Standing at the door to the bar, with Fin's arm wrapped around her shoulder, she smiled an easy smile. This is what she wanted. What she needed. The sound of ice cubes clinking into glasses triggered feelings in her that she had managed to keep in check for years.
She had kept herself under control—mostly. She had learned to drink alone. She had learned to keep it from the squad and found her own bar. When she went out with them, she would manage to hold back, and when she needed it, only when she craved it, she would find her away to her new hiding spot and let it all go. Not every day. Not like it had been, and not since Alex had returned. Alex had made things easier for her—now her drinking was saved for the nights when she couldn't get the images of the broken bodies out of her head. They were for the nights that she held Alex when the blonde woke screaming from nightmares—after Alex had fallen back into sleep and she was left, awake and alone with the demons dancing in her head.
This trip with Fin…this was the first time that she had the every intention of getting bombed out of her mind without any care that Fin was there and was on her squad. She knew the only one who would treat her like a teenager breaking curfew was Elliot. It was Elliot she had made her promise to stop. As long as he didn't know, she would not have broken her word.
"You, uh, sure about this?" Fin asked as they walked in, looking around. It was a dark bar, dingy lights and sports memorabilia along the walls--just like millions of other anonymous bars that dotted the streets of every city in every town—Manhattan no different than anywhere else.
"About what?" She asked, not looking back at him for a second. She walked directly through the room and directly to the bar, only looking around for a second, as though she already knew the place, though Fin was pretty sure that she had never been there before. In his stomach, he knew this wasn't the best idea. He remembered the Benson they had known when Alex had left—she had been depressed as hell, she drank too much, she looked like hell.
He had watched, knowing how it felt but not knowing how to tell her. He was better at saying nothing and being a silent presence. He was strong and silent and he respected that everyone needed to mind their own. He watched Elliot fight with her—the futility. He told Elliot to back off. All his ultimatums, all his threats, all of them were empty—his love for her making him unable to hold her responsible for her behavior even if he wanted to.
Fin wouldn't do that. He wouldn't put up with the shit that Elliot had. He knew that she would never put him in the position to. He did, however, see that she needed to talk. If she wanted to do it here…well, he would give her a chance. She had become a part of his family and he knew she was hurting. He could see it in her eyes.
"Nothin'," he said, as he signaled for the bar tender to bring them drinks. Olivia stared at hers, desperate to drink it. She was also desperate not to show that needy feeling to anyone else. Staring at it, she felt all the familiar feelings that had flooded through her when she had lost Alex, only this time, she had lost herself. She felt like she was losing her grip—becoming an emotional paraplegic as she tried desperately to numb the pain that she felt in her chest and she saw reflected in the eyes of those around her. The irony was not lost—she drank to forget the problems, but when she woke up in the morning, all those problems would still be there, hanging around her neck, just like they always had. It was humiliating.
"I thought you might want to talk," Fin said, staring straight ahead.
"I don't," she said. "Just want to drink and forget this whole week." She raised the beer in front of her and took a sip. The taste of it relaxed her—but at the same time created a delicious desperation for more. Her worry—a constant when she was drinking that she would run out—that somehow, there wouldn't be enough to numb her.
"I just, you know, I'm here for you." Fin said, refusing to make eye contact.
She smiled a sad ironic smile. "I know. Everyone's here for me."
"Have you…talked to anyone?" Fin asked.
Taking the beer in her hand and taking another slow drink, she put it back down on the bar and took a deep breath. "About what?" She asked.
"The Knicks," he said rolling his eyes. "Come on Liv."
"Nothing happened Fin." She said, automatically, a response he had heard her give to many times. The problem was they both knew the bitter lie that was laced in that simple statement.
"You and I both know better."
"Nothing happened." She said again. If she said it enough times, then maybe it would be true. She gestured to the bar tender, placing her order for something stronger.
"You really want to play this game with me?" He asked.
"I'm not playing a game. " She shrugged.
"I was in the room with you Liv. I saw you on your knees with his…"
"I don't want to talk about it, Fin." She said, cutting him off. Speaking the words out loud made them true.
"Did you at least talk to your girl?"
"There's nothing to tell her."
"Yo, Liv. I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life."
"Appreciate it." Olivia said, downing the shot that was slid in front of her.
"But you might want to think about talking about this. You can lie to what's in here," he said, pointing to his head, "but in here," he said, patting his chest, "we both know what happened down there. Pretending that nothing happened is going to drive you crazy. I know how much you love your girl. Don't mess it up with her because you can't get over your stupid macho bullshit."
For the first time, she looked at him. "I know, okay. I do the same job you do, I don't need the lecture."
'God damn stubborn,' Fin thought. Instead, he looked straight ahead staring into the wall and took a deep breath. "Cool," was all he managed.