Day Fourteen, part 2

Upset by Huang's question, by the possibility that he somehow knew the idea scared her, by the chance, however remote, that it was true, Olivia clung to her silence like a security blanket until the tears stopped. Violence, sex, sadomasochism - it wasn't exactly a new issue in her life. She'd grappled with the concept, with the knowledge, with the fear, tat something dark and ugly and unforgiveable was a part of her, built right into her DNA along with her brown eyes and long legs. And, adding insult to injury, she'd openly discussed the fucking idea with Huang in the past, although he was playing it like he damn well didn't know.

She wasn't tough and fearless because she was strong; she'd suspected all her life that she'd become tough and fearless because she enjoyed the violence inherent in such a personality. It had only been the sex with Elliot that shined light on how deep the perverted desire ran. And it was timed perfectly to coincide with another crisis, robbing her of the chance to deal with the truth by herself, leaving her secret raw and open to serve as undeniable proof that she was every bit as rotten and revolting as she'd always feared, just as her mother had told her.

Yeah, the path was so well traveled in her mind, so familiar, that she almost missed it. While her instinct, the one her mother had taught her so well, was to crucify herself whenever she was presented with the opportunity, she'd learned something from Elliot over the years as well. If she was going down, she should take someone else down with her, especially if it was the person who'd shoved her off the cliff in the first place.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused her anger outward. "This is not your perfect fucking opportunity to psychoanalyze me." Her hiss even sounded like a warning to her. "I'm talking to you because I want my job and we both know you're the fastest way back to it." That was bullshit, but she was pretty damn sure that admitting the therapy was only to make Elliot feel better was hardly going to help matters any.

Huang obviously hadn't expected her outburst, not that he could have with the remarkably calm and reserved way she'd been acting since her return. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed, the concern apparent. He moved slowly, carefully easing back into his seat as though a sudden moment might invite her to pounce.

She wanted to find humor in it, if only in the image of what she was sure would be a ridiculously one-sided fight, but she couldn't. Because to do so would only prove it true – that she liked violence. So she sat with her jaw clamped shut, trying to keep herself from making a sound.

Clearly still afraid of garnering a vicious reaction, Huang's voice was soft. "Olivia," he paused, leaning his notebook up like a shield as he made another note on it. When she didn't attack, he continued softly. "Can you tell me why you're so angry?"

No. She couldn't. She was angry because what she'd been fighting all along was inevitability. Instead, she forced back the truth and the sarcastic comment that formed, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not angry. I'm sorry if I made you think so."

Huang was emboldened by her attempt to remain civil; likely a person trying to be polite wasn't about to strike. He leaned forward again. "And I bet you're not tense either." He smirked, watching as she worked to unclench her jaw. "Why don't we talk about why you're upset?"

Matching his position, Olivia leaned forward. "Ok, fine." Playing stupid never got her anywhere. She didn't know why she even tried it. "I'm upset because you know damn well that I've questioned the basis for my violent tendencies and you know damn well that I don't want to be like him."

His glance fell to his list while he drew a deep breath and, at least according to Olivia, considering adding ear plugs to it. "Like who? Elliot?" He sounded genuinely confused.

And working with the fact that she'd never seen anyone manage to confuse the man, Olivia decided he was fucking with her. She wasn't about to give him anymore. "Why wouldn't I want to be like Elliot? He's strong and smart and courageous and empathetic and considerate and dependable. Jesus, he'd every damn thing anyone decent would want to be! What the fuck is wrong with you? If I thought I was going to turn out like Elliot, I wouldn't waste my fucking time talking to you!"

Once again in fear for his well being, Huang sat back, shrinking into the oversized chair. "I'm not trying to trick you. I really don't know who you're referring to."

If there was one word to describe George Huang, stupid wasn't it. Olivia didn't believe for one second that he didn't know she was talking about her father. Fuck, she'd talked to him about it several times over the years. He just wasn't that thick. "Who the hell do you think I'm talking about?" All of her anger and confusion and fear gathered into one giant blazing funnel of hatred that she directed at the man across from her.

Either he was truly afraid of her or he was actually rendered speechless by her incensed attitude. Whatever it was, Huang sat silently glued to his seat waiting for Olivia to explain her behavior, or for Olivia to give him something to work with, or, more infinitely preferable in a moment of weakness that he would never admit to, for Elliot to choose right then to emerge from the bedroom and interrupt them.

His silence only served to piss her off. Because proclivity of no, she'd always believed that she'd done a hell of a job keeping steady control of her temper and therefore, Huang's fear seemed like more of an insult. Unable to remain sitting, she jumped to her feet. "Get the hell out of my apartment!"

The ferocious roar of her voice was foreign, even to her ears. Huang's hands were clumsy and slow, his whole body trying to react to her command while also anticipating a physical hit. He wound up jumping to his feet with his precious shopping list skimming over the far edge of the table and resting on the floor at her feet. Although he was practically shaking as he reached for it, Olivia didn't back down. She didn't notice.

Her attention was on Elliot, who came sprinting from her bedroom at the sound of her raised voice. She'd ceased paying mind to the friend she'd bullied into submission at the sight of her partner. The fierce snarl on his face made her even angrier. She'd agreed to talk to Huang in the hopes that it would make things easier, not make them worse. But there was a furious man racing toward her and her eye was suddenly drawn to the forgotten man who was just standing up after retrieving the notebook in front of her.

Had Olivia thought about the situation for a minute, she would have known there was no reason to fear. But she was too mad for thinking. Instead only processing the rapidly approaching, irate man behind her and the somehow unexpected face before her. In that moment, there was only terror pulsing through her veins and only Howie in her thoughts. The idea of being sandwiched between them, the last two men on Earth she could ever had mistaken for the hulking, uncoordinated form of her kidnapper under any rational circumstance, gave her all the strength and speed she needed to escape. She sprang sideways, over the arm of the couch, leaping clear. She put a good ten feet between herself and the perceived threat before she dared a glance back. Her head turned slowly, dreading the point when she'd see him there, his looming bulk, his huge shoulders that blocked the dim light, his enormous arms that threatened to squash her, his clammy hands that touched her and sent shivers down her spine, his sweaty odor that made her choke until she drummed up Elliot's presence to chase away the demon.

But when she looked, when she finally forced her eyes to the man's approach, there was no need to pretend.

Elliot was taking slow, hesitant steps toward her, his hands raised with palms open to indicate that he was not going to hurt her. "Shhh, Liv, it's ok."

Utter shock at his words stopped the terrified scream she hadn't even heard. She noticed it retroactively from the way her ears rang in the silence that followed. Still shaking from adrenaline, she didn't even bother finding a wall against which to collapse. Her knees simply fell away under her. Elliot continued to move closer, closing the distance faster than she sank.

She might have been surprised by the warmth of his arms stopping her fall, except she was beyond thought. She was simply emotion, desperation particularly, as she fisted her hands in his shirt. Huang disappeared. Her living room disappeared. The floor under her disappeared. There was only Elliot. Only his arms that held her. Only his scent that surrounded her. Only his voice in her ears.

Only his strength that could save her.

Splintered.3