Trigger warnings for mentions of rape in this chapter.
Frannie doesn't exist in this update.
This snippet is kind of similar to the new story "Tapped Out" that I just posted yesterday, but I started writing this one first and wanted to finish it. I know that I focus on the Patton plotline a LOT in my fics, but I promise they won't all be like this.
Title: The Stall
Genre: Angst/hurt/comfort
Rating: T
Season: 16
Episode: N/A (but mentions "Decaying Morality" - episode 13)
Her forehead presses into the cool metal of the stall door as she leans against it in weary exhaustion, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. One hand rests on the lock to keep it firmly in place, as if someone is going burst in and kick the door down, while the other rakes repeatedly through her hair, transforming the neat golden tresses into something resembling a bird's nest.
Amanda assumes she's in a huge amount of trouble for fleeing the interrogation room just as their suspect was on the verge of confessing to rape, expecting the bathroom door to fly open at any moment and the reprimanding to commence. She is terrified that her secret is out; that everyone knows she has returned to work too soon after her yoga retreat and Olivia will make her go home, where everything is so much worse.
Alone in her apartment, there is nothing to keep her from getting lost in the darkness of her thoughts, consumed with horrific memories of both the distant and more recent past. At least at the precinct, she is distracted by the seemingly never-ending load of cases they are inundated with, the constant chaos helping to keep her mind off her own trauma and focused on the suffering of others.
That is, until Fin and Nick had brought in a suspect with the surname of Patton.
The man's first name is Andrew and he looks nothing like Charles Patton, not even baring a passing resemblance to her former deputy chief, but the name had thrown Amanda for a colossal loop and shot her concentration to hell. When she had been unable to shake it off and carry on with her questions, she had staggered to her feet and practically knocked her chair over in her haste to flee the room before having a full-on meltdown in front of everyone.
Overcome with shame at her unprofessional and childish reaction, Amanda squeezes her eyes shut at the threat of tears, not wanting to add crying to the list of ways she has embarrassed herself and her squad today. She can't get her previous boss out of her head, the man currently sitting in the interrogation room morphing into Charles Patton inside her mind as she imagines him escaping and chasing her into the bathroom; pinning her to the floor and tearing her clothes off before pushing roughly into her.
The images playing in her brain are so disturbingly realistic that Amanda has to smother a scream when she hears the door swing open, her body jerking upright in the stall and briefly convinced that he has indeed broken free in an attempt to harm her. She knows that it's most likely Olivia, though; actually feeling a hint of relief that her lieutenant has come in here to punish her, as a possible suspension or even losing her job is preferrable to being shoved down and violated on the dirty tiles.
Fully expecting her last name to be called out in an angry, impatient tone, she is shocked when Olivia asks, "Amanda, are you okay?" in a soft, concerned voice.
She doesn't trust herself to speak, her heart rate quickening even further as she stands there in silence, her legs trembling uncontrollably and her fingernails digging painfully into the stained metal in front of her.
"I know why you left," Olivia continues quietly, and Amanda can see her feet pacing back and forth when she glances down at the open space between the stall and the floor. "I know you were triggered by his name. I didn't come in here because I'm upset with you, so please don't worry about that. I just want to know how you're doing."
There is another beat of silence, Amanda still incapable of uttering a sound as she swallows hard against the lump of emotion that has risen in her throat.
"Judging by your inability to answer, I'd say you're not doing very well. Can you please open the door for me, Amanda?"
"No," she finally chokes out hoarsely, blinking back the tears that are threatening to come cascading down her cheeks in a waterfall of anguish.
"Why not, honey?"
"I just can't." Amanda is unable to explain that she doesn't feel safe outside of this minuscule, enclosed area; that the small cubicle she is hiding in is the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.
"Okay, then I'll wait here until you can," Olivia replies patiently, an undercurrent of distress in her tone.
An uneasy hush falls over the room and Amanda feels her mortification rising swiftly, knowing she needs to say something to fill the quiet and assuage her lieutenant's concern. "I lied to you," she eventually admits in a whisper, wincing at the words she hadn't meant to utter and aware that her disclosure will do the opposite of alleviating her superior's worry.
"About what?" Olivia's voice is surprisingly devoid of irritation or judgment at this revelation, so she hesitantly continues to speak.
"At the retreat I went on...when the yogi touched me, I did flinch, even though I said I didn't. And then when I was by myself afterwards, I threw up and couldn't stop shaking. I haven't been doing better, like I told you I was. I'm actually much worse, which I'm sure is obvious by now. I'm sorry, Liv. I know you must be so disappointed in me." Amanda's voice breaks as everything comes tumbling out in a rush of agony and shame, and it's all she can do to hold back the tears at this point.
"I'm not disappointed in you," Olivia assures her softly, Amanda watching as the older woman's feet come to a stop on the other side of the door and listening to the gentle scrape of fingernails against the metal, as if Olivia is trying to impart some physical comfort through the barrier that separates them. "I'm disappointed in myself."
"What? Why?" Amanda is taken aback by this unexpected declaration, nearly the swinging the door open so they can have this conversation face to face.
"Because I knew you weren't being honest with me. When we were in the coffee shop the other night, I had a feeling you were only saying what you thought I wanted to hear. I should have called you out on it, but I chose not to. You obviously weren't in a place where you felt like you could share what was really going on, so I let it go." There is a heavy pause, and the deep emotion is apparent in Olivia's voice now as she begins pacing again. "But I shouldn't have done that. So I'm the one who needs to apologize, Amanda."
"It's not your fault, Liv," she whispers as a tear slips from the corner of her eye to roll down her cheek and drip off her chin, fervently wishing that it wasn't so damn hard to talk about the darkness that is weighing her down.
Amanda longs to wrench the door open and pull Olivia into a hug in an effort to provide some comfort and ease the unnecessary guilt that seems to be swamping the brunette, but her immense fear keeps her locked inside. Logically, she knows the fear is ludicrous; that the man in the interrogation room is not Charles Patton, and he is not going to suddenly break out of there and fight his way past her entire team to track her down in the ladies' room and attack her.
The more she thinks about this scenario, the more ridiculous she feels, Amanda's head hanging low in humiliation as the tears come faster and she lets out an unintentional whimper. Her eyes widen at the pathetic noise that has emitted from her lips, freezing in place and noticing that Olivia has also come to another halt outside the stall, certain the older woman has heard her.
Neither of them speak for a moment, standing stock still on opposite sides of the door until Amanda hears that light scratching sound again, touched by the question that Olivia asks in such a tender tone.
"If you feel like you can't come out of there right now, is it okay if I come in?"
Amanda bites her lip nervously before unlocking the door with clumsy fingers and slowly opening it to reveal the beautiful, concerned face of her lieutenant, Olivia giving her a gentle smile. Amanda smiles shakily in return through the tears that are still streaming down her face, both embarrassed and grateful as she motions her inside and quickly shuts the door, turning the lock once more and enveloping them in shadow.
They regard each other intently in the dim, narrow space, nearly eye to eye and nose to nose, the hideaway not allowing much room to spread out.
"Do you feel safer in here?" Olivia's voice is soft, radiating compassion and lacking judgment, Amanda nodding wordlessly in reply and too overcome with emotion to speak.
"Then we'll stay until you feel safe enough to leave," the older woman says simply, Amanda deeply moved by her willingness to remain confined in this tight spot with her for an unknown length of time.
A relieved sob wells up in her throat as Olivia holds out her arms in invitation, Amanda barely hesitating before she closes the tiny gap between them and lets herself be engulfed in the strong, soothing embrace of her lieutenant.
