A/N: Many thanks go out to LivBensonStabler for previewing this for me ahead of time. Go check out her stories, she's an amazing author! Also would like to thank the girls in my group chat for all of their support, you ladies give me reassurance when I am doubting myself, my writing wouldn't be the same without all of you!
Disclaimer: SVU and all of its characters were created by and are the property of Dick Wolf. I make no profit with this story, which is my own original work.
Olivia opened her eyes at the sound of her alarm blaring, unsure if she'd actually gotten any rest or not. She had gone to bed early the previous night, opting to skip dinner and just lie under the blankets watching television until sleep eventually claimed her. Ever since she'd emerged from her bathroom the day before to find that Elliot actually had left, she'd been overwhelmed by a mixture of relief and guilt. That was in addition to the myriad of emotions that consumed her on a daily basis. Maybe that was why she preferred the numbness some days over others – feeling things just hurt too much. It was easier to just exist in her cocoon and let the world carry on around her without having to participate.
As she lay there, trying to suppress the memories of yesterday's fight with Elliot, Olivia pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. How would she ever be able to manage to pull herself together in time for her appointment with Dr. Lindstrom in a few hours? It was bad enough the psychiatrist would be wanting to know how things were going with her new prescription, and she hadn't even taken a single tablet yet. She just couldn't. Though the zolpidem tartrate wasn't anything like the sleeping pills William Lewis had given her during the first four days he'd held her captive, her brain still wouldn't allow her to take them. As it was, she could barely bring herself to swallow the citalopram on a nightly basis. She only took Tylenol when it was absolutely necessary, and even then she nearly choked on the capsules. Medication of any kind was triggering for her now, but she hadn't actually admitted that to anyone. How could she?
Dragging herself from the bed, Olivia glanced at the clock again, trying to determine if she had enough time to go for a run. That was when she remembered that Owen had told her to take a break from exercise today. Would he really know if she didn't? It wasn't as though Elliot was here to tattle on her. She wondered how far he was to Florida by now. Though his leaving had hurt, she knew she'd done the right thing in sending him away. He shouldn't have to see her so broken. Already she had her regrets over having let him read her files. Not about sharing her truth – but the aftermath it had caused. He'd needed a meeting. He'd only been back in her life for a few days, and already she had compromised his sobriety. That was something she couldn't deal with. It had been hard enough growing up knowing she'd been the reason her mother drank. She wouldn't be the cause for Elliot falling off the wagon and back into the bottle, too. If he were to stay, and continue to witness her downward spiral, that's what would happen, and she simply couldn't live with that.
After a shower and finding some clothes to wear – not that it mattered, it wasn't as though she had anywhere to go – Olivia trudged downstairs. She brought her tablet with her, free to have her video appointment anywhere now that she had the house to herself. Having no desire to eat, and no one to pressure her, she put the kettle on to boil. Her hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the tea bag, trying to open the little envelope it was housed in so she could place it in her mug. Gripping the counter, Olivia willed the lightheaded feeling to pass. When the sensation subsided, she poured herself some orange juice, and sipped that slowly until the shaking stopped altogether.
The whistling of the tea kettle pulled her from her thoughts – ones she had been hearing in Elliot's voice no less. In her mind, he had been admonishing her yet again that she needed to eat, insisting that he'd cook whatever she wanted for breakfast. Somehow the message stuck with her, and before she even realized what she was doing, Olivia found herself preparing a bowl of instant oatmeal along with her tea. How was it that even when he was absent, Elliot could have such an influence over her? It hadn't just been in recent days either – she'd noticed it during the years he had been missing from her life, though as time had gone on, she'd been too stubborn to admit to it.
Despite the fact that she wasn't feeling hungry, Olivia had no desire to see the food she'd made go to waste, either. She supposed the least she could do was attempt to eat a few bites. Grabbing the bowl in one hand and her steaming mug in the other, she retreated to the relative comfort of the living room. Even though he'd only stayed at the cottage for the span of a few days, the only meals she'd eaten at the table had been with Elliot, and she had no desire to sit there alone.
Turning the television on for background noise, she tuned in to one of those daytime morning talk shows – the ones with hosts she typically found to be insipid and easily replaceable. It wasn't perfect, but the sound of conversation filling the room was oddly soothing, even if no one was actually addressing her specifically. Olivia watched with a glazed expression, not reacting to the antics of the duo onscreen, as she mechanically spooned oatmeal into her mouth.
Despite all her attempts at distraction, it was after the fourth bite that her stomach rebelled and insisted it couldn't consume any more. Luckily, while there had been a mild churning sensation, the contents stayed put, and gradually she was left with nothing but a feeling of being full.
Even though there was still another hour to go before her appointment with Lindstrom, Olivia forced herself to move from her spot on the couch. She wanted to clear away any sight of the dishes she'd left behind. Not that she feared her psychiatrist would judge her, but the last thing she wanted was for her appetite – or lack thereof – to become a topic of conversation. In fact, she wasn't even planning on mentioning yesterday's debacle. She'd just have to make certain that she kept her fluid intake up so that something like that never happened again. As it was, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to look Owen in the eye from now on. How humiliating it had been that someone she barely knew had had to have helped her in that way.
Almost as though someone had read her mind, there was a knock on the door. Olivia headed toward the source of the sound, calling out as a precaution to see who was on the other side. What if Elliot had come back? Her heart began to pound in anticipation.
"Olivia, it's Owen. I'm sorry to stop by so early, but I wanted to check on you."
Struggling to set aside her shame, Olivia opened the door to reveal her neighbor. When she saw him, she was surprised to see that he had a small bag slung over one shoulder, and was carrying a covered bowl in his hands. With a friendly smile, he extended it to her, offering an explanation as he did so.
"Stacy sent this over for you. Consider it a 'welcome to the neighborhood' type thing. She realized that after yesterday, you may not be feeling up to coming over for dinner anytime soon, but she still wanted to do something nice."
Owen went on to inform Olivia that what she held contained a tortellini pasta salad and that the reusable bowl was hers to keep. Still stunned at the gesture, Olivia remembered to thank him, as she invited him into the cottage. Walking toward the kitchen, she deposited the bowl onto the counter and returned to where he was waiting for her.
"I'd offer you some coffee, but I'm afraid I don't have any made this morning. If you'd like, I can put on a pot -"
"No need, Olivia. I won't be keeping you for long. I just came over to see how your blood pressure was today after yesterday's scare."
Even though he'd not done anything directly to cause her embarrassment, Olivia felt her cheeks flush. Part of her wanted to make him leave as soon as possible, not wanting any fuss or attention. Then there was another part, a small insistent voice in the back of her head that told her it couldn't hurt to get checked out. Again, that voice of reason sounded remarkably like Elliot. That made the second time now that he'd crept into her psyche.
"That's fine. I'm feeling much better now though, really. I think I just overdid things yesterday."
Olivia took a seat on the couch, and not wanting to invade her personal space by sitting next to her, Owen opted to perch on the coffee table across from her. Pulling the stethoscope and cuff from his bag, he wrapped it around her upper arm and began to inflate it. Less than a minute later, he had his reading.
"Your blood pressure is 95/70. While still in the normal range, it's quite on the low side. Better than yesterday though. When I first arrived, your reading was at 80/65."
Olivia tried to absorb what Owen was telling her. Low blood pressure meant that she could easily have another fainting spell. She'd just have to make sure that didn't happen.
"What can I do to help correct that?"
"Take in as many fluids as you can today, maybe even some broth or a sports drink. Try not to overdo it, and if you should feel sick for any reason, feel free to call me. Also, it wouldn't be wise to drive right now."
Olivia blanched. Someone who was practically a stranger telling her she couldn't drive? Then as realization set in, it dawned on her it was coming from his experience as a medic, and not trying to give orders. The last thing she'd need is to pass out while behind the wheel. She'd never forgive herself if she caused an accident and hurt – or heaven forbid killed - someone else.
Gathering his things, Owen reminded her yet again to call if she should need anything, extending a business card with his cell phone number on it. Olivia thanked him for stopping by, and also asked him to thank his wife for sending over the tortellini salad. After seeing Owen out the door, she was alone with her thoughts once more, and feeling more overwhelmed than ever before.
Before Olivia was really ready for it, it was time for her appointment with Doctor Lindstrom. She logged in on her tablet and waited for her psychiatrist to join the video call. She wasn't sure exactly what she was going to talk about during this session, because she'd already promised herself she wasn't going to mention some of the things that had been happening – and she definitely wasn't going to say anything about the day before. Forcing herself to focus, Olivia addressed her doctor, whose face had just appeared on the screen.
"Good morning, Dr. Lindstrom."
"Good morning, Olivia. How are you today?"
How could such a simple question be so fucking complicated? Olivia thought of all the times she'd asked the same thing of survivors over the years, and chastised herself for her callousness. Now that she was on the receiving end, she truly understood how upsetting it could be. She's not quite sure she could label it as condescending, because the intentions behind it were often genuine, but exactly how was she expected to be? What was she supposed to be feeling? For once, it wasn't a rhetorical question, because Olivia really wished someone would tell her what she was supposed to feel, because identifying any one emotion out of the myriad of those overwhelming her at any given moment was exhausting in itself.
"Well, I'm still here in Cape May, if you're wondering. Even though I'm not entirely sure I want to be. I still think six months off is a bit excessive."
"Olivia, we've talked about this. You need time to recover. You have to give yourself a chance. You've barely been there a week, it will take time to adjust to a more relaxed schedule."
Olivia felt the anger well up inside her. Exactly what did he think she was doing here? What was there to do here, anyway? Trying not to get distracted, she merely nodded her agreement, figuring at this point it was better to go along with him than to assert her own opinion. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this complacent, but arguing required energy, which was limited in supply. If not for the constant night terrors, she'd likely stay huddled in bed all day long. But their existence made the bedroom a less than comfortable place, as she had found out the night before.
"Tell me more about Elliot. You mentioned the last time we talked that he was staying with you. How is your reunion going?"
Olivia pressed her hand against her chest as the words cut so deeply she could practically feel it. How could she say that she'd sent Elliot away without getting into a discussion about what had happened yesterday? Deciding that she had to be honest – at least in regard to Elliot no longer being present – she took a deep breath and went for broke.
"Elliot's not here anymore. I asked him to leave yesterday."
"Can you tell me more about that, Olivia?"
This was precisely the reason why she hadn't wanted to say anything. Olivia had known Lindstrom would try and analyze things, to get to the deeper roots of the issue. She understood it was in his job description to ask questions – it had once been in hers, too – but this would lead nowhere. All it would serve to do is tear her up even more inside and realize just how hopelessly broken she was. She didn't need a reminder of that, it's what she saw whenever she looked at her reflection in a mirror.
"I let him read my files about what had happened, and it nearly broke him. He's a recovering alcoholic now, and he had to go to a meeting after he learned the truth. I won't be the reason someone else in my life drinks."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Olivia instantly regretted them. While they'd touched briefly on her parentage in the past – she'd revealed that she had been raised by a single mother - it was a topic she had always skirted around, never wanting to dwell on it for too long. She had always feared it would become fodder for too many questions she wouldn't want to answer, one of the top reasons she kept the knowledge a secret most of the time to begin with. Naturally, Dr. Lindstrom picked up on her verbal slip immediately, and to Olivia's dismay, he wanted to delve deeper into what was upsetting his patient. His voice was soft as he gently prodded the conversation along.
"You said 'someone else'. Who else in your life drank, Olivia? And what would make you think you would be responsible for it?"
Olivia desperately wished it was time for her session to be over, but they'd barely just begun. There was at least another fifty minutes left in the hour, if not longer. Why had she ever consented to twice weekly meetings? She had barely been able to tolerate the weekly appointments before all this. A brief flash of memory reminded her what the alternative had almost been – inpatient care on a locked ward, where there really wouldn't have been any freedom or autonomy at all. This way, she did have some intrusions in her life, and some of what she viewed as restrictions, but for the most part, she was left on her own.
"Olivia? Can you answer the question for me?"
Yet again, Dr. Lindstrom was prompting her. The last thing she wanted to talk about now was her mother, but she wanted to talk about herself even less. She supposed it was the lesser of the two evils.
"My mother."
The psychiatrist's perception served him well, and he correctly intuited that this had been a problem Olivia had witnessed from her childhood. Now he was going to try to get to the root of the issue – if she would share it.
"You were only a child, what could you possibly have done to consider yourself responsible for your mother's actions?"
When Olivia spoke next, her voice was barely a whisper.
"I was born."
"You believe that your mother resented you?"
Running a hand through her hair, Olivia exhaled deeply.
"It's not a matter of what I believed, I knew it to be fact. She told me as much, before I was even old enough to understand what the word 'resentment' really meant."
Dr. Lindstrom nodded, thinking he understood where things were going, but misjudging the situation gravely. His next statement was based solely on assumption – and while his perception was usually more skilled, this time he was way off the mark.
"So her relationship with your father was a bit acrimonious, then?"
Olivia barked a laugh, even though there was nothing remotely humorous about the question. She was just at the point now where it was either laugh or cry, and she knew if she started crying, she'd never stop. Besides, she didn't have time to wallow in self pity.
"You could say that, considering my 'father' was the man who raped her."
When Lindstrom spoke next, his tone of voice had changed completely. Instead of curiosity, it now exuded empathy and concern.
"Olivia, I'm sorry. I had no idea."
"Yeah, well, it's not exactly something I broadcast."
"As an adult though, you have to know that your mother's decisions were her own. Yes, alcoholism is a disease, but you were not the reason your mother drank. It was a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma."
Olivia shook her head, determined to argue her point.
"But if I'd have never been born, she'd have never had a daily reminder of her trauma to deal with."
"You don't know that."
They debated the topic for several more minutes before Olivia shut down and refused to say anything else on the issue. Already she was regretting having brought it up in the first place. Thankfully, Dr. Lindstrom accepted her refusal to discuss the matter further, and moved on.
"Tell me about your sleep patterns, Olivia. Has the medication I've given you helped you resume a more normal schedule?"
"I haven't taken it."
It hurt Olivia so deeply to admit to that, that she couldn't even meet her doctor in the eye as she said the words – even though they were only communicating through a video medium. By confessing that she hadn't even tried the pills she'd been given, she felt as though she'd failed somehow – or would be labeled as resistant to treatment. Even though it had been a few weeks since she'd been cleared, there was still the nagging fear in the back of her mind of being placed in inpatient care.
"I tried, but I couldn't. It's just that...Lewis gave me sleeping pills. I know they weren't the same thing, but that's where my mind goes every time I pick up the bottle, and my throat closes up."
"Olivia, I'm sorry. I should have considered that. We'll look into another option, okay?"
Closing her eyes Olivia took another deep breath. She was about to make a big leap out of her comfort zone and admit to something. This was a bit out of character for her, but she feared if she didn't speak up now, it would just be an endless cycle of one medication after another.
"I'm scared."
"Tell me about what you're feeling right now."
"I don't want to take anything to help me sleep. The dreams are bad enough right now as it is, but at least I'm able to eventually wake myself up. What if I take a prescription that keeps me stuck in them even longer? I don't think I could cope with that. And I don't think there is a medication that exists that will make me stop dreaming."
The psychiatrist's voice was full of regret when he spoke.
"No, there isn't Olivia. But I can try and give you something else that may improve your sleep. Trazodone has sedating properties, but it is not specifically a sleeping medication. It would also work with the citalopram and boost your serotonin levels, which could help the depression."
Though Lindstrom made a valid argument, Olivia wasn't convinced. She simply wasn't ready to add another medication to her daily regimen, and had to decline. As the session was coming to a close, the topic came up again as to how she was feeling in regard to Elliot's departure, and how she would react if he were to return.
"I can't think about that right now."
Olivia was grateful when Lindstrom seemed to accept her response. They scheduled two appointments for the following week – one for Monday, and one for Friday – then closed out the video call. Left alone once more, Olivia was left feeling completely drained and exhausted. Setting her tablet to the side, she pulled the fleece blanket around her body and lay down on the couch. She wasn't hopeful of getting a great deal of sleep, but she simply had to try and rest in order to recover from the toll the previous hour had taken.
Some time later, Olivia very nearly fell off the couch when she awoke from a bad dream so suddenly that her body was left trembling in it's aftermath. Her mind went back to the conversation she'd had with Dr. Lindstrom and medication, and she shook her head ruefully. If only a prescription actually existed to keep her from dreaming. That would be a pill she would willingly take.
Looking at the clock in the kitchen with a groan, Olivia realized it was still early in the afternoon – not much after one. Sleeping clearly wasn't a productive way to spend her time, so how was she going to get through the days here if she wasn't able to exercise? It hadn't even been a week yet, and she already had cabin fever. But at the same time, the thought of going out and about, actually exploring the town, was terrifying. Not to mention the fact that Owen had mentioned this morning that she shouldn't be driving while her blood pressure was still so low.
That brief recollection brought something else to mind, and Olivia used the internet access to bring up the website for the grocery store on her tablet. When she'd been living in the city, delivery was never anything she'd had to worry about, but she was curious to see whether or not the local store here offered the service. To her great relief, they did. Knowing that she could never stomach those flavored sports drinks, Olivia instead ordered a few boxes of bouillon granules that she could mix with hot water to make broth, along with some packages of cup of soup. She also added more teabags to her virtual cart, knowing she was running through what she'd already bought rather quickly.
She felt a pang of regret when the idea flashed in her mind that she should ask Elliot if he needed anything from the store before completing her order. Reminding herself that what she'd done was the best for everyone involved, Olivia entered her payment information and scheduled a delivery time. Unfortunately, nothing was available until the following morning. She made a mental note to prepare her shopping a day ahead in the future, not that she planned on any large food orders any time soon. She couldn't even take her eating battles day by day right now. It was more like hour by hour – even if she often ended up on the losing side.
Needing to do something to keep herself occupied, or else risk being sucked into a mire of endless spiraling thoughts, Olivia pushed herself off the couch and trudged upstairs. She supposed now was as good a time as any to finally unpack. The longer she lived in denial about the fact that this situation was going to be her new life for the foreseeable future, the harder it would be to accept. No one was going to magically release her for a return to work, no matter how much she wished for it.
Methodically opening drawers, she began organizing her clothes and other belongings. It was only when she'd finished with her task that she realized her error. There was no way she'd be able to carry her empty trunk and suitcases to the storage space, not with the dizzy spells she'd been having. Another idea soon came to mind, and though it was a struggle, she managed to get them down the hall and into the other spare room – the one Elliot hadn't been using. At least there, they'd be out of the way.
Much to her dismay, Olivia realized upon her return downstairs that all of her hard work in the bedroom had only taken up a little over ninety minutes of her time. The days had never seemed this long when Elliot was here. Yes, she had definitely felt a bit awkward in his presence, but at least she had never felt like was going out of her mind. She didn't understand it. She'd been living alone the majority of her adult life. A little solitude shouldn't be bothering her this much.
What could she do now? Yes there was always the option of watching something on television, but Olivia didn't honestly believe her concentration would hold out. The same held true for trying to read. She'd brought a few books with her just in case, but right now they held no interest. No, what she really wanted – needed – was to run. The exhilaration of her feet pounding against the pavement, the echo of her heartbeat thrumming in her ears, and the rush of endorphins that came with it, was all such an incredible feeling. She needed activities that kept her in control of her mind and body, and the more passive hobbies like watching television or reading didn't seem to help.
The phone rang then, and Olivia startled at the unexpected noise. Looking at the display, she blanched slightly when she saw Elliot's name. What was he doing calling? For several seconds, she debated not answering, then her conscience kicked in and she wondered if perhaps he'd run into trouble of some sort on his drive back to Florida. With a shaky breath, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Olivia. It's me. Then again, I'm guessing you already knew that. I'm glad you picked up."
His voice was tentative, and this annoyed Olivia greatly. In recent weeks and months, she'd had more than enough of people walking on eggshells around her. She could always tell by their tone when they were trying not to upset her. This was what she despised most – being treated differently because of what she'd been through. The fact that it was now coming from Elliot, of all people, cut her deeply.
"What do you want, Elliot? Shouldn't you be in North Carolina or something by now? Did you have engine trouble?"
"I'm not in North Carolina. I'm still in Cape May. I never left, Liv. How could I?"
Olivia had caught his lapse back into her usual nickname, but opted not to comment on it. She was too overwhelmed with other emotions at the moment. He'd never left? Even after she'd screamed and shouted at him and practically thrown him out the door herself? What on earth could have been his incentive to stay? Didn't he understand that she couldn't be fixed?
"Why?"
"Why what, Liv?"
Olivia's question had been a quiet whisper, and Elliot's answering one was just as soft. Deep down, they both knew what was on the other person's mind, but were choosing to dance around the topic. It was easier than discussing it directly. Bringing it out into the open, saying the words out loud and admitting the emotions behind them, would hurt too much. They weren't ready. Instead, Elliot opted to say something else.
"I only went as far as the Jetty Motel. I'm about three miles away."
Olivia exhaled a shaky breath as she tried to keep herself under control. Even after everything she'd said yesterday, all of her harsh words, he had still chosen to stay. He knew about the worst parts of her life, and he wasn't going anywhere. The more she thought about the events of the previous day, the more she realized how grossly she had overreacted in the heat of the moment. If she'd not have passed out in the morning, Elliot likely would have given her all the space in the world. But she'd had a health scare, and he had only been showing appropriate concern.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't owe me any apologies, Olivia. I never intended to stay away for good. I only ever meant to give you a few days to yourself. The decision is entirely yours. Did you want me to come over now, or would you rather I wait until tomorrow?"
Truth be told, she desperately wanted him now, but Olivia couldn't bring herself to admit that. Instead she tried to sound as brave as possible as she told Elliot that tomorrow would be fine. He reminded her that he could be at the cottage within minutes if she should need him, and his phone would always be on – a welcome reassurance after years of him being out of reach.
"Goodbye, Elliot. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye, Olivia. I'll call you before I leave the motel tomorrow, so I don't startle you when I get there."
Olivia hung up the phone, sighing quietly. She brushed a lone tear away. He had stayed. She hadn't pushed him away. Relief flooded throughout her veins. She knew she could have asked him to come back this very instant, and he'd have been at the door in a heartbeat, but she didn't want to seem weak. Plus, a little more time alone with her thoughts might actually be a good thing. When Elliot did return, they would definitely need to discuss boundaries – to avoid anything like this happening again.
The call with Elliot seemed to have given her a bit of renewed energy, and Olivia wasn't feeling quite as restless as before. She'd barely eaten any oatmeal this morning, and had forgotten about lunch, but promised herself she would try and do better about dinner. Remembering the tortellini salad that Owen had brought over this morning, she figured she should try and eat a little bit of that soon. First things first, though, she was going to have some water to drink. She wanted to try and stay hydrated, and she feared tea might not be the best option right now.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, Olivia headed back to the living room. She wrapped herself up in the blanket, and absentmindedly flipped through the channels on the television. She didn't really care what was on, she just couldn't stand the quiet right now. She supposed that was what she missed the most about the city - the constant noise. Here, it was so calm that the thoughts in her head drowned out everything else, and it was slowly driving her insane. Maybe that was why she had this incessant need within her to always want to run right now. That if she were to run fast enough and far enough, she could escape the nightmare that her life had become.
Olivia's hand went to her throat, still not quite used to feeling the absence of the pendant that used to always be present. In a way though, she was relieved that she no longer had the medal. Wearing it now would only make her feel like a fraud. Fearlessness may have once been her mantra, but she certainly couldn't claim it as an attribute any longer. Deep down, she knew for a fact that she was nothing but a coward. If she were truly fearless, she wouldn't be the shell of a person she once knew, a reflection she barely recognized. Everything that has happened in the past year has made her doubt her entire existence as she's ever known it.
How long she had stayed lost in the abyss of her despair, Olivia didn't know. It must have been at least an hour or more, because it was now late afternoon, and still the only thing she'd eaten all day had been those few bites of oatmeal she'd choked down at breakfast. Even her well meaning intentions of drinking water earlier had fallen by the wayside as the once cold beverage had now warmed to room temperature and was no longer appealing.
If she were truly honest with herself, there was one thing that she was most worried about, and that was Elliot. Ever since she'd spoken with him on the phone earlier, she hadn't been able to get her former partner off her mind. In addition to all the other turmoil she was battling, she was now waging an internal war with herself, and what it was that she actually wanted.
Though he had promised to return the following day, Olivia wasn't sure she was ready to see him again. At the same time, the prospect of being alone wasn't exactly appealing, either. It went back to the issue of it being too quiet. Not that Elliot was exactly a noisy person to be around, but since his arrival that first night, she'd found his presence strangely comforting. If only he wouldn't be so insistent that she take care of herself. She knew he meant well, but it made her feel so smothered. If they were going to coexist in the same house for an extended period of time, she was going to need her space.
Frustrated with herself and the way her mind was spiraling, Olivia was determined to get out of the house. She decided she was going to go to the beach for awhile. Even if she was supposed to be taking it easy, there were no laws saying she couldn't sit on the sand and watch the waves crash against the shore. There were still a few hours of light left before it got dark, and she couldn't stand to be cooped up inside a moment longer.
Several minutes later, she was on her way. She'd packed a spare blanket in a tote bag along with a fresh bottle of water and a towel, just in case she needed to wipe the sand from her feet later on. Her phone was tucked in the front flap of the bag. As she walked past the Winter's house, Olivia didn't notice that Owen was in his front yard, nor did she hear him calling to her. She was too lost in her own misery.
When she reached the beach, Olivia kicked off her shoes and picked them up in her hand, walking barefoot across the sand. Finding a good spot, she struggled to set up the blanket by herself, as the wind was proving to be a detriment. Eventually, she was successful, and was soon seated.
Now that she was out in the fresh air, her mind felt marginally clearer than it had when she had been cooped up in the house. The more Olivia thought about Elliot's impending return the following day, the more she realized she wasn't ready for it. Knowing she didn't have the strength to deal with having another conversation with him today, she simply sent him a text message, asking him if he could please wait and call her again tomorrow and check in with her then. Feeling as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she dropped the phone onto the blanket and heaved a sigh of relief.
Her restless mind couldn't be quieted though, and just as when she'd been here the day before, Olivia felt the ocean calling to her. There was something about the unpredictability of the waves that she found herself drawn to. They were so beautiful, but at the same time, could also be deadly. They were a force of nature to be reckoned with, and she longed to submerge herself in the waters and let them take her away. It wasn't necessarily that she wished to drown – she didn't want to die – but the concept of being washed clean and made whole again was appealing. Maybe that was why she had walked out as far as she dared go the day before, hoping for a baptism of renewal. It hadn't happened though. Instead, it had served as the precursor for her fight with Elliot.
Olivia flinched as icy water lapped against her legs. Blinking, she tried to remember how she had gotten from the relative safety of the blanket to standing knee deep in the ocean. She had no conscious memory of deciding to walk here, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to turn back, either. Wading in even further, she was up to her waist before she even realized it. The one thing that she didn't know was that someone was watching her from the wooden planks that led to the beach from the street, and that person was extremely concerned.
Though he'd not had any intentions of interfering, Owen Winter could remain passive no longer. As fast as he could, he made his way down the beach, his worry for Olivia increasing. He hadn't called Elliot yet, unsure of what he would even begin to say to the other man. Just as he was about to head into the water after the woman he was convinced was inconsolable, she had turned around and was making her own way back out to shore. It was obvious from the blank expression on her face though that she had yet to register his presence. Not wanting to startle her, he called to her when she was a few feet away.
"Olivia. Olivia, it's Owen. Can you hear me?"
It dawned on Olivia that she was once again standing on the sandy beach soaking wet and shivering. To add to her embarrassment, Owen was with her somehow, a witness to her humiliation. As she tried to figure out how to apologize, the neighbor whom she barely knew wrapped the blanket she had previously been sitting on around her in an attempt to warm her, acting as though nothing were at all unusual about taking a fully clothed swim in late April.
"Come on, Olivia, lets get you back to the cottage. Is it all right if I walk with you?"
Not having any energy to argue, Olivia nodded her consent and slipped into her shoes, not even caring if she tracked sand back with her. Owen picked up her tote bag and phone, and fell into step beside her. They didn't speak on the walk back, not until they were once again indoors and Olivia's shivers gradually began to abate.
"Why don't you go upstairs and change into something warm, and I'll put on some water for some tea for you? I promise I'll leave you alone once I'm sure you're okay, but there is something I want to talk to you about first."
Nodding numbly, Olivia headed upstairs to follow the instructions. She wasn't sure why she wasn't debating Owen, when if it had been Elliot, she would have fought tooth and nail. Perhaps it was because she was simply too tired to care right now.
When Olivia returned downstairs fifteen minutes later, Owen was still there. Apparently that meant she hadn't imagined him. He was sitting at one side of the table, a steaming mug of tea waiting for her on the opposite side. Though the last time she had sat in that chair had been with Elliot across from her, Olivia knew she wouldn't feel comfortable sharing the couch with Owen, and this was the better of the two options.
Taking her seat, Olivia kept her eyes trained on her tea, unsure of what to say. She was so humiliated right now, and was wishing more than ever that she could just disappear – or rather, that Owen would drop the subject entirely and leave her on her own. What she wasn't expecting, was the conversation that was about to take place.
"Olivia, I don't want to make things awkward for you. I know you barely know me, so you don't have any reason to trust me, but I want you to know that you can."
Owen waited a few seconds, then continued.
"I told you yesterday that I was a former army medic, but what I didn't tell you was the reason that led up to my honorable discharge. I was injured overseas when the ambulance I was driving encountered an IED. My partner and the patient we were transporting were both killed, I was the lone survivor."
Olivia looked up sharply then, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure exactly what she had been expecting Owen to say to her, but it hadn't been this. She watched, speechless, as he lifted up the leg of his jeans, revealing a realistic-looking prosthetic limb.
"It's been four years now since I've been fitted with this, and even now, sometimes the phantom pains keep me awake at night. I still have nightmares dealing with what I witnessed during my time over there."
Owen gave her a few minutes to absorb the information he'd just revealed, then continued. He was sure that she must be confused.
"I'm telling you this Olivia, not because I want you to feel sorry for me, but so you know that I can be here for you. I'm not going to pretend to understand the hell you've been through, but I do know what PTSD is like. And before you think that Elliot betrayed your confidence, you have to know that he didn't. I realized from the moment I first met you that you'd been through something. I recognized the look in your eyes."
"How can you help me? How can anyone?"
Olivia hated how vulnerable she sounded in that moment, but there was no point in pretending that she was fine. Not only had Owen witnessed more than one occasion of weakness, but he'd read between the lines and figured out what was going on. Truth be told, it was a bit of a relief to not have to maintain the facade. Not that she was going to let all the walls come tumbling down, but unlike Elliot, Owen was not someone she had to protect.
"I'm not a licensed therapist, but in addition to donating hours as a medic with local services, I also volunteer my time as a peer counselor with the local Veteran's Association. I'm an excellent listener."
"What all do you know about me?"
Owen looked away, ashamed now to admit that he had gone online to do some research about the woman who would be his neighbor for the foreseeable future.
"I did look you up online, but once I saw the headlines, I didn't read any further. I only know enough to know that you've been to hell and back. The rest, I've all seen in your eyes. They tell me that you've faced off against the devil himself. But the thing you have to keep reminding yourself is that you've won."
Olivia was trembling now, her tea long forgotten. How was it that a complete stranger could read her better than any medical professional ever had? Moreover, there was something within her that wanted to confide in this man. Before she even realized she was doing it, she heard herself speaking in a whisper.
"I'm not so sure about that."
"You're alive. That's what matters."
Olivia laughed, but there was no humor behind it. Instead, the emotion was full of bitterness and self loathing.
"I've said that to so many people over the years, I don't know how I ever believed that bullshit."
"Well trust me when I say the time will come when you'll believe it again."
They sat in silence for a few moments, then Owen spoke up again. He knew the next thing he was about to say might not be as easily received, but it was something that Olivia would need to hear.
"You also need to trust Elliot. Shutting him out isn't going to do either one of you any good."
Just as he'd anticipated, anger flashed over Olivia's features. He'd welcome it. As long as she was still getting angry, that meant the fight still lived within her. If she would have remained completely apathetic to his suggestion, then he would have been even more concerned. A reaction like this meant that even if she weren't completely aware of it yet, she wanted to get better.
"Before you get upset, hear me out. When I first lost my leg, I was bitter and angry. I even tried to shut Stacy out, convinced she'd be better off without me. What I didn't realize was that was the moment when we needed each other more than ever. By relying on one another for support, you and Elliot can only build each other up, not tear each other apart."
Olivia was still not convinced, and eyed Owen skeptically.
"If you need to take a couple days by yourself to sort out your own thoughts, that's fine. But don't shut him out completely. It was clear from what I witnessed yesterday that he cares about you, and would do anything for you. Let him help."
Owen had left not long after imparting those words of advice, and Olivia was still sitting at the table trying to absorb them all. She still couldn't believe how much the man had confided in her, let alone his innate ability to read her. She wasn't sure yet if she'd ever take him up on his offer to talk, but for the first time in months, it had felt like someone understood where she was coming from. Granted, their situations were nothing alike, but Owen had lived through his own personal hell. Maybe he would have tips for how to get through to the other side. She supposed he had a point regarding Elliot, too, although she was more hesitant on that front. Olivia still thought it was best to shield Elliot from the worst of it all, and believed that he belonged with his family.
It was then that Olivia realized it was now dark outside, and she had yet to eat anything since her failed attempt with the oatmeal that morning. Truth be told, she was surprised that Owen hadn't said anything about it, but maybe he didn't fully comprehend things as much as he claimed to. If Elliot were here, she knew that he'd have encouraged her to eat long before now. But the way the acids in her stomach were churning, there was no way she'd be able to keep anything down. At least after tomorrow morning, she'd have the broth that she had ordered from the store to try and sip on for times like this.
Checking the time, she saw that it wasn't even eight o'clock. It was still too early to go to bed, no matter how exhausting of a day she might have had. Falling asleep now only meant the nightmares would come sooner, and she wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.
Pushing herself away from the table, she padded into the living room and settled on the couch, cocooning herself in the blanket. Using the remote to put on the television, she opted to switch to the digital streaming box. Scanning through the various services she found something that caught her eye. Seconds later, the opening intro to The Joy of Painting appeared on the screen. Though it wasn't something she would normally watch, host and artist Bob Ross had a calming voice, and the tapping of the brush on the canvas was a comforting sound. Not to mention, the landscapes that he painted were all beautiful and idyllic, and if she tried hard enough, she could imagine herself escaping to one of them and disappearing into the void.
After several episodes, Olivia felt her eyelids begin to droop. Knowing that she didn't want to sleep on the couch, she turned everything off and locked up for the night. Gathering up her phone and tablet, she carried them upstairs. Once in her bedroom, the first thing she did was tune back into what she had previously been watching. Perhaps if she left this show playing all night long, it might aid her sleep. It certainly couldn't hurt it any, that was for certain.
Plugging in her tablet and phone to charge, she padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Too weary to bother changing into something different to wear for bed, she opted to stay dressed in the clothes she'd put on when Owen had brought her back from the beach. Crawling underneath the covers, Olivia realized with a groan that she hadn't taken her nightly dose of medication. With no bottle of water up here, and no energy to go back downstairs and get more, she simply decided to let it go for the time being. It was hard enough to choke down the stupid tablet anyway, and it wasn't as though it had been helping. Why bother taking it?
Just as she was settling in against the pillows, Olivia heard a chime from her cell phone. Reaching for the device, she pulled it closer to read the message on the display.
Figured you're probably heading to bed right about now. Just checking in and wanted to say goodnight. Call me if you need anything, no matter what time it is.
Before she fully realized what she was doing, she had dialed Elliot's number and had the phone at her ear. She hadn't meant to call, but the next thing she knew, he was answering on the first ring.
"Olivia?"
"Hey, Elliot. I just wanted to thank you for the message."
He immediately reassured her that there was no need for her to thank him, that she was his main concern. An awkward silence followed, as she didn't know what to say next. To her relief, Elliot found a way to bridge the gap.
"So, what are you watching tonight? Anything good? I had the hockey game on earlier, but all that resulted in was me yelling at the TV."
Despite herself, Olivia found that she was laughing at Elliot's comment. It brought back memories of the times they had spent in her old apartment, watching the sport together. They would drink beer and argue over who got the last egg roll. That seemed like another lifetime ago now. In many ways, it was.
"I'm watching The Joy of Painting."
"The one with the guy who always used to paint the happy little clouds and trees that had friends?"
"That's the one."
Olivia didn't know why she was waiting for the judgment to follow, but for whatever reason, she found herself holding her breath. It never came. Instead, Elliot's voice was reassuring in her ear.
"That's good, Liv. I hope it helps."
She had noticed his use of her nickname, but opted not to call him on it. It was too late to get into another fight, and to be honest, she wasn't sure it was worth it. No matter what she may have believed during his absence, it was obvious that Elliot had never stopped caring about her. If he wanted to address her in the same affectionate way he always had, who was she to stop him? There was, after all, a sense of comfort in the familiarity of it all. Now, if only she could trust her heart enough to allow herself to call him 'El' again. But some wounds would take longer than others to heal.
Olivia sat up in bed suddenly, drenched in a cold sweat. She was uncertain if she'd cried out in her sleep, all she knew was the dream had been pretty much the same as all the others. Across the room on the TV, Bob was in the middle of painting another landscape. Though the light from the screen brightened the room to a degree, that didn't explain the muted glow she saw coming from her tangled sheets.
As she searched for the source of the light, Olivia realized that not only was her cell phone still on, but her call to Elliot was still connected. He'd stayed on the line with her this whole time? Judging from the display, it had been at least three hours since the call had began, and she didn't remember having talked to him for that long. Bringing the phone to her ear, she spoke his name in a soft whisper.
"Elliot?"
"Yeah, Liv. I'm here."
Unsure whether she should be mortified or relieved, Olivia ran her palm over her face. Just what had he heard? Then again, how different could it have been from his nights here in the cottage with her?
Looking at the clock in the room, Olivia noted that it was only a little past midnight. This was a normal time for her to awaken from the dreams that plagued her on a nightly basis. Still, she felt as though she were somehow an inconvenience, a bother – even though it had been Elliot's choice to remain on the line.
"I'm sorry, you should have hung up when you realized I'd fallen asleep. I didn't mean to be so rude."
"Liv, stop. I stayed on the line with you because I wanted to. I may not be able to do much, but the least I can do is let you know you're not alone."
She nodded then, but ultimately realized he couldn't see her.
"Thank you."
Silence reigned for a few moments before Elliot spoke again.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Briefly, Olivia's mind flashed back to her conversation with Owen earlier today. This would be a perfect time for her to let down her guard and let Elliot in, to open up about some of what haunted her. But she simply wasn't ready. Even though the neighbor had made several valid points, he didn't know Elliot like she did. If she were to confide in her former partner now, he'd likely only blame himself for what had happened – if he hadn't begun to carry that burden already after having read her files. No, the less he knew for now, the better. Still, the gesture warmed her heart.
"Thank you, Elliot, but no. I'm just not ready."
"I understand."
They talked for a few minutes more, Elliot's curiosity getting the better of him, and asking what had made her choose the show she was currently watching – not that he faulted her for it, anything that would keep her calm, he supported.
"I know it sounds weird, since I have no artistic ability whatsoever, but I was just looking for something that wouldn't require too much focus or attention. Plus, he makes it look so easy, I almost want to believe that I could do it, even though I don't think I'll ever try."
"Maybe you should."
Olivia didn't respond to that comment, but she definitely couldn't forget about it, either. Instead, she just filed it away for another day. Right now, she was more worried about the fact that she'd kept Elliot awake longer than necessary. She made her excuses and tried to hang up, but it appeared he still had more to say. She held her breath, uncertain if she was going to like his suggestion. She waited for him to continue.
"I don't want you to think I'm pushing you, that's not what this is. I absolutely respect you needing time to yourself. But what would you say if I were to stop over in the morning with some breakfast? I can swing by one of the bakeries here in town. If you don't want me to stay, I can just drop something off for you and leave again."
Olivia was torn. She knew she wasn't ready to have Elliot live with her again, but the thought of being completely alone wasn't appealing either. Maybe if he were to just come over for coffee in the mornings for a couple of days, they could see how that went and take things from there. Before she even realized what was happening, she heard herself agreeing to his suggestion.
"How does nine sound? Or is that too early for you?"
"Nine is fine, Elliot. Now, I should hang up for real and let you get some sleep. Thank you again for staying on the phone with me."
"You're welcome, Liv. Remember what I said – you can call me whenever – I don't care what time it is. Goodnight."
Olivia heard herself saying goodnight, and then the line went silent. Setting the phone back on her nightstand, she tried to process what had just happened. She'd just talked to Elliot more in the last half hour than she had during the few days he'd spent staying here at the cottage. Not to mention, she'd given the okay for him to come and visit tomorrow morning. Granted, she wasn't ready for him to move back in just yet, but they had to start somewhere.
Padding into the bathroom, she finally took her nightly dose of citalopram with some water she'd scooped up with her cupped palms. It was later than usual, but better than skipping it altogether, as she'd initially planned on doing. Then she crawled back into bed, hoping to get a little more sleep before the next round of night terrors woke her up.
The next morning, Olivia awoke before the alarm. The nightmares had been more haunting than usual, so she was surprised she'd gotten any sleep at all. Knowing that she still had two hours before Elliot would be by, she wanted to get out and go for a run. She'd understood the need to stay put yesterday, but if she didn't get some sort of physical activity today, she was going to go insane.
Changing into some suitable running gear, she headed downstairs and out of the cottage. Opting to follow the same route that she'd taken with Elliot the other day, Olivia began jogging in the direction of the lighthouse, keeping an even pace. Though she'd like to get in more, her plan was to only run for one mile today.
As she ran along, Olivia tried to commit some of the landmarks she passed to memory. For the most part, it was just cottages like the one she was staying in, but she still wanted to familiarize herself with the area. It also served as a reminder that one day soon, she'd like to visit the lighthouse. She'd done some research online on the attraction, and couldn't wait to climb the one hundred and ninety nine steps to the top.
Olivia was so preoccupied in her thinking, that she missed her intended stopping point, and ended up making another loop past the cottage. She was now well into the second mile of her run, and if she didn't stop soon, she'd be headed for a third. But she was so intent, so focused, on putting one foot in front of the other – on driving herself forward – that she'd lost sight of all else.
As she turned the corner onto the street where she was temporarily living, Olivia slowed her pace back down to a jog. She'd better stop now, or she'd never have enough time to shower before Elliot came over. Not that she was ashamed of the fact that she'd been running, but she wasn't exactly going to broadcast the fact either, knowing just how much he'd worry.
Olivia was three houses away from the cottage when she got so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she lost track of her pace, and her feet got tangled up. The next thing she knew, she was hitting the sidewalk hard, scraping both of her knees and the palms of her hands and knocking the breath from her body.
Mortified, she scrambled to her feet as fast as she could, not even waiting for the pain and shock to pass. With a quick glance around, Olivia limped the remaining distance to the to the cottage, relieved that no one had witnessed her humiliation. Her leggings were torn, and her knees and palms were bloody, but she could get that cleaned up in a minute. Right now, she just wanted to get inside before she died of embarrassment.
Once safely inside, she made her way up the stairs to the master bathroom and gingerly peeled off the clothes she was wearing and stepped into the shower. As the spray of the water hit her fresh wounds, it stung a bit, but Olivia just ignored it. She'd certainly felt worse in her life. Pain was nothing but a reminder that she was still alive. When it came to the numbness she was accustomed to feeling, it was a welcome change.
When Olivia was rinsing the shampoo from her hair, the room began to spin without warning. Not wanting to lose consciousness in the shower, she thought quickly, and adjusted the water temperature. As the cold spray hit her skin, she felt the fleeting moment of dizziness pass as she became more alert, and hurried to finish with her shower before the lightheaded feeling could return.
After toweling off, Olivia wrapped herself up in her robe and walked into the bedroom where she could sit on the bed and better assess the damage to her knees. Judging from the looks of things, the scrapes covered a large surface area, but weren't too deep. Not that she cared, she didn't have the energy to deal with basic first aid anyway. It wasn't like she was going to mention the incident to Elliot, either. If he knew, he'd only suggest that she stop running – or at the very least, insist that he accompany her.
Speaking of Elliot, he would be here in less than an hour. That is, if he didn't show up early. Olivia honestly didn't think he would, given his insistence on respecting her boundaries. But still, that gave her very little time to try and work up some sort of appetite for whatever it was that he was going to be bringing for their breakfast. Briefly, she thought about sending a text and canceling, but ultimately realized that would likely send up more red flags than if she kept their appointment.
Given the condition of her legs, putting leggings on again just wouldn't be feasible, so Olivia searched in her drawers for a more loose-fitting pair of sweats or knit pants. After finding what she was looking for, she slipped into them, choosing a long sleeved tee shirt to go with it. If only there was a way for her to cover up the scrapes on her palms, but short of wearing gloves, that wasn't possible. She'd just have to do her best to keep them out of sight and hope that Elliot wouldn't notice.
As Olivia headed back downstairs, opting to remain barefoot, a chime from her cell phone captured her attention. A quick glance told her that the incoming message was from Elliot.
Morning Liv. I'll be leaving the motel soon to pick up our food, then I'll be on my way. Did you have anything special in mind – a pastry, a bagel, a hot breakfast maybe? I'll get you anything you want.
As Olivia read the incoming text, she felt another wave of warring emotions - anxiety that she was going to have to face Elliot again when she wasn't sure she was ready to see him - and guilt over the fact that he was so insistent on bringing her something to eat when she had no appetite whatsoever. Dreading the sort of debate that would follow if she would say she didn't want to eat, she simply typed out a reply, asking for the most basic thing that she could think of. She'd just have to get over the hurdle of taking a few bites whenever the time came.
Just a cinnamon raisin bagel with plain cream cheese, please. Don't worry about getting any drinks, I'll put on some coffee.
With the message sent, Olivia set her phone down on the table in the dining area, and padded into the kitchen. Elliot would be here before she knew it, and she wanted to get a pot of coffee started brewing. Not to mention, she thought it would be a good idea to try and drink a cup of herbal tea to see if it could soothe her nerves before he arrived.
She was still standing in the kitchen several minutes later, the aroma of coffee filling the air when, out of nowhere, she was hit with another dizzy spell like she'd had two days before. One minute, her heart was pounding in her ears and all her limbs were shaking, and before she could make it somewhere safe to sit down, everything had gone black. As she collapsed, Olivia struck her head sharply on the edge of the counter before landing unresponsive on the tiled floor. As she lay there unconscious, blood trickling from a cut above her eyebrow, the eerie silence of the room was permeated only by the shrill sound of the tea kettle as it began to whistle.