Amanda

Beyond the darkness of my lids there's a crisp, white world although the edges aren't quite clear enough for me to see. A slow, steady beeping serenades my ear, and when my eyelids flutter, I catch glimpses of white bedsheets and taupe walls. There's a familiar, sweet scent in the air, above the medicinal, sterile environment clogging my lungs - a smell I associate with soft copper locks and deep brown eyes; gentle, olive hands, and a smile to light the world.

I wonder if this is a dream. She couldn't possibly be here. Wherever 'here' is….

With a groan, I begin to blink slowly. My eyes feel dry and swollen inside of my skull, a visceral sensation. As consciousness grips me, I realize that it's not only my eyes, but my mouth as well which holds a dank, horrific taste.

Confusion washes over me as I manage to open my eyes enough to glance about the room, a stark, unfamiliar place that my scrambled brain slowly makes out as a hospital. It's then that the memories begin to return to me, slowly at first, then faster and faster, filling my mind with the endless hopelessness which had gripped me. I can remember leaving the precinct, and texting Fin as I wandered through a quiet bodega across the street from SVU, searching for my next drink. I remember trudging home and opening the first can. The rest is a blur of quickly emptying bottles, and more tears than I knew I could shed…. Then a chunk of time of nonexistent memories, a black hole of the unknown which causes a fearful dread to take hold of me.

What have I done? The question echoes through my mind as fight my way out of the heavy fog of sleep. I can feel the plastic tubing at my nose now, and the IV taped to my arm, anchoring me to the bed.

"Amanda?" Her voice stops me, drawing my dazed, hazy gaze in her direction.

The image is fuzzy at first as I watch her rise from the chair next to my bed, her expression twisted in concern as she reaches out to touch my arm.

"Everything's okay now." She murmurs in a soft, reassuring tone, shoving sharp emotion in my chest.

"Wh-what happened?" I ask, and my voice emits rough and husky. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital." I hear Fin's voice at my other side, and I turn my head towards him quickly, feeling a sledgehammer of panic swinging towards my chest.

I don't know what exactly has landed me here, but I can guess that it is my own fault and my own mistakes once more. I've fucked up again, in the worst possible way, and my first instinct is to escape their concerned gazes, and barely veiled pity.

"H-How?" I stutter, my gaze bouncing between them.

I watch them lock eyes from across the bed, frowning in hesitation, and I barely swallow the panic washing over me in suffocating waves.

"What happened?" I demand, hearing sharp terror slice through my tone.

"Y-you…" Olivia begins, a strained expression crossing her features before she glances away quickly, but not before I see the tears glittering in her eyes.

The display of emotion sends another wave of desperation through my chest. She's treated me with such callous regard throughout the last week that I imagined I'd never see her shed a tear over me ever again, but now, she is here at my bedside, clutched in anguish and I am left wondering in confusion at what could've possibly changed her vicious resentment.

"Liv?" I whisper, my voice raspy.

Her hand slips away from my arm, and I watch in growing bewilderment as she veils her watery gaze with her fingers.

Swinging my wide eyes towards Fin, I search his gaze for some kind of explanation, with the small hope that it will fall short of the nightmare crawling underneath Olivia's skin with alarming implications.

"Amanda…" He says, uneasily, glancing towards Olivia.

Her shoulders are stiff, and when the silence prolongs, she turns away, pacing towards the end of the bed. Her wordless expression grabs at my body with forceful desperation, demanding some logical explanation for this bizzare scene.

"What is it?" I cry, feeling stinging tears at my lids.

"She found you in your apartment." Fin explains, slowly, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "You'd had too many."

"H-had too many…"I repeat, feel my chest shudder with horror and denial, taking away my breath in one swift second. "No, no, I don't remember that."

"How could you when you were barely alive?" Olivia's low, trembling tone drags my eyes back to her, where she leans on the end of the bed.

Her features are taut with the tears still glinting in her eyes, and as I stare back at her, the meaning of the look on her face settles upon me with haunting tangibility. A ringing takes over my ears as I suddenly become viscerally aware of every sensation touching my body, from the texture of the bedsheets to the emotion clamping my chest in a relentless grip. I listen to myself breathe, grappling with the idea I was so close to never tasting air again.

"Olivia…" I hear Fin caution, softly.

"I found you unconscious." She continues in a trembling tone, ignoring Fin's words. "You weren't even breathing, Amanda. You could've died if I hadn't been there to stop you from choking on your own vomit."

I swallow hard as quick tears rush to my eyes, a fresh wave of emotion, steadier and stronger than the first. Remembering all the times that I thought of ending my own life, I shudder, realizing that this reality is much harder than I thought it would be. I imagined that my disappearing from their lives would be nothing of consequence, that I would fade as a bad memory, or and aftertaste that lingers far too long.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Amanda?" She asks in a low, strained tone.

I lift my eyes slowly back to her, hardly able to do much more than blink in shock. I'd always thought my death would be clear cut decision, either a rogue bookie's or my own. An accident, something out of my control, is almost a harder concept to wrap my mind around. It terrifies me that a mere coincidence has saved my life, nothing more than the illogical timetable of the universe. I stutter, my tongue languishing in horror behind my slack jaw.

"I think she gets it, Liv." Fin cuts in, quietly.

"Amanda." She repeats, holding up a hand to signal for his silence.

He frowns, casting me a perplexed glance, and I know he only fears for my state of mind. He isn't privy to our personal conflicts, and the numerous clashes that have led us to this deadly denouement. Through his eyes, he's watching an apathetic lieutenant reprimand her subordinate mere hours after they escaped death, but I don't want him to fight for me. Whether her admonishment is fair or not in light of the circumstances I hardly contemplate. I've expected little else, and with what honestly I still possess, know I deserve much more.

"Y-yes…" I whisper, against sharp tears as I gaze down towards my hands.

"Your BAC was at .36%. That's four times the legal limit. You're lucky you've made it through without brain damage." She continues, ignoring the admission she's wrung from my lips, her voice shaking on the verge of anger; but I hardly flinch.

I'm not lucky. Not in the least. If anything, I am fool; better yet, a poor excuse for one.

My vision blurs as I sense her converging back upon me. She sinks to the bed next to me, grasping my arms. A cry chokes from my lips as she shakes me, the motion reckless at first glance; but only I can feel her trembling in fear.

"Are you listening?" She demands, her own voice strangled in emotion, beneath layers of desperation. "I walked into that room, and I thought you were gone, Amanda. My worst fears come to life. All those nights I laid awake, wondering whether you'd made it through the night…. It was nothing compared to seeing you lying there…"

I can hardly stand to look her as quick, insurmountable emotion takes hold of my body, crushing me with shame and absolute worthlessness. The brutality of her discovering my drunkenness is a pale comparison to this vengeful reality. There is no hiding now in the cruel, stark light of the naked truth; no second chances when I have squandered even my life with these hopeless pursuits. What lies I might have told her in the past would ring hollow, for now she's holding nothing but a resurrected corpse in her hands. The guilt encompasses me so strong that I can hardly breathe, much less cry out with the inner torment.

She releases my arm, only to grab my face, her fingers pleading for me to look at her; and when I do, the pain wrestling in her gaze strikes a loathing self hatred through my bones. I've run from every sense of responsibility, afraid to claim what terrible and selfish decisions I have made, but gazing into her eyes, I cannot escape any longer. Every single time I've hurt her plays through my mind like a film reel, flashing images and pictures faster and faster, racing towards the end.

"Why?" I whisper at last as tears rush to fill my eyes. "Why didn't you just let me go?"

Her expression wrenches tight in grief, and she lowers her head as a tear slips from her eye. When she lifts her eyes to mine once more, she whispers, "I've let you go many times, but not this time - not where I can't follow."

My throat seizes at her words, disbelief spiraling through me at her impassioned exclamation. I've been wholeheartedly convinced of her hatred towards me, an absolute that I have written into existence with my own horrible choices, a just consequence for every time I've wronged her. If I dare to believe otherwise now, I'm sure I will crumble with the fear of ill placed hope.

I'm staring at her, speechless, silent, stray tears slipping down my cheeks when she draws back slowly. She seems shocked at her own outburst as she rises from the bed, her hands leaving me achingly bereft. The familiar ache for her presence and her touch fills my chest with an almost physical pain, but should I even dare to wonder at her intent behind her fearful gaze and impetuous embraces?

My dazed gaze follows her rigid movements as she straightens from the bed, squaring her shoulders. She blinks away the glimmering tears in her eyes, as she clears her throat of the thick knot of emotion.

"I just want you safe." She murmurs, meeting my eyes at last. "That's all I've ever wanted. Your safety and your happiness."

It's a vow she's held to since the beginning of our affair, when we questioned whether we should continue at all. I'd wanted her so badly that I had hardly considered parting ways, and though I sensed her apprehension, she'd kissed me and promised to me that as long as I was happy she'd never leave. Recalling that moment, my heart begs to believe that her words now are an echo of that time, a promise to stand by my side til the end.

My lips part with a quiver, but I can't speak as she turns away quickly, her head down. Although I can't imagine what trauma I've just put her through, a part of me selfishly longs for her strength, her ability to heave me up from the place to which I have fallen. If I could but have her arms around me one more time, maybe I could finally rise up from the quagmire of addiction and conquer at last…

But even with her back turned, I sense her crumbling, a fortress I've strived so hard to invade turning to dust at my feet.

"Please talk to her, Fin." She says at last, the strength in her voice wavering on the edge of collapse.

She strides quickly towards the door, her head lowered.

"Liv…" I finally managed to speak, my voice quaking as she heaves the heavy hospital door open.

"Amanda, let her go." Fin says, stepping close to my side and laying a hand on my shoulder.

"B-but…" I begin, gesturing towards the closing the door as emotion fills my throat.

"Listen, Amanda," He says, a frown deepening on his brow, "If you want to throw your life away that's your decision, but it's not over if you don't want it to be. You've got a lot left to live for."

"Like what?" I whisper, tearfully, glancing towards the door, where the impression of Olivia's presence seems to linger.

"She never once stopped worrying about you." He tells me softly, following my line of sight. "When you didn't answer your phone this morning, you should've seen the panic on her face."

I begin to scoff despite the warming in my chest because the wounded, cynical part of me is convinced of her hatred towards me, her utter disgust with me.

"Amanda, that woman out there may be the only reason you're alive right now. She breathed in your mouth. She gave you her own oxygen and she'd give you the shirt off her back if you asked." Fin continues, firmly, stepping into my line of sight with an almost desperate expression. "We'd do anything to help you, but it doesn't mean shit if you don't care."

I tear my eyes from his, clenching my jaw against emotion.

"I just… I just want her to love me again." I whisper, my tone uneven and halting.

I've never directly admitted our relationship to Fin, but I know he isn't blind or oblivious to our interactions, and the words spill from my tongue now, because I just want someone to understand. I want someone to hear the pain that drove me to do what I did last night, and accept it as a just explanation.

"I know," Fin replies, quietly, "But this isn't fair to her or to you. You gotta be the person that she wants to be with first, and you have to stop cheating yourself of your potential. I promise I will always be here, but you've got to get yourself help, Amanda."

A tear slips down my cheeks, and I tear my hand from his in order to dash it away. I know what he is saying is right. I've always known, but for the first time, perhaps in all my life, I want to call for help. With my throat spasming in tears, I want scream it out with all the strength in my lungs because I can't walk down this road alone any longer

"What do I do, Fin?" I cry out. 'Just tell me what to do..."

"You don't give up." He insists, taking me by the arms, and pulling me close. "Check yourself in somewhere, and stay there as long as you have to."

"Rehab?" I ask, unsteadily.

"If that's what it takes." He says, quietly but firmly, "I spent enough time watching people die in Narcotics, and I don't want to see it happen to you."

I stare back at him, blinking slowly against tears as I realize the impact of his words. I've shed far too many tears to count in the past six months, but this feeling is new shocking. The knowledge that I was as good as dead grips me with haunting clarity of just how directionless my life has become. I thought I had nothing to live for, with only addiction to define me. I thought that escaping into nothingness would be some kind of mercy, an angel of death to rescue me from the endless nights of torture; but now I have kissed death, and the putrid taste is far more than I can bear.

"Okay…" I whisper, at last, ignoring the fear trembling in my chest, "I'll go…."

"You promise?" Fin prods as relief begins to bleed into expression.

"Yes," I whisper, "I promise."

I've promised many times, in endless way, but this time, upon awakening from the outskirts of death, it's different. This time, I want nothing more than to escape and be free. This time, it's really over.