Title: Therapy

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: Law & Order: SVU

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: Olivia talks to her therapist about her husband's reaction to her pregnancy test results and the implications it has for their relationship. A O/S of the therapist office scene in Wednesday's child.

Author's Notes: This AU series is for SVU fans and readers who want Olivia to have something that resembles a more normal life outside of work and a family of her own - hopefully somewhat realistically within the canon of SVU. My stories are not EO and never will be. You may want to read some of my other ones for context on the characters in this AU first - though, it's likely fairly self-explanatory on its own too.

"You took your migraine medication," Olivia commented quietly.

She was lying against her husband's chest, his skin soft and warm. She could hear the slow beat of his heart but with each of his shallow breaths she could also hear a catch and a wheeze. At her comment she heard him make a noise but he didn't respond beyond his arm moving slightly and gripping a bit more at her shoulder. She knew he hated that she was attuned to his migraines. She had been before. She'd learned to recognize it in changes of his complexion and eyes even when he managed to keep his temperament in check through his suffering. But since Lewis and the addition of new medications to her husband's life, it was almost too easy to notice when he had one. The side effects of the drugs gave it away even when he'd managed to hide his pain.

"Yeah … well … I was crying," he finally said quietly. "That doesn't do good things for my head."

There wasn't an accusation to it. It was more a statement of facts. Though, it a way it made Olivia feel a little guilty for the conversation too. She hated Will's migraines to begin with. She hated them even more since Lewis kicked his face in. The frequency and intensity of them concerned her and she hated to be added as yet another contributing factor to their onset. But it was a conversation that had had to be had.

She wasn't sure how much of a conversation it had really been. They'd both managed to get some things out. At least they both established how much they were hurting and struggling. Though, she wasn't really sure they resolved much. Or anything. She supposed she could at least stop worrying that Will might be considering leaving their family. Or that he was secretly wanting to but couldn't bring himself to. That would hopefully help her stability and mental state on some level. But if they'd resolved anything beyond that? She wasn't so sure.

They'd done a lot of crying and just holding each other. Eventually the tears and the interjected back-and-forth statements had stopped. They'd stared at the television screen even though she knew neither of them were watching. They were just sharing space with each other at that point and occasionally still sniffing or choking on a sob or reaching to wipe at their eyes, which illustrated far too much that they were both still thinking. Eventually she'd said she should go to bed. That the case they caught at work was going to keep her busy for the next few days. That she needed to rest. Will hadn't verbally acknowledged that statement either but he had gotten up when she'd risen and followed her into the bedroom too. He'd then let her cuddle against him when he'd lay down and she still struggled to find the stability and comfort she'd been missing at home.

As there as he was, though, he still felt so distant. Not quite as distant as before but it still didn't feel like he'd come home. It still felt like she'd done more talking than him and that he hadn't been able to accurately explain to her what was going on with him. She supposed that there probably wasn't an accurate way to explain it. But that didn't make things any easier.

She was telling herself that how Will was being right now was just her husband. That at least she'd gotten her upset and her struggles out there. At least she'd heard from him that he was struggling too and it wasn't anything specific that she'd done that was causing it. Now Will would need time to process that and interact with it and form his thoughts. She had to trust that – like always – he'd come back to her ready to talk more. That he'd want to talk more. Or at all. She just had to give him time.

Time anymore was such a struggle. The process felt like it was taking too long and like it was too hard. Just as she thought her family was making process, the trial had come up and set them so far back in so many ways. Cragen leaving and the added responsibility at work combined with other things that were going on in the personal lives of their squads. Amaro and Rollins weren't giving her the leeway to have room to fall apart because they were doing good jobs at letting their lives fall apart. Then this pregnancy scare and everything it had made her think about. The start of Will's new term. This never-ending cold winter of storm after storm after storm causing the grey to huddle in the sky and the temperatures to drop to the point that she felt more trapped and confined to the apartment than they already were. Some days it just felt like too much to handle. More than any of them could handle. It just felt unfair. But then even thinking that she felt like she was letting self-pity start talking. It could be so much worse, she told herself. Yet, some days, she didn't know how much worse or how much harder it could get. How much more her and her family could carry.

"You haven't said if that new medication is helping," she tried.

It was on the list of things that Will hadn't talked to her about that month. He hadn't seen the need for her to go to any of his medical appointments with him lately but also only gave her the answer 'fine' when she asked how'd they gone and 'not much' when she asked what the doctors had said.

"I don't know," Will said quietly after enough of a silence that she thought he was going to ignore her statement. "I guess. But I don't like it. It makes me feel like I'm living under this fog. Half the time I feel like I can't think straight."

She moved her hand up and gripped at his shoulder with that comment and placed at light kiss against this chest. She heard his breath wheeze and catch again.

"That won't be helping things right now," she told him softly.

"I know," he agreed at a near inaudible level.

"Have you talked to him about that?"

"He says I have to make a choice about what's more important to me. Dealing with the headaches or managing the pain or … whatever." The hurt in his voice was evident and that time Olivia felt more of a silenced sob than the tell-tale wheeze of his medicated breathing.

She looked up at him and lifted her hand up to stroke his cheek. It was stubbly. He hadn't been shaving lately. Will had this few day window when he stopped shaving where his stubbled growth looked dignified even if it was a little rumpled professor. But he'd long ago passed that grace period and degraded to the full-on hobo look that she hated on him. Olivia had restrained herself from commenting, though. It wasn't like she had much to complain about. He wasn't kissing her much these days for the sparse beard to have irritated her skin. And, it wasn't like she did too much in terms of keeping up her appearances either. But she was doing better than Will. The facial hair growth was just another sign that he was letting the depression take hold. Or maybe it was his way of altering his appearance in the aftermath of the humiliation of the trial. And, she didn't feel she could really comment on that either. He hadn't said anything when she'd cut her hair.

"That's an unfair choice, sweetheart," she told him.

She didn't like that they were separating the two even though she knew that part of the pain Will was now experiencing wasn't related to the headaches. She still didn't think it was fair for him to have to choose. She wished the doctors could figure out a way to better manage the headaches, the pain, the light sensitivity, the nausea and the anxiety and depression that was leaving her husband a shadow of the man she'd known. She wished that it could be managed in a way that didn't leave him so drugged that he couldn't be a husband or a father or a teacher. It all just made her so sad and frustrated. She knew it was making him sadder and must be even more frustrating for him.

"He said there's some migraine drug I can try that used to be used as an anxiety med. The migraine doses are lower than what the mood adjustment dosages would have been. But he said it might have some positive affects too."

She allowed a small nod. "Are you going to try it?"

She felt him shrug. "I haven't decided yet. I hate them switching the pills around all the time."

"They're just trying to find something that works for you, Will," she assured. "This one doesn't seem to."

He just made another small noise and they fell silent again.

"I wish you'd let me come to some of the appointments with you," she said quietly.

"I don't need you to hold my hand, Olivia," he said with that touch of annoyance in his voice again. "I'm capable of going to my medical appointments by myself."

"I know …" she allowed. "But maybe I could help advocate for you. Sometimes you don't do a very good job at advocating for yourself …"

She felt a glare into the top of her head and looked up to see a glint in his eyes. "I know how to take care of myself."

She kept his eyes even though she felt so spent she just wanted to look away. She didn't want to argue with him or press him. But she also felt like she had to. Like she couldn't drop it.

"No," she pushed back at him. "You do a good job at taking care of your students. You do an even better job at taking care of me and of Noah. But you do not do a very good job at taking care of yourself, Will. You never have. Especially when it comes to medical things. Especially your headaches."

He just made a noise and moved his eyes away from her. She let him and didn't press it further. Let it be another thing for him to ponder in the fall out from their conversation. At least this was something they'd discussed before. Maybe it would stick with him this time.

"I just don't like to see you suffering," she said at a whisper and then let the silence take over the room again.

Even in that dead quiet, Olivia knew she wasn't likely going to sleep. Not restfully. She almost wished she'd gone and lay down while she was still crying. Maybe the tears would've let her drift. Now she would likely have a light sleep all night that would be rocked by her continued processing of thoughts in trying to reconcile her marriage and her family and her life.

Maybe she should just get back up and take a sedative, she thought. But much like Will hated his pills – she hated the sedatives and how they made her feel. She resisted taking them, though sometimes she needed them. Sometimes she thought she'd never really sleep ever again if she didn't take them. Not that a sedated sleep ever let you wake truly feeling like you had slept.

"Would you reconsider going to see Dr. Lindstrom with me?" she finally asked. She could tell he wasn't sleeping yet either – or even trying - and she didn't think she'd get anywhere near it if she didn't ask.

Will let out a slow sigh. "I don't know," he said. "I don't really want to."

"I know …" Olivia allowed. "But would you do it for me? For us?"

He sighed harder and was quiet for far too long. She again thought he wasn't going to answer.

"Why isn't Alison enough?" he said finally of their couple's therapist.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest for a moment. "You haven't really been talking there lately. Maybe we'd do better with Dr. Lindstrom. He's willing to see us. I think you'd like him."

The quiet hung again and she could an increase in his heart rate. She was winding him up again. She didn't really want to do that. But she also didn't want their conversation on the couch to fade into the background and for them to pretend that that had been enough by the time they got up in the morning. Because it hadn't been. Not at all.

"I'm glad you like him," Will said quietly. "And I'm glad he's working for you. But I really don't want to see your shrink, Liv …"

She sighed and lay against him. She could feel a few stray tears trickle out of her eyes and she knew he must few them hot against his chest but he said nothing. Though his hand remained in its type grip against her shoulder. So there was that. At least he wasn't entirely retreating, which seemed to be his defense mechanism anymore.

"I'm worried about us, Will," she said. "I really don't think we're going to be able to work through this on our own. Not with the way we are. We need help and support to get through this. That's hard for me to admit too. But we do."

"We have Alison," he countered with a quiet forcefulness.

"I don't really feel like that's been working for us right now …" Olivia said.

Will sighed. "OK. I'll try … to participate more," he said.

Olivia let out her own slow breath. "OK," she allowed.

But she wasn't really sure she believed him. Though, she supposed they could go to a few more sessions and see. But a few more sessions would be a few more weeks of … wherever they were at now. She wasn't really sure she wanted to do that. But she didn't think pressing him further on that particular issue was going to yield much more.

"Will …" she decided to push out anyways, though. "… Then … how would you feel about us going to a sex therapist for a few sessions? Just to … see …"

He let out a sigh. "Olivia," he near whined. She knew how he felt about it.

"I'd like to," she said a little more meekly than she'd meant to.

He made another sound. "I thought we were going to sleep," he said flatly. "That's why I came to bed."

She just looked at him. Catching his eyes in the near dark room that was never really dark anymore. Much like Noah they had a nightlight on at all times now and the door to their en suite was always open and with the light left on at all hours too. She knew he could see her just as well as she could see him. She hoped he could see the pleading there even though she hated to beg. Begging just made her think of other things. Bad things. She didn't want to have to beg her husband for relief from the hell they were in.

"I don't want to go to a sex therapist," he said quietly and flatly.

"I don't particularly want to either," she said, just relieved he'd responded. She'd almost thought he was going to push her aside and get up and leave the room. That any progress they'd made that night would be cast aside in an instant. That Will would prove again how much he wasn't handling things and just how unwilling he was to try and she'd again be left wondering if they were working, if he was really saying what he was thinking. How they were going to get through this? "But I think maybe we need to."

The sound came again. "If we just thought we were pregnant, I don't think we need to," he said and there was a tone to it that hurt her.

She sat up a bit and looked at him more directly. He gazed at her. There wasn't anger in his eyes but there was a clear discomfort.

"That was before the trial, Will," she said. "Since then you've hardly touched me and it's making me feel like after hearing the testimony there you feel like I'm tarnished in some way."

He made another noise and looked away from her. "That's not how I feel," he said.

"When we were talking before you seemed very upset that he touched me," she put back to him.

Will's eyes snapped back to her. "He violated you," he said more firmly.

The venom that came rattled out of him with that statement stung. She knew he hadn't meant it to though. She tried to keep it in perspective, though. She tried not to feel the sting of tears or the drive to withdrawal from it again.

"He did," she finally made herself agree. "But that wasn't my fault and it wasn't yours."

Will made another sound that sounded like he was on the merge of tears again and his eyes drifted from her and found the wall.

"I don't want to talk to some … stranger … about our private, personal lives in our bedroom, Olivia," he said quietly.

She sighed and let herself lay back down next to him and massaged at his shoulder and then his bicep.

"I miss us, Will," she said. "And it's not just the sex I miss. I miss the intimacy. I miss … little bits of it. I miss … how you'd measure your hands against mine and …" she shook her head. There were so many other touches and caresses that he did that she was still so scared to explore for so many other reasons. But that she longed for in so many other ways. "You used to smile so much and … the way you smiled at me when we made love … and your eyes. You used to tell me you loved me all the time … to the point it was annoying," she said and gave him a small nudge so he looked at her and he allowed a thin smile. He knew he did it. Before it had been something she'd told him he didn't need to say quite as much in the midst of things. But now she just wished he'd say it at all. "I miss things like that. It's not just that … we're struggling. It's that when we … try … it's not you … and I feel like we both feel so scared and mechanical. I don't like that."

He sighed but he was at least looking at her again. But he looked so sad. "Alison gave us those … exercises," he said.

Olivia nodded. "She did. But we didn't really give them a chance …"

His eyes drifted and his nostrils flared. "They're so stupid."

"I think maybe we should give them a chance," Olivia suggested. "We should go into it with a more open mind."

"We don't need to learn how to touch each other," he muttered. "We know how to touch each other."

"Our bodies and our heads need to relearn, Will," she said. "I know mine does. We need to relearn what works for us."

"We don't need a sex therapist to do that," he said quietly. "We've worked through … stuff … before."

Olivia sighed. She felt the tears coming on even with trying to find a way to express this. What it was making her think about hurt so much. She already hated having to think about it at all. She hated how it crept into her daily life. How she could be waiting for the kettle and pouring a cup of tea and he was there. Lewis was there. Popping up in her mind's eye and taunting her. She hated more when he popped up into her sexuality and into her time with her husband. She hated that on the long list of things Lewis had robbed from her family (Noah's innocence being at the top), that her intimacy with her husband and best friend was on the list.

"This is different, Will. It's … really different. He did touch me … in … very different ways than Sealview. And it was … a much … longer … experience. It was a different kind of trauma. I was OK before with the progress we were making. I thought we were trying and we were making progress. But we aren't right now and it's hard for me because I feel like I'm in a place where I'm … more ready for us to … be exploring and reestablishing that part of our relationship. I … want us … to be having … more intimate time together. Not less. We aren't having any lately, Will. I miss kissing you," she offered more gently and swiped at hear eyes again. She'd managed to not cry. But just barely.

He looked at her his eyes were so sad. "Can't we just talk to Alison about this too?"

"I don't think you're very comfortable talking to Alison about it," she said.

"I'm not going to be comfortable talking to anyone about our sex lives, Liv," he said at a whisper.

"It's not talking about our sex lives," she countered. "It's … talking about … how we can be a healthy couple and functional people again. Alison is more about communication. This is too … but … I think maybe … we might both be more comfortable if we went and talked to … someone who … helps … rape survivors."

"You weren't raped," he repeated back to her from earlier.

"No …" Olivia allowed. "But I was sexually assaulted … and so were you."

He did look at her and tears were rolling down his cheeks again with that comment. She suddenly wondered if it had been framed quite that way for him before. She hoped that his therapist would have. That someone had given him permission to see it that way. But maybe she wasn't supposed to see it that way. Maybe he struggled to remove himself from him. He struggled with even his victimization, she knew. He likely struggled more when Lewis had set her up to be the one sexually invading her husband. It was a betrayal and victimization of both of them. It hurt her to think about all the different layers of what had gone on in that bedroom. What her husband and son had had to go through and witness. The role she'd been forced to play in all of that. She struggled with being able to forgive herself.

She reached and touched his cheeks again and this time wiped away the tears for him.

"We aren't broken, Will," she assured him. "We just need some help. We need to be more open minded about it and more willing to … work with the process."

"So what?" Will said and his voice cracked and he looked away from her. "You want me to go and tell your shrink that I can't get it up? That you think I'm not attracted to you anymore?"

She looked at him and then tapped his cheek and gave it a little pull until he was looking back at her. Tears were running freely down his face again. She shook her head at him.

"Will, sweetheart …" He tried to pull his eyes away from her again but she held her hand tight. "Hey," she said. "That's not how I meant it. That's not how … I'm interacting with this in my head. I think … it … bothers you … that another man touched me." She choked on a sob and looked at him. "It bothers me," she provided.

His eyes softened and he reached and pulled her back to him, putting a small kiss on her forehead and stroking her hair. She let herself settled against him again and to just feel him embrace.

"I understand Will that your … erections," she said after deciding that using impotence might aggravate him again even if that was what it should be called, "are because of what happened. So maybe talking about what happened will … help. I don't know if you've been reading the list of side effects of some of these medications they have you on too. But I have and some of them say a side effect is loss of erection, sweetheart. So … maybe you should mention it to your doctor. He might be able to help or find something different for you."

"Or give me another pill …" Will muttered.

"We both know that kind of pill isn't what either of us wants or needs right now, Will. That's not what I'm asking of you. I think we should try … talking … first," she said.

"We have been talking …" he said quietly.

"Will, we haven't," she said. "I feel like all our progress just stopped. I feel like we're sliding backwards. We're in a rut or a bump or something. If we don't get over it …" she shook her head and felt the tears again. "Will you please just come to Dr. Lindstrom with me?"

"He's not a sex therapist," Will said flatly. He sounded distant.

"He's not," she agreed. "But he said if he could meet you and get an impression of you …"

"Haven't you told him enough to give him that?"

She looked up at him. "I don't talk about you, Will," she said. "Not much." She gazed at him for several moments while he seemed to consider that. "Do you talk about me?"

He shrugged under her and his eyes drifted up to the ceiling. "I don't know. I talk about what happened. And what happened while you were gone."

She watched him. "You don't talk to me about what happened while I was gone," she said.

"You don't talk about what happened while you were gone with me either," he said. "Not really."

Olivia wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But for as many details as Will did know, she also knew she didn't talk about it. She didn't want to talk about it. She knew a lot of the more gruesome details he'd gotten at doctor's appointments and at the trial. A lot of the emotional details of what she'd gone through she was still learning how to talk about and express to him. Some of them she didn't want to ever have to. She didn't want him to have to grapple with them too.

"Dr. Lindstrom says that if he talks to us together," she changed the subject, "he'd be able to have a better understanding of where we are at and what we both want to achieve and need and he'd be able to refer us to someone who could help us."

"So you've talked about this with him?" Will said almost accusingly.

She gave him a sad look. "Not in detail, Will," she said. "Just that we're struggling. That I'm struggling with where we are. We don't have to go into … details … about our sex life with him either. I'd prefer we didn't. I still have to see him and that's not an area I want to talk to him about either."

"It's just … more public humiliation …" Will said at a whisper and she felt that catch in his chest again that felt more like a quieted sob than the medicine.

"Please, Will," she almost begged again. "Think about it. I don't want to turn into one of those couples who almost never has sex and has some sort of rhetoric about how our relationship is about more than sex. And with how we're communicating and how we're connecting right now, I feel like … that's where we're headed. That's not where I want to be."

"Our relationship is about more than sex," Will pushed out.

Olivia sighed against him. "And, I might be OK with that statement if we were … working outside the bedroom. But it's not just our sex lives that are off the rails …"

"You're struggling having sex too," he cut her off. "More than me."

She let out a sigh. "That's likely true," she allowed, though in some ways she wasn't sure it was entirely true. They both were having different struggles that weren't exactly comparable but she didn't want to have a pissing match about it. "But I want my sex life back, Will. At this point – I want it back. That's something I want us to actively be working on. I know it's going to be hard," her voice cracked. "But I'm willing to put in the effort. I want to. I miss sex and I miss you. So much."

"You keep talking like I'm gone or going somewhere," he said. "I'm not. I'm right here."

"Will … you aren't here. You're never here anymore."

He let out a slightly aggravated breath. "I told you," he said with that harsh edge again, "I'll do better a coming home on time. For dinner. I'll pick up Noah tomorrow so you can focus on work."

Olivia let out a shaky breath. "It's not just that, Will. I'm really worried about you. I think you're depressed …"

"How can I be depressed?" he said. "I'm medicated. We're all fucking medicated. Out of our heads."

"You aren't making time to do things you used to enjoy," she put flatly at him, trying to ignore his previous comment.

He looked at her. "Like what?" he said as almost a challenge.

She met his eyes. "On quiet nights you used to ask to play cards or a board game," she suggested.

He rolled his eyes. "It's the start of term. I'm busy. You're busy with the fucking promotion."

The way he put it stung. She fought to keep it in check. She knew Will was proud of her. He was proud of the promotion. He felt she was deserving of it. He just hadn't anticipated the workload or that it would be added to her at this time. Neither had she. It was proving difficult for all of them. It was an added layer to them trying to cope that they hadn't expected. Where the extra work was distracting in a way, in other ways it was added stress to the point that some days it felt overwhelming.

"You used to ask Noah to play then. Not always me," she contended. "You used to look forward to playing with Noah at all. He's missing you too."

"I just have been busy with work. I haven't been home in time to play Lego for three fucking hours. He'll get over it."

She wanted to scream at him that Noah wouldn't get over it. That Noah felt that something was wrong too. That Noah was distancing himself from Will because Will was distancing himself from the family. That Noah didn't need to retreat more from the world than he already was. That their little boy was hurting and missing his daddy. That Will was being incredibly selfish in allowing himself to be blind to that.

"You aren't keeping up with our training schedule," she provided instead.

"Just because I'm not training with you, doesn't mean I'm not training," he put to her almost too harshly. "We have a treadmill and a stationary bike, Olivia. Use them whenever you want. You don't have to wait around for me. It's too fucking cold and slippery to be going outside this winter anyways."

She sighed. The triathlon had been his idea. It'd been something she'd agreed to for the distraction and to get to spend time and share an experience with him. She thought it would help their healing process – not just hers. But she'd thought they'd been in it together and instead it'd be added to the list of things that he'd tossed aside since the trial. Another thing she'd been left alone in.

"I'm worried about you, Will," she just provided quietly and made herself look away from him.

He didn't respond and the silence hung again.

"I think I should ask your parents to take Noah for the weekend," she said. "So we can have some time … alone … to … talk."

"Noah won't like that," Will said flatly.

Olivia shrugged from where she was now lying next to him and not against him. "I'll talk to him. He'll understand. He understands more about what's going on than you think."

"He shouldn't have to understand," Will pushed out and there was again a visible catch in his voice as he cracked and he made a sucking sound against a quiet sob.

"He shouldn't have to," Olivia agreed. "But he does. I'll talk to Karen. Maybe her and Rob can take him for a night instead. Invite him over for Clue. He'll like that idea – especially if it's an invitation rather than me sending him."

"I'd prefer to be playing Clue," Will said quietly.

Olivia rolled her head and looked at him. He was staring at the ceiling so motionless.

"I thought you were too busy for board games?" she offered as a small tease.

"It sounds better than … talking," he said quietly and gave her a sad look.

She gave him her own frown. "It doesn't have to all be talking, Will," she said more gently. "We just … haven't spent any time together for a while. We haven't had any alone time. We can just … go out for brunch or for a walk … or something. Just … talk. Spend time together."

Will just kept staring at the ceiling without comment and Olivia forced herself to re-establish the contact with him, rolling onto her side again and letting her hand find his shoulder and her cheek find his chest.

"We could get a hotel room," she suggested softly. "Pretend like we're having a weekend away. Get room service. Stay in bed."

"Depressed people stay in bed all day," Will said.

She looked up at him and gave him a thin smile and put a small kiss against his chest.

"OK, then we can stay in bed and talk through our depression for the weekend," she said.

He made a sound. "We can't leave Noah," he said quietly.

"He'll be OK with your parents," she said. But she felt him shake his head. She let out a little sigh and squeezed his shoulder. "We could stay in the honeymoon suite?" she suggested.

The loft above Tom's garage had actually been redone since their wedding night. Tom had been working on it before the assault on her family but after they'd basically moved in with Will's parents, his brother had gone into double-time on it. It looked far better now than on their 'honeymoon'. The bed was much more comfortable now that it wasn't a sagging mattress from the 1970s too. Tom had meant for it to be a place that her and Will could retreat to and have some private space away from his parents. But they really hadn't been ready to be away from Noah yet when they'd been living out on Staten Island and Noah certainly wasn't ready for them to be more than in the next room either. So it hadn't gotten much use beyond all three of them occasionally going up there to watch a movie in bed together or just to have some family time out of Ted and May's earshot and line of vision.

At the suggestion now, though, Will made an aggravated noise and brought his hands up and shoved the heels into his eyes.

"My family is going to know something is going on if we do that. Any of it. Asking them to take Noah. Spending a weekend at their place. Going to a hotel. It doesn't matter. They'll know."

Olivia squeezed his shoulder and sat up a bit, pulling his hands away from his eyes so she could see them. They were so watery and bloodshot.

"Will, they know something is going on already. They want to help. Let them help. Please. You've got to let someone help us at this point. For our family."