A/N: Whew. It's been a minute since I wrote anything. But knowing Kelli is back on set (at least for one episode) gave me a much needed boost of inspiration, and it turned into this mess. Rolivia, Rollisi, EO, drama, action, feelings, etc. Basically all the things I would love to see in the season premiere, covered here in what I think will be five short chapters.
…
At this point, she's ready to just throw the whole door out.
Like, lift it from its hinges, light it on fire and throw the damn thing out the window. She's supposed to be calm, in control of her emotions, coolheaded. So she simply can not deal with the fact that she, Captain Olivia Benson, breaks into a sweat whenever she walks through her own front door.
Standing face to face with monsters, arresting them, fighting them, chasing them? No problem. Easy peasy.
Having vivid and very much physical flashbacks whenever she's about to enter or exit her own home? A big fucking problem. Neither easy nor peasy.
This is what you get for being reckless, she tells herself. But the mental, never ending scolding doesn't really work. And it hasn't worked for a single second since that night, thirteen days ago, when the dust settled around them. When he looked at her and she looked at him and anything that wasn't them just... didn't matter anymore. When years of wondering suddenly turned into a reckless moment of knowing.
Well, now she knows.
Knows how that felt. And how this feels; The not talking part. The avoiding part. The part where she can't stop feeling like they ruined everything in the span of fifteen breathless minutes.
And now she wants to light her door on fire. But Noah is currently walking towards it, announcing that he's ready to go. So maybe she should postpone the burning one more day.
…
"We're gonna be late."
She hears his voice, registers the comment, catches the hint of annoyance not exactly well hidden. She hears it, and ignores it. And as his eyes stay trained on the red light, stubbornly refusing to turn green, her attention remains focused on nothing. Her own lap, the busy streets outside, the silence between them.
Normally, she would've reached for him, laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down, Sonny." She would've smiled, and eventually he would smile back. And it would be fine. They would be fine.
But nothing has been fine for a long time. And she is beyond the point of wondering whether it's postpartum depression, a lingering case of PTSD, or something else. Beyond the point of wondering, but definitely not beyond the point of feeling guilty.
Because all things considered, her past life included, shouldn't she look at her kind, beautiful husband and her perfect children every day, and feel nothing but gratitude? Shouldn't she thank whatever higher power brought this family into her life, making her feel more loved and wanted than young Amanda could've ever imagined possible?
She should. She absolutely should.
Instead, she looks at her husband with what feels like this deeply rooted anger. Anger that eats at her and makes her recent herself more than the gambling and drinking ever did. And then she looks at her children with a sorrow she can't quite place. Sorrow from not being the mother they deserve, probably.
She tries though. Oh, she tries so hard to make it work. Like how she will cry in the car on her way home, only to wipe the tears away, maybe add a new layer of mascara, and greet her family five minutes later, like nothing happened. Like how she will spend two hours at the gym, punching a bag instead of the wall, sweating her anger out so she won't scream at her husband after getting the kids to bed at night. Like how she will initiate sex, in hopes of feeling something, only to feel absolutely nothing.
And the more she has tried to wrap her mind around it, to understand herself and how her life is seemingly falling apart without anyone noticing, the harder it becomes to understand anything at all.
What she does know, and what she's sure of, is that something in her switched that day when she almost bled out on the ground. She lost something, something that now seems lost forever. Some sense of agency maybe, control, having a say in what happens to her, and when it happens.
So when Carisi suddenly dangled that safe, part-time job in front of her, she thought "why not". And when that plus sign showed up on the stick, confirming what she had been suspecting for weeks, she thought "why not".
All good things, right?
So life should be so easy now, she figures. Now that she and Carisi finally got it right. Now that they've created this seemingly perfect life together. Now that no one is pointing guns at her anymore.
And yet, she can't reach out to her husband, and lovingly tell him to calm down.
…
"There you are." Olivia says,smiling with her hands resting on Noah's shoulder as she watches the family of five rush down the aisle; Two matching girls on either side of their dad, Amanda with a sleeping baby in her arms. Picture perfect, maybe, but something still feels off. "Was beginning to worry."
"Traffic-" Carisi mumbles in response, busying himself with helping the girls get rid of their coats.
"I wanna stand next to you-" Billie protests when he tells her to take a seat, pouting and tugging at his hand when he tries a second time. He gives in then, Billie's hand still secured in his as he greets Fin, Phoebe and Velasco.
While lifting Ollie from Amanda's arms, Olivia gives the other woman a pointed look. A wordless "everything ok?", without actually saying it out loud as Amanda removes her own jacket, adding it to the heap of coats and a diaper bag and purses on the padded church bench.
In place of a spoken answer, Amanda gives Olivia a short lived, thin lipped smile that is neither here nor there. A quiet "let it go" if anything. Because today, of all days, she does not need the captain to cosplay as her shrink, like Olivia tends to do when her guard is up, like a bloodhound in full swing.
"Elliot not coming?" Amanda asks, changing a subject that was never really raised. "I told you to invite him."
"No, he wanted to-" Olivia says, lightly bouncing her godson, smiling when he starts to rouse, only to nestle his head against her chest, "just having a hard time stepping away from this case they're working."
Normally, Amanda would've made a comment about how Olivia shifts, and how blood travels to her cheeks, and how that last sentence sounds rushed and a little too well prepared. She would've teased her friend, and asked if there's something she wants to tell her. Because, having been a detective at some point and knowing this woman for years, she's pretty sure there's something Olivia wants to tell her.
But instead, because nothing feels normal these days, she foregoes the teasing and the probing, and lets it go.
"I get that." Amanda mumbles, catching the wistful tone in her own voice and turning her attention to Jesse, checking for food stains on her dress and fidgeting with her braid until the eight year old twists impatiently in her hold and with an overbearing tone tells her "mom, it's fine."
No, it's definitely not fine.
But this should be a good day, she thinks, as she takes them all in; Carisi, no longer looking stressed or annoyed and now gazing so proudly at his son, safe and secure in Olivia's arms. Velasco, Noah, Fin, and Phoebe with Jesse now in her lap, seated in the otherwise empty, beautiful church. (Empty, because of course Carisi knows someone who knows someone.)
Oh, this should be such a beautiful day, she thinks, a lump growing in her chest as she wonders whether it can still be fixed.
"Carisi-" She says, only realizing that tears have welled up in her eyes when her husband looks at her from across the altar.
"What?" He asks, and his tone is gentle. Gentler than it has been for weeks. So maybe he sees it. Maybe he sees it now, all this unexplainable hurt and grief that sometimes makes her feel like she's being strangled by invisible hands.
She wants to tell him, tell him about all of it. And she wishes they were alone in a quiet place right now, and that she could apologize and tell him that she loves him and hear him say it back. She wants to kiss him and feel what she used to feel while kissing him. Wants to know, for sure, that she hasn't ruined everything, and that she isn't actually losing him.
But all of it will have to wait because the priest just joined them, and in lieu of saying anything, she smiles at him. Hoping he knows her well enough to read it and read her, and know that she wants to tell him so many things.
"Everyone ready?" The priest asks after shaking hands and giving Ollie a bop on the nose.
"We are." Amanda says, keeping her eyes locked to Carisi before shifting her attention to her son, now being moved from Olivia's hold to the priest's.
"Dominick Oliver Rollins-Carisi," The priest starts, dipping his fingers in the water, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son-"
She's not exactly sure what distracts her first.
It might be the sound of Velasco's voice, his mumbled "what the hell-" coming from the pew. Maybe it's Phoebe twisting in her seat. Maybe it's Fin, suddenly standing with his back turned to the altar. But what distracts her or what her friends are doing right now isn't really the point.
Not when there's a stranger, appearing seemingly from nowhere, standing in the middle of the aisle, pointing a gun at her.
No.
Pointing a gun at her baby boy.
…
TBC.