A/N: As always, I want to thank LivBensonStabler for previewing this for me, and for always being my late night sounding board. Second, this chapter goes out to LivEinziger, who is celebrating a birthday today.
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.
Elliot listened to the drone of voices, not really paying attention. It dawned on him that these meetings were all the same. Regardless of the city, they all took place in nondescript rooms in church basements or community halls. He wasn't exactly sure why he had let Don bring him here, this wasn't where he needed to be. This wasn't helping Olivia. He needed to be at the hospital, but she wouldn't want to see him. He had failed her so many times already, and he was terrified that she would view today as the ultimate betrayal. Hours had passed since he'd first arrived at the cottage hoping to have breakfast with her, and still the image of her unresponsive on the floor was the first thing he saw every time he closed his eyes. In the same vein, he was equally haunted by her breakdown that he'd witnessed at the hospital, and would never forget the shouts of frustration and despair that had echoed down the hall as they'd walked away, having to leave her behind for her own good.
Logically, he knew that he was in the right place. Falling off the wagon right now wouldn't help him, and it certainly wouldn't help Olivia. Still, after everything that had happened today, the feelings of guilt were so intense that the urge to drink had been overwhelming.
A hand on his shoulder brought Elliot back to the present, and he blinked a few times to focus on his surroundings. It was his turn to speak. What could he even begin to say that would adequately describe the turmoil that he was feeling inside? A part of him felt like a traitor revealing such personal details to complete strangers, but there was a reason for the second A in the name of the group. There was a certain degree of comfort to be found here. While some situations called for the familiar, others demanded anonymity. Clearing his throat, he tried to find the words he longed to say. As always, he began with an introduction.
"Hi. My name is Elliot, and I'm an alcoholic."
Murmured greetings echoed from the people sitting in a circle around him, and Elliot exhaled once more. He could do this. He needed to do this.
"I've been sober for a little over two and half years, but have almost faltered twice now in the span of a little less than a week. I don't want to go into too much detail – only because I'm protecting someone else's privacy – but all I'll say is that I recently reconnected with a friend who has been through hell."
Licking his lips, Elliot noticed Don's encouraging nod out of the corner of his eye.
"I worked together closely with this person for over thirteen years. Something happened that made me have to leave her suddenly, but I never stopped caring about her. I didn't learn about what she'd been through until after I'd seen her again, and all I will say about it is that you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy."
As he became increasingly more emotional, Elliot choked down the lump in his throat and tried to continue. The words were flowing more freely now, and he was unaware as his hands clenched into fists in his lap.
"Through no ones fault, she was hurt again today when medical conditions interfered with what she's already dealing with on other levels. She has to stay in the hospital for a few days, but seeing her like that really got to me."
Now it was admission time. Too ashamed to look anyone in the eye, Elliot cast his gaze toward his shoes.
"I first craved a drink after reading about what she had been through. I went to a meeting willingly then – I knew I needed to stay strong for not only her, but myself as well. But this afternoon, I had a moment of weakness. I bought a bottle of whiskey. I don't know what I would have done had my sponsor not stopped by."
Sensing that he was done with his tale, the other members began to offer their valuable input. The first to speak was an older man. The hat he wore identified him as a Vietnam veteran, and though it was obvious he'd had his own share of troubles in life, his eyes were kind.
"You may have bought the alcohol, but you didn't drink it. It was a small misstep, but you still possess the strength to stay sober. Don't doubt yourself too much."
The voices around the room echoed the sentiment, clearly in agreement with what the senior member of the group had said. Even though he hadn't been in search of absolution, Elliot felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It hadn't negated his guilt completely, but some of the self deprecation he had been feeling had lessened somewhat. He was certain now that he'd be able to shift his focus away from himself and onto Olivia. Not that he'd ignore his own well being, but he wouldn't wallow in his emotions to the degree of melancholy that would find him sinking back into the bottle. He couldn't do that to his family, he couldn't do that to Don, and he couldn't do that to Olivia. The most important of all, however, was that he couldn't do that to himself.
On the other side of town at the hospital, Olivia was plotting her escape. The tranquilizer they had given her earlier had mostly worn off by now, but she was still feeling somewhat mellow from having had it injected into her bloodstream. However, the sedating effects of the lorazepam were no match for the fury still raging through her veins. Granted, she was feeling a plethora of emotions at the moment, and they were all encompassing, but anger still remained at the forefront. It even ranked above the hurt and betrayal that had wounded her deeply earlier. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on those right now, lest they overwhelm her and she might give in to her weakness and cry. Breaking down in public once today had been humiliating enough.
There was still entirely too much activity on the floor to do anything now, but later, she would make her move. The nurse who had been in the room earlier – and expressed obvious disappointment that she hadn't touched her food – had returned her phone and informed her that her clothes were safely stored in the closet by the door. That was when Olivia realized that her dilemma was more serious than she had previously considered.
Remembering that she had been brought in by ambulance, it dawned on Olivia that she had no other clothes here with her. She didn't even have access to a pair of shoes. For that matter, she had no money, either. Her wallet was still back at the cottage, and with it were all forms of identification and any other means that would help her get anywhere. Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck here – at least for tonight.
As much as it pained her to type out the message – because the last thing she wanted to do right now was ask Elliot Stabler for anything – Olivia sent a text to her former partner. Keeping the note brief, she requested that he pack a few of her things into a bag and either drop it off at the hospital himself, or give it to Owen to deliver. Whichever method he chose, she made certain to emphasize that she was not ready to see him in person just yet.
Once she got confirmation that Elliot would do this favor for her, Olivia comprised her list. She was thorough in her request, as her stay was supposed to last for several days at least, and gave no indication that she planned to abscond from hospital custody as soon as she was able.
The first thing she asked for was a few days worth of comfortable clothes, complaining that the hospital gown was too revealing and didn't offer any privacy. To accompany the desired items, she also requested that Elliot bring her shoes. Olivia figured that would be benign, as she'd need something to wear home upon her discharge.
Next, she listed some personal items, although the thought of Elliot going through her bathroom was more embarrassing than him going through her dresser drawers. But the last things she wanted to deal with were standard issue deodorant, toothpaste, and other toiletries. She preferred to have her own supplies.
Moving on to material selections, she asked for her tablet. In all reality, she would have preferred to have her laptop as well, but she didn't want to send up any red flags. Last but not least, she made sure that Elliot would remember to bring the charging cords for both her tablet and her phone, in addition to her purse and keys.
After receiving confirmation that everything she had asked for would be delivered by the following morning, Olivia turned her phone off. There was nothing else she needed it for tonight. In the grand scheme of things, it was still quite early, but she needed time to think.
With the thoughts cycling through her brain at the speed of a hundred miles a minute, Olivia tried to calm herself by fiddling with her hospital bracelets. It wasn't much, but it was the only means of distraction she had. She didn't want to watch television, and with the fucking IV still inserted in her vein, getting up and pacing wasn't an option, either.
After some time, it dawned on Olivia that she had three bracelets circling her wrist, when she was usually accustomed to only having two. One bore the usual information, such as her name and date of birth. The second she recognized from it's red color as an allergy band, identifying her adverse reaction to penicillin. The third though, she had only ever seen on the job when visiting elderly patients in hospitals or care homes. It was bright yellow, and in bold letters spelled out the words "Fall Risk".
Fall risk? How the fuck was she considered a fall risk? She was no senior citizen, and she was perfectly capable of walking on her own! Just what had Elliot told them about her? How else had he betrayed her? Okay, so she'd had a few dizzy spells, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.
Before she could get lost to her anger, Olivia was interrupted by a noise. Startled, she looked toward the hall to see an aide pushing a small monitor mounted on a wheeled stand through the door. Resigning herself to the intrusion, she prepared to have her vitals taken, and likely be asked even more personal questions that she didn't want to answer.
"Good evening, Ms. Benson. I'm April, and I'm the aide assigned to your care. Before I take your vitals, did you need to use the bathroom?"
Olivia was about to say no, but realized that she had not gone since before her run that morning. The uncomfortable pressure she had been feeling for some time was no doubt partly because of her full bladder. Though she'd not had anything to drink, the IV had been running consistently to ensure that she stayed hydrated.
"I do, but I don't want any help. I can do it on my own."
April gave a smile that was kind, and not condescending in the slightest. It seemed that she truly understood the motivation behind Olivia's defiance, and perhaps that was what prompted the Sergeant's eventual acquiescence. Dizzy or not, she was still very tired from the day's events, and the very thought of trying to manage the IV pole, it's accompanying power cord and subsequent tubing was exhausting in itself.
After several minutes, Olivia was situated back in bed. She would never admit it out loud, but she had experienced dizziness on more than one occasion during her short bathroom journey. Granted, out of all people, April was probably one of few who she should mention the feeling to, but she was going to keep her mouth shut. The last thing she needed was more medication shoved down her throat.
"I noticed you haven't been drinking any of your water, Ms. Benson. If you'd like, I can get you something else. Would you prefer some juice perhaps?"
Olivia was about to say no, but then remembered Owen's advice from the other day. She needed to stay hydrated to help combat the low blood pressure. She made a request for some cranberry juice, then leaned back against the pillows to wait.
Minutes later, April reappeared, bearing two small cartons of the tart red liquid. After ensuring that her patient was comfortable, she reminded her that she would be there until eleven that night, and to press her call button if she needed anything. Her parting words brought Olivia no comfort.
"Dinner trays should be brought around in about an hour."
Sipping her juice in silence, Olivia's dark mood returned in full force. There was no way in hell she was eating anything served in this place. While it had once stemmed from a pure lack of appetite, now it was something else entirely. She was officially refusing to eat out of protest – and she wouldn't eat again until someone got her out of this godforsaken hospital.
Elliot had gotten the text from Olivia while he and Don were sipping on coffee and socializing a bit after the meeting had ended. After draining their cups, they made their exit, and once in Don's car, headed straight for the cottage. As they were driving, it occurred to Elliot that Olivia didn't have any travel bags with her in which he could pack her things, only her large suitcases and trunk. When he mentioned that to his former Captain and current sponsor, the man made a quick detour to a nearby store so a purchase could be made.
It hadn't taken Elliot long to find what he needed. Though he was certain Olivia would deem the gift as too extravagant, and insist on paying him back, he thought the bag that he'd bought her was perfect. It was spacious enough to contain several days worth of clothing, plus a cushioned pouch for electronics and their charging cords. He'd even managed to find a small clear bag to accompany it that would hold all of her toiletries, and keep them from spilling their contents inside the larger compartment.
Upon arriving at the cottage, Elliot noticed two things as he made his way up the walk. The first was the long forgotten breakfast that had been abandoned just outside the door in his haste to get inside that morning, and the second was what appeared to be a recent delivery. Scanning the box, he noticed it was from the local grocery store, so he picked it up to bring inside with him.
Though he hated to snoop through anything belonging to Olivia, Elliot's first thought was to check and make sure that nothing in the box was perishable. So, he reluctantly opened it, having mixed feelings when he discovered that the contents revealed nothing but bouillon granules to make broth, cup of soup, and tea. He had hoped to find more in the way of actual food, but it appeared Olivia's appetite was still evading her. He said a brief prayer that she would at least make an effort to eat during her hospital stay, because any alternative methods of infusing nutrition would not be pleasant.
Feeling a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Elliot turned to face the man standing next to him. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he'd completely forgotten Don was there. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus on what the other man was saying.
"It's okay, son. Let me take care of this. You go upstairs and get the things that she asked for."
Mechanically following the instructions he'd been given, Elliot headed for the stairs. As he reached the top step, he could have sworn he'd heard a knock at the door, but easily dismissed it. He was too distracted by the fact that he was about to trespass beyond the threshold into Olivia's sanctuary. Though it was not his first time setting foot in her bedroom, the memory of his last moments there and their subsequent fight were not lost on him. To go in there now – even if by her very instruction – felt like a betrayal.
Not wanting to linger too long, he moved about the room swiftly and efficiently. He kept each drawer open only as long as necessary, and perfunctorily added each article of clothing as though this were a task he were completing for a total stranger, and not someone whom he cared for deeply. At this moment in time, he needed to maintain a level of detachment to keep himself from breaking down. The words from the earlier message still resonated with him deeply – the fact that Olivia didn't want to see him. Elliot wasn't sure if she was being stubborn, or if perhaps she blamed him in part for her current inpatient status.
As much as it hurt, though, he'd welcome her anger. Anything was better so long as she was still here and fighting. His own self blame and recriminations would just have to wait. Then again, as he had been reminded tonight, he couldn't stop taking care of himself just because he was caring for someone else. If anything, it meant he needed to maintain his own care even more, because Olivia would need him to be healthy. He planned to use these days during her hospital stay to attend meetings daily, and get himself back in top form, so that when she was discharged, he could give her the support she truly needed.
With the task of procuring clothing finished, Elliot next moved on to Olivia's nightstand, where he easily found her tablet and the two charging cords that she had requested. His last stop was the adjoining bathroom, where he felt like even more of an intruder. Once again moving as quickly as possible, he packed the essential items she would be needing, then got ready to zip the bag closed. As an afterthought, he grabbed the hairbrush from its spot on the side of the sink. Olivia hadn't mentioned it, but he supposed it had just been an oversight. Finding a few hair ties in a nearby basket, he wrapped them around base of the handle, and tossed it into the travel bag.
As he was making his way back downstairs, Elliot could have sworn he heard two voices engaging in conversation. That was why he wasn't entirely shocked to find Owen standing in the kitchen by the time he'd reached the lower level. It seemed the neighbor had noticed the additional car in the driveway and come next door to inquire about Olivia's condition. Once he'd understood what was going on, he had offered to deliver the bag to her personally. Tomorrow was his off day, but he had an appointment with a doctor at the hospital, so he would be there anyway.
Though he was initially hesitant to agree, Elliot ultimately gave in. He knew that Olivia would never consent to see him or Don right now, and it was even debatable that she'd let Fin near her. Without a doubt, she held all three of them responsible for her current situation, and would need at least a day or more to cool off.
Fortunately, since it was an involuntary admission, Don was able to get updates from the nurses. He'd apparently called to check in, and reported that so far, Olivia had been resistant to treatment. She hadn't eaten any of her lunch, had very nearly refused assistance to the bathroom, and while the dinner trays had only just been delivered moments before, she had insisted she didn't want hers. The only thing she'd ingested since being moved up to her room had been two small servings of cranberry juice.
In the wake of the news, all of the men wore somber expressions. Granted, they knew that Olivia's transformation wouldn't happen overnight, but they had all been hoping that once among strangers, she would at least be more cooperative than combative. If anything, it seemed that her stubbornness had only intensified.
As they said their farewells, the men shook hands. Elliot passed Owen the bag meant for Olivia, even though it pained him to do so. He'd almost forgotten, but at the last minute, he remembered to include her purse, knowing that she had no identification with her at the hospital. Then, they all headed for the door. Once the cottage was securely locked up again, Owen returned to his own home next door, while Don and Elliot made their way back to the motel. Besides Fin, there was a long forgotten dinner waiting for them there.
Olivia stirred restlessly in her hospital bed. The night had been seemingly endless, as she hadn't even bothered trying to sleep. Instead, she had lain awake the entire time, trying to plot her eventual escape. She had, however, feigned slumber whenever anyone would come into her room. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be given another tranquilizer. Once yesterday had been more than enough.
As she continued to stare at the clock on the wall, dread began to sink into the pit of her stomach. It was nearing seven in the morning, which likely meant another shift change. A new team would be assigned to her care, and there would be even more annoying questions to answer. She was getting sick and tired of having to explain all the time. Couldn't they just look at the report from the shift before? For that matter, why didn't they call Elliot? He apparently had no problem telling her life story to complete strangers. Swallowing down her rising anger before it would consume her whole, Olivia tried to focus on the matter at hand – the new nurse and aide who would be coming on duty.
If that weren't annoying enough to deal with, it also meant that breakfast trays would be delivered shortly. The thought of having to justify for a third time why she wasn't interested in the meals they had to offer was exhausting in itself, and she wished they would just stop trying already.
However, if all went according to plan, she wouldn't be waking up in this hellhole tomorrow morning. She would be getting out of here, and once she did, she wasn't going back to the cottage. It would be too easy for Elliot, Don or Fin to find her there. No, she would have to find somewhere else to stay for awhile. At least until she could think more clearly.
A sound from the hall interrupted her thoughts, and Olivia gave the impression that she was just waking up as an unfamiliar aide came into her room. Although this man gave her his name, it didn't register in her mind, and she just shrugged noncommittally in acknowledgment. Begrudgingly, she offered her arm so her blood pressure could be measured and opened her mouth so her temperature could be taken. The ritual of taking her vital signs only lasted a few minutes, and just when she was about to sigh in relief that she would be left on her own once again, the unwelcome intruder inquired to see if she needed assistance in using the bathroom. As much as she wanted to refuse the help, Olivia knew she could not risk having a fall now. An injury would only delay her escape.
To Olivia's surprise, this aide had a different method than the previous ones she'd dealt with. Rather than try and push the cumbersome IV pole on it's wheeled stand while trying to assist her in the process, he simply paused the flow and temporarily disconnected the apparatus. The result was a short length of tubing dangling limply from her arm, but Olivia did have to admit this made things much easier. Though she didn't have access to some of the items she would have preferred to use at the moment – like a toothbrush and her facial cleanser – she did take a few moments to at least splash some water on her face in an attempt to feel more human. When she'd caught sight of herself in the mirror, she'd barely recognized her own reflection – not that she looked in a mirror that often these days. The other thing that she found surprising was the neat line of stitches above her one eyebrow, along with its accompanying bruise. She didn't remember getting stitches, but her frequent headaches did seem consistent with a head injury. She just didn't have the energy to ask anyone about it.
Once she was settled back in bed, the aide reconnected the tubing to the IV and made sure that his patient was comfortable. He also informed her that breakfast would be in shortly. As she'd been admitted later in the afternoon the day before, she hadn't had the opportunity to make her own menu selections yet, but she would get the option to do so at the morning meal for not only the rest of the day, but tomorrow as well. Olivia could have cared less, but managed to nod as though she understood.
Despite all her efforts to fight sleep, she must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing Olivia knew, she was startled awake when a tray was plunked down unceremoniously on her bedside table. Just as she'd predicted, the aromas from under the plastic cloche reached her nose, and almost immediately, nausea began to set in. She didn't need to lift that lid to know that she'd been sent a 'traditional' breakfast of bacon and eggs. There was no way in hell she was going to touch that.
Curiosity continued to get the better of her though, so she allowed her eyes to skim over the remainder of the tray's contents – there were a few packets of butter and jelly, so she surmised that toast must be included somewhere. Also, there was a covered bowl that she predicted to hold either oatmeal or cream of wheat. Last but not least, a single serving carton of orange juice sat next to a cup of steaming coffee. From what she could smell of it, it was a weak brew indeed.
With a shaking hand, Olivia reached for the orange juice. She shook it repeatedly before opening, then sipped the beverage slowly. By the time someone came in to check on her twenty minutes later, she had just finished her drink. Seeing only an empty carton on the tray, the aide's first reaction was one of concern.
"Was breakfast not to your liking, Ms. Benson? I can order you something else, if you'd prefer."
Olivia grit her teeth, once again annoyed beyond belief at not being addressed by her proper title. Even if they were to call her by her first name would not be as bad of an insult as being called "Ms." She had worked so damn hard to earn the titles of Officer, Detective, and now Sergeant, and she was proud to have them as a preface to her name.
"No, thank you. I'm fine. I never eat breakfast. Usually I only have juice and coffee, but I'm just not feeling much in the mood for coffee today."
Olivia had kept eye contact as she told the lie, trying to sound as sincere as possible. She had no way of knowing that this man had already been in report, and been given the news that she had repeatedly been refusing to eat since her admission. However, this aide in particular was also quite skilled in reading body language, and he had picked up on the unspoken cues. Instead of making a fuss, he merely removed the tray with the uneaten food and left the room. This patient's behavior was concerning, but to call her attention to it now would only make her more agitated. That wasn't his place – it was the responsibility of the nurse and doctor overseeing her care.
Left alone again, Olivia sighed. She wished she had thought to ask if there was a newspaper that she could borrow to read. She was going to go stir crazy sitting here. With any luck, she would have her tablet shortly, and have something to serve as a distraction until nightfall. For the time being, she decided that she would rest, as she needed to be alert as possible come later. Leaning back against the pillow, she tried to get comfortable, then closed her eyes.
A soft knock alerted Olivia to the arrival of someone new. Her brief nap had been anything but restful, and she found herself feeling groggy and disoriented as she tried to acclimate to her surroundings. Looking toward the hall, she noticed Owen standing in the doorway, a bag slung over his shoulder. He was regarding her with an expression that had an air of regret. It was only when she gestured with her hand that it was okay for him to enter that he stepped forward into the room, an apology on his lips.
"I'm sorry, Olivia. I didn't mean to disturb you. Had I known you were sleeping, I would have just left your bag with one of the nurses."
"It's fine. I wanted my things anyway. I swear, hospital gowns have to be one of the worst possible fashion designs ever created."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Owen couldn't hide his smile at Olivia's comment. She had a point, after all. While the garments were convenient for staff access to provide patient treatment, that was where their practicality ended. In terms of comfort and user wearability, however, they were downright useless.
As Olivia pressed a button on the handrail of the bed, situating herself in a more upright position, Owen took a seat in a nearby chair and placed the bag he had brought with him at the base of the bed by her feet. Not sure exactly where to begin the conversation, especially considering he was still practically a stranger, Owen tried to figure out what to say. Almost immediately, he admonished himself for his hesitation. Olivia didn't need to pick up on any negative body language from him right now, she had enough on her plate. Instead, he focused on maintaining a positive energy. He also reminded himself that he wasn't going to mention Elliot – not unless she brought him up first. From what he'd heard the night before, that was likely a sensitive subject.
Instead, Owen's attention was drawn to the tray table beside Olivia's bed. A bittersweet smile played at his lips when he saw the yet to be completed menu still sitting on the top of the laminate surface. In the short time he had known this woman, he was already well aware that food was a struggle for her, plus he had been present the night before when Don had been given the news that she had been refusing to eat since her admission.
"I noticed you haven't filled out your food selections for the rest of today and tomorrow yet, Olivia. I know better than anyone how difficult that choice can be in an unfamiliar hospital. Fortunately for you, I know this place better than anyone. What do you say I look over this with you, and make some suggestions?"
Though Olivia was touched by the offer, she couldn't bring herself to accept. It didn't even have anything to do with the fact that she wasn't planning on staying – it was more that she didn't intend to eat anything they served her in this place. The meals could all have been prepared by a four star chef, and she still wouldn't have touched them. Where her lack of appetite had once been caused as a result of her prior traumas, now it was a matter of principle. She would not do something simply because these people wanted her to.
"No, thank you. I haven't been that hungry anyway. I don't see that changing anytime soon."
Concerned, and afraid of overstepping, but unable to stay silent, Owen admonished her gently.
"Olivia, you need to take care of yourself."
Olivia was unable to keep the bitterness from her tone as she responded, although her anger wasn't directed at the man currently sitting just a few feet away.
"No, I don't. I mean, that's why I'm here, isn't it? So I don't have to take care of myself? Elliot obviously considered me incapable, that's why he turned on me and had me admitted. Why should I cooperate just to make his life easier?"
Owen tried to hide his shock. Not that he was surprised by Olivia's feelings of anger and betrayal, those were to be expected. But he was taken aback by her misunderstanding. Apparently she was under the assumption that it had been Elliot who had had her admitted against her will. He wasn't going to be the one to inform her otherwise, though, as it wasn't his place. Plus doing so would only direct her rage toward Don instead.
As if that weren't enough weight for him to carry on his shoulders, Olivia was also giving off a vibe that made him very nervous. The only reason he recognized it so well was because it mirrored some of his own emotions from his own hospital stays after he had been injured overseas. Had he had full use of all his limbs and faculties, he would have left the hospital in a heartbeat. That was why Owen was convinced Olivia was planning something similar. Suddenly, he had a very sick feeling in the pit of he stomach as to why she had been so adamant about having her things. She was going to try and run.
Not wanting to add to the list of people that she saw as having betrayed her, but knowing he couldn't let her do something that could potentially be a detriment to her treatment, Owen knew what he would have to do. Before leaving the hospital, he was going to have to speak to Olivia's nurse, and inform them of his suspicions. He was doubtful if he should share them with Elliot and Don as well, but knew that it would only hurt the men more if they were to learn from complete strangers that their friend had attempted an escape.
Sensing that Olivia was torn between wanting to be left alone but at the same time desperate for company, Owen offered to stay for a little while longer. The brunette was hesitant to accept, but the look of relief was obvious in her eyes. So he affirmed that he would extend his visit, and made himself more comfortable in his chair.
Thirty minutes after Owen had left, and not having any inkling as to what his intentions had been prior to his departure, Olivia sat in her hospital bed, thumbing through her tablet. To the casual observer, it looked like she was simply reading, and that was just the way she wanted it. In reality, she was doing research – gathering as much information that she could find in a short amount of time. Come tonight, she would need to have a wealth of knowledge at her fingertips, and she would need to remember as much as possible.
If she were in the city right now, disappearing wouldn't be a problem. While she was more familiar with some over others, she knew each Borough as well as the neighborhoods that comprised them. Hell, she was even cognizant of some of Pennsylvania and even nearby Jersey cities, too. But here? She was completely out of her element. All of the resources that she would be needing to disappear and lay low for awhile – hotel, car rental, even a bank where she could cash a check – were completely foreign locations to her.
She had very nearly narrowed down a possible hotel in which to seek her refuge when a knock at the door caused her to close out the browser window in a hurry. Cursing the interruption, Olivia turned her attention to the hall, and bit back another expletive when she saw who was about to enter her room. It was the psychiatrist she remembered from the emergency room the day before – what was his name again? Barnes, her frazzled mind supplied momentarily. Dr. Kevin Barnes.
"Good morning, Sergeant."
Again, Olivia held her tongue. Nothing about having to stay in the hospital against her will made any part of the day 'good'. She really wasn't in the mood to have her head shrunk right now, nor did she want another lecture on why eating was important. Did none of these people realize how hard she tried? It hadn't started out as a deliberate refusal – not until now, at least. The only reason she hadn't sent this doctor packing immediately was because he had been the only one since her arrival to address her by her proper title. There was an odd comfort in that, like the part of her identity that had been stolen from her had been returned, even if it was only briefly.
Dr. Barnes took no offense at his patient's lack of reply. Though she was regarding him cautiously, there was no visible agitation in her body language, so he took that as a sign that his presence was not completely unwelcome.
"I see that you were able to get some of your things. I'm glad. If you'd like, I can send in one of the aides when I leave, and have them assist you with your IV line so you are able to change into something more comfortable."
"Actually, I'd prefer it if you would just remove the IV altogether."
Dr. Barnes shook his head in the negative, though his voice was tinged with regret.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sergeant. I've been made aware of your refusal to eat, and know that you are barely drinking. Right now that IV is the sole source of your hydration."
Throwing her head back against the pillow in frustration, Olivia stifled a groan. She didn't even bother asking her next question, then, which was if she would be allowed to take a shower. She hadn't gone longer than a day without a shower since Lewis had happened. But so long as this fucking IV was still in her vein, that wasn't going to be happening. She tried her best to remain calm though, and remind herself that she just had to get through until tonight when she'd be at a hotel. Then she could spend some time in the hottest water possible, and wash this nightmare away.
"Sergeant Benson? Sergeant Benson!"
Olivia returned to the present, ashamed that she had been caught daydreaming. There was nothing worse than losing your focus with a psychiatrist in the room. Without a doubt, Dr. Barnes would want to analyze the source of her mental lapse. She certainly wasn't about to reveal the truth behind her wayward thoughts.
"It looks like I lost you for a minute there. Want to tell me what is on your mind?"
"Not particularly."
It was a weak deflection, and she knew it. But it was all she had in her arsenal at the moment. The rest of her defenses had to remain on alert for the other questions she knew were coming – the more in depth ones designed to get her to reveal her deepest, darkest secrets.
"Fair enough. How about you tell me why you aren't eating, then? If it's a matter of the food not being to your liking, I can try to arrange something more preferable."
"You can't make me eat, and you can't make me talk to you about it."
As though knowing he was battling a lost cause for the time being, Dr. Barnes didn't want to push his patient any more. Doing so would only increase her agitation. There was something he needed to inform her of, so she wouldn't be caught unaware. He had mentioned it the day before, but doubted that she had remembered.
"I'm going to leave you alone in a few minutes, Sergeant, but someone else will be coming to see you later this afternoon. She is one of our registered dietitians, and I hope you will listen to what she has to say. You may not want to eat, but you should at least consider drinking some of the supplemental smoothies we have to offer. Your body needs the nutrients.
Olivia said nothing in response, not wanting to commit herself to anything. She reluctantly answered the last remaining questions the doctor asked in regard to how her medication had been dispensed the night prior. As much as it pained her to say, she did have to admit that taking the oral suspension of the citalopram had been easier than swallowing the tablets.
Alone once more, Olivia scrubbed her palms over her face. Although Owen's visit earlier had granted a bit of a reprieve, this was the longest day she had had to endure in some time. While she had always thought the endless monotony in the absence of work was bad before, it was nothing compared to this.
A sound from the door caught her attention, and she stifled another groan. She had completely missed the sound of the food carts, and hadn't been ready for the arrival of her lunch tray. To make matters worse, this was no orderly who was making the delivery. No, Olivia had no doubt that the person bearing her afternoon meal was the aforementioned dietitian, come to encourage her into eating. This day just kept getting better.
"Good afternoon, Sergeant Benson. I brought you your lunch, and I thought if you didn't mind, we could talk for a few minutes?"
The only reason Olivia consented to allowing this petite blonde into her room was because she had actually addressed her by her proper title. She was in no mood to receive a lecture on her dietary habits, but would tolerate it for the time being. Maybe it would even serve to kill some time, which was already crawling so slowly that it felt as though the day would never end.
"You can come in, but I'm not hungry."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe we can work together and find a solution that will help stimulate your appetite."
After introducing herself as Rene Wilson, one of the hospitals many registered dietitians on staff, the woman set down the lunch in her hands and stepped closer to the bed. Olivia noticed that this woman did not help herself to a seat, and she did not make any attempt to start uncovering the plate on the tray in order to foist its contents on an unwilling patient. While she was still wary about the presence in her room, these were all points in the newcomer's favor.
"Is it all right if I sit with you for awhile?"
Before she fully realized what she was doing, Olivia found herself consenting to the request. Issuing an instruction to her brain to remain calm, she also reminded herself that this in no way meant she was agreeing to cooperate with treatment. Just because she was going to listen to what this person had to say didn't mean she had to eat what was on the tray. In all reality, she didn't think she was physically capable of keeping anything solid down at the moment, anyway.
As Rene sat down, she removed an electronic tablet from the tote bag she carried with her, something that Olivia had missed during her initial observation. Thumbing through the device, she pulled up her patient's hospital file, as well as notes and remarks entered by nurses since her admission the day before. Also included were comments made by Elliot on what he had witnessed Olivia's eating habits to be like during the past week he'd spent in her presence. Though she'd studied all of this information already, Rene wanted to get the Sergeant's input in regard to her own condition.
"So, Sergeant Benson – or would you prefer to be called Olivia?"
This was the first time since her arrival here that anyone had asked for her preference on anything that was not food related. Olivia was so profoundly affected by the gesture, that she found herself agreeing to be addressed on a first name basis. In turn, Rene also insisted that she be referred to by her given name as well. She wanted to make Olivia as comfortable as possible, and dispensing of formalities was a good first step in that direction.
"Okay, Olivia. Why don't you tell me in your own words why you believe you are having such a problem with food? Or, if you don't want to say why, tell me instead what it is about eating that is a struggle for you?"
Despite all efforts to remain on constant guard, Olivia found herself visibly relaxing in this woman's presence. Unlike with her previous interactions with other members of staff, she didn't feel a pressure to open up and discuss her prior traumas – something she suspected they already knew about anyway. While she still had no doubt that anything she said here would eventually make its way back to Dr. Barnes' ears, maybe it would be easier to say aloud now. She also didn't plan on referencing herself personally, but instead on speaking in a more abstract manner.
"For the most part, there just isn't a feeling of hunger. The sight and smell of food are equally unappealing. I just wish everyone would stop insisting that I eat."
Olivia bit her lip. She hadn't meant to include an 'I' statement there, it had just slipped out. Her frustration was getting the better of her. She'd have to be more careful.
"I can understand that. However, you must also know that your body needs nutrition in order to thrive."
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, the woman on the hospital bed formed a response. She could not, however, keep the obvious bitterness out of her voice.
"Of course I know that. I'm not a child – nor am I an idiot. Don't you think I've tried to take care of myself?"
"I'm sure you have. But there comes a time when you need to consider other options."
Though Rene was being anything but condescending, Olivia was getting very close to kicking the woman out of her room. Her patience was already hanging on by a thin thread as was, and this certainly wasn't helping.
"Would you be willing to try something, Olivia? How about a prepared smoothie instead of a more traditional meal? That way, you will still get a decent amount of vitamins and nutrients, but you don't actually have to eat anything. I'm told you are somewhat comfortable with drinking liquids."
"You're not talking about one of those chalky supplemental shakes they sell in stores and recommend to senior citizens, are you?"
Despite the gravity of the situation, Rene couldn't hide her smile.
"No, of course not. I mean a real, honest-to-goodness smoothie – made with real ingredients."
To her surprise, Olivia heard herself agreeing to try what had been suggested. Though if she were being honest, the consent stemmed more from curiosity than a willingness to cooperate. If this theory were to actually work, and she could actually drink a smoothie without a struggle, maybe it would be a solution for the days to come.
Thirty minutes later, Olivia was still counting down the hours until she could make her exit. She was however, feeling marginally better than before. Though it hadn't been perfect, her assigned aide had disconnected the IV temporarily so she could get changed out of the gown and into comfortable clothing. She'd also taken the opportunity to freshen up as best she could without having access to a shower. Now, dressed in a pair of loose fitting knit lounge pants and an oversized tee shirt, she no longer felt as exposed as she did previously. The only thing that was missing was the gray hoodie she usually wore, but long sleeves were not conducive with the IV in her vein. Fortunately, the temperature in the room was mild, so she didn't think that she would be catching a chill anytime soon.
Just as she finished getting settled, Rene reappeared. As promised, she brought with her the smoothie that Olivia had reluctantly acquiesced to try. The Styrofoam cup was larger than she had been expecting, meaning its contents held more than she had anticipated, too. Instead of a mere eight or twelve ounces, it was at least three times that amount. As though sensing her panic, Rene was quick to offer reassurance.
"Relax, Olivia. I don't want you to feel pressured to drink all of this. In fact, if you'd like, I can bring you another cup so you can split it up into smaller, more manageable portions. The important thing is that you take your time and at least try to get some of this down."
For several agonizing seconds, Olivia weighed the possibilities in her mind. Truth of the matter was, the thought of dividing that smoothie up into two or three smaller ones and trying to tackle them separately was more overwhelming that taking on the larger one by itself. She still couldn't promise how much of it she'd be able to get down, though.
"Just leave it be. I'll only need a straw."
Passing both items to the woman in the bed, Rene quickly retreated, sensing that she wanted to be left alone. Now that she actually had the smoothie in her possession, doubt was creeping back into Olivia's psyche. She wasn't sure she could do this. However, unlike when her meals had been delivered previously, there were no overwhelming odors that turned her stomach. If she concentrated hard enough, she could smell the scents of pineapple and mango, along with just a hint of citrus.
Starting with a tentative sip, Olivia let the flavors play over her taste buds. Besides the most apparent sensation of cold – the majority of fruit used in this concoction had been frozen – the overall flavor was quite pleasant. There were no gritty or chalky attributes, and nothing that hinted that they were trying to medicate her against her will. If something else had been added to the shake without her knowledge, it hadn't caused an obvious change to the formula.
Though she had tried her best to ingest as much as possible, Olivia found that she had reached her limit after drinking only one third of the contents of the cup. It wasn't even just a matter of being full, the sheer act of consuming it had been quite exhausting, much like when Elliot had tried to get her to eat earlier this week. She wouldn't necessarily say it was physically tiring – although that was definitely a factor – more that it was taxing on an emotional and mental level. It pained her to realize that eating was a task she once used to be able to complete while juggling several other things, and now it was such a struggle to just drink a glass of water.
Setting the remainder of her smoothie on the bedside tray table, Olivia picked up her tablet once more. A nagging part of her brain was telling her she should reach out to Elliot – or at the very least, Don or Fin – but she couldn't bring herself to comply. She was still clinging to the idea that all of three of the men had betrayed her by not coming to her defense and leaving her in this place. Even so, she was still able to recognize that Elliot may be hurting as a result as well, and hoped he wasn't suffering any negative effects on his sobriety. Just because she wasn't ready to talk to him didn't mean she wished the worst on him. She had even given it some thought, and despite wanting her solitude, promised herself she would find a way to get in contact with him – albeit by more conventional means – once she was someplace that would give her space to think. While she wouldn't be able to call or text or do anything that would be traceable, she could at least send a postcard or letter to let him know that she was safe. They had both dealt with too many missing persons cases during their time together as partners for her to subject him to the horror of the unknown.
Olivia let her eyes fall on the clock on the wall opposite her bed. It was now just after three in the afternoon, time for yet another shift change. She stifled a mirthless laugh as she realized she had been measuring time by the changing of the guard as it were – the seemingly endless monotony of varying faces that paraded in and out of her room. The reality was, she had only been here for a little over twenty four hours now. If this was how she felt after barely a day as an unwilling patient, she didn't want to know what her mental state would be like if she were to stay the full week that Dr. Barnes had mentioned was the intentioned duration of her hospital stay. The constant supervision coupled with confinement to this bed were reminiscent of her captivity during her time with Lewis. Granted, no one was forcing alcohol down her throat or threatening her with assault, but she felt trapped just the same.
Elliot pressed the 'end call' button on his phone screen, severing the connection he'd just had with Owen Winter. Turning to the other two men who were currently in his motel room, he tried to find a way to share the news he'd been given. A myriad of emotions were coursing through him at breakneck speeds, all fighting for domination. Ultimately though, it was guilt that won out. The weight of self blame was heavy on his shoulders, and he would bear that burden willingly, knowing that he deserved all that and more.
"Elliot? Is everything all right?"
Don asked the question, his voice laced with concern. Truth be told, the worry was more for the man who stood in front of him at the moment than the woman they all cared for who was currently in the hospital. He knew that if anything were seriously wrong with Olivia, her doctor would have called to inform him. He suspected this stemmed more from Owen's recent visit than anything else.
"Owen thinks Liv is going to try and do a runner. He says he recognized the signs."
As soon as the words left Elliot's lips, both Don and Fin were on their feet. Raising his palms to try and reassure them, as he'd never meant to instill the same panic in them that he felt in his own heart, Elliot rushed on to explain.
"Don't worry, he already told her nurse, they are aware of the situation. There is no way she is going to be able to leave."
Almost immediately, Don had his own phone out of his pocket, and he was dialing the hospital. It was nearing the same time as the day before when he'd called in for a report, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but this new information had definitely accelerated his need to speak to someone in charge of Olivia's care. Ten minutes later, he was murmuring his thanks into the speaker, and ending the call.
Considering that his already limited supply of patience had been exhausted long ago, Elliot could barely wait for his former superior to impart the knowledge he'd been given. Rocking back on his heels, he raised his eyebrows expectantly, punctuating the expression with a terse 'Well?' that had been spoken through gritted teeth. Don exhaled, not wanting to confirm what they had already been told, but knowing he couldn't keep the information a secret, either.
"That was Olivia's nurse for the current shift. So far, nothing has changed since her admission. She is still refusing to eat or even cooperate with staff. The only thing she did ask for earlier this morning was to have the IV removed, which Dr. Barnes told her wouldn't be happening for awhile."
Don paused in his narrative to allow Elliot and Fin some time to absorb the news that he'd related thus far. Then, after taking a deep breath, he continued.
"After Owen visited, he spoke to the nurses, who agreed with his assessment. Apparently they were already preparing to list her as a flight risk once they'd learned someone was bringing her things in to the hospital. Olivia is unaware of this development, but while she was in the bathroom earlier today, a bed alarm was discretely placed under her mattress pad."
Each subsequent bit of news was like another blow to Elliot's gut. The more he heard, the more convinced he became that he was going to lose his best friend, right when he had finally gotten her back in his life. While he had no doubt in his mind of her ferocity and determination to survive at any cost, it seemed that she was so overwhelmed by her grief in the aftermath of what had happened to her that she was losing herself to the enormity of it all. It wasn't a conscious decision, but bit by bit, she was slowly fading away.
"Was there anything else?"
Elliot didn't even recognize his own voice in that moment. He sounded broken, defeated – and he hated himself for it. He needed to stay strong, both for his own sake and for Olivia's. That was what they did, they held each other up when times got tough. He may still have a three year absence to atone for, but that didn't mean that he had ever stopped thinking about her.
"Yes, actually. The dietitian was able to convince Olivia to drink a smoothie for lunch today. While she only had one-third of it, it's a start. They are hoping they can talk her into trying another one come dinnertime."
Fin may have been heartened by the news, but Elliot was not. If anything, it was worse than hearing that Olivia hadn't eaten at all. He knew he should be happy, take in the small victories, but all he could think about was the bigger picture. In the span of the entire week, Olivia's caloric intake likely matched what the average person would take in during one day. Plus, he greatly suspected she had only consented to drink the smoothie in the first place as a form of deception, especially now that he knew of her intended escape plans. Once those didn't come to fruition later, she would likely be back to her original method of refusing to cooperate at all costs.
As though he had intuited the younger man's spiraling thoughts, Don rested a palm on Elliot's shoulder. The afternoon was giving way to early evening, and soon it would be time for the three of them to seek out their own dinner. As much as he wanted to stay longer and help Olivia more, Fin needed to get back to the city, and would be leaving the following day. He did plan on stopping by the hospital first though, in the hopes that she would agree to see him.
"I know you were wanting to go to another meeting today, Elliot. Did you want me to come with you again, or would you rather go alone?"
Elliot was silent as he weighed the options. As much as the desire to drink was in the forefront of his mind, his devotion to Olivia was winning out. He knew he could go out on his own and not be tempted by alcohol. Plus, there was something else he wanted to do, that he felt he couldn't ask anyone to accompany him.
"I think I'll go alone. I'll bring back something for us to eat, though. My treat."
With that said, Elliot gathered up his jacket and his keys, and left the motel room. Fin and Don were left standing behind in his absence, a bit bewildered, but not overly concerned. Instead, they made themselves comfortable and waited for their friend's return.
In Elliot's opinion, the meeting had been a good one. Whether it was a matter of getting more comfortable with this group of people, or just the fact that he was feeling more open today, the weight on his shoulders felt considerably lighter once the hour had lapsed. Since this was his third time attending a meeting here in Cape May, the faces were definitely becoming more familiar, even if he could not yet match them to their given name.
Once he was back to his SUV, he used his phone to locate a nearby restaurant that offered take out. To enhance the convenience, they also offered online ordering, so he wouldn't have to deal with any human interaction until it would be time to pick up the food. Elliot was grateful for this small reprieve from society, as he was still lost in his own thoughts, and needed more time for reflection. With at least thirty minutes to wait until their dinner would be ready, he headed in the direction of the restaurant, intent on spending that half hour at the Catholic church he'd noticed on the map that was adjacent to the restaurant.
The last time Elliot had set foot in a church had been before Jenna. After that, his guilt and self loathing had always been too immense to allow him to trespass beyond those sacred doors. Now, though, he was here for a need far greater than his own. At a breaking point, and unsure of where else to search for help, he was returning to the very roots of the faith that had once grounded him when everything in his life was breaking apart. Now, it was Olivia for whom he would be on his knees tonight, beseeching a benevolent God to give her the strength she needed to make it over yet another hurdle that she had been dealt with. The irony of the situation hadn't escaped him – nor did the hypocrisy of his doubts. There was still a part of him that wanted to shout at the heavens and cast blame on any responsible party for the tragedies that had befallen his beloved friend, but at the same time, he was willing to beg for her healing. So long as Olivia was not punished further for what he viewed to be his own transgressions and faults, he would do whatever it took to restore her to her former self.
Stepping into the Narthex, Elliot remembered the rituals he had been brought up with, and repeated them as though from muscle memory. Dipping his fingers into the font of Holy Water positioned by the entrance, he blessed himself with the sign of the cross. Though his intention was to eventually sit and pray, there was something else he wanted to take care of first.
Crossing to a spot in the back of the church, he found what he was looking for. Row upon row of candles sat in wait for those offering prayer intentions to light them. Putting his donation in the box, Elliot lit three candles – all with Olivia's healing in mind. The first was for her physical well being, the second to repair her troubled mind, and last but not least, a third to restore her spirit.
Having accomplished what he'd originally come here to do, Elliot stepped away from the candles, feeling a small sense of peace. But his restless heart wasn't yet satisfied. Walking down the aisle, he genuflected toward the altar and took a seat in one of the pews in the middle of the church.
Sinking to his knees, Elliot bowed his head, bringing it to rest on his clasped hands. His shoulders began to shake as an onslaught of emotion swept over him. There was no cause to fight the tears that threatened to spill over, so he let them fall freely, welcoming the release of grief, bitterness, and self loathing that he had been holding onto for so very long. As he continued to weep unashamedly, the saline lingering on his cheeks, a litany of pleas fell from his lips. Out of practice with more traditional prayer, his invocation was simple and heartfelt, and didn't follow any standard format.
"God, I know it may seem like I've turned my back on you in recent years. It's true, my faith has been shaken. I'm here now, not for me, but for someone who I deeply care for."
He exhaled shakily, trying to regain his composure, and failing miserably.
"She's in so much pain, and it's killing me inside that I can't do anything to help her. I know part of that is my own fault – I have to earn her trust back first. Even then, there is no magic cure."
Feeling like he was betraying Olivia yet again for speaking about her condition so openly – even if he was talking to an omniscient being – Elliot struggled once more.
"If you could just help her stay strong, keep her from giving up on herself, I promise I won't fail her again."
He stayed that way, hunched over in prayer for another ten minutes, until he was completely spent. When he could think of nothing else to ask for, and there were no more tears left to cry, Elliot stood to leave. He paused in the restroom by the exit to splash some cold water on his face in the hopes that it would conceal his reddened eyes. Then he left the church, feeling a fraction more calm than he had previously.
Before heading back to his SUV, Elliot walked the short distance to the restaurant to pick up their dinner order. It was hot and ready, so he was on his way again in no time. Navigating through the city streets that were gradually becoming more familiar, he made his way back to the motel. As the smells from the Chinese food wafted across from the passenger seat while he drove, Elliot couldn't help but wonder how Olivia was faring with her own evening meal. He hoped she would at least attempt a smoothie again, and perhaps even successfully manage more than she had at lunch. The time that he'd had to himself had allowed him to be able to view the small step she'd taken in a more positive light, and he only hoped it would last when her inevitable escape attempt later would prove unsuccessful.
Once he'd pulled into the motel lot, it was only minutes later that Elliot was back in his room again. There had been no other news on Olivia in his absence, and he wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. Pushing that thought aside, he set the bag of food on the table in the room, and the three men took their seats to enjoy a meal together. They ate in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Later that night, as Fin was going back to his own room, he promised Elliot that he would call once he saw Olivia the following morning. The hope was that she would be amenable to visitors, and agree to see not only Fin when he arrived, but Elliot and Don later on.
The men also made a plan to keep in touch with one another until Olivia's release from the hospital and beyond, so Fin could stay in the loop.
Settling in to share a room with his former Captain and current sponsor for the second night in a row, Elliot was once again grateful for the company. He knew Don's insistence that he stay didn't stem from lack of trust, but rather a show of support. While having someone else with him didn't completely eliminate the cravings, it lessened them enough to a degree that he could at least attempt to get something resembling a decent night of sleep.
Olivia was in her hospital bed, more restless than ever. It didn't help her anxiety any to know that a second smoothie was on its way to her room. Rene had paid her another visit mid afternoon, wanting her to drink another one in between lunch and dinner, but she had refused. She had a feeling that someone would also attempt to try and push one on her before they passed out her bedtime meds, too. It was almost as though now they'd found a small doorway into getting nutrients into her body, they were going to overload her system any chance they got. It was just accepted that she would consent, and they hadn't even asked her if she was interested in anything for dinner. The only choice she had been given was what flavor she preferred.
Though she wasn't actively watching, she had turned the television on about an hour ago. It had been an act of desperation, as she had been unable to bear the noise of her own thoughts any longer. They simply wouldn't leave her alone, and were parading incessantly through her head. The quiet murmur in the background coming from the bedside speaker was efficient in silencing the rogue voices in her head.
Speaking of her head, Olivia noted with a wince and a groan that her headache was back – if it had ever even left. She'd not once complained about her symptoms of pain and nausea, too afraid of having more medications to take, even if these ones in particular would offer relief. She barely trusted people she knew right now, let alone complete strangers.
Try as she might, though, Olivia couldn't remember what had caused her to end up with the stitches she had first spotted on her brow earlier that morning. One thing she knew for certain though – it had to have been through accidental means. Elliot would never cause her physical harm, and her instincts were still strong enough to tell her that Owen would not have hurt her, either. She only hoped that she had passed out in the privacy of the cottage and not somewhere out in the streets during her run where she would have brought even greater humiliation upon herself.
Like a flash of light, a memory came to her then, playing its images like a movie behind her closed lids. She saw herself running back toward the cottage and falling, and felt as her palms and knees burned anew with the recollection of it all. In her mind's eye, Olivia witnessed as she stumbled back to the cottage, breathing a sigh of relief when she was safely inside. Good. She hadn't collapsed on the sidewalk like she'd originally suspected.
A knock at the door pulled her back to the present, and Olivia glanced toward the hall, suppressing a groan. While it wasn't Rene, the person standing at the entrance to her room carried the all-too-familiar Styrofoam cup that she recognized from earlier, and a smile that seemed just a bit too eager for someone who was delivering what was supposed to be a simple smoothie. Gritting her teeth, Olivia waved the woman in, bracing herself for the bubbly personality she no doubt possessed.
"Good evening Ms. Benson! I work with Rene, and let me tell you how excited we all are that you've decided to try another smoothie for your dinner tonight.! What an excellent choice you've made, too – Piña Colada – always one of my personal favorites!"
As Olivia was passed the smoothie, it took every ounce of willpower within her to not turn that cup upside down and dump its contents on the head of the woman standing beside her bed. Any minute desire she may have previously had to even try the concoction had flown out the window. She was back to the point of refusal to cooperate due to sheer protest. Not only had she been referred to by "Ms." again, but the manner in which she had been spoken to had been so condescending. She was not a toddler who needed to be prompted to eat their vegetables, in hopes of getting a reward of a cookie for dessert.
Nevertheless, Olivia tamped down he urge to protest and complain, accepting both the cup and the straw that accompanied it. She hoped that the sooner she did so, the sooner she would be left on her own again. Fortunately, fate was in her favor for the time being. The unwelcome guest retreated without even waiting to see if Olivia would sample the beverage which she had imparted upon the unwilling patient.
Mindlessly, Olivia inserted the straw into the lid and took a half hearted sip. She was drinking some of this more to indulge her curiosity than anything else. While the name of the flavor had piqued her interest, she knew there was no way it would ever compare to a true piña colada. For one thing, there was no rum in it – something she would sorely miss. But even she could admit that alcohol was the last thing she needed at the moment, and even so, she certainly wouldn't find any in a hospital.
Olivia did have to admit that the combination of pineapple and coconut, complete with the addition of frozen banana for thickness and coconut milk to blend everything together was very pleasing to the palate. There was still no way that she'd be able to consume the entire contents of the container though, but she might at least manage the same amount as she had earlier in the day. As she sipped her drink, her eyes flicked back to the television screen, looking for a way to help the time pass faster.
Later that night, once the late shift of nurses and aides had all been introduced, and the bedtime meds had been doled out, Olivia lay wide eyed and alert in her room. Her heart was pounding so fiercely in her chest that she swore she could hear it thrumming in her ears.
Finally, the moment she thought would never arrive finally happened – the harsh lighting in the hallway dimmed, giving way to a more muted glow suitable for the nighttime. This was when she'd have to weigh her options carefully as to when to make her move. Olivia wished that she'd been able to set foot outside her room at some point, because she had no clue as to the orientation of the unit she was on. If by some dumb luck her room was near the nurse's station, she wouldn't stand a chance in hell at making it past that pivotal spot before she was caught – even if she ran like the wind.
Hoping that wasn't the case, she decided to bide her time and wait another hour or so until things were more settled. Even though it was already after eleven, there was still a chance that one or more of her fellow patients on this floor were night owls, up late in their rooms watching television. Ideally, she would wait until two or three in the morning to make her exit, but she had no way of knowing what late night transportation was like here, and she would need to find a way to a motel of some sort. Once again, Olivia lamented the fact that she was far away from the conveniences of the city she called home, where a cab could be hailed at any hour of the day.
The sound of shoes squeaking on the linoleum grew louder as they approached her room, and for several agonizing moments Olivia forgot to breathe. She didn't know whether she should pretend to be watching television, or feign sleep. In the end, there wasn't time to do either, as her nurse was through the doorway mere seconds later.
"I'm sorry to disturb you Ms. Benson, but I noticed in your chart that you have a sedative prescribed to you should you wish to take it. Is that something you would be interested in tonight?"
After struggling to find her voice, Olivia stammered out a response.
"N – no. I don't want to take anything else."
"Are you sure? There's no point in struggling to sleep if you have something that will help you."
Exasperated now, Olivia became more insistent. Hadn't these nurses ever learned to take 'no' for an answer?
"I said I didn't want to take anything!"
Quite used to patients taking their frustrations out on her, the nurse didn't even bat an eyelash when Olivia raised her voice. She had not, however, finished what she came to say. She had a suspicion though that her next suggestion would be even less welcomed than her first one.
"I also saw in your chart that you've had some success with smoothies at lunch and dinner. Can I order you one for a bedtime snack? You haven't gotten very many calories today."
Gritting her teeth, Olivia again answered in the negative. She tried to remind herself that she only needed to accommodate these people a short while longer. After a few more annoying questions, the nurse left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.
Because of the unwelcome and unexpected intrusion, Olivia decided she would delay her attempt by at least another half hour. She stared relentlessly at the clock, watching as the second hand made its rotations, ticking the minutes along one by one. Finally, at twelve thirty, the combination of restless anxiety in her mind along with the silence in the halls convinced her it was time to make her move.
Peeling back the tape that held the IV in place, Olivia removed it from her vein with one sharp and decisive tug. Then, she quickly placed a leftover napkin from her tray table over the site and held it there by wrapping a cotton elastic intended for a ponytail around her hand. The last thing she needed would be to give away her escape route or location by leaving behind a blood trail.
Pushing the tray table out of the way, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and steadied her feet on the floor. It would take her several seconds to gain her bearings once she was standing, then a few minutes more to retrieve her bag from the closet and pack the remainder of her things. Even so, Olivia was confident she would be outside the hospital walls in twenty minutes or less.
As she rose to a standing position, Olivia was compelled to cover her ears as a piercing alarm sounded throughout the room. What was going on? Once realization settled in, so did the nausea and dread she had been trying to keep at bay all day. Somehow, they had known. They had been aware of her plan all along, and had been ready for it. There wouldn't be time to grab her bag or coat – not even her shoes. She had to make a run for it, now.
The sound of several sets of approaching footsteps quickly let her know that idea was also not an option. Desperate now, and too ashamed to look anyone in the eye, Olivia sought out the only escape she had left – the bathroom. Grabbing her cell phone, she bolted for the small enclosure and barricaded herself inside. Once the door was locked, she braced her back against it and sank to the floor, exhausted already from the energy she'd expended thus far.
"Ms. Benson? Ms Benson! I need you to open the door!"
The voices of her nurse and her aide, plus other voices she couldn't identify all echoed to her through the wooden obstacle. Olivia ignored them all. Instead, she clutched the electronic lifeline she held in her palm, and fought against her own stubborn pride. As everything from the past two days closed in on her all at once, suddenly nothing else mattered but hearing the once voice she knew would bring her peace. Her anger and frustration with him could wait. Right now, she just needed Elliot.
Dialing the familiar sequence of numbers that she had never been able to make herself forget -even in the wake of his three year absence from her life – Olivia lifted the phone to her ear and held her breath. After only two rings, his throaty timbre was coming over the line, laced with concern.
"Olivia? What is it?"
Choking back a sob, she managed to ask for the one thing she wanted most, even if deep down she knew it was an impossible request to grant.
"Elliot, please come and get me. I want to go home."