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There’s a lingering darkness where warmth and love used to reside. Within the depths of her soul, the chambers of her heart. There’s something there, something empty, that hadn’t been there before.
Her therapist thinks it’s caused by the shield she put up around her heart, especially since the return of her old partner. The fierce way she protected her soul had reminded him of the way a bear protects its cub, and she remembers thinking that it was only natural for her to do so.
Because why would anyone willingly open themselves for the pain, the inevitable?
It’s a cloudy day in September, and the temperatures had started to drop. She’s thankful for that, because it meant no more overheating in the professional blazers she’d forced herself to wear. The case they just finished had been a bad one, and she thinks about it as she sits down on a bench - hidden out of sight beneath a tree.
There had been a bomb threat, and three squads had been brought in to help with it – something that rarely ever happens. The scent of death still looms over her like a cloud, and even though she’s sitting in a beautiful park surrounded by green, she can’t seem to get rid of it.
Too much had happened. Too much has been going on in her life, and before she knows it she feels the familiar tingling in her nose that lets her know she’s about to cry.
She doesn’t want to cry. She’d done it enough for the whole year today in front of her coworkers.
A tear rolls down anyway, followed by more and her chest constricts.
She’d almost died today, and the only thing she could think about was her son. How would they explain to him that his mother got blown up? That she’d made him an orphan, again, because she prioritized being out on the field over the safety of being on the sidelines because putting herself in front of danger is one of the only ways she feels alive?
She thinks about him, and her stomach starts to hurt because of the violent way her body starts constricting.
Never again.
She hadn’t been the only one crying today. Detective Shaw had tears in his eyes that had threatened to take over, and Elliot, sweet Elliot had stared at her from a distance. She’d seen the way his PTSD had crept in, how he hadn’t been able to move and started shaking like a leaf.
“It’s okay,” she had told him.
Except it hadn’t been. Because the threat of her getting blown up within two minutes had been real and if it hadn’t been for Detective Shaw’s quick but reckless actions, she’d have been dead by now.
She hadn’t looked anyone in the eyes since. When IAB asked for her statement a few hours later she’d given it to them on autopilot, and as soon as they’d let her go she’d driven here, to this park to sit on the bench she’d grown to love over the years.
It’s quiet except for traffic far in the distance, but some birds are chirping in the tree above her, and so she focuses on that until her breathing starts to slow down a bit.
She isn’t okay, not in the slightest and she can admit that now. It’s why she picks up when she hears her phone ringing, and puts it on speaker.
It stays silent for a good twenty seconds before either of them speaks.
“Where are you?” It’s silent, but she can hear the slight tremor in his voice.
“On that bench we sat on during lunch two weeks ago,” she answers, and she knows he knows because that had been the first and last lunch they’d shared since he’d come back.
“I’m com- can I come?”
Why a tear escapes her eye, she doesn’t know but a small smile graces her lips. “Yeah,” she says, “yeah you can.”
The line goes dead, and she sighs heavily before pulling up the camera app on her phone to make herself look at least somewhat presentable.
A few leaves crunch underneath his feet as he makes his way to the bench. His heart feels heavy, and his hands hadn’t fully stopped shaking since the moment he’d realized what had been going on in this case. He’d seen bodies. Dead bodies, either blown up or electrocuted, and it made him sick to his stomach. He’d nearly vomited after seeing the body of a victim he had talked to not many days ago, and it probably would’ve been better for his mental health to recuse himself from this case.
He hadn’t though, because she had been there. Olivia had been there and thank fuck he hadn’t recused himself because it would’ve meant she’d have to deal with a case this heavy without anyone to lean on again. She deserved better than that.
He’d almost watched her die, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it. Detective Shaw had saved her, and although he’s so incredibly grateful he’d been willing to risk it all for her, he feels guilty because he did nothing. He had watched from the sidelines as the tears rolled down her face. The worst of it all was that there hadn’t been anything he could do, even if he'd have wanted to.
The thought sends another shiver to his body before he sits down next to her, his gaze set on his feet.
“You okay?” She sounds so small, so vulnerable he can’t help but look at her. Her nose is red, and her eyes are slightly puffy, and he can tell she’s been crying.
She’s been hurting, alone, again.
“Are you?” he retorts, and she shakes her head as she stares in the distance.
“I just wish…
I just wish things were different, sometimes,” she admits as she plays with a hair tie.
“Me too.”
A silence falls again, and he moves toward her until his thigh is touching hers. She’s struggling to keep it together, he knows, so he puts his arm behind her on the bench as an invitation he doesn’t expect her to accept.
She does though; she burrows her head in the crook of his shoulder, and her left hand now lies softly in his lap. He pulls her closer, and threads his fingers with hers on his lap.
He isn’t used to this, to her seeking out comfort so willingly, and he wonders what made her choose to put down the shields she so fiercely protected her heart with. He’d failed her today, after all. He hadn’t been the one to protect her, so why would she trust him?
“Thank you,” she whispers, and his brows furrow.
“Why?”
He feels something wet on his neck, and when she answers his heart breaks.
“For checking up on me, barely anyone ever does.”
He squeezes her tighter to him, his eyes watering as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. She looks up at that, a look that can’t be described differently than love on her face and his heart skips a beat.
“Do you remember the spaghetti Bolognese I used to make at your place after a hard case?” he asks, and he sees the way her eyes light up in a way he hadn’t since he’d come back. It makes him want to weep.
“You mean the only recipe of your grandma you managed to remember? How could I forget,” she smiles. “What are you saying?”
He shrugs, a grin evident on his face as he tugs her to a standing position.
“Let’s go home, Olivia.”