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.
Olivia looked at Will as she came into the bedroom. She'd thought he'd gone in there to hide – but even though he likely had, he also looked like he was relaxing – laying in bed and reading a book. He glanced at her from over the top of the pages and gave her a thin smile – so she left it for a moment, instead circling to her side of the bed and setting a pile of papers there. She saw him look but he didn't comment – so neither did she. Not yet. Instead, she went to the dresser and retrieved her sleepwear and then stepped into their en suite and changed out of the sight of his eyes.
By the time she re-emerged he'd gone back to his reading and hardly even glanced at her this time when she returned to the bed and got into her side. She climbed in and pulled the covers over her lower half but remained sitting upright and eyeing him until he looked at her again.
"Hey?" he said questioningly.
She gave him a thin smile. "Good book?" she asked.
He shrugged. "He's doing a presentation at the university next month. I figured I should read it."
She gave a little nod but continued to look at him. "I was hoping we could do my half of the homework assignment before we go to the Lego thing," she said.
He let out a small noise but allowed the book to come down and eyed her a bit more carefully. "I shaved," he said flatly.
"I know," she said and gave him a gentle smile. "I like it. It's good to see you again." Will made another sound and looked away – suddenly becoming fixated on the foot of the bed. "But I'd still like to talk a bit about it."
"It's late," he said flatly.
"OK," Olivia conceded and then reached for the papers she'd left on her bedside table. "But if you don't want to talk then I'd like you to read this."
She held out the papers at him and he let out an annoyed sound but took them and looked at them.
"What's this?" he asked.
"The intimacy exercises that Alison gave us," she said.
Will let out an even bigger groan and looked at her, as he let the papers fall into his lap – no longer looking at them. "Olivia …"
But she moved and lifted the papers back up into his view. "I'd like you to read the first one and I'd like us to try it," she said a bit more firmly, though trying to be gentle in her persistence.
"It's late," Will said again.
"It's not that late, Will," she pressed. "And, it doesn't involve talking. It doesn't even involve touching. And, I'd like to try it."
Will let out a long, slow, exaggeratedly annoyed breath but looked down at the first page, quickly skimming it and then flipping to the next page and reading the first bit of it. He glanced at her from the reading.
"You want us to breath together?" he said a little sarcastically.
"Yes, Will," she said flatly. "I'd like us to try it."
He shook his head. "You want to sit naked, look at each other and inhale and exhale together?" he said. "You realize you just went into the bathroom rather than change in here. And you want to do this?"
She let out her own slow breath and looked away from him for a moment – recomposing herself – before looking back to him.
"No," she said finally. "I don't want us to do it naked tonight. Unless you want to? But I think that can be something we can work up to."
She still felt so uncomfortable under his examination of her. She didn't like him seeing the scars or having full view of them. Even though he was supposed to be looking into her eyes during this exercise, she knew to see her body – that exposed for the first time in months – they'd drift. And that would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. They'd both be distracted, awkward and uncomfortable. That wasn't what they were trying to achieve - that's what they were trying to move beyond. Or, at least it was what Olivia wanted to try to move beyond.
"I'd appreciate it if you took the time to slow down and read it a bit more carefully so you can understand the exercise," she put back to him.
He sighed at her again and fumbled with the paper a little too much and a little too loudly as he flipped back to the front page – but he did look at it again and he did appear to read through it more slowly.
"Olivia, this is ridiculous," he told her as he finished and looked at her again.
"I don't think it is," she said. "I think us getting to the point where we can sit and look at each other would be a good start."
"A good start to what?" Will said. "This has nothing to do with sex. If this is the kind of thing a sex therapist is going to have us doing – I don't see why we want to pay for it. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid, Will," she said. "We're both self-conscious about sitting, looking at each other and breathing together I don't know how you can ever expect us to get back our sex lives – or our relationship in any way. And it's not a sex exercise. It's an intimacy exercise."
"I can sit and look at you and breath without some therapist telling me how to do it," Will said.
"So … prove that to me," Olivia said. "Let's go sit down and try it."
He sighed at her hard and gazed at the papers and then gazed at the foot of the bed again. She was sure he was again going to hold out, to resist, to argue that there was nothing wrong and for the things that were wrong with them they'd figure out later. That he wasn't ready and that he was going to continue to hold her at arm's length no matter how much she just wanted to return to his embrace. How much she needed to figure out how to get there because she didn't know how much longer she could keep going if she didn't – let alone how they could continue the farce of the relationship they were in at the moment. They were irreconcilably stuck together – but she wanted that fusion to be wanted and mutual - not because of wounded agony that they just didn't know how to escape.
But he finally let out a sigh – like he could tell she wasn't going to drop it. Or he was conceding that she'd agreed to his request of a family outing – even though it was an outing she'd refer not to go on. Or maybe it was because he thought if he did this she wouldn't make him talk about other things that night that he didn't want to talk about. Maybe breathing together in silence seemed like a better option in that moment. Olivia thought it might be for her too. Though, she feared having to look into his eyes while they did so. They were wounded enough any more. To have to connect with his damaged iris and try not to look away would be a challenge of its own.
"OK, fine, whatever," he said quietly and tossed the papers onto the bed between them before tossing back the covers and getting out. She watched him as he went to the foot of the bed and then he gestured at the floor there. "It said to sit on the floor," he said at her a little too harshly.
But Olivia nodded and moved to join him. Don't read into his words or his tone. It was something she was having to learn and force herself to do. She was so used to judging and measuring actions and tone and the words people used around her. It was hard not to do it with Will. But even though she knew there was underlying meaning to most things he said – or didn't say – or how he said them, it also had to be measured against the hurt he was feeling. The anger. And measured against her own hurt and anger too. She couldn't project her own reactions onto his reactions in her interpretations of what he was saying or wasn't. It opened them up to too much more hurt. More arguments. More shutting down and pushing away.
She didn't want that. That was what they were trying to avoid. Trying to resolve.
So she'd take him at face value. She wanted to do the exercise. She'd asked him to read the exercise. She'd asked him to participate. The papers said to do it sitting on the floor. That was how he was now wanting to do it. That was all he meant. She wouldn't interpret his passive aggressive tone and body language. Not right now.
He was already sitting on the floor cross-legged by the time she got around to the foot of the bed and settled herself onto the floor too. He was hunched forward. His arms resting on his legs and the crossed elbows digging into either of his palms. It wasn't exactly the best position for eye contact or for him to be taking deep, meaningful, healing breaths.
But again Olivia refrained from comment and instead focused on trying to position herself. Sitting with good posture – her legs loosely crossed and her back straight and shoulders pinched comfortably back. But even in that she wasn't sure where to put her hands and arms. It felt like she should be sitting in some sort of mediation pose, thumb and forefinger pinched together as she let out an Om. So she fidgeted, crossing her arms over her chest too. It felt protective, which she sort of wanted but it was also so closed off and awkward – which she didn't want. So she shifted again.
Will sighed at her and eyed her – which made her feel even more uncomfortable about trying to initiate this initial step. But he sat a little straighter, his arms uncrossing and his upturned palms coming to rest on his knees.
"You want to hold hands?" he asked – more kindly. "I know that's in violation of you 'boundary circle'," he said a little more sarcastically and gestured in her general vincity.
She had to fight not to roll her eyes at him but the annoyed noise still escaped her. "Will …" she huffed.
"What?" he said a little more sharply and rose to his knees, snagging the papers left in the middle of the bed and held them out at her. "That's what they call it."
She pushed his wrist and the out held papers away from her and he just gave her eyes and put the back on the foot of the bed. Then he eyed her more as she continued to fidget in finding the best way to sit but then sighed and held out her own hands.
"Fine," she said.
Will shrugged and shuffled his ass forward until his knees touched hers.
"Now you're really in my boundary circle," she deadpanned at him as he made the contact – their bones knocking together.
He eyed her like he was actually measuring that. There was a flash of concern that she didn't as often see in his face much anymore.
"Is this OK?" he asked.
She nodded but rubbed at her eyebrow – her tell. "Yeah, it should be fine," she said.
The truth was that she wasn't sure. Having her husband's knees touching her wasn't upsetting. But she wasn't sure how she felt about him being that close when they were about to have to stare at each other and she'd definitely be feeling his breath on her. Still, when he again placed his upturned palms on his own knees, she let her hands find his. Though, her wrists more settled in his palms and her fingers wrapped loosely around his forearm. He simulated the same hold – though, she thought his grip was likely even looser than hers.
They sat like that for a moment that felt to go on for far too long. She eyed at their hands, arms and knees. She could feel him looking down and across at her same positioning. But she couldn't bring herself to look up yet until she felt his eyes move up to her face and she allowed hers to find his.
"So it said one of is supposed to exhale and then the other inhale," he said flatly. "Like circular breathing."
"Yeah," she allowed with a small nod.
"So do you want to start? Or you want me too?"
She thought about it for a moment. "I'll start," she said and fidgeted again, sitting up straighter and trying to force herself to look in his eyes. It was much harder and much more uncomfortable than she expected. It became worse when she saw the amusement in Will's face.
"It's not funny," she spat at him.
But that just caused a smile – a rarity anymore on her husband – to tug at the corners of his lips. He shook his head and looked away for a moment.
"Sorry," he said and then slowly returned his eyes to her – this time trying to keep an overly straight face. An awful, statuesque poker face that he just wasn't pulling off at all and it made her own smile tug at her face. And then he let out a quiet laugh and looked away again. She allowed her own quiet sound of amusement.
"Don't make me laugh!" she protested. But even though she really wanted them to take this seriously. She really wanted to get through this exercise with him. Somehow it felt so nice to have a quiet laugh with her husband. There was that small feeling in her chest – deep inside of her – that she hadn't felt in months. And, it felt so good. It felt so missed. And the warmness – the heat of it – she didn't want it to leave.
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered and broke his hands away from hers – shaking them out and shaking his head along with them. He took several moments of looking down at the ground beside him – a small smile he was still trying to hide visible to her. But he finally brought his eyes back to her once again and again put his hands out to retrieve hers. She re-established the connection.
"OK?" she asked.
He gave her a little nod but there was still a small smirk on him. "I'm good," he assured.
She examined him for several beats but then allowed. "OK," she said and watched him again for a moment but then let out a slow exhale.
He seemed to sit there for far too long. His eyes watching her like he was expecting something more. Or like he was waiting for the exhale to hit him in the face like a hurricane. But he finally took a deep inhale – and again seemed to hold it for far too long – before he let out his exhale. As he did, Olivia found herself waiting for some sort of anti-climatic approach of his air before doing her own deep breath.
It felt odd and awkward for the first several breaths. It almost felt like holding bated breath than shared breathing. It seemed to be made worse by looking at his face – not so much his eyes – because she was looking and watching for the signs of each breathe rather than hearing or feeling the inhales and exhales in his body.
It felt like it took forever but slowly their breathing came into sync, reaching a steady rhythm. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Shoulders and chests falling up and down. Expanding and deflating. Wrists clutched loosely and the vague feeling of his pulse under her fingertips. Slow and steady just like their breathes.
And, as the breathing finally seemed to match, she felt her eyes move away from the distant stare she'd picked on his upper lip and move to his eyes. He was looking at her through the dim light of their bedroom too. Actually looking at her. Their eyes connected in a way she wasn't sure they had in a long time either. They were always looking away from each other anymore when they made eye contact. They'd look at each other's faces but not in the eyes. Like there was something there that neither of them wanted to see anymore. But that night they did.
It again felt strange. Part of her wanted to look away. But she also knew that the assignment indicated that you should strive to at least hold the contact for five minutes after you achieved it. She suspected Will would be a stickler since she'd forced this exercise on him. If she looked away – he'd press to restart and achieve the suggested threshold to complete the assignment. That sort of stringency would sort of defeat the whole purpose of the activity, as far as she was concerned, but she also knew what her husband could be like. Especially when he was being stubborn or trying to put her in her place – which seemed to be one of his favorite activities lately. So she forced herself to maintain the eye contact.
Slowly it felt less forced. It felt more like she was seeing her husband. She wasn't noticing the physical damage or the hurt in his eyes. She was just seeing the beautiful eyes she'd completely fallen for – and the beautiful, caring, honest, strong man that bore them. Somehow they seemed less clouded and more clear than usual – or maybe it was her vision that was clearer in that moment.
Whatever it was, she was sure that they'd well exceeded the five minutes. She could feel it in her body. The sagging heaviness of the relaxation of the breathing. The warmness of being under a tender gaze – not an embarrassing one.
She felt herself let her eyes drift closed, even though she sort of expected Will to call her out on it. But he didn't. And, she just enjoyed listening to his breathe for several minutes. Hearing it and feeling it. His and her own. She could hear her own heartbeat and she thought she could hear the faint beat of his too as it bounced against his fingertips.
She finally let out a very slow breath and let her hands loosen and drew them back to her own lap as she opened her eyes. Hers were already open when she saw he had let his close too and he was just slowly opening them now. He gave her a thin smile as he did and she returned it.
It was now him who fidgeted a bit, looking awkward with his hands until he finally glanced down into his lap and then crossed his arms over it. Her eyes briefly followed his as he positioned himself and saw the part of the reason for his fidgeting and his choice of arm placement. It was clear that Will had a decently visible erection tenting the front of his sleep pants. Her husband who'd struggled to achieve an erection since what had happened and even when he did, they weren't anywhere near as firm as they once had been and were often so short-lived that neither of them really got a chance to explore or enjoy them – even when they wanted to.
But Olivia could tell that he didn't exactly want her to see – and definitely didn't want her to comment. So she shifted her eyes back to his face.
"That was OK for you?" she asked.
He gave a small nod. "Yeah, it was oddly sensual," he provided. She thought that was a good word for it. She agreed. It had been very sensual and in a way much more physically intimate than she'd anticipated – especially for an exercise that involved so little actual psychical touch.
But he was already looking away from her and again reached to retrieve the papers outlining the stages of the exercises, reading the second page for a moment.
"Whoa … next time I get to stroke your hands and arms," he said and shot her a teasing look. But there was a small smile under it.
Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "Maybe we should work on perfecting this one before we move onto the next one," she suggested.
He glanced up at her. "Perfecting? What? You want to get naked to do it next time?"
She watched him. At least he was acknowledging – if not outright suggesting – there be a next time. But she thought he might still be being a little flippant about it.
"I don't know," Olivia said. "Maybe." The truth was she really didn't think they were ready to sit in front of each other in the nude and complete that exercise. They'd barely been able to settle and do it fully clothed. "Maybe we should just work at being comfortable with completing it to start."
He made a small sound of acknowledgement. But he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was paging through the papers.
"Says we aren't supposed to initiate sex or orgasm after these things," he muttered and cast her a look. "Seems counterintuitive for sex therapy activities that are arousing."
"They aren't sex therapy activities, Will," she stressed again. "And arousal isn't the objective. They're intimacy exercises. They're about experiencing a physical connection and giving ourselves the space to become more attuned to how our bodies are feeling and reacting to physical touch and to each other."
He made another small sound that seemed to express that he didn't entirely agree with that assessment. But Olivia again forced herself not to project her interpretation onto him and to just take it as an acknowledgement that she'd spoken and he'd heard.
"Do you want to talk about how we think that went?" she asked. "How it made you feel?"
He shrugged and looked up at her. "I don't think there's much to say. It was nice. After we figured it out."
She let out a little sigh and looked down to examine her hands in her lap.
"What?" he asked. "What do you want to talk about about it?"
She let out a little shrug and shook her head. "I don't know, Will," she said. "I just feel like we should talk about how it went."
She felt him sit back a bit. The papers returned again to the foot of the bed and he looked at her.
"OK," he said flatly. "So talk about it."
She found his eyes as he said it but let out another sound and found herself looking off over his shoulder for a moment before letting herself look at him again.
"Can I take my five minutes?" she put to him.
He blinked at her. She could tell he wanted to say no. She knew he didn't really like Dr. Lindstrom's suggestion that once a day they each take five minutes. Five uninterrupted minutes where the other was allowed to speak – to say whatever they wanted. And the other let them. Without interrupting. Without arguing. They'd be given a chance to react or respond after – for up to five minutes too. She'd been trying to take her five minutes every night. Will hadn't. He'd sit there and listen silently and so far he had yet to take his five minutes to respond. He had yet to ask to be the one to have his five minutes to speak out. But again – he was playing along, mostly because he thought it was what she wanted. And, it was. But what she really wanted was for him to be trying just as hard – to be fighting for their marriage and their relationship and their family and their normalcy and their lives – just as much as she was. Instead he seemed like some sort of passive player.
"Yeah, sure," he muttered.
She sighed and looked down into her lap again, composing herself and mentally deciding what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. Then she looked up.
"I don't think you fully understand how important having a relationship with you has been in my life," she said and he made a little sound like that was ridiculous. But she again forced herself to ignore it and continue. "And, not just our friendship or us being a couple or spouses, Will. The physical relationship we've had – our sex life – has been an incredibly important part of my life. It's been very healing for me – in so many ways.
"And, I know you have trouble understanding that. That you always have. Because right from the beginning you've felt like you're somehow inferior in someway. That you weren't experienced enough. Or that you weren't giving me what I wanted or needed. You've always been preoccupied with previous men from my life …"
"I have never asked or …", Will interjected with a harsher tone.
But Olivia held up her hand. "It's my time. You can respond after." He made an even angrier sound but she pressed forward.
"You have, Will," she said. "You may not have outright asked me. But there's been lots of little things you've said and done that indicate your own insecurities. But you know what – after I met you and I was with you – there have been times where I have been embarrassed about how many men there were in my past. Because none of them ever compared remotely to what we have. Or had …"
She sighed and looked down again for a moment. "You're the healthiest relationship I've had with a man. In the bedroom and outside of it. I didn't care we had to work on things. Or that it took us a while. I don't care that we aren't perfect. And I don't care that maybe our sex life is a little mundane. That's what I needed – and that's what I wanted. And, I really didn't care because it was with you, Will. And, I trusted you. I was comfortable with you. And that made it easy to work through some of my issues then and for me to be more than willing to work through some of yours too. To me it felt like that's what sharing a love life – making love to someone – was supposed to be like.
"And, that was healing, Will. That helped me deal with finding a way to be with a man again and to be in a relationship again after Sealview and after the hurt Kurt caused. It helped me so much to have your touch and your love and your presence while Noah was sick. It helped again to have you there while I was healing – physically, mentally, and emotionally – after the shooting. And, it hurts me so much for us to not be able to have some of that connection now. To not have your touch and your affection. Because I know how healing it is. I KNOW what I'm missing because of where we are at right now."
She forced herself to look up and find his eyes. He did look like he was actually listening but he looked a little hurt too. Scared.
"I know things happened to you too. I know you're scared. I know that there's things you don't want to try or touches you aren't sure how you'll react to. I know you're worried about hurting me or doing something to trigger or upset me. I'm worried about all those things too. But – Will – I know we can do this. We worked through both of our issues before. We worked through mental and physical and emotional baggage – and we found what worked for us. Because we trust each other and we care about each other. And, I still feel that way about you. I trust you. I care about you. I love you.
"And, I'm telling you – I need for us to be able to talk again. Intimately. Not about work. Or what's on TV or who's playing. I need us to talk. And, I really need your touch. And, within that – I really need us to start working towards having a physical relationship again. Not a once a month or couple month because we think we have to thing. I want us to get some semblance of what we had.
"So, I'm acknowledging for you – that maybe you'll need or want to try something different than what our past looked like. And, Will, maybe there's some alternative positioning I want to try too – that maybe before I wasn't really keen on. But maybe it makes more sense now for the both of us. And – yes – I don't know how I'll react or if I'll like it. Maybe I'll be telling you to stop. Maybe you'll be telling me to stop. But I know that's something we're both capable of. And, I know there is no one I would trust other than you to figure this out with. I trust you. I am comfortable with you. And even though it's going to be hard – that I'm scared too – I want to do this with you. All of it. Not just putting up some facsimile so we look like a functioning family. I want us to be a family. And a couple and spouses and lovers. Again. I want us to reach that point. That's the way I want to heal. And this – intimacy – verbally and physically … it needs to be part of it."
He blinked at her in silence for a long time. She waited wondering if he was going to have any sort of reaction. If he was going to take his five minutes.
"I do love you," he said finally. "You know that, right?"
She gave a small nod and reached to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"I do know that, Will. I always have. And, I need to know that I really love you too. I know that maybe I'm not as good at expressing it or showing it in quite the same way as you – but I do love you. Very much. You're my rock. Even now. But … now … I just don't know if love is enough. We need more. We need to work at this. Please …"
