A/N: Ok, so after watching the personal scenes from episode 9, I felt kinda inspired to write some hurt/comfort. But this time I wanted to write something for both platonic and romantic Rolivia shippers. So if you're only here for the friendship, you can stop reading after the couch (it'll make sense) and consider everything canon compliant. If you read the entire thing, Rollisi never happened and they're just close friends :)
…
She might be three glasses in when the knock comes. Or, maybe it's five. It was easier to keep count when she kept to her bottle. But lately, and more often than not, that bottle has been exchanged with a box. The box in question now standing alone on her kitchen counter, just waiting for her to press it for a refill. And another. And then another.
It's not a problem.
Maybe it is five. Because she does feel out of balance when she stands to move. But then again, she's been feeling out of balance for days, weeks, months on end, so maybe it's not the wine at all. Maybe it's the fact that a knock on her door at 10 pm on a Friday night, floods her mind with flashbacks; A gun to her head. Duct tape. Cruel hands. The smell of burnt skin.
It's not a problem.
The knock is getting insistent too. Could just be a friendly fist banging on her door. After all, she does have some missed calls and some unanswered texts on her phone right now. But it might as well be someone who likes to tie up women, torture and rape them. So she stops, briefly, waiting as she feels herself sway, blinking the room back into focus.
It's definitely not a problem.
So what if it's five glasses. It doesn't matter, right? She's alone and off duty. She's a grown woman who can do whatever the hell she wants. At least that's what she keeps telling herself as she finally moves across the floor. Hoping that if by any chance the person on the other side is here to kill her, they'll do it fast.
It's obviously not a problem.
…
"Don't be mad-" Amanda says as soon as the door opens. No time for pleasantries on a night like this, apparently. "Carisi told me what happened."
Responding with a humorless scoff, Olivia turns, headed towards the kitchen. "Of course he did."
Maybe a gun to the head would be better.
"He's worried about you-" Amanda mumbles as she closes the door behind her, following the other woman into her home, eyes moving from Olivia to the wine, before taking in the entire scene; The living room dark and quiet. No music. No TV. Just a whole lot of wine and silence. "I'm worried about you."
"Yeah, well-" Pausing as she fills her glass for the fourth or maybe sixth time, Olivia shrugs. "Maybe you should both learn to mind your own business?"
It's Amanda's turn to scoff, folding her arms and taking a more defiant stance in a room that feels smaller than usual. Crowded, even. "Ok, so that's how we're playing this."
"There's nothing to talk about-" Olivia says, moving back to the couch, the red wine threatening to spill when she carelessly throws her arms out. "My son found out his father is a rapist. Like I did when I was a kid. Just history repeating itself."
There might be frustration in Amanda's expression as she moves closer, but there's nothing but care, something gentle and careful in her words, when she speaks again. "But that wasn't the only thing Noah found out though. Carisi told me-"
"I don't care what Carisi told you." Olivia interrupts, her voice raised in anger as she meets Amanda's eyes for the first time since she stepped into the apartment. "He shouldn't have told you anything and I don't wanna talk about it."
She can't say that it doesn't hurt, being shut out. Of course it does. Thirteen years of friendship, only to end up like this? Damn right it hurts, to the point where she's close to leaving Olivia alone; let her have her wine and misery and deal with this on her own. But then again, this isn't about her. Or them. And if Amanda has learned anything from loving this woman, now glaring at her as if she came here looking for a fight, that one thing is patience.
"Ok-" Amanda says, nodding, "then we won't talk about it. We can just sit and-"
"No-" Shaking her head, Olivia gestures towards the hallway. "I mean, you should go home. I'm not interested in a pity party."
She bites back the harsh things she wants to say. The selfish anger that comes from rejection. But more than that, fear. Fear of what Olivia is becoming. How she's pushing everyone away, and how sometimes, like now, it's just so maddeningly hard to help her.
"I'm not going anywhere." Amanda says, hands now placed stubbornly on her hips, sighing as she's watching Olivia raise the glass to her lips for yet another sip.
With a lifeless chuckle, the captain leans back, and it's hard to tell if the gloss in her eyes is caused by tears, or the drink in her hand. "So it's not enough for everyone to invade my privacy-" She says. "I can't even ask for some alone time in my own home?"
"I'd be happy to give you that if I knew you're taking care of yourself." Amanda responds honestly, nodding towards the wine. "But I don't think you are."
"And how would you know that?" The question comes with a pointed, accusing finger. The kind that feels like a dagger, straight to the heart. "Didn't you leave just like everyone else?"
Eyes moving from Olivia to the ceiling, Amanda inhales slowly, pushing down all the things she would've said if this was any other night. If Olivia wasn't falling apart right in front of her.
"I didn't leave you, Liv-" She says, calmly. Forcing a soft expression when they look at each again. "I'm here. I'm still here."
"If that was true-" Olivia starts, another flat and sarcastic laugh leaving her before she takes a generous swig of wine, "then you'd know that I'm fine. And I can handle this on my own."
"I don't believe you." Amanda says, and without a second thought, she continues; "I think you're terrified of letting anyone in because you're so used to getting hurt. And I think-"
There's a whole speech in there. Something about love. Something about being worthy of it. But before she can even finish the sentence, Olivia is up and moving towards her, not close enough to touch, but close enough for Amanda to see how drunk the other woman actually is. And more importantly, how much pain she's in.
"I don't fucking care what you think, Rollins!" Olivia yells. "Don't you get it? I don't want you here!"
Honestly, it would be easier to just walk out, she figures. And in a week or two, Olivia will send a text and apologize. Amanda will say it's fine, and that she shouldn't have pushed her. Life will go on, as it always has.
But something makes her stay, makes her stand her ground, shake her head. Even as Olivia takes another step towards her, with something wild and uncontrolled in her eyes, making Amanda wonder if she's about to find herself on the receiving end of a slap, or maybe even a punch.
"Leave!" Olivia says, tears trickling down her cheeks now. And while there's still mostly rage in her voice, the word comes out choked and hoarse. As if all that rage is just coating for a pain, so deep that it has become a permanent, physical part of her.
"No." Amanda answers without moving, realizing that she's crying too, quickly wiping away her own tears.
The anger quickly dissolves in Olivia's expression, and looking defeated rather than frantic, her head falls down as she lowers her voice to barely a whisper. "Please-"
"No, Liv-" Amanda says, daring a step closer, and then one more when she sees how Olivia's legs seem to be buckling beneath her. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere."
Then, almost symbolically, as if Olivia's walls are actually crumbling, the empty wine glass drops from her hand, cushioned by the lush carpet. Next, a quiet whimper, followed by a pained groan when Amanda catches Olivia in her arms as her legs finally give in, along with the rest of her body.
"Hey-" Amanda mumbles, using all of her strength to give both of them a somewhat steady landing, easing them down. "I've got you." Ending up as a tangled mess, she cradles Olivia as best she can, tightening her hold. Silent promises of not letting go. "I'm here-" She whispers, kissing the top of Olivia's head. "Shh, it's ok. I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm sorry-" Olivia says, between two broken sobs, her body shaking, "I'm so sorry." She's tense in Amanda's arms, but making no effort to move or push the other woman away.
"It's ok-" Amanda mumbles, "you've got nothing to apologize for."
How long they sit like that, neither of them can tell. The room filled first with the sound of Olivia crying, until it gradually turns into a series of softer sighs and sniffles as she relaxes more and more in Amanda's hold. All the while, Amanda keeps running a hand through her hair, over her back, telling her it's ok, that she's not alone. Hoping, praying, that there's some room left for her words, somewhere in that broken heart.
When Olivia is finally calm, and Amanda's legs are fully asleep, she moves to tilt the other woman's head, giving her a careful smile when their eyes meet.
"Come on-" She says, "let's move to the couch."
Barely responding with a nod, Olivia allows Amanda to help her up, hand in hers as they cross the floor, to the sofa where she slumps down tiredly, sitting in silence while Amanda disappears into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water and a box of tissues.
"Where's Noah?" She asks, knowing that no matter how bad things are, Olivia would never risk the chance of her son walking out, seeing her like this.
"With his brother." Olivia responds, giving Amanda a sad smile before wiping her nose, followed by emptying the glass of water in one go.
"You worried he's gonna tell Connor about what he found out?"
Ducking her head and shifting on the couch, Olivia shrugs. "We had a long conversation about it. I hate that I'm forcing my son to keep secrets, but…" Here, she adds another shrug, pinching the bridge of her nose, "they're just kids, Amanda. They're brothers. I can't exactly keep them apart."
Nodding her agreement, Amanda welcomes the silence that follows, not entirely sure if it's her, Olivia, or maybe both of them, who need a quick breather before the next question. But she needs to ask.
"And… Lewis?" She mumbles, hesitant to look at the woman sitting next to her, forcing herself anyway. "Did you tell Noah anything about what happened?"
The response comes surprisingly fast. And while Olivia might still be slurring her words a little, she doesn't flinch at the mention of the name that has haunted her for more than a decade. "I told him that Lewis was a really bad man who hurt a lot of people, including me. But that he's never coming back, and that I'm-"
She stops abruptly, swallowing, and when Amanda's eyes land on the tissue in Olivia's hand, she sees how the other woman's knuckles have turned a ghostly shade of white.
"Fine?" Amanda asks, catching the way Olivia sighs, rolling her eyes.
"Something like that." Olivia mumbles.
"But you're not." Amanda says, as an obvious statement, without judgment, reaching out to squeeze the other woman's shoulder.
The quiet drags on and lingers, several moments passing while Olivia is searching her mind for the right words. The right words to explain, well, everything. But in the end, it comes out as one short, whispered sentence, an exhausted attempt at summarizing what she, and her life, has become.
"I'm so tired, Amanda."
And for the second time tonight, she cries.
But it's different now. Not like she feels suffocated by the mountain of grief and heartache. More like a dam bursting, freeing everything that has been bottling up for weeks and months and years. And even if she wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to stop this, so she lets the tears fall. She lets Amanda hold her, and rub her back, and this time when Amanda tells her "I'm not going anywhere", she makes a half conscious choice to believe her. To finally trust that sometimes, even if it is a rarity, someone might stay.
Her cheeks are still wet when she feels sleep take her, only registering the soothing motion of Amanda's hand running slowly through her hair, and a quiet voice telling her "I'm here." With anyone else, she would fight to stay awake. To make an effort to reassure the other person that she's fine. That she doesn't need the company or a babysitter. But she's safe here, she thinks. It's safe to rest here, with her.
…
There's confusion before anything else when she wakes up three hours later, gradually realizing that she's not curled up on that couch anymore.
Was she really that drunk that she can't remember getting into bed?
But then, like small glimpses, it comes to her; Falling asleep, head rested on Amanda's shoulder. Amanda eventually helping her up, guiding her into the bedroom, a gentle hand on her cheek, telling her "I'll be on the couch if you need me." Then a kiss on the forehead. "Get some sleep."
Almost fully awake now, she finally registers the headache and her desert dry mouth, vowing to throw out whatever's left of the boxed wine first thing in the morning. In the same moment, when she turns to fumble for her phone to check what time it is, she sees it; The bottle of water and a box of Advil placed on her nightstand table.
Courtesy of a certain blonde, of course.
The gesture makes her smile through a sigh, groaning quietly as she sits herself up to open the bottle. But as she swallows the two pills, there's movement somewhere, making her freeze.
Kitchen, she thinks. The sounds are coming from her kitchen. Amanda. Amanda is still here. She told me, right?
Still. She can't be sure. After Lewis, after a lot of things, she will never be one hundred percent sure.
…
"Hey-" She mumbles from the corner, suppressing a smirk when Amanda, with sleep hair and her back turned, jumps and turns quickly in front of the kitchen sink.
"Holy shit, you scared me." Amanda says, chuckling before wiping the side of her mouth, setting the glass down. "Did I wake you?"
Giving the other woman an apologetic smile, Olivia shakes her head. "No, I was already awake."
They stand like that for a moment, taking each other in, Olivia wondering how much of a mess she's looking, all while noticing that Amanda has borrowed one of her oversized NYPD t-shirts. And she can't help it. She thinks Amanda should wear that t-shirt, just like this, more often.
Maybe she's still a little drunk. Maybe it's all that crying, confusing her and making her think things that are normally easy enough to ignore.
"Do you need anything?" Amanda asks, breaking the silence that is bordering on awkward, "I could make us some tea?"
It's funny, she thinks then, watching Amanda move around the kitchen like she lives here. Like she belongs here.
And doesn't she?
Doesn't Amanda belong in her life, and in her home, in every sense of the word? Hasn't she belonged for years? And isn't she the one person who can pick her up and put her back together after a night like this?
"I don't want tea." Olivia says, moving a little closer.
"Ok-" Amanda mumbles, chewing down on her lip before opening the fridge. "Juice?"
"No-" And now she's actually smiling, bordering on a full grin, because all of a sudden, it just seems so simple.
That's the thing, isn't it?
It's actually this simple.
She needs to feel alive. Beyond mere existence. She needs to feel human, and connected. And now that all of her defenses are down, she realizes that the only person she actually wants to connect with, like that, is the person asking if she wants juice.
"What's so funny?" Amanda asks, looking unsure as she closes the fridge, eyes moving around the room as if she's trying to see whatever it is that Olivia is seeing.
"You know-" Olivia starts, moving around the island but keeping a safe distance. "I really hated it when you started sleeping with Nick."
A spontaneous, nervous laugh escapes Amanda then. "What?"
"And later, when I found out you were pregnant with Jesse, I mean, don't get me wrong, I was happy for you, but I was sad too. Without knowing why."
"Liv-" Amanda whispers, looking like she can't quite figure out what to do with her arms or legs, shifting, and then shifting again.
"And then, with Billie, and Al…" Olivia glances around the room, surprised at how easy it is to share this. To tell Amanda things she could never give meaning to before. "God, I was devastated. I tried so hard to support you, and be there for you, but… I just couldn't shake the feeling that… I don't know. That I was losing you. It was just wrong, you know? I didn't want to feel it. But I did." Here, she takes a breath, closing most of the remaining distance between them. "And now I know why."
Amanda's response is a simple question, asked with a quivering voice. "Why?"
"Why?" Olivia laughs, like, actually laughs. "You used to be my best detective and you still don't get it?"
But of course Amanda gets it.
Of course she knows exactly what Olivia is trying to say. Which is why, after a few long seconds, Amanda pulls her in, a hand at the back of her head, one grasping at her waist, kissing her without hesitation. And she smiles when a sense of urgency makes Olivia push forward, until her backside collides with the kitchen counter, finding herself pinned between the hard surface and the softness that is Olivia's body.
And it's so goddamn tempting to keep this going; Jump up on the counter and let Olivia take her, in whatever way Olivia wants to. To finally give in, after a decade of pretending that she doesn't want this; Wandering hands, that eager tongue in her mouth-
But there's a voice in the back of her head, reminding her what happened in this home tonight. The state she found Olivia to be in. The look in her eyes when she yelled at her to leave. All that wine. They might be wrapped up in each other now, and fuck, it feels amazing, and right, but still-
"Liv, wait-" She mumbles, catching her breath, placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "You're exhausted, you've been drinking-" She interrupts herself with a moan when Olivia's mouth finds her neck, allowing herself to sink into the sensation, only for a short moment, before leaning back.
Looking down at the cramped space between them, Olivia nods, then shakes her head. "I think I'm more clear headed than I've been in years-" She says. And there's a lightness there, in her voice. Not forced. No pink clouding. It's just there. Lightness, and maybe the smallest hint of insecurity when she adds, "but if you don't want this-"
"No, I do-" Amanda interrupts, gently lifting Olivia's chin, because she can't even stand the thought of Olivia thinking that this is some kind of rejection. "God, Liv, I've always wanted this. But maybe we should take things slow? I don't want us to do something you might regret tomorrow-"
It's Olivia's turn to interrupt then, cupping Amanda's face and mirroring the other woman's smile. "I could never regret this."
And then they're kissing again, but slower this time. Softer, to the point where Amanda feels herself melt, where she's not entirely sure where her body ends and Olivia's begin.
"Could you?" Olivia asks, barely an inch separating their lips, "regret this?"
"No-" Amanda gulps, "never."
"Then come to bed with me-" Olivia says, immediately catching Amanda's raised eyebrow. "To sleep."
…
And they do actually sleep. After a while. After a series of mostly innocent kisses and touches. They sleep, at first. But as the daylight gradually creeps in behind the curtains, and they wake up facing each other, foreheads touching, neither of them seem able to come up with a single good reason for why they shouldn't continue what they started in Olivia's kitchen.
And then, it just happens. No questions asked. No words spoken at all as she pulls Amanda closer. Hands wandering, lips moving and tasting. Heavy breaths filling the room as a naked thigh slips in between her legs, and a moment later, a hand.
But it's surprisingly quiet. As if they're both a little scared to make a sound that has the potential power to break the spell. To suddenly wake up in separate rooms and find that this was just a dream. That they never actually touched each other like this. And maybe that's why she clings to her, terrified of what might happen if she lets go, all the while knowing, deep down, that now that they're finally here, Amanda was always destined to be that someone who stayed.
It doesn't fix everything. There are still pieces of her, broken, condemned to stay broken. It doesn't take away all of the pain, but it makes it bearable. As if with every single kiss and every stroke of her fingertips, Amanda reminds her that it is, without a doubt, possible to love her. To love her deeply, unconditionally, and through it all.
It doesn't fix everything, but damn, it fixes something.