Thank you for the lovely reviews. Here's the first chapter of It's Dark! Enjoy! Please tell me what you think!
Same disclaimer as always.
It's dark.
The red flashes lit up the streets brighter than any headlights or streetlamps.
Sirens were blaring, a sound not foreign to her ears.
Except the screeching sound never grew closer and never faded away.
It was with her, constantly. Echoing in her ears.
A high-pitched scream, then a softer roar. A cycle. Repeating, repeating, repeating.
He was scared.
Terrified.
"Just hold on."
"What happened?"
"Don't let go. Please."
"She's in shock."
"Just keep your heart beating."
Rumbling in her ears of different pitches spoke these words over the sirens.
She recognized one voice. The man's.
He was encouraging her. To hold on.
Everything was so loud.
The noise, the noise.
She wanted it to stop. She wanted it quiet.
He just wanted her to live.
Louder and louder and louder.
Make it stop!
Make it stop!
Just keep your heart beating.
The sirens, the alarms. They disappeared.
The voices were still haunting.
Two she recognized this time.
"-PTSD."
"-didn't realize she was still in this state."
"-still unrecovered from-"
"Will she be okay?"
"She always is."
Just keep your heart beating.
"It's beating," she whispers to the shadow against the white wall, "it's beating." She becomes aware of the tickle under her nose, and her eyes widen as she reaches her hands up to rip the oxygen tubes off of her face. The shadow on the wall lunges forward, and she realizes it is not a shadow. It's a man. It's the same man that visited her last night.
"Oh, no, you don't. Those are staying on," he instructs, carefully pulling her hands away from the nasal cannula. This is the voice that was coaxing her in her dream. Dream?
Nightmare? Nightmare.
The noise. She winces.
Reality.
She trembles slightly under his touch.
"I'm breathing, aren't I?"
"Maybe we should get the doctor's opinion, first?" he suggests, pressing the service button on the wall behind the hospital bed.
"I'm fine."
She succeeds in tearing them off her face.
"Liv," he warns.
She scrunches up her face.
"What are you even doing here-"
A smiling face in a white coat interrupts, "I see someone is awake."
She rolls her eyes.
"How long was I out?"
"Oh, not too long. Just a few hour-"
"So when can I be discharged?"
The doctor chuckles.
"Very urgent I see? Detective Benson-"
"Sergeant."
He clears his throat. "Sergeant, my apologies. Don Cragen came by to see you while you were still asleep. He informed me of the trauma you experienced not too long ago. He says you were suffering from PTSD, but were insistent on returning to work before you really should have. You are still showing these signs, given the state of shock you were in earlier. Ms. Benson, you need to take better care of yourself. Take time off from work-"
"I'm fine. I have to be at work."
Her voice is cold, insistent.
"Liv, the doctor knows what he's talking abo-"
"You shut up, and stay out of this, Elliot!" she snaps, turning her attention from the young doctor to him.
She sits up in bed, attempting to create a more presentable manner other than a helpless girl sitting in a hospital bed.
"You don't just get to come out of nowhere and expect to boss me around or have any say in what I do with my life for that matter! Got that, Stabler?"
He nods.
The doctor's eyes shift uncomfortably between the two.
"Mr. Stabler, perhaps you could give us a moment?"
Elliot turns in a huff to walk out.
He can't leave.
He won't come back.
He will disappear, like a ghost.
The noise.
Olivia panics and speaks up.
"He's staying."
Elliot stops.
The doctor speaks.
"Very well, then."
She hops out of bed as soon as the doctor clears her and leaves the room.
"What was that?" Elliot asks.
Her teeth clench.
"What?"
His blue eyes are icy.
"You tell me to shut up, but you won't let me leave?"
Her eyes widen in disbelief.
"You can't just walk back into my life like this and expect to take control of it!"
His face softens, surprising her.
"Then why wouldn't you let me leave?"
She slowly sinks back on to the bed, tangling her hands with each other.
An uncomfortable feeling creeps inside her, nauseating her stomach.
"Where are my clothes?"
He hesitates. She didn't answer his question.
"The nurse hung them in the bathroom."
She nods, and walks away in silence.
"Liv?"
"Don't leave."
The door shuts.
She places her hands on either side of the sink to support herself.
A long, heavy sigh is released.
She hesitates before meeting her waiting reflection.
The face is not recognizable to herself.
The bags under her eyes are more pronounced.
Her skin, paler.
Darkened shadows highlight her cheekbones.
Her fingers lightly trace the scar on the corner of her forehead which was created when the gun crashed against her skull.
She flinches in reminiscence.
"Who am I?" she whispers.
The freezing water gives feeling back to her nerves as she splashes it against her clammy face.
She peels away the hospital gown from her sticky skin.
The mirror only allows her breasts and above to be visible in her eyesight.
She notices how more defined her collarbone is.
She's unhealthy.
Quickly, she throws her clothes on, no longer wanting to see herself.
Her hand grasps the metal door handle.
Inhale. Exhale.
He isn't there.
The door opens.
He is there.
And he's not alone.
"Nick? Fin?"
"Hey, baby-girl."
"Hey, Liv. We brought you some breakfast."
"And Elliot's car." Fin tosses his keys over to him.
"Thanks guys. What time is it?"
"It's about a quarter to 5," Fin answers.
"Guys, go home, and go back to bed. This is ridiculous. I'm fine." She takes the bag from Nick's hand. "But thank you both."
Fin engulfs her in a tight hug, shocking her at his affection, but graciously accepts. "You need to stop pushing yourself so much, Liv. Take care of yourself. Please."
"Fin, I'm okay."
He releases her, and Nick replaces Fin's embrace with a side-hug. "Don't come back until you're ready. We can handle it for a while. Okay?"
"I won't be gone long."
"You take as long as you need. Seriously."
"Okay, Nick."
"Shall I take you home?" Elliot interjects.
"Yeah, that would be great."
The ride home consists of nothing but silence.
Until Elliot breaks it.
"Why are you so insistent on me staying? I know you're mad. Why are you letting me back in so easily?"
She stares out the window, the sun still refusing to awaken this early.
"You're right. I am mad."
"You're avoiding the question, Liv."
"Because you're a ghost, Elliot. You're going to disappear."
"I'm not. I'm here."
He reaches over to grasp one of her hands. "I'm here. I'm not going to disappear."
A tear slides down her cheek and drops onto the hand holding hers.
"But you already did."
"I know I did. But I'm here now."
He puts the car in park.
"Let's get you inside so you can eat, okay?"
She nods in response.
He softly shuts her apartment door and tells her to change into something comfortable to which she obliges.
Emerging from her room, she wears a baggy t-shirt, sweatpants, and her hair in a bun.
"I'm not even hungry."
"You have to eat, Olivia."
"I don't have much of an appetite."
"Eating will help you regain your appetitie." He lifts the breakfast sandwich and hashbrowns from the bag Nick and Fin delivered and slides them across the counter to her.
She pushes them away.
"Really, I'm fine."
He stares at her for a few seconds before acting.
"Would you stop saying you're fine? You're not fine, Olivia." He grasps her wrist and drags her away from the counter. "Come with me."
"What are you-"
Her words are cut off by his.
"Look at yourself."
They are standing in her bathroom, staring at their reflections in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.
He repeats himself.
"Look at yourself. Olivia, you're pale. You've lost the glowing color of your skin."
She looks to the tile ground.
His fingers lift her chin back up.
Softly, his fingertips trace underneath her eyes. "You're exhausting yourself, do you see that?"
She blinks away the tears, and gives one nod.
His fingers follow the defined lines of her cheekbones. "Olivia, you have beautiful cheekbones, but look at the shadows on them. It's unhealthy."
A couple tears pool over, and he wipes them away.
His hands trace down to her shoulders, feeling the boniness of her shoulder blades. One hand travels further down her spine and over her bra strap.
"Haven't the guys been looking out for you?"
"I just tell them that-"
"You're fine. Why do you keep lying to everyone?"
"If you say it enough times, eventually you'll believe it yourself."
The other hand follows, and assists the other in lifting her shirt up.
"El-" she protests.
"Arms up."
She obeys, and allows him to remove her t-shirt, feeling exposed aside from her sports bra.
"See your collorbone? Your ribs? Your stomach?"
She doesn't attempt to hold back anymore tears from falling as she whimpers a soft, "Yes."
"Olivia Benson, you a strong and beautiful woman, do you hear me?"
She doesn't respond, so he turns her around to face him.
"If you're convinced that saying something enough times makes you believe it, then say this: I am strong, and I am beautiful."
She shakes her head.
"Olivia, say it."
She bites her lip, then whispers, "I am strong and beautiful."
He nods.
"Yes, you are."
He forces her to do a 180° so she is facing herself again.
"If you are strong and beautiful, is this what you want to see when you look at yourself? This isn't you, Liv."
She shakes her head.
"It's not me."
"You must take better care of yourself. Listen to my voice."
"I'm listening to you. Your voice is what I held on to earlier."
Just keep your heart beating.