda's hand in hers. She'd risked everything for this person who had grown to be her only confidant, her only safe place, and eventually her only lover. The idea that they now had to part to find healing left a bitter taste in the back of her throat, even more so this morning than last night. She's grown used to her comfort, and after her and Brian's violent parting and the following therapy session she felt lost without the option of picking up the phone and calling Amanda. Returning to Brian's apartment was out of the question as was her own former home, still wrapped in bitter memories and stark, yellow tape. Where would she go if not her?
It would be so easy…. She imagined, stuffing her hand into her pocket and turning her phone around in her hand. Make the call, drive over…. We'd be together in an instant and everything would be okay….
She swayed to a stop on the sidewalk, sudden tears shattering her carefully constructed facade of composure. She pinched her thumb and forefinger over her tear ducts, her jaw clenched. She'd promised Lindstrom that she was going to begin processing what had happened without ill advised coping mechanisms, and though she knew she and Amanda's relationship had its downfalls, she suddenly struggled to convince herself that it was a mistake.
I just want Amanda.
It had been her first thought when waking in the hospital, her every desire through each day since, and now it seemed it would invade her mind until the end of her days.
Her hand slipped away from her face, and she gazed up at New York City with tears clinging to her lashes. Her original love was bathed in sunlight, and somewhere in the glittering skyline Amanda existed, her energy pulling at Olivia's heart with the magnetism of a thousand moons. Like the tides of the sea, she had no choice but to follow.