This story deals with the sexual assault of a main character, serious depression and suicidal ideation, so there are major trigger warnings going forward. Please don't read if these subjects bother you.
This story takes place around season 16, but I don't really have an exact timeline in mind at the moment, so that might change.
Also, Noah and Frannie don't exist.
Reviews are welcome!
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"And miles from where you are
I lay down on the cold ground
And I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms"
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Worthless. Unlovable. Irrelevant.
This is how she feels every moment of every day, like if she suddenly ceases to exist in this world, it won't even matter. No one will notice. No one will care. And certainly, no one will miss her.
That's all she really wants in this life; someone who sees her for who she really is, someone who takes an interest in her; someone whose life will actually be impacted when she is gone.
But there is no such person, not even the one she had high hopes for in the beginning.
She is well and truly alone.
"Get the hell out here, you dumb blonde bitch! How many times do I have to tell you we're closing?"
Okay, so maybe she's not totally alone. The beefy bartender sporting eyebrow piercings, facial tattoos, and an inexplicably bad attitude is definitely fixated on her right now. His beady brown eyes are currently boring into her own bloodshot blue ones, with seemingly murderous intent at her inability to exit his establishment in a timely fashion.
But this isn't exactly the type of connection Amanda had in mind when she went out earlier tonight in search of...well, anything.
"Are you deaf, blondie? I said get the fuck out of here. How many times do I have to ask you so politely before I have to throw you out?"
"Politely?" Amanda repeats with a faint chuckle, although there is not an ounce of humor in her tone. "I should politely throw the rest of my drink in your face for how you've treated me tonight. What the hell did I even do to you? Are you just in a bad mood or is this how you treat all your customers?"
"Just the customers lacking proper listening skills," the man snarls in response, Amanda sighing as she watches him take a menacing step toward her, a glint of silver visible when he bares his teeth. "And I dare you to toss that drink in my face, sweetie. Fuck around and find out."
He is laughing now, his giant belly shaking with the force of it, but there is a dark note lurking beneath the abrupt mirth, his expression twisted into something ominous and shady. Amanda feels a spike of fear slice through her usual apathy, shrinking slightly away from him and almost sliding off her bar stool with the movement.
The man's laughter deepens into a roar, his shoulders jerking up and down as appears to lose control of himself for a moment, and Amanda tries to refrain from covering her ears at the offensive sound. "There you go, you dumb blonde. Keep moving off that stool and then get your ass out that door. Goodbye!"
Amanda flings some money down on the bar with a huff, rolling her eyes when the guy has the audacity to ask if she's going to include a tip. "Yeah, here it is," she deadpans, lifting her arm in the air and extending her middle finger as she vacates her seat and walks away without looking back.
When the grunt of surprise and anger immediately follows, along with hurried footsteps coming her way, she picks up her pace and hustles out the door, escaping the bar just as she feels sharp fingernails graze her forearm. When Amanda is clear of the building, she takes off at a dead run through the darkness, the alcohol not hampering her coordination as much as she thought it would, although terror is usually a powerful motivator.
She could have just stood her ground; told him she was a cop and insisted on respectful treatment, or even threatened him a little just to scare him. But the ghosts from her past are rearing up to remind her not to tangle with dangerous men, even when she is spoiling for a fight and desperate to feel something other than detachment.
When Amanda is at a safe distance, she slows down to a stroll and tucks her hands in her pockets, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. Truth be told, she is not entirely sure where she is right now, wandering from bar to bar throughout the evening without paying much attention to her whereabouts.
When she passes a tiny, vacant park, Amanda trudges through the sparse grass and then plunks herself onto the hard ground. She forgoes the rickety bench in favor of lying down in the damp earth, gazing up at the night sky with empty eyes and vaguely observing a few stars dotted here and there.
She wonders if anyone will even see her sprawled here if they walk by; if anyone at SVU will care if she just doesn't bother showing up for work tomorrow. Olivia will certainly take notice right away, most likely assuming her most challenging detective is late once again, but after realizing Amanda isn't coming in at all, her boss might actually be relieved to be free of her.
Her thoughts linger on Olivia as they so often do, especially at this time of night when she has too much time to herself, and when she's had more than a few drinks. She's not even sure what she wants from the other woman anymore; whether it's a shoulder to cry on, someone to commiserate with after a long day, or something deeper and more intimate.
Amanda has felt bewilderment more than anything else, during her working relationship with Olivia, unsure of how she can mold herself into someone the older woman will like and respect. But any kind of attention would be fine right now; anything to let Amanda know that she matters and that she still exists.
She feels as if she is fading away from reality as she watches the sky with watery eyes; like the ground beneath her might open up and swallow her whole, her body sinking down until she's enveloped in dirt and suspended there for eternity in a murky grave. The thought gives her a modicum of peace rather than alarm, and she curls into a ball on her side, waiting to see what will happen.
But instead of the earth dramatically splitting open to accept her pathetic form, Amanda's eyelids flutter closed and she drifts off into a fitful slumber before she can rouse herself enough to get somewhere safe. She dreams of her, of course; Olivia a smiling, radiant, compassionate figure bathed in sunlight, holding out her arms in a gesture of comfort and affection, and Amanda taking an eager step toward her with a grateful smile on her face. But much to Amanda's confusion and sadness, Olivia drifts further from her the closer she gets, the other woman's shape becoming distorted and eventually so distant, she can barely see her anymore.
"Olivia!" Amanda cries in despair, reaching her arms out in an effort to grab ahold of her in the gloom, and gasping with surprised pleasure when her hand comes to rest on a warm body pressed up against her own. "Liv?"
"Who's Olivia?" a gruff male voice mutters so close to her ear, Amanda's eyelids flying open in panic, her breath stolen from her lungs at the heavy weight on top of her.
She is certainly being pushed down into the earth this time, but not because it has graciously unfurled to welcome her exhausted body and depleted spirit into its depths. There is a large man pinning her to ground with one giant hand while his other hand wanders along her small frame, fingers darting beneath her sweater and grazing her belly button.
"What the hell? Stop it! Get off of me!" Amanda is fully awake now, forced back to brutal reality, and painfully present in the moment.
She tells herself to stay calm but can't help struggling wildly underneath the man who is at least twice her size, his fingers seemingly having a difficult time choosing whether to drift up or down. Amanda whimpers with disgust and fear as one of her breasts is twisted cruelly through her bra, and then begins bucking her hips in pure dread as a hand slides beneath the waistband of her jeans and thick fingers probe inside her underwear, sharp nails scratching at her delicate blonde curls.
"Yeah, that's it, baby, buck harder for me. I know you want it. You don't have to pretend you don't." He is hissing in her ear like a snake, his voice low and vicious, clammy hand cupping her roughly between her legs now and squeezing hard. "I saw you back there, arguing with that asshole bartender, and knew you'd be one hell of a lay. So tiny and pretty, but so much sass and swagger. You're just my type. And you're already so wet for me."
Amanda lets out an anguished scream at this statement, desperately trying to roll out from underneath him before he can go any further, his hand clamped onto her like a vise. Every ounce of training she has received as a cop has been wiped clean from her brain, or so it seems, her mind entirely blank beyond the vivid horror of what is happening to her.
She allows herself a second of relief when she realizes her scream has attracted a group of young people nearby, one of them shouting, "Hey, what's going on over there?" and the man scrambling off of her like has been shot, slinking quickly into the shadows and disappearing into the night. Amanda lays there on the ground with her arms spread wide, her heart hammering in her chest, breathing in harsh pants and staring in shock at the stars she was gazing at so vacantly earlier.
"Hey, miss? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She gasps again, aware that the group is advancing toward her now, so many of them coming at her. Using all her strength, she lifts herself from the ground and wobbles there for a few second on unsure feet, squinting as they come closer and ask repeatedly if she needs help.
"No, no, I'm fine," she insists in a breathy, shaky voice that she barely even recognizes as her own, feeling oddly threatened by these people who have just saved her life. "I don't need help. Thank you, though."
Amanda backs away from them, holding her hands up in defense when they protest and offer to call to the police or an ambulance, neglecting to mention that she is the police. She can hear them yelling after her when she takes off running, her legs not nearly as steady as when she had raced from the bar, and she has to actively keep from falling while she attempts to escape from this nightmare.
When she thinks she is far enough away, Amanda ducks behind a building and bends over with her hands braced on her knees, struggling to catch her breath, her thoughts fragmented and dark and coming at her so fast, she doesn't know what to do. There is a hint of awareness buried in the very back of the chaos in her brain; that she has come all the way out to this part of the city, so far from home, to make it stop; to end it all, to drink until the last miniscule piece of her that actually cares about anything is shattered and she can do what needs to be done.
Making a connection with someone random in a bar and feeling like she matters for just one night, is the only thing that would have stopped her, as it has in the past; someone else's voice and touch to distract her from the ever-growing desire she has to cease to exist. But not this way. Not like this.
Her plan has been abruptly torn to shreds by a stranger appearing out of nowhere to hold her down and grope her and do much, much worse if those people hadn't intervened when they had. Amanda is so powerfully and horrifically pinned in the present, much like when the man had pinned her to the ground, that she longs to return to the apathy that has been wrapping itself around her like a cloak lately, pulling tighter with each passing day; every time one of her colleagues looks right through like they don't really see her – the agony, the brokenness, the wish to be gone.
She wants that fog of detachment back but it appears to have vanished, at least for the time being, Amanda fumbling for the phone in her pocket and realizing she has no one to call. Once upon a time, it would have been Fin or maybe even Amaro, but as she has continued to sink lower and lower into the depths of depression and toyed with the idea of ending it all, her distance has driven a wedge between them.
She considers not calling anyone and just making her way home to strip off her clothes and climb into a boiling hot shower, scrubbing her skin raw before curling up under her covers and waiting to see if sleep will mercifully take her.
Or she can do what she had originally planned.
Amanda is considering her options when the phone in her hand suddenly rings, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet night like a siren. She jumps in surprise, a squeal of fear lodged in her throat as she looks down at the screen, brows furrowing when she sees Olivia's name. She briefly contemplates letting it go to voicemail, but figures she should see what her boss wants, especially since it's so late and there's a good chance she is getting called in for a new case.
"Hello?" she answers hesitantly, her hand shaking so badly, she can barely hold the device to her ear.
"Rollins, I'm just returning your call." Olivia sounds as confused as Amanda feels, her frown deepening as she listens. "Is everything okay?"
"Wait, what? I called you?" She thinks to back to the bar, where she had been downing drinks with abandon, and cringes as she wonders if she had drunk-dialed her boss.
"Yeah, you called a few minutes ago, but I was in the bathroom. I saw the missed call when I got back into bed." Olivia's voice is quiet, and Amanda thinks she hears a hint of concern beyond the sleepy bewilderment. "It said I had a message but when I listened to it, there was just rustling and wind. I thought you might have pocket-dialed me, but decided I better check to make sure."
Amanda's heart is in her throat when she realizes she had most likely pocket-dialed Olivia as she was scrambling to her feet in the park, or when she was running blindly away from what had transpired so abruptly while in the midst of her half-awake dreams. She bites her lip so hard, she tastes blood, not knowing what to say and feeling frozen to the spot, imaging the direction this discussion would be taking if she had unexpectedly called Olivia mid-assault.
"Amanda? Are you there? Was the call just an accident?"
"Uh, y-yes," she stutters out between teeth that are chattering so hard, she can barely hold her jaw still. "It was just a mistake. Sorry about that. I'm glad I didn't wake you up, though. Have a good night."
She is preparing to disconnect the call, her stomach roiling viciously and her heart pounding again, when she hears Olivia say, "Wait!"
"Yeah?" Amanda is hesitant when she speaks again, her exhausted eyes drifting closed before flying right back open and taking an agitated glance around, just wanting this night to be over.
"Are you okay? Your voice sounds a little strange. Where are you, anyway?"
Amanda is surprised to hear such care and concern in the brunette's voice, disconcerted at the sudden need to spill her guts about everything that has occurred that night.
"I actually don't know where I am," she admits softly, raking a shuddering hand back through her mussed hair. "I went out for the night and wasn't really paying attention. I kind of got lost." She infuses a sheepish laugh into her tone, trying to throw Olivia off, because it is now obvious that she knows something is wrong.
"Can you call a cab?"
"I don't think I have enough money left." Amanda is aghast when her voice breaks on a sob, and she covers her mouth with her palm to hold in the mournful sound. Tears have welled up out of nowhere and are spilling in a waterfall of misery and defeat down her cheeks, the effort to hold it all in becoming too much for her, and she begins to weep in earnest.
"Amanda, tell me where are you right now." Olivia's voice is stern on the other end of the line, her worry and compassion evident, and Amanda looks up through blurred vision at the address on the closest building, blurting it out before she can give this plan much thought.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," Olivia promises in a tender tone so unlike the one she usually uses with Amanda. "I'm going to hang up now, but call again if you need me in the meantime. Stay safe, okay?"
A strangled, hysterical laugh bubbles up out of Amanda's throat as Olivia disconnects before she can protest, tempted to call back just to tell her that it is far too late for that for that warning. Amanda has not felt safe for a very long time now, but tonight's misadventures are the final nail in that coffin.
She will never feel safe again.
She huddles in the shadow of the old building as she awaits Olivia's arrival, shivering from head to toe as she keeps watch for the man who had attacked her, fully expecting him to walk around the corner at any moment. Her vigilance keeps her from concentrating too much on what she is going to say once she's in Olivia's presence, determined to put a halt to her crying before her boss gets here.
Amanda's heart is racing at a sickening pace in her chest when Olivia's vehicle pulls to the curb a little while later, swallowing back a mouthful of vomit. She must look quite a sight, because the older woman instantly exits the car and walks toward her with quick, purposeful strides, instead of just waiting for her to get into the passenger seat.
Olivia's beautiful features are pinched with uncertainty and anxiety as she approaches, and Amanda's body doesn't seem to know what do in this moment – shrink away in shame or throw herself into the brunette's embrace. She ends up doing neither, merely standing there like a statue and staring blankly as Olivia comes to a stop beside her, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder.
Amanda can't keep herself from flinching in response, catching Olivia's concerned frown out of the corner of her eye and feeling a trace of disappointment when she pulls her hand away.
"Come on, let's get in the car," Olivia says softly, gesturing to the vehicle idling at the curb. "It's so late and you must be exhausted. Let's get you home."
"I don't wanna go home," Amanda mumbles unintentionally, as Olivia leads her over to the car and opens the door for her.
"Okay, then we'll go to my place."
Amanda is taken aback by this announcement as she climbs clumsily into the passenger seat, fumbling a few times to get her seatbelt buckled before she hears it click into place. Olivia gets in beside her and then pulls swiftly away from the curb, cruising the streets at a steady pace.
They don't talk for a few minutes, the silence awkward and somehow louder than if they had actually been conversing. Amanda looks out the window and stifles a sigh, waiting for the questions that she knows she will bombarded with at any moment.
Sure enough, after another beat of silence, Olivia speaks. "Why don't you want to go home?"
Amanda shrugs in response, not bothering to turn her head, her eyes fixed on those hazy stars once again.
"What were you doing out there tonight?"
"Just getting out of my apartment for awhile," Amanda mutters grouchily, feeling like she needs to defend herself for some reason. "I was restless and couldn't sleep."
"Did something happen while you were out? You look a little damp and disheveled. And there's some mud on your clothes."
Olivia's words are quiet, laced with care and kindness, but there is a certain awareness simmering underneath, and the inquiry cuts Amanda right to bone. She simply shrugs again, at a loss on how to respond to that question when she herself is still struggling to process the answer.
To her horror, she feels tears welling up in her eyes once more, and quickly turns her face further into the window to conceal them from Olivia. There is a tentative hand resting on her back not one second later, and she knows the older woman can tell she is crying again. For a moment, neither of them speak as Amanda tries to swallow back another series of sobs and Olivia merely keeps her hand where it is, not moving or squeezing, just holding still.
"You can talk to me, Amanda," the brunette finally says softly, gentle fingers trailing once through her hair before Olivia has to return her hand to the steering wheel. "About anything. What happened tonight or what's been happening lately."
"What do you mean?" Amanda turns her tear-stained face away from the window at last, gazing at Olivia with a frown.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Olivia's voice remains hushed and calm, no hint of judgment or reprimand in her tone. "You've been so distant lately, it's like you're barely here anymore. You're a shell of the person you used to be. Where did all that fire go? That passion? Those crazy urges you have to do things on your own that always get you into trouble? Asking for forgiveness instead of permission?"
There is a brief pause, Olivia sounding faintly choked up when she continues. "Where did Amanda Rollins go?"
Amanda blinks at her in shock, her words stolen from her once again as she finds herself grappling with what she can possibly say in response. Instead of feeling relief that she has actually gotten what she has wanted for so long – Olivia's compassion and attention – she feels a strange surge of panic and a desperate need to flee, fumbling with the handle on the door before she realizes what she is doing.
"Hey!" Olivia yelps, Amanda flinching when the vehicle suddenly swerves from the middle of the lane and over to the curb before screeching to a halt. "What's going on? What do you think you're doing? Ask me first if you need to get out of the car!"
They sit there staring intently at each other, wide blue eyes boring into perplexed brown, as they both struggle to catch their breaths, the surprised expression on Olivia's face likely mirroring what Amanda feels on her own features. She is completely overwhelmed, her thoughts spinning in wild circles, and now all she wants to do is hide herself away, unable to come to terms with anything that has been happening in her life, tonight or otherwise.
Amanda's fingers are scrabbling at the handle again, the roaring in her ears drowning out Olivia's protests and concerns, and she is up and out of the vehicle in a flash, blinded with tears as she wobbles on unsteady legs to a destination unknown.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Olivia catches up to her quickly, Amanda shrugging off the older woman's attempts to slow her down, Olivia's hand briefly on her wrist before Amanda feels her small, cold fingers being linked with a larger, warmer set. "Stop!"
She is yanked to a halt when Olivia gives a hasty tug on their joined fingers, Amanda nearly losing her balance and toppling over. She feels strong arms winding around her now, her face being pressed into a sweet-smelling neck, and she is weeping fiercely into Olivia's shoulder before she can stop herself. Her own arms are wrapping around Olivia in return, as if they have a mind of their own, and then Amanda is holding onto her for dear life, devastated and terrified with no idea where to go from here.
She becomes aware of Olivia's gentle voice in her ear, murmuring "It's okay" over and over, tender hands stroking through her tangled hair and rubbing circles across her trembling back. "Whatever it is, we can get through it. We'll get through it together, Amanda, I promise. You're not alone anymore."
Amanda's knees buckle at the words she has been craving for so long now, a wave of relief washing over everything else, and she feels Olivia guiding her carefully to the ground. They hold onto each other tightly on the damp stretch of mud and grass, their entwined bodies swaying together with the sheer force of Amanda's emotions.
She doesn't know if it's all the booze she has guzzled tonight, the assault that had taken place so suddenly, the despair that has been weighing her down for so long now, or Olivia herself, but Amanda is abruptly blurting out the truth for the first time ever.
"Someone hurt me tonight...and...I don't think I want to live anymore."
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*Song lyrics are from Snow Patrol's "Set Fire to the Third Bar"