Bob O: thank you very much, I'm really glad to know you like her as a character. I'm hoping that about halfway through this chapter, but mostly in the chapters to come, she'll start appearing stronger.

Gan Ainm: your review made my day when I got, months ago. I wanted you to know that. I was happy to hear that you thought I fit her into the show well; the way I did this story was I cut the show open and shoved her in where she fit so that her story flowed with the show. The answer to why he keeps coming back to her has a lot to do with who she was before the show started - while she's a very nice person she's also very sad, and sometimes quite dark; so the nice woman who's utterly in love with Malvo, is not the woman he met. That woman is who Malvo "fell for," and even in the show's timeline she shows bits of that person - she has the ability to take him off guard, cause she sees through him, and just accepts what he does. And he can't get the animal to come out of her, except in bed; so she fascinates him, even though he ruined her. And I hope next chapter shows the woman Malvo first became interested in, cause she's a bit different than the Olivia I've been writing.

ale: thanks. he probably won't be too happy that she has another man in her life, cause he kinda claimed her.

The days dragged slowly on, the sun moving from morning to dusk signifying the time but it meant nothing to Olivia. She sat on the couch staring blankly at the muted tv, not bothering to read the captions when she didn't care. Wrench would look over sometimes and see her sitting beside him with her knees curled to her chest and her head limply resting on the arm of the couch breathing softly. He didn't think he'd felt such silence before; he knew that even if he could hear there was no sound - not from the television, not from her. The noise she created was as little as how much she moved, which was very little if at all.

He'd stopped asking her to get things whether food or drink, he didn't ask for help standing - he didn't need it anymore. He'd drape a blanket over where she sat curled in on herself and found things to occupy him. He didn't bother with worry for being too nosey, she didn't care, and so he combed through her small house top to bottom familiarizing himself with the things that made this her home - and the things that made her hate it.

Malvo frequently stayed here, that much Wrench quickly realized. His clothes were intermingled with hers; in the closet, the drawers, the clothes basket. Men's soap and shampoo in the bathroom, a razor, a comb. He'd lived a second life here, he ate and bathed and slept in this house – with her. Wrench was struck again with the thought that she would've made perfect bait, it was obvious how clearly attached to her Malvo had been.

She didn't notice the noise at first, she was too lost in dark hateful thoughts about how pathetic she was for moping like a school girl minus the ice cream. The sound of heavy furniture dragging on the floor startled her and she turned to her left to find Wrench had left – she hadn't even noticed, nor had she paid any attention to the blanket he'd placed over her lap which fell to the floor when she stood.

It was the first time in almost a week that she stepped in her room, her hand lingering on the doorframe on the chance she would change her mind and retreat. She didn't know what he was doing; the bed had been against the back wall and the dresser at the foot of the bed facing the door – it was the most functional way to sit the furniture. He had the bed against the right wall and the dresser facing the bed. She wouldn't be able to open the drawers if she was standing in front of them, so small a space did she have, it was a terrible idea. But it surprised her to realize she wanted it this way; it was different, it was new. There was no memory attached to this arrangement.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he tore the sheets off the bed, piling them and the pillows on the floor. It took her a moment of waiting for him to turn and answer before she remembered he couldn't hear her.

Wrench turned to look for the box of trash bags he'd taken from the kitchen to find her standing behind him reaching for one of the pillows. He knew from the way she held it to her chest and pressed her nose against it that it'd been Malvo's; and he hated what he did before he'd even done it.

She couldn't imagine getting rid of it, at least not yet – it still smelled like him, as if he'd laid his head on it the night before. She could almost pretend it was his skin pressed against her cheek instead of the fabric. It was a few moments before she realized the pillow had been torn from her hands; one minute she'd been holding it and the next her arms were empty.

"Give it back," she demanded reaching for it, pushing against him as he held it away from her. She yelled curses at him, shoving his shoulders with her small hands, doing absolutely nothing when she was so small and he was so large and determined. And then suddenly he had her by the shoulders shaking her.

"Stop."

With wide eyes she stared up at him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arms, his face hard with anger. It wasn't his hold on her that kept her still, she could've easily torn herself out of his grasp as he stared down at her as shocked by his actions as her; it was his voice. It was so strange, a mimicking of a word he knew the letters to but not the sound – it had honestly scared her.

And so when he released her she stood completely still, watching as he grabbed the pillow and shoved it in a bag – offering no objections. Without moving, her eyes followed him as he collected the rest of her sheets and her own pillow, before he tied the bag and grabbed another. And then she stood watching as he collected everything that belonged to Lorne, all of his clothes and everything in the bathroom, everything he had once claimed Wrench threw away. There would be no mementos, no souvenirs of the time he'd been in her life, no keepsakes. The only thing Wrench didn't throw away was her.

She stood numbly as he moved around her, moving in and out of her room as he looked for anything else – a spare picture of him she'd managed to capture, a gun he'd left with her, a jacket. He took it all.

After he'd placed the trash bags in the bin outside, taking note of a dark car parked at the end of the street with a clear view of her house that'd been there the day before, he returned to her room with the notepad to find her unmoved.

"Store
Sheets
Pillow
Food"
he wrote holding it up for her. He'd realized the day before she wasn't going to move on her own, she didn't know what life was anymore – she was just lost in a fog trying to see the light of day. But she wasn't the only one who'd lost someone, and he needed her to live because he couldn't live for her.

She went over the words in her head several times, trying to remember why she needed to go to the store when all she could think of was that everything she had that smelled and felt like him was gone. But it eventually passed, leaving her breathing deeply as though she'd been drowning.

With an unsure nod she retreated to the living room to grab her purse, seeing the same couch she'd sat beside Lorne on and the same kitchen and the same table – everything was the same, but it was so very different. And she just wanted to leave so she could breathe.

She slammed the door to the SUV hoping to calm her panicking heart, trying to escape from Lorne but even then she could picture him buying the car under her name – as if he'd intended to leave all along or to replace her ancient car she'd never know – she could even see him driving it. And so she nearly ran back into the house to grab the keys to her car before she rushed back out and sat behind the wheel gasping for breath that wasn't tainted with the remnants of his memory.

Olivia didn't know how long she'd sat with her forehead against the wheel breathing before Wrench slid in beside her. It was the feeling of him that had her sitting up, the feeling of another person waiting for her to do something that had her moving. She put the key in the ignition and started the car, taking a steadying breath, and backing out of her driveway.

…

Two Months Later

Wrench forced Olivia to move, pulling the metaphorical rug out from under her, and afterward he helped her keep moving. Helping her took his mind off of everything; Numbers was dead, he had no home, no friends, no job – he'd lost everything. But he gained something in Olivia.

She gave him the SUV, handing him the keys without a word before turning away so he couldn't try to sign anything – trusting him to come back. When she was home from work she cooked, making enough for leftovers – going to the store so there was always something to eat. His laundry was done and folded, his sheets clean, the bathroom he used cleaned, she asked about his day and waited patiently as he wrote – they communicated through paper – she didn't force him to read her lips. She spoke to him in the only way he could speak to her. She even set up a light to the doorbell, or rather she bought what was needed and he set it up because she had no idea what to do. But what had surprised him most came suddenly one night at dinner.

He took the notepad she slid across the table – having gone through two already as they slowly got to know each other - expecting her to ask how his day was or if he liked the steak she got from the store. "How long are you staying?" is what she'd written. He stared at the neat curling of her words not knowing what to say except that he should've known this was coming. Of course she'd want him to leave eventually, now that she was some form of herself again. It was fine for a time to let him live with her, finish healing, heal herself – but eventually she'd want to move on and she couldn't with him there.

She saw the face she wanted to see when he looked up at her; he was confused and sad. His eyes had widened slightly, his brows had knitted – he was a large man, well over six feet, but he looked like a puppy she'd just kicked. And it left her overjoyed at seeing he didn't want to leave. She took the notepad back from him before scribbling something else and sliding it toward him, watching his face closely as he read what she'd written.
"Teach me sign language"

…

One Month Later

In the weeks that followed Wrench noticed a shift in Olivia's focus. There were books strewn about the house, note cards practically glued to her hand whether she was eating or sitting beside him on the couch or in bed – or even brushing her teeth. He hadn't noticed it before, she had sat beside him on the couch writing up the note cards the month before with a book on her lap – but she'd look up and 'talk' to him when he tapped her arm. Now, she waved a hand shooing him or completely ignored him.

He could offer little in helping study for her boards, not when they were oral and he couldn't pronounce half the words in writing let alone read them from her lips. And so he sat watching her grow more and frantic the closer the test date came, watching her lips flying over words too fast for him to read – meeting a few other residents who came by to study with her.

She was a mess when the day finally arrived. He wouldn't have known it if he hadn't spent the past three months knowing her, but he could tell as she fiddled with her hair and her outfit, going through mock situations one last time, her hands fluttering over the few words she knew – she was almost terrified. He'd had to sit her down and force her to eat, though she wasn't hungry, force a conversation out of her which turned into her spewing medical jargon he didn't know because her mind was frantically going over everything she'd learned and she couldn't seem to sit still long enough to relax.

Wrench almost regretted not being able to go with her, or at least drive her to the place she'd receive her test – he was nervous for her, wanting her to do well. How far they'd come, reluctant friends who couldn't seem to leave each other because they didn't have anyone to lean on, and then suddenly they weren't reluctant – she was kind, more so than he'd thought. Granted she angered quickly and had almost no patience when she didn't care to give it, she was fiery and rough – but there were times, namely when she was with a patient, that she was one of the most caring people he'd ever met. But there was a darkness to her as well, hiding beneath the surface; he'd see it sometimes in a passing look, a deep rooted unhappiness, a blackness to her anger before it cleared – that was a woman he could see Malvo finding interest in, discovering how the two sides of her entwined to make the person that was Olivia Anderson.

Olivia herself had grown fond of Wrench, giving up calling him by his first name because to her it didn't suit him. He was sweet in a timid sort of way, not wanting to step on her toes because she could kick him out – but he was protective. He towered over her as they'd walk through a store or out on the street when the weather started getting warmer, and he'd bear down on her when a person looked at her too long, namely men, or when someone would pass by – he didn't trust people around her, not when he saw a woman who was smaller than she really was, not when he remembered a time she couldn't stop crying. He was funny too. It made it easier when she woke up alone to an ache in her chest where her heart had once been before Lorne had torn it out; Wrench would coax a smile out of her, gave her a reason to keep going.

That was why as she studied for her boards she'd told him to pick the place they'd move to – anywhere he wanted so long as it was out of their house. She wanted to leave, Lorne wasn't coming back and she couldn't stop missing him if she was surrounded by memories of what had been. But she wouldn't leave unless Wrench was coming with her; she liked him, more than she probably should. He'd seen her at her worst, knew almost everything about her, knew her specific kind of crazy, and he stayed without expecting anything from her. He was the closest friend she'd ever had.

So while she spent hours taking the three sessions of her Oral Boards, Wrench went out to pick up boxes for them pack. She hadn't been too happy when he'd told her Texas – "seriously," she'd asked him, "out of everywhere in the United States." She'd raised her hands in surrender shaking her head. "It's too bad you lost your jacket, cowboy," she'd written before she went to start on dinner.
But he'd shown her the photos of an old farm he'd found in Rosharon, a little less than an hour from the hospital. It wasn't ideal, per say, but she'd looked at the light yellow kitchen and the window nook in one of the bedrooms and she'd fallen in love with the place.

"It's got five acres," he'd signed slowly, giving her a chance to work out in her head what he was saying.

She was slow, she knew that, and her signing was flamboyant at best – but he always smiled at seeing her try. "Are you thinking of," she paused trying to come up with how to sign the word, "grow," she finally said not knowing the motion. She repeated his movements, as she always did when learning something new. "Grow plants."

They'd formed a little picture of what the farm would be like, with him growing corn and wheat, a couple of cows, chickens, a dog. They almost got too hopeful, because the offer still had to be accepted. He emailed the owner explaining he was deaf and that his wife, because Olivia had told him it might make the old man more inclined to accept if the farm would go to someone who'd have a family, had been offered a job at the Texas Children's Hospital. The two men conversed back and forth for a month on the offer they put down and what the farm would be turned into and if it'd be cared for. The two men spoke that day as well, after Wrench came back with the boxes.

"I have good news," he signed the moment she walked in the door.

She offered him a tired smile as she kicked off her shoes and sat beside him on the couch; her test finished and the results coming the next morning – she was relieved and anxious all at the same time. "We have the farm," she signed jokingly, as they'd been doing for weeks as they waited. She wasn't surprised, it'd taken her almost a year to find the house she was in then.

He knew she wasn't serious, and he sat watching her as he nodded – a grin spreading on his face when her eyes widened.

"Really?" she exclaimed, her voice loud in the otherwise quiet house. "Are you serious?" she signed unable to believe him. Her results were momentarily forgotten as she hugged him tightly, hearing him laugh, a future in sight – one that looked happy, and she really wanted a little happiness. "We can pack after I find out tomorrow," she told him. "We can't go if I failed."

With a roll of his eyes he shoved her gently. "You didn't fail." He had complete faith that she'd passed, something that made her smile almost blushing as she looked away from him; he knew she was an amazing doctor, and she was incredibly intelligent. It hadn't crossed his mind that she'd do anything other than pass.

She was up almost before the sun rose refreshing her email constantly waiting for her results - and as he'd known she would, she passed. She'd sat at the computer with her hands covering her smiling mouth in joyous shock, feeling Wrench smiling against her cheek as he hugged her. "Alright," she signed suddenly as she stood, excitement written in every crease on her face, "we can pack."

…

Four Months Later

Olivia walked to the coffee shop down the street, enjoying the hot sun after the frigid air conditioning in the hospital – though by the time she reached the shop she was glad for cool air once more. She walked there nearly everyday at the end of her lunch break, finding herself in a lull needing caffeine – it was close, they were friendly, and most importantly their coffee was good.

She stood in line waiting to order, tapping her foot to the song playing faintly over the speakers. It was an ordinary day like all the ones before it. She'd woken up, made breakfast, greeted Wrench when he came in after seeing to the cows they'd just bought, fed their border collie pup who wasn't quite house trained yet, took a shower and got dressed, told Wrench to have a good day before she went to work. And then she'd done her rounds, checking in on her patients, scheduling a surgery for later that afternoon that would put her getting home after seven – which she'd texted Wrench and he said he'd see about cooking, which wouldn't go terribly but it wouldn't go well either. And then they'd sit and watch TV, talk about their day, and then go to bed before starting their day all over again. There was occasionally some turbulence thrown in like a surprise surgery or a patient dying, or having to find a pesticide that would keep bugs away from the crops but not hurt the animals they had. It was a normal life, a good life – one both Olivia and Wrench could see lasting long into the future.

But normal was thrown out of the window by the sound of a horribly familiar voice to her right, a deep baritone buzzing softly in her ear – the hair on the back of her neck standing up as memories she'd forced to the back of her mind came rushing back.

This had happened several times before; she thought she'd seen him, she didn't know how many times, but it was never him. It was just her mind torturing her. And she hated herself for the way her heart quickened in traitorous hope as she turned looking for his brown hair. And as she'd expected, she didn't find it. It was just a man with silver hair, his bangs parted – it was a hairstyle he'd never worn, and she couldn't imagine him ever wearing it. It was just another rogue illusion of her subconscious trying to force her to admit she missed him; even under all her happy normal bliss, she still ached for him.

She was about to turn away, the hope receded into a quiet stillness, when the man turned to her – feeling someone looking at him. The pleasant look on his face melted into a frown when his eyes met hers, momentarily caught off guard at the sight of her.

"Dr. Anderson."

Olivia turned to the woman behind the counter knowing that wasn't the first time she'd been spoken to, but she could barely think let alone speak.

"Would you like your usual?"

"Yes," she answered, brushing aside the woman's concern as she fished money out of her purse. Her heart was racing furiously as she stepped to the left of the registrar to wait for her drink, not daring to look back to the table he sat at – feeling his eyes crawling beneath her skin. She'd seen his wide mouth, the curve of his round nose, his high forehead; his hair was different but she knew his face. This wasn't a mistake, it wasn't her mind tricking her. It was Lorne.

I'm very sorry for how long this took; xfinity took the show off on demand and I was kind of waiting for it to come out on Netflix or amazon prime - somewhere free cause I'm cheap. But I don't really think that'll happen anytime soon, so I'm gonna go based off my memory and youtube. I also might've gotten caught up in other stories, as well as life. So I'm very sorry again. However, I'm now very excited to get to next chapter - cause Olivia was slowly getting back to who she was without Lorne and now he's gonna see her again. Please forgive me for the wait, and I really hope you enjoyed.