Author's Comments: Mr. Noodle to the rescue. Was anyone else as shocked as I was to find out he was the same guy as Elmo's comic relief?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Olivia curled up against Elliot on the floor, shivering hard into his rugged body. They were near the couch, and he slid back against it, pulling her with him, and he reached up to grab a blanket and drape it over her. Her new reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door, causing her to startle. But then she said, "Oh, crap, what time is it?"
Elliot dug his phone out of his pocket. "10:30," he said.
"Ahh . . ." She got to her feet. "Dr. Lindstrom. He's here for our appointment."
He had been coming to visit her daily, growing increasingly concerned with her well-being, and it seemed like it had only been a few hours since the last time he was here. So much had happened. She didn't know if she could face the doctor today, with everything she had done. But she couldn't lie to him, either, and she really did need his help right now.
She went to the door, and when she saw his face in the doorway, his eyes reflected back sad, downturned eyes, and she realized what a mess she must be—puffy eyes and red cheeks and unkempt hair and clothes. She hadn't even taken a shower after her escapade on the streets of New York.
"Come in," she said quietly, dejected and resigned to his judgement.
"What's wrong, Liv?" he said gently, standing still in the doorway for a moment before passing her to enter the living room. His eyes swept over the scene in the living room, and now she realized that chairs had been pushed aside and the blanket still lay on the floor at Elliot's feet, and she knew it was going to be a long session.
"Sit down," she said, pointing to the chair adjacent to the couch. He obeyed, as did Elliot, who took a spot on the couch, but she remained standing, clasping her hands to her forehead. "I don't even know where to start," she said.
But all eyes were on her, and she wasn't going to get out of the being the center of the Olivia Benson Show, no matter how anxious she felt. Dr. Lindstrom waved his hand toward the couch. "Why don't you start by having a seat next to Elliot," he said patiently.
She flopped down next to Elliot, their legs touching, and she leaned forward, trapping her hands between her knees. "I went out yesterday . . ." she started, pausing to allow for the sigh she figured was inevitable out of Dr. Lindstrom's mouth after admitting to defying his wishes. But he remained silent. "And I never came back."
She couldn't look at the doctor's face, for fear of the shame she might feel if she saw his eyes. "I wandered all over New York, running from some imaginary stalker, hearing things, imagining things, drinking in a bar to numb the feelings." She shook her head, squinting in confusion at her own actions. "And then I let someone inject me with heroin."
Elliot rubbed her shoulder as she waited for a gasp from Dr. Lindstrom that never came. "It wasn't her fault—she wasn't trying to—" started Elliot.
"Doesn't matter," she said, prickling at Elliot's touch now, because she knew she didn't deserve the sympathy. "The point is, I enjoyed it because it allowed me complete escape from the horrible feelings, and I tried to get out to get more today. I actually fought with Elliot to get out—I was willing to hurt him to escape from reality."
Elliot's hand found the back of her neck and massaged it. She leaned back and, without looking at him, whispered, "I'm sorry, Elliot. I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through." She wished she wasn't sweating so bad, rings of it forming around her hairline. "I feel like I've let everyone down—like I'm failing as a parent to Noah, and I can't even hold it together enough to function, let alone go back to my old job."
She paused, and Dr. Lindstrom finally spoke, his soft voice cushioning her rattled nerves. "Sounds like you had a rough night."
"You could say that, yeah," she rasped.
"How did you get home?" he said, wrinkles forming over his eyes.
Elliot spoke before she could. "We searched for hours, me and her squad, and found her passed out in an alley."
Now he gasped, and she sunk her head in shame. "Well, I'm so glad you're okay, Olivia. And Elliot, if anything like this happens again, feel free to call me. Anytime—I'd be glad to help out."
"I didn't think of that," said Elliot.
"I'm really worried about you, Olivia," said Dr. Lindstrom, and Olivia thought now was the time for him to reign down his verdict of insane and guilty all at the same time. Would he have her committed? "But I could hardly brand you a 'failure' and a 'disappointment', to use your words. You're the victim of several horrible traumas all within a couple of short years. Never forget how much that can affect a person's psyche."
She nodded slightly. "But, it was my choice to go outside, even though I promised both of you I wouldn't. And I chose to try and go back out again today, to do something blatantly illegal. I'm a cop, for Christ's sake."
Dr. Lindstrom shook his head. "Look, Olivia. Think about what you would say to another victim who went through what you've just been through. Someone who has stripes on their back from being brutally whipped by their own boyfriend."
The thought hadn't occurred to her over this past day, and now she cried silently, remembering how she hung from Tucker's ceiling waiting for the next crack of the whip. The doctor continued, saying, "Wouldn't you expect someone who had gone through a Lewis and a Tucker to have a breakdown? Wouldn't you feel empathy for them, and understand why they might suffer from psychosis, and even do things that seem crazy at times?"
She nodded, sniffling. The words were like cool water on her burning emotions.
"Give yourself a pat on the back, Olivia. You survived." He gave her a moment to absorb the message and wipe the tears from her face, and then he said, "But now we need to address the underlying issues here, and figure out where things went wrong, so we can keep you safe."
"I don't know how to stop the voices," she said, staring down at her hands. "That's what makes my skin crawl—what drove me to go out in the first place, when my pain pills ran out."
"Wait," said Dr. Lindstrom, putting one hand up. "Your pain pills ran out."
She nodded, thinking she almost saw a smile make its way to the doctor's lips. "Of course," he said. "That makes sense. You ran out of pain pills, and those were helping you deal with not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain as well."
"Well, yeah," she said, as if it should be obvious to everyone.
"You may have been going through some withdrawal when you wandered the city—that may partially explain why you were so on edge, and also why you felt the need to drink. It could definitely contribute to you wanting to get your hands on heroin so bad today. I've known people who were addicted after the first time they tried it."
"Me too," she said softly. She sat silently, contemplating how the drugs may have made everything so intensely worse.
"How many pills were you taking at a time?" he said.
"I started to build up a tolerance. So sometimes three or four."
Dr. Lindstrom nodded. "I should have been monitoring your opiate usage. It didn't even occur to me."
She didn't blame him one bit, but the fact that he had taken a small portion of the guilt and placed it on himself was more of a relief than she could have ever imagined.
"And if you have built up a dependence on the pain pills, you'll be going through withdrawal that's even worse over the next few days." Her hands fidgeted at the thought. Even worse? How could she possibly cope with that? "But I've got an idea to help you through. I'm going to prescribe you a low dose of suboxone—"
"Wait, what? Isn't that for heroin addicts?" said Elliot.
"Opiate addicts," Dr. Lindstrom corrected. "And yes, it's an opiate substitute, but it also reduces the effects of the opiates on the system. So it's a good tool to use for withdrawal. We should be able to wean you off after a couple of weeks, and we'll do some intensive therapy in the meantime. Plus, the antidepressants should kick in soon, and that may help with the psychosis."
Her muscles loosened as the doctor spoke, and she was finally able to relax into the couch, noticing how warm Elliot's hand felt as it swept hers into it. "I want to try something with you, Olivia. Can you close your eyes for me?" She nodded and shut them, and immediately felt claustrophobic from the whispering voices and sounds of whips cracking in the background. "Do you hear anything right now?" he said.
She clenched her lips together and said, "Yeah. It's bad. People talking to me, but I can't hear what they're saying."
Elliot squeezed her hand. Dr. Lindstrom said, "Okay, instead of trying to make them go away, I want you to focus on them, notice them as if you are an observer, try to sit through them until they pass, if they do. And then tell me how you feel in your body."
She listened to the sounds like she was hearing songs on the radio, and they continued on unabated. "I'm tense," she said. "I want to crawl out of my skin."
"Where do you feel tension?"
"My chest is tight. My hands are sweaty. My arms twitching."
"Sit with those feelings for a while. Really go into them. Don't judge them, or the voices, just notice."
She did as he said. "It's—it's starting to pass, a little."
"Mmhm," he said. "That's an exercise I want you to practice as much as you can." She opened her eyes, and his were calm and relaxed, and she saw compassion and peace within them. "And as for going outside, we can start to do that when you're ready. But let's use it as a form of exposure therapy, meaning you only go out with me or Elliot at first. Short walks, to get you used to the idea that the world isn't out to get you. And then it's just going to take time, surrounding yourself with trustworthy people, to feel faith in human kindness again. Okay?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. She paused, trying not to stare at him, but feeling so overwhelmed by his patience with her. "Thank you, Doctor. So much."
He smiled a gentle smile. "It's what I'm here for," he said. "Now maybe you should get some rest."
He rose, and she did too, to show him to the door. But when she got to him, she stopped and said, "Really, Doctor, I appreciate everything you've done for me."
And then she leaned forward to hug him, not knowing what kind of reaction to expect. But he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight, whispering, "Take care of yourself, Olivia. It's all going to work out."