He felt awful.
Noah was so curious, and so worried, but the minute the words spilled from his mouth, he knew he caused his mother so much grief. None of his questions mattered anymore, now that he saw what they did to his mom.
He had read the phrase before in stories, where the main character has the wind knocked out of them. He never realized what it meant until last night. Her eyes were sad and scared, and he'd never seen her so rattled before as she stammered through their bedtime routine.
Johnny D and William Lewis. Two names that seemed plain and simple, yet he knew he resurrected monsters the second they left his lips. Noah didn't tell her how much he had googled: the articles he read, the amount of information that was literally at his fingertips. Especially about William Lewis. And as much as he hated to ask, as much as his mother was real, flesh and blood and whole beside him in his bed, he needed to make sure she was okay. Alive on the inside as well as the outside.
She wasn't.
Noah heard her, after he was supposed to be asleep. Heard her frantic breaths in the hallway, heard her rummage through the closet to grasp the box he found. Heard her not-so-quiet sobs echoing from the bedroom down the hall.
And so he tossed and turned in bed for most of the night, wondering what he could do to fix it. He had an idea, a lightbulb moment around two in the morning, and while it helped, it didn't do much to put his mind at ease.
Seven o'clock wasn't faring much better, as he nervously sulked through his cereal, while Olivia, uncharacteristically quiet, wiped down the counter and put the milk back in the fridge.
"Mom… about last night…"
Her sigh was light, yet thick with meaning, and he felt his stomach clench even more.
"Noah, honey, it's okay. I promise you, we'll discuss it all. I just need a little time to process everything you asked."
"I feel bad for bringing it up."
"I always want you to come to me, even if it's uncomfortable or complicated. Team Benson, remember? That's even more important now that you're growing up. We have to always be able to talk, okay?"
"Okay," he whispered, a lone tear slipping off of his cheek into his Cheerios. He knew he had to be honest now, even if it might cause her more sadness.
"Mom… I heard you were upset, after you left my room. So I…"
"You what, honey?"
"I texted Elliot."
"You… have Elliot's number?"
"He gave it to me, after he picked me up from Woodstock. I was worried about you, and he said if I ever needed anything or if I was scared or upset, that I could call him or text him anytime."
"Give me your phone, Noah. Please."
He dutifully handed it over, the tears spilling from his eyes.
"You did nothing wrong, sweetie, I just need to see your phone. Why don't you go get dressed- it's almost time for school."
She felt awful.
This was never the way Olivia wanted Elliot to find out. She's had months, years now, to summon a conversation or confrontation about the past. Instead, she let time and circumstance and a myriad of excuses pave the way through their fractured friendship, and the end result was tragic.
Elliot learning about William Lewis from her twelve-year-old son was pretty much the coup de grâce of the shit year she was having. She took a screenshot of Noah's text thread and sent it to herself, reading and re-reading it in between the various routines of her morning while sequestered in the safety of her office.
Hi Elliot. Are you awake?
Noah, are you okay? Is your mom okay?
I asked mom about William Lewis, and now she's crying in her bedroom. I made her so upset and I don't know what to do.
Who is William Lewis?
Oh, I thought you knew. I googled him and read what he did to mom.
Olivia noticed the time stamps. Her heart tightened at Elliot's instant reply to her son, knowing he's in the middle of an undercover op and has limited phone access. She also noticed the five long minutes before Elliot's reply after Noah's mention of Lewis. She could only imagine what he discovered in that silence before trying to calm her son's mind.
Noah, I want you to try to get some sleep. Okay, pal? I promise she is not upset with you. Everything is fixable, and your mom loves you very much.
Everything is fixable.
Was it?
She grasped the necklace between her thumb and fingers, the only tangible hold she had on her life seemingly crammed into the pendant upon her chest. Between Maddie's case and decade-old traumas resurfacing, she felt woozy with longing.
Truthfully, she just needed a damn hug. To not carry these burdens alone anymore. To have her best friend back. Admitting that to herself was the most vulnerable she had felt in years, until familiar knuckles rapped on her office door.
Before she could answer, the doorknob turned hesitantly, her name murmured on a breathless plea. Bloodshot, haunted eyes met hers, the I'm sorrys floating between them as they absorbed each other's physical presence for the first time in nearly a year.
The final text Elliot sent to Noah permeated her thoughts, the one that's had her on the verge of tears all morning.
And I love you too, bud.
Elliot, who had met her son exactly twice, but loved him fiercely and would move heaven and earth to ensure his happiness and safety. Whose own life has also been a maelstrom of exhaustive and emotional events, and yet he seemingly dropped everything to see her. The man she's missed for far too long, and loved for even longer.
Olivia's strides were determined and sure as she deposited herself into his open arms, finding that hug she so desperately craved from the only person in the world she needed it from. She knew then, in the safety of his embrace, that everything was indeed fixable, as long as her partner was by her side.