Ziggystardust1994: thank you so much for always reviewing, I can't tell you enough how much it means to me; and how much it makes my day to get them.
Come Thursday morning Olivia was more than ready to go back to the hotel room with the bagful of books she'd taken from the study, hoping to find something as she waited for the current test she'd done to come back positive or negative. If she were honest she wanted it to come back negative, because if she was right in her thinking then there was nothing they could do for him.
"Did you hear what happened to Lester Nygaard?"
"Oh a real tragedy that one."
She paused at the mention of Lester and stood listening to what had happened the night before, questioning whether he'd welcome a visitor, before she peeked at what room he was in.
"He's not taking visitors, ma'am," the nurse said when Olivia made to knock on the door.
Lester turned to see who it was this time, and though she wasn't in scrubs he recognized her blonde hair. "Dr. Anderson," he said almost relieved at seeing her. "Sh-she can come in," he said hoping to ask her about his hand. But when she sat down in the chair beside the bed he hesitated knowing she was a doctor, and if she had any suspicions about the wound she'd report it. "Thanks," he said quickly as he kept his hand under the blanket, "I'm um, I'm real glad you stopped by."
She smiled gently as she brushed back his hair to look at the knot that had formed. "You know, Mr. Nygaard, when I said to come back and have your stitches removed this wasn't quite what I meant."
He laughed at that, something that surprised him; he thought he might not be able to laugh again. "Well you, you never specified," he said smiling as she chuckled softly. "You know everyone keeps," he started, all mirth he'd had moments ago gone, "keeps saying they're sorry, like they, like they,"
She knew what it was he couldn't say, like they had killed his wife and shot that police officer; she didn't think he'd shot the officer, in fact she was very sure Lorne had killed him which meant Lester had killed his own wife. "Would you like me to go?" she asked softly. She waited for him to say yes, why wouldn't he when she was directly tied to the man that had set his life to ruin, and patted his arm making to stand when he didn't say anything. His hand on her wrist stilled her and she looked to his face to see him fighting off tears as he sat turned away from her.
Ten minutes she sat quietly beside him letting him cry, knowing he was grieving for the wife he'd killed and the officer's death he'd been responsible for; but more than that she knew he was grieving the man he used to be. It wasn't the first time Lorne had left her facing what he'd done, left her stuck between wanting to hate him for how truly evil he could be and then simply not being able to; he'd completely ruined her, and he knew it too.
"Thank you," Lester told her when he'd finally been able to compose himself, and he was left wiping beneath his eyes as she sat next to him patiently.
She smiled gently and nodded. "If you need anything at all," she told him, surprising him even more with her kindness – she was so different for Lorne Malvo, if he was darkness then she was the light; but even the sun and the moon shared the same sky for a time.
She left the hospital and headed across the street to the motel, planning to go straight to bed and worrying about showering and food later. But the sound of a phone ringing in her purse kept her from crawling in the bed and sleeping the rest of the day. "Hello?" she answered not knowing the number that was calling her.
"What do ministers wear?"
She sighed at the sound of Lorne's voice and laid back on the bed wishing he were beside her. "Ugly sweaters."
He smiled faintly knowing he'd caught her right before she'd lie down to sleep. "I'm gonna need you to be a little more specific than that."
"So what's your name this time?" she asked trying to keep her eyes open; lying back on the bed had been a mistake.
And he could hear it as she yawned. "Frank Peterson," he told her. "What are you doing right now?"
She rolled herself on her side to lay with the phone beneath her ear wanting to sleep and wanting to talk to him at the same time. "I'm laying on the bed," she answered with a sigh. "Kinda wish I was laying on you. I think it was a mistake coming with you, I don't like that you're gone."
If she had seen him she'd have taken one look at his smirk and known exactly what he was thinking. "Well if you have time you could come down here and help me pick out some ugly sweaters, maybe have dinner."
The moment he'd asked what ministers wear she'd figured she'd be going down there. "I know you're using my wanting to see you to get me to come down there, you know that right?"
"You know me well," he said sitting in the parking lot of Stavros' store, his face blank as he waited for what she would say – wanting his answer to come soon. There was much of him she didn't know, that he hadn't shown her knowing she'd loathe the man he was.
She sat up reluctantly and reached for her boots to lace them up, again. "Yeah, if I didn't know you well I might be in love with you," she said making him pause at her words. They weren't what he had expected; she had the habit of sometimes managing to take him completely off guard. With her boots laced she stood and grabbed her coat. "I should be there in two hours, where am I meeting you?"
"There's a thrift store down the road from Phoenix Farms, trust me you won't miss the supermarket," he told her turning the car off.
She knew he'd had it planned before he even called, already knowing he would convince her to drive out there – though it never took much convincing, and as much of a pain in the ass as he was, she always seemed to miss him. "Alright, I'll see you then," she said waiting for him to tell her goodbye before hanging up.
"Liv," he said instead of goodbye, and waited until he knew she was listening. "You are in love with me."
She stepped out of the warm room and into the frigid snowy morning, her sigh making a mark on the air as it drifted away from her. "I know."
…
He found her looking at a white sweater with a cart beside her. "You getting' these?" he asked, knowing she'd vowed never to wear thrift clothes again.
She shrugged before putting the sweater with the few others she thought were wearable: remembering the many times she and her mother had gone to thrift stores and goodwills looking for anything cheap. "I have to wear at least three different sweaters when I go outside, I didn't pack enough for that," she answered turning to find him putting a pair of woman's gloves in her cart.
"How's your kid?" he asked walking with her as she made her way to the men's clothes.
She flipped through the sweaters and jackets not paying most of them any mind. "If he has what I'm thinking I'll probably be home in a week," she said taking a gray and brown striped sweater and holding it up to his chest before putting it in the cart.
"What do you think he has?" He knew she was upset, her normally pleasant face was morose and tired, and she'd barely even turned to look at him.
She picked up another sweater before he took it and put it back, obviously becoming impatient. "Naegleria fowleri," she answered still not looking at him, knowing the moment she did there was a very large possibility she'd cry, "or something like it. He's already showing signs of Primary amoebic meningoencephalitis, added with his anosmia and ataxia and sporadic seizures, I don't see what else it could be," she told him brusquely.
From her use of medical terms he could tell she was incredibly upset, she knew he didn't like her using them without explaining what they meant; and he grabbed her chin before forcing her to face him. "I'm gonna need you to explain all that," he told her, having little patience to deal with this.
Her eyes were hard as she looked at him, knowing he'd read every sign that she hadn't wanted to talk about this – which meant he wasn't ready for her to go home, and he only wanted to know because he still needed her. "His sense of smell is gone, he's started losing the ability to control his muscle movements, he's had a few seizures that've grown more frequent, and last night he had a hallucination; the recent development of his symptoms has lead me to believe he contracted a brain eating amoeba which at this point in time there's nothing we can do for him except watch him die. I don't know what it is you're planning on needing me for but this kid has no more than a week and then I will be going home, so I suggest you find someone else," she said thrusting his hand away from her and pushing the cart forward, grabbing an ugly plaid blazer and throwing it in the cart.
His hands wrapping around her waist stilled her as he pulled her against him, holding her as he knew she wanted; he couldn't have her upset with him because she was right, he still needed her. "I don't want someone else," he told her softly feeling the breath leave her as she leaned against him.
Such sweet words those were, simple and sweet. "You say things like that and I almost believe you mean them."
And there it was again, her words taking him by surprise; as easy as it was to make her do what he wanted, he didn't like her seeing through him – he didn't like her knowing him as well as she did, which was more than he had previously thought. "I'll need you for a phone call, you can do that anywhere," he said turning her head in surprise – he didn't need her in Minnesota. And he further proved it by lifting her chin and kissing her gently.
Even then she didn't believe him, he wasn't a sweet man – granted she knew somewhere in him he cared about her but he'd never show it so willingly. "You know one of these days you're gonna realize you love me," she told him, smiling when his brows rose in amusement.
"Is that so?" he asked knowing how wrong she was.
She nodded before turning the cart around a clothing rack. "Granted I'll probably have to die for you to figure it out, but you'll get there," she said picking up a white collared shirt his size.
If she really did know she'd die because of him then she was smarter than he gave her credit, and she really would know him if she was aware he'd probably be the one to kill her. "I guess I'll find out," he said softly in her ear, his hands once more finding her hips. "Would you like dinner first and then the hotel, or the hotel and then dinner?"
She smiled at the feel of his hand trailing up her side to cup her breast, knowing he was working his way back on her good side – and she wondered if he knew he'd never even left, so lost to him was she. "I'm leaving after dinner so I can either follow you to the hotel or follow you to a restaurant, that decision is entirely up to you," she said offering him an innocent smile before taking their things to the cashier, leaving him to follow her with his wallet in hand knowing she was forcing him to admit what he wanted.
…
Two young teenage boys sat on their beds, one playing a game the other watching tv, waiting for their parents to come back to the hotel and pick them up for dinner. "Hey turn that down," Dylan said to his brother at the sound of soft thumping against their wall.
"What is it?" Cole asked turning the tv off.
"Shh." Dylan pressed his ear against the wall. "You gotta hear this."
Cole did the same and listened for what his brother was hearing. "Aw geeze," he said hearing a headboard slamming against the wall over and over, "he's really nailing her."
The two stood listening to the sound of a woman's moan beneath the pounding of the frame, again and again and again and again, her gasps growing more and frequent until finally they heard her and a man cry out. They continued to listen to the muffled voices behind the wall and moved to the window when they heard the door open. Cole groaned disgusted when he saw the older man step out of the room, "old people sex."
"Aw man, look at her," Dylan said when a blonde woman stepped out behind him. "How the heck did he get her?"
"You know she's probably thirty, you're like half her age," Cole said still not liking the idea of the older guy.
But Dylan shrugged. "Who cares, she's beautiful. Aw geeze he saw us."
Lorne turned at the feeling of being watched to find two boys staring out of the window beside his room. "It appears we had an audience," he said climbing in the car he'd gotten her.
But she only shrugged. "They're just boys."
He looked at her curiously. "You're not as mortified as I thought you'd be," he said knowing there were times she was quite the prude.
"I still remember the time you pushed me against the wall and screwed me outside of a hotel room," she told him seeing him smirk as he remembered that. "And I'm pretty sure at least three people passed by us, and you just kept going."
He smiled as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "You say that as though you didn't enjoy it," he said turning to see the look on her face.
"I enjoyed the hell out of it," she told him, "I'm just saying two boys listening to us in a different room is nothing." She looked over at him to find him still smiling as he drove.
He looked to her and raised a brow. "I can always do it again," he told her.
She laughed shaking her head. "Shut up and take me to dinner," she said biting back a smile at his brief laugh, feeling his hand on her thigh.
…
Friday Afternoon
"Hiya, I'm here to see Dr. Anderson, is she working today?" Lester asked holding his right hand in his pocket as he looked at the nurse behind the desk.
"Do you have an appointment?"
He shook his head wondering if he should've called first. "No, no, she uh said I should come in if I needed anything."
The nurse looked at him blankly. "Sir, she's a very busy woman."
"I, I know, but she said,"
"You're gonna have to wait sir, as I said she's very"
"I know what you said," he exclaimed loudly before quickly apologizing, seeing he'd startled the nurse; the last thing he needed was security to be called. "I just need to talk to her is all. I'm sure if you, if you called her sh-she'd tell you she can see me. I'm sure of it."
The nurse nodded reaching for the phone planning to call security. "Of course, who do I say is askin' for her?"
"Mr. Nygaard," Olivia said when she saw him at the desk, seeing the nurse's relief. "It's alright, Maeve, I got it," she told the poor woman before motioning him to follow. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Oh yes, yes that would be great," he answered hoping they'd go somewhere private.
And as though she read his mind she led him to an empty room the staff sometimes used on break. "What can I do for you?" she asked handing him a cup of coffee.
"Thank you," he told her before wondering if showing her his hand was a good idea – she may still report it. But she was staring at him waiting and he knew he had to say something. "Um, about uh Malvo," he started awkwardly as he stared into the styrofoam cup at the dark liquid, "you're very nice and uh, and and pretty. Would there ever be a chance a girl like you would look my way?" he asked saying the first thing that came to mind; and he'd wondered it from the moment he'd seen Malvo kiss her, that it seemed impossible for a woman like her to love a man like that.
She stared at him confused not quite sure what exactly he was getting at. "A girl like me, or me?" she asked. He gave a short awkward laugh before simply nodding and she sighed. "No," she answered honestly turning his eyes to her startled. "Don't take that wrong way, it's just Lorne," she broke off not sure how to say what she wanted to, not sure if there was even an explanation for it.
"He ruined you too," Lester finished for her, seeing in her eyes he was right. He was a murderer, a cold unfeeling evil man, and yet she'd given up enough of herself to be able to love him.
"Honestly?" she asked before shrugging. "I hadn't liked him when I first met him, he was so arrogant and sure of himself, and I don't typically go for guys like that let alone his age. But there was something in his eyes, something dark and," she took a breath as she remembered when she first met him, "he certainly captured my attention. And then some not very nice men noticed his interest in me and they came to my house, I guess to kidnap me," she said not noticing Lester's look of shock at how close to danger she lived. "Do you know what he did?" she asked almost smiling as though it were a fond memory, "he snuck up behind me and held his hand over my mouth and then waited until I saw it was him before he pulled back into my room. Then he shot the guys, he just held me against him and killed them; just like that," she said raising a shoulder. "I was horrified of course, but," she sat looking at the wall as though it might have the answers, "something about standing there against his chest I wasn't afraid, of him. And I've been lost to him ever since." She sat quietly staring at nothing, feeling her eyes burn, and she laughed before shaking herself. "Is that what you came to ask me?"
"No," he answered suddenly, regretting asking her about Malvo at all. "My uh, my my um, aw heck," he said before placing his throbbing hand on the table and sighing defeated. He winced when she lifted the bandaged and looked at the festering wound. "You have to report it don't you?"
She looked at him before turning back to the infection, knowing it was causing him a world of pain. "I'm gonna say this and I want you to know as selfish as it sounds I do care about your well being," she said waiting until he nodded bracing himself. "I can't report this without you admitting Lorne had been at your house, I'm guessing that's how you got it, when he shot the sheriff. So no, I won't report it. But I can't do anything for you unless I report it, do you understand?"
He nodded having been more afraid she'd have the police called, but he wasn't happy she couldn't help him either. "So what do I, what am I supposed to do?" he asked helplessly.
She gently pressed the bandage back into place, catching his wince, before she sat back. "Go to a pharmacy and ask for an anti-bacterial cream, if you can't remember that then ask for something that'll keep it from getting infected. Also get some hydrogen peroxide to keep it clean, it'll sting like bitch but it'll help kill the infection. You're also gonna have to squeeze the puss out, and then clean it," she said watching his shoulders slump at how much he knew it would hurt. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you."
"Oh no, you've been so, so nice," he told her not wanting her to feel any guilt for him when he'd done it to himself.
She smiled gently seeing Lorne had all but destroyed him. "You know, Mr. Nygaard, if you'd asked me if you stood a chance four years ago before I met him, I'd have said yes."
He looked up at her surprised to see her kind face, he could hardly believe there was ever a time she would've gone for him; he'd hardly been able to believe Pearl had. "And now?"
"Now he's in my blood," she answered, "and no one stands a chance." She sat quietly a moment as she tried to remember the person she used to be before he'd train wrecked into her life, but she shook her head and looked back to Lester. "Keep a close eye on it and call if it gets worse," she said scribbling her number on a notepad.
Lester took the paper and thanked her again, and then again. "I, I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you," he told her before he lost the nerve, giving her a small smile before leaving.
She stared after him and smiled bitterly. "Yeah, he doesn't."
So that was the end of episode two, well at least the parts she would be in. There's actually a few episodes she doesn't have much of a place in, so I'd finish it in one chapter like I did this one. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.