I'm going to have to ask you to leave.
The problem with forgetting was that Olivia didn't know what she'd forgotten. Had Malcolm been controlling in the past? Had Elliot, or Fin? Did she usually listen to Malcolm, should she listen to him now? Just looking at Elliot made her feel safe, but she'd forgotten how he left her, and she didn't know that else she'd forgotten about him. Her life was less than two weeks old; she had less than a fortnight of memories, and in each of them Malcolm had been kind to her, but so had Fin and Elliot, and now that the three of them were in conflict, she had no idea which side she was meant to choose.
What she did know, though, was that she resented Malcolm for forcing the choice. She'd forgotten every reason why she might have wanted Elliot and Fin to leave; all she remembered was that she wanted them to stay.
The second Malcolm delivered his ultimatum Fin rose from his chair, not, it seemed, in an effort to obey Malcolm but more in an attempt to block Elliot's access to the man. Elliot's face had immediately turned red with rage, and Fin was looking right at Elliot like a bullfighter trying to gauge the direction of the next attack.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Elliot snarled.
"Stabler -" Fin called his name in warning, and Olivia could almost taste the electricity of impending disaster hanging in the air.
"You're no good for her," Malcolm insisted, standing his ground with remarkable courage, given that Elliot was a few inches taller, a few inches broader, and miles more athletic than Malcolm seemed to be. If it came to blows between them, Olivia didn't like Malcolm's chances.
"And you think you are?" Elliot snapped. "You don't even know her-"
"It's not up to you," Fin said calmly. He had one of those voices; he didn't have to shout to make himself heard. All he had to do was open his mouth, and everybody listened.
"It's your choice, Liv," he said to her seriously. "It's your house, it's your life. You decide who stays and who goes."
"I want you here," she answered at once. "Malcolm," she added, looking straight at him, desperately wish he'd just listen, that he'd look into her eyes and see how badly she needed her friends around her now. "Please. I've known Fin and Elliot for years."
And Malcolm for only two. This town and the people in it were no more than a footnote in the story of her life, weren't they? The last two years carried little weight stacked up against the forty eight that had come before.
"And you left them, Olivia," Malcolm pointed out darkly. "Whatever happened back then, you and Ed walked away from it and never talked about it again. I know you want to trust your friends but you have to ask yourself, if they're so great why did you try so hard to forget them in the first place?"
She hadn't thought about it like that, before. Hadn't thought about her retirement, her reticence to talk to Fin, the long years of silence between her and Elliot, as her leaving them, but now that he'd said it the reality of that decision hit her square in the chest. These men had been her friends, her family, her whole life, and she had abandoned them, and she didn't know why, but she wished, very much, that she hadn't.
Maybe he meant to appeal to her sense of self preservation, to the caution that had sustained her in the days following the accident; maybe he was trying to scare her. All he really succeeded in doing, though, was making her terribly angry. Angry with him, for treating her so patronizingly, and angry with herself, for walking out on the people who loved her.
"Don't you think I deserve to know that?" She demanded. "Whatever happened, it happened, and it doesn't go away just because I don't remember. I need to know, Malcolm. It's my life."
"What if it makes you sad?" Malcolm asked desperately. "What if hurts? You've been so happy-"
"If the only way I can be happy is to forget who I am then I don't want it."
That happiness was a lie, she thought. Happiness predicated on ignorance wasn't happiness at all; it was a prison, one that could only be maintained by her continued isolation from herself. The things she'd learned about her past, the eyes she'd seen staring back at her from the mirror, they were not happy, but they were real, and given the choice it was the harsh truth she wanted, not the beguiling sweetness of a lie.
"Maybe you should go," Elliot told Malcolm grimly.
Olivia was starting to think that Elliot was right. That Malcolm had no place here, not now, not when her old friends were sharing with her the secrets she'd kept from her new ones. If she hadn't told Malcolm any of this before, maybe he didn't need to hear it now.
"I think he's right, Malcolm," she said.
"I can't leave you alone with these guys," Malcolm told her imploringly. "Olivia, please, you don't - you don't know anything. They could-"
"They could what?" she demanded. "I mean really, what do you think they're gonna do?"
Surely Malcolm didn't think they were going to hurt her, did he? Not physically, at least. Olivia might've left her old life behind but she'd stayed in contact with Fin, still getting updates about her old friends and talking about Christmas. She and Elliot hadn't talked for years, until she'd reached out to him herself the day of her accident. Whatever had gone on between them, she hadn't let Fin go, and she'd wanted to talk to Elliot. That was enough for her to decide that they were safe, that she could trust them, at least a little while longer.
"I don't know," Malcolm grumbled bitterly. "That's what scares me."
His obstinance was grating on her nerves; she'd tried to appeal to him, to get him to just listen to her, but he refused, and she wasn't interested in fighting with him about this.
"They're staying," she said. "And I'd like for you to leave. You can come back," she added quickly as his mouth dropped open in outrage. Malcolm was her friend, too, and she wasn't ready to lose his constant reassurance completely. Besides, Noah knew him, was comfortable with him, and she wanted her son to see a familiar face when he came home from daycare.
"You haven't been home in days," she reminded him. "Just…go take care of yourself and give me some time with my friends. Then come back and we can have dinner together."
Malcolm lived just next door and she had his number in her phone; if something terrible happened she knew how to reach him, and knew that he would take care of her. The thought of having him close was a comforting one. She just didn't want to be in the same room with him for the moment.
"Fine," he said finally. "You do what you want, God knows you always do. I'll come back for dinner."
And then he turned and walked away without a backwards glance. His back was straight, his shoulders tight with tension; Olivia knew she'd disappointed him, hurt his pride if nothing else, but she needed the answers only Fin and Elliot could give her, and they wouldn't make any progress with Malcolm glaring at her friends over her shoulder.
The door slammed closed behind Malcolm, and Fin visibly relaxed.
"I know that was hard," Fin told her quietly. "But you're right, Liv. It's your life, and it's up to you what you do with it."
It was a scary thing, freedom. The freedom to choose meant having to choose; no one else could be blamed for the decisions Olivia had made. It was her responsibility, her guilt and her victory. Following someone else's orders was certainly easier, safer, calmer, but the sharp taste of freedom was sweet in her mouth and she wanted more of it.
"Can we get out of here?" she asked suddenly. For nearly two weeks her life had shrunk to the four walls of her hospital room, the four walls of her home. She'd only been outside for the drive home from the hospital and the short walk to Noah's daycare and back. She'd seen nothing of the world she had forgotten, and she was itching to get out. To explore, to see the town where she and Ed had decided to settle down, to see people, buildings and cars and all glorious mundanity of the wide world outside her little house. She wanted to see life; she wanted to know what it looked like, to live.
"Where do you want to go?" Elliot rumbled at her. His face was still set in a grim expression, though he did seem relieved that Malcolm was gone.
"Just…out," Olivia said with a shrug. "Somewhere that isn't here."
"There's a coffee shop near my hotel," Fin suggested. "Looks like a decent place."
"Let's go," Olivia said. Anywhere would be good, she thought. Anywhere would be new, and different, and exciting, and she was desperate for a glimpse of real life. Life inside the house felt like a dream, soft and malleable, Olivia herself controlled by invisible puppet strings. It was life she wanted, and freedom, and she would not find that here.
They went.
Fin was right; the coffee shop was decent, even if the young man behind the counter looked at them like they were crazy when they placed their order. Fin and Elliot each ordered one black coffee and one cheese Danish, but when it was Olivia's turn she asked for five different drinks and three different pastries. While she ordered Elliot quietly explained to Fin about the eggs; he figured Liv was doing the same thing here. Trying a little bit of everything just to see what she liked. He was more that willing to foot the bill for that little experiment.
Between the three of them they managed to cart all the pastries and coffees to a little table in the back corner of the coffee shop; the decor was eclectic in a mass-produced sort of way, the careful mismatch of tables and various types of chairs and the botanical themed vintage-looking prints on the wall too coordinated to be anything other than intentional. The place was comfortable, familiar, and it felt good to sit down for coffee with Liv and Fin. Felt like the old days.
Only Olivia never looked like this in the old days, with her shoulder bare and a lightness to her steps he didn't recognize. While he disagreed with Malcolm he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the man. Like this Olivia was bright and happy, and there was something childlike about her innocence that made Elliot want to keep her safe from the harsh truth of the world. It would be wrong of him to try, though. That was the part Malcolm hadn't understood, might not ever understand; Olivia had earned the right to her sorrow. She was already having nightmares about things she couldn't remember; hiding the truth from her wouldn't keep her safe from the ghosts hiding in her own mind, and she wouldn't thank them for trying, anyway. She was too much herself to be anyone else.
Olivia loved the coffee shop. There was so much to see, so many foods and drinks to choose from, a steady trickle of customers coming in and out, each a person with their own story, their own memories, fascinating to her eyes. She tried each coffee in turn; she liked the caramel and the hazelnut best, liked them so much that she couldn't choose between them and chose instead to drink them both, alternating between one and the other between bites of pastry. Each pastry was delicious in its own way, and she couldn't begin to choose the best one.
The men gave her peace and quiet to try the assorted goodies in front of her in her own time, and Elliot waited until she settled into sipping her coffee before he spoke.
"How you doing, Liv?" he asked her quietly.
She considered the question for a moment, savoring the taste of the caramel coffee. How was she doing? She'd just thrown Malcolm out of her house and deeply offended a man who had been constant and selfless in his care for her, and she felt guilty about that. Felt as if he deserved better, though she knew she'd had no choice. She felt relieved about his absence, as much as she felt shamed for it.
Her heart broke for Noah; for his mother, a young girl in a horrible situation, for the knowledge that his father was a monster just like hers. But the ache felt distant, somehow; it was just another story she'd been told, something she knew now but did not feel, because she could not remember it. What she did remember was the warmth of her son in her arms and the love she bore for him, and those were happy memories no one could take from her. What did it matter, if he wasn't her blood? Fin was right; Noah was hers, and knowing where he'd come from didn't change that.
She did feel a pang of loss, though. For a few short days she'd believed that Noah was the product of her love for Ed, and knowing that he wasn't severed one of the thin cords binding her to the husband she couldn't remember.
In the kitchen Fin had handed her a gun, and as she held it the awesome weight of her past had crashed into her. Guns were for hurting people; guns killed people, and the one Fin had given to her was hers. It belonged to her, this evil thing that could cause so much pain. Violence had been a constant of her life, evidently from the moment of her conception, and she hated the very idea of it. Maybe she'd been comfortable with violence, once, but she didn't think she ever would be again.
So much was lost to her, but pieces were coming back. She remembered Amanda's name, and when she thought of Barba the man's face flashed in the darkness of her mind, smiling. She felt closer to her memories now than ever before, and she wanted to keep going.
How was she doing? She was scared, and sad, and eager, all at once. She felt guilty and free. She was terrified of the truth behind her scars and yet determined to find it. All these things she felt, and yet when the moment came for honesty she found she didn't want to share the depth of her complicated emotions with Elliot. So far he and Fin had been a united front, insisting that Olivia herself determine the course of her fate, but what if they, like Malcolm, decided that she couldn't handle it? One wrong word and they might close the door on her past for good, and she could not allow that to happen.
"I'm good," she said firmly. "I want to keep going."
"It's your call," Fin said as Olivia and Elliot both looked to him expectantly. It was odd, she thought, how Elliot deferred to Fin. Elliot didn't seem like the kind of man who deferred to anybody, but he'd been quiet for most of the morning. Quiet since the moment he first saw Olivia wearing his necklace.
"There's something Malcolm said," Olivia began. If it was up to her, she knew what she wanted to ask next. "He said I left you. He said I wanted to forget. I want to know if that's true. I want to know why."
Something had to have happened, she thought. Something made Olivia and Ed pack up their son and leave their old life behind, and she wanted - needed - to know what it was. To know how she'd ended up here.
If she knew why she'd come, maybe then she could decide whether she meant to stay. This place was not her home, and her heart called out for something she could not name, for a city she could not recall, for a life that was grimmer and yet fuller than the one she had known so far.