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Everything changed, when Maddie was taken. The world seemed a little kinder, before Maddie was taken. Elieen believed in happy endings, before Maddie was taken. Before Maddie was taken Eileen wasn't afraid, really. Sure, she worried about stuff, worried about the things all parents worry about. Worried about Maddie getting sick, getting hurt, worried about whether the other kids might bully her, worried about how to pay for college, worried about how Maddie was going to navigate the world when she was old enough to face it on her own. Worried about strangers, a little, tried to keep her eyes open, tried to be wary. But there was something fantastical about that worry; somewhere, deep down, she knew those things, the big scary things, the plane crashes and the child abductions, and the home break ins, those things didn't happen, not in her world. It was a comfortable kind of worry; she worried, but worry was all it was. The terrifying scenarios that floated through her mind when she lay on the edge of sleep were the sort of things that happen in movies, on the news. Those things didn't happen in real life. Those things didn't happen to her.
It's different when it happens to you. She knows that now. The blinders have been removed, and every fear she carries is sharp, and real, and immediate. The unthinkable isn't so unthinkable, any more. These days she sees the world with a sharp and bitter clarity, and she knows now that sometimes bad things happen and there is no way to stop them. Sometimes planes do fall out of the sky. Sometimes people do get robbed. Sometimes a child wanders away in a store and they don't turn up at the end of the next aisle. Cars crash, and people die when it happens. Every choice she makes, every step she takes, is filled with terror, because she knows, now. Life can change in an instant, and there is no guarantee of safety, of peace, of a happy ending.
Maddie has been returned to her and Eileen is grateful for that every second of every day, but she knows now. She knows that Maddie's homecoming was not the end of the story; Maddie is not safe, now, not really. The list of things Eileen fears has grown exponentially. It's not just the fear that someone else might take her child, hurt her child; now Eileen is afraid that Maddie may hurt herself. Sometimes she looks at her daughter and does not recognize the baleful eyes that stare back at her. There is darkness growing like a weed in her daughter's heart, and she is trying to cut it out, trying to restore some of Maddie's innocence, some of her faith in the world, but how can Eileen teach Maddie to be brave, to open her arms to life and all it has to offer her, when Eileen is so afraid herself? When Maddie knows, as Eileen knows, that the world is full of horror?
The fear is overwhelming, sometimes. So heavy that it pins Eileen to her bed, traps her there, makes it impossible to move. Sometimes she shakes with it; sometimes she thinks she'd like to keep her family safe in their apartment for the rest of time. Peter works from home now, they can get groceries delivered, there's no need, a terrified voice whispers deep in her heart, to venture outside. She can keep the ones she loves close. She can protect them.
Only that isn't protection, not really. Hiding out in the apartment forever, that's not living. She wants Maddie to finish school, to go to college, to make friends, fall in love, be happy, and Maddie cannot do those things from the safety of her bedroom. Maddie must be brave enough to step out the front door. And Eileen knows that means she must model that same courage for her daughter. Eileen cannot give up; Maddie will be doomed if she does.
That's why she's here. Even though she's afraid, even though every sound makes her jump, even though she wants to scream every time a stranger passes a little too close to her, Eileen has forced herself to go outside, to do the grocery shopping herself. It's devastating, really, how something so simple, something she used to do all the time without thought, feels like going to war now, but it does. It feels like a fight, like a battle, just to go and get food for her family, but it is a battle she means to win. She pushes her cart through the aisles, and checks her list, and tries to ignore the hammering of her heart in her chest.
What would make her stand out more, she wonders, to keep her eyes on the floor and ignore her fellow shoppers, or to hold her head up and make eye contact? What's normal, in this circumstance? How did she do it before? She doesn't remember. It wasn't something she thought about, before.
She rounds a corner, makes her way down the cereal aisle. Maddie is picky these days; she used to eat anything her mother put in front of her, and now she sometimes doesn't want to eat at all. But Lucky Charms seem to be ok; she'll eat that on bad days, if nothing else. Eileen tries to keep it in stock. It's not exactly nutritious, but at least it's something.
There's a big man blocking her way, though. He's staring at the granola, frowning. When she spots him, when she realizes she must either speak to him or wait for him to move, her feet itch to run. The guy seems huge; probably he's six feet tall, or thereabouts, not exactly monstrous, but his shoulders are broad and his body is heavy with muscle and his head is bald, shiny with the glare of the fluorescents bouncing off it, and he has a bushy beard. Eileen has always preferred a clean shaven man, and on this man the beard makes him look dangerous. Alarm bells are ringing in her head; it may be risky to draw too close to him. He looks like the goddamn Unabomber.
But the point of coming out here today, the whole reason she's even standing in this store, is that she does not want to let herself be ruled by fear. This guy, he's not a demon; he's just a man shopping for granola. How dangerous can he be, really?
There is a steady stream of people coming down the other side of the aisle, and this big guy is blocking her way, and she wants to get cereal for her daughter. She does not want to be afraid.
"Excuse me," she forces herself to say. Her voice is too soft, too timid, and she hates it, but the guy hears her. His head turns towards her on reflex, and she sees that above that salt-and-pepper beard his eyes are blue, and kind.
"Sorry," he says gruffly, and then he turns, flattens himself back against the shelves so she can pass. He doesn't have a cart, just a basket dangling off his arm; he's just shopping for himself, not for a family. She thinks that's kinda sad.
"Thank you," she says, and begins to push by him. She does not look at him, just keeps her eyes straight ahead, fixed on her goal, but the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she goes. It feels like he's staring at her. Like that stare is a physical touch, ghosting over her face, her shoulder, her back. You're imagining things, she tells herself. The guy isn't staring at her; why would he be? She is the most unremarkable thing in the world, a mother out shopping for groceries, and he's preoccupied with his granola.
Isn't he?
"Excuse me," he says suddenly; there's no reason for her to think that he's talking to her, no reason for him to try to get her attention when she's already passed him by. Probably he's talking to someone else, but she can't see what's going on behind her. So she turns to look, anyway, her head moving sharply, the breath catching in her throat when she finds the big man staring right at her.
"I don't want to bother you," he says. "But…are you Eileen Flynn?"
This is a first. While Maddie was missing Eileen and Peter's faces were splashed all over the news as they pleaded for their daughter's safe return, and for a while there every time she stepped outside she expected to be accosted by strangers who recognized her face from the TV. That never happened, though. No one ever stopped her on the street, apart from the reporters who camped outside her door for the first few days. Her own friends didn't talk to her about it, about what they saw on the news; they don't talk to her about much of anything, even now that Maddie's home. They don't know what to say, and Eileen can't really blame them for that. She doesn't know what to say, either.
But this guy, he recognized her. Months after she was last on the news, he saw her face for a fraction of a second in the grocery store, and immediately knew her name, and that terrifies her. What kind of man would've watched this story unfold so closely, would've studied her face until he memorized it? And what does he want? For a second she just stares at him, mouth open in horror, unable to speak, frozen in a moment that feels surreal, and frightening, but he must see it, the terror on her face, because he moves to assuage her fears at once.
"I'm sorry," he says, and then he reaches under his jacket, and pulls out a policeman's badge, and Eileen relaxes, just a little. He's not a true crime freak; he's a cop. He might even have been involved in the search for Maddie. He might be a friend. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's all right," she says. Everything scares her these days; it's not his fault. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. Were you…did you work the case?"
That's how the cops talk about it, about what happened to Maddie. It was just another case, to them. Well, to most of them. It was more than just another case to Olivia, and Eileen knows it. Olivia has become a true friend; she fought like hell to bring Maddie home and she has stood by the family in the aftermath. Maddie wasn't a number to Olivia; Olivia cared, still cares, and Eileen knows it. She doesn't know why, doesn't know why Captain Benson, who must have investigated countless kidnappings, took this one so personally, but she's grateful for the woman's steadfast support. Without it she thinks all three of them would be dead by now, her and Maddie and Peter. Olivia saved them all, in more ways than one.
"Uh…no," the man says. "But I know the woman who gave you that necklace."
He gestures vaguely to the compass around Eileen's neck, and she reaches for it instinctively, turns it between her fingers. She's worn it every day since Olivia gave it to her. Tried to draw strength from it, tried to let it remind her of where she's going, and not where she's been. It's helped, having something to hold on to, something real, something she can touch, to remind her that she isn't alone, that someone cares for her, that there is someone she can call when she is feeling lost, that the journey isn't over yet, not by half.
Eileen knows what the compass means to her, but she thinks it's a strange thing for a man to notice. Peter loves her, she knows he does, and he sees her every day but she's not sure he could pick the necklace out of a crowd. This man, he says he knows Olivia, but he recognizes her jewelry, and that seems unusual, and Eileen thinks that means something. She's just not sure what, not yet.
"I…uh…I'm the one who bought it," he explains, running his hand over the back of his head like he's embarrassed.
That is interesting. Eileen's fear is forgotten for the moment; instead she's only curious, and powerfully so.
She's been wondering about Olivia for a while, now. In the beginning, in the early days after Maddie disappeared, she didn't wonder about Olivia at all. Olivia wasn't a person to her, not really; Olivia was a cop, a symbol of hope, just one piece of the endlessly churning machinery that Eileen prayed would bring Maddie home. The only thing Eileen could think about was her daughter; where was Maddie, what was happening to her, what if they never found her? And then Peter tried to kill himself and lost his job and she was worried about bills, worried that her child was dead in a ditch somewhere, worried that she would die herself when she finally learned the truth. And then Maddie was home, addicted and scared and vacant behind the eyes. There was no reason for Eileen to think of Olivia at all, except to wonder if she had any news about the case.
But it's been a few months now, and things are settling down a little, and Olivia has become a friend, and Eileen does wonder, sometimes. There are photos of a dark haired little boy who looks just like Olivia on her desk at work, but Olivia has never mentioned her child to Eileen. Eileen doesn't know where the boy came from, who his father is, doesn't know who - or what - Olivia goes home to at the end of a long day. She doesn't know why Maddie's case touched Olivia's heart so deeply, doesn't know what Olivia sees in their family that makes her want to sacrifice her precious free time to help them, keep them company, doesn't know why Olivia chose her to receive the necklace. And she didn't know, before now, how Olivia came to possess the compass in the first place. Didn't even really think to ask; why would she? It's just a necklace, Eileen's got more than twenty of her own and only a couple of them have any sentimental value, and she wouldn't give those away.
Only now she knows it was a gift. Now she knows that a tall man, a strong man, a handsome man - or he would be handsome, without that beard - gave that necklace to Olivia, and she wonders why.
She also feels suddenly, terribly guilty. The necklace is expensive; Eileen didn't realize when Olivia first gave it to her, but it's solid gold, not painted nickel, and the little stones inside the compass are diamonds, not glass. It must have cost a fortune and for that reason alone Eileen has resolved to return it to Olivia before the year is out. It is too precious to keep, and now that she knows that someone else bought it, someone else gave it to Olivia, it feels more precious still. The compass was not meant for her; she feels like a thief.
"I'm sorry," she stutters. "I didn't…I don't know why she gave it to me. I didn't take it."
She'll take it off right now, if he asks her to. If he's the one who bought it, then isn't he the one who ought to decide who wears it? He spent thousands of dollars to buy a necklace for a woman he knows - a woman he must care for, she thinks, and that is very interesting - and now he's looking at it on the neck of a stranger. He doesn't seem angry, though; beneath that bushy beard he smiles at her.
"She gave it to you because you needed it," he says simply.
This has gotten me through some tough times, that's what Olivia said. Eileen doesn't know what that means, doesn't know when Olivia received the necklace or what happened to her after, but she knows that Olivia needed it. Whatever happened, whatever dark roads she traveled, Olivia once needed help finding her way, as Eileen needs it now. And this man gave Olivia a compass, to guide her home. She wonders if that was his intent, if he knew Olivia was lost, or if it was Olivia herself who imbued the compass with meaning.
"She's been a godsend," Eileen confesses. "I don't know what would've happened to us without her. She's been so generous and I don't know how we'll ever repay her."
Olivia has given so much of herself to Eileen's family, it's mind boggling, sometimes. The singular horror Eileen's family endured is Olivia's whole life; every day she is faced with people who are going through unimaginable struggles. There's no way Olivia gives so much of herself to every victim who crosses her path; there aren't enough hours in the day, isn't enough Olivia to go around. She must have seen something in them, Eileen thinks. There must have been something different about them, about their family, about Maddie, to make Olivia care so much, but she doesn't know what that something is. She's grateful for it, but she still wonders, sometimes. Why them? Why her? What did she do, to deserve such grace? Did she do anything at all, or did Olivia choose this family for some personal reason Eileen can't begin to guess at?
"You live," the man says with a shrug. "That's how you repay her. You live your lives, and don't let what happened to you hold you back."
It's strange, she thinks, how cavalier he is about seeing his necklace in the possession of a stranger. How he isn't angry, or confused, but seems to understand Olivia's choice, to support it. Eileen doesn't fully understand that choice herself, but this man whose name she does not know seems so certain in the face of her doubt. He must know Olivia well, she thinks, to speak with such confidence about her desires, about her intentions. His words echo Olivia's, as if he knows what it is she wants, as if he can speak with some authority on the subject. Maybe he can; he must know her well, if he gave her this necklace.
How well, though?
Is this the sort of man Olivia might love? Big and gruff, he looks more like a biker than a cop. He looks rough, stern and tough and a little scary, but his eyes are warm. Olivia seems so elegant, so polished; would she give her heart to a dangerous man? Maybe, Eileen thinks, maybe he isn't as dangerous as he looks. Or maybe he is, but there is more to him than the things that scare her. There is compassion in him, in the way he speaks to her, the way he looks at her. There is a selflessness in his acceptance of Olivia's choice; it does not wound his pride, knowing she gave his gift away. Maybe his strength is not a weapon; maybe it's a shield. And maybe that's what Olivia needs. Olivia has protected Eileen's family, but someone has to protect her, too, right? Maybe he's the one who does.
"We're trying," she says, because she knows that she must speak, does not want to appear ungrateful for his kindness.
"I hope you find your way," he says.
It sounds like a goodbye, like he's preparing to part from her, but Eileen still has so many questions.
"Did Olivia?" she asks.
Eileen knows how she lost her way. She knows the path she's stumbling down, knows the fork in the road that changed everything for her. What happened to Olivia? What questions has she been trying to answer? Is she on the right road now, or is she still lost in shadow?
"Yeah," the man says, and there is something in his eyes like pride, something like happiness. Like he knew where Olivia was going, like he knows where she's been, like he's certain the compass has done its job for Olivia, and led her out into the sunlight. "She found her way home."
But where is her home? Is it with this man? Eileen thinks it must be. The brightness in his eyes; he is almost joyful, when he speaks of Olivia, of her home. Maybe he's her boy's father; maybe their marriage hit a rough patch, and he gave her the necklace to help her find her way back to him. All the more reason for Eileen to give the necklace back, she thinks; it means something to Olivia, and Eileen wants her to have it back. Wants Olivia to be able to wear this necklace once more, and think of the man who gave it to her, and how he loves her. Eileen wants Olivia to wear the necklace and know that the Flynns have found their way home, too.
"Good," she says. If anyone deserves love, and happiness, and a place to call home, it's Olivia.
"Take care of yourself, Mrs. Flynn," the big man says, shifting on his feet, clearly preparing to depart.
"You, too," she tells him, and then he turns away, and disappears down the aisle. He has things to do, and so does she, and there is a quiet sort of respect in him choosing not to hold her up any longer, letting her go without demanding anything too personal from her. Too late she realizes she never even learned his name; he was just there, and gone. Like an angel, she thinks. Oh, he doesn't look like an angel, but in a moment when she was scared, and feeling a little lost, he came to her, and offered her a quiet reassurance. You live, that's what he told her, and that's what she means to do.
It's coming on Christmas and everyone is busy, but Olivia makes a little time for Eileen on a Sunday afternoon, meets her at a cafe for coffee and quiet conversation. As always Olivia is eager to learn how the family is doing; she asks about Maddie, of course, but she asks about Eileen and Peter, too. The three of them have been in therapy for months, separately and together, and Eileen feels a little steadier, now. Maddie started at a new school in the fall, and no one there knows what happened to her - and so they do not whisper about her - and she's actually made a few friends. She's started talking about prom in the spring, and Eileen is quietly hopeful that her daughter is going to be all right. Eileen and Peter, they're all right, too. He's started reaching for her again, holding her, and his smiles come more easily, and leaving their home no longer fills her heart with dread. She is watchful, still, and wary - if Maddie does go to prom Eileen is considering volunteering to be a chaperone - but she has found something like peace, and she is grateful for it.
"I have something for you," she tells Olivia, and pulls a little box out of her purse.
"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Olivia says at once. Her protest is not perfunctory; she actually looks like she feels guilty. They are not exactly the presents-at-Christmas-time kind of friends, and she knows Olivia doesn't have anything for her, but Olivia has already given her so much, and Eileen is not giving her this gift with the expectation of receiving anything in return.
"Actually, I did," she says, handing off the box. "Please, open it."
Olivia does; she peels back the wrapping paper slowly to reveal a small jewelry box, and when she lifts the top she discovers the compass necklace inside, and smiles.
You can return it whenever you want, that's what Olivia told her, and Eileen wants to return it now. Things are changing; her family is whole, and well. The year is drawing to an end, and she is looking to the future with hope, and it's time, she thinks. It's time to let go of her grief and her doubt. The compass has been a guide, but it has been a reminder, too, and she doesn't think she needs it, anymore. She knows where she's going.
And besides, it's Christmas. It is a time for giving gifts, a time for family, a time for love, and Olivia deserves this, she thinks. Olivia and her man, whoever he is, they deserve to have this piece of their story returned to them.
"I take it this means you found your way?" Olivia says, and though she is smiling there is still a little bit of doubt in her dark eyes.
"I did," Eileen says earnestly. "With your help, we all did."
"I'm glad," Olivia tells her, reaching out to cover Eileen's hand with her own for a moment, warm and gentle as she has always been.
"I just…I have to ask," Eileen begins. She's been wanting to ask this question for months, but hasn't worked up the nerve. It seems too delicate, inquiring about Olivia's personal life, but if they are to be friends Eileen thinks she ought to support Olivia, as much as Olivia supports her. Well, maybe not that much - she's not sure she could ever be as selfless, as compassionate as Olivia - but close. Friendship is a two-way street, and it's been running in her direction for too long now. She wants to reflect some of that care back at Olivia.
"Why us?"
There are many things she wants to know, but that's at the top of the list. Why did Olivia choose her family? In the beginning she would've said it was just guilt, just that Olivia felt responsible in some way for not saving Maddie sooner, but Olivia has stuck by them long after any debt she owed them was paid, and Eileen wants to know why.
"You needed me," Olivia says. It is a deflection, an evasion; every person who crosses her path needs something from her.
"But that's not the only reason, is it?"
"No," Olivia confesses, clearly realizing that Eileen doesn't intend to let this go. "I…I needed to find Maddie. I've seen too many lost kids over the years, and I just…I couldn't lose another." As she speaks she looks down at the table, runs her fingertip along the rim of her mug and draws into herself, just a little, her posture one of shame. "And I needed…I needed to do something right. It was a hard time, and I felt like everyone was questioning my judgment. I was questioning my judgment. I needed proof that I could trust my instincts."
It isn't what Eileen expected to hear; really, she doesn't know what she expected, but she didn't think before now that Olivia chose them just because she needed a win. In Eileen's mind Olivia has always been so selfless, so righteous, but it seems her reasoning wasn't entirely altruistic. Whatever the Flynns needed from Captain Benson, it seems she needed something from them, too. Eileen isn't sure how to feel about that.
"And then after we brought her home, I…I knew I needed to help you, because I knew how. I…I've been where you are, Eileen."
"I can't imagine how many families you must have helped over the years," Eileen says. She doesn't know how Olivia does it, how she can possibly endure this kind of grief, over and over again, see so many people hurting, so many shattered hearts, and keep going. But all those experiences, they've given her the knowledge and the skills to save other people, and that's beautiful, really. The way Olivia can turn pain into a salve.
"No," Olivia says sadly. "I mean I've been where you are. My son was kidnapped, when he was little."
"Oh my god," Eileen breathes in horror.
When Maddie was taken, Eileen felt so alone. She didn't know anyone who'd lost a child that way, didn't have anyone to turn to. Sometimes she felt like the only mother in the world who'd ever lost a child. This thing that happened, this awful, terrible thing, it felt like hers. Her unique grief, her personal suffering. Of course she never imagined, even for a moment, that Olivia had lost a child herself; Olivia never mentioned it, never even told Eileen her son's name. The truth is dark, and painful, and something like shame surges in Eileen's heart; how could she have been so selfish, she wonders; how could she not see that she was not the only woman in the world who was suffering?
"He was taken from a store, while he was shopping with his grandmother," Olivia explains. "I…I almost lost him, and that was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I've been where you are, Eileen. And I've…I've been where Maddie is, too."
When Eileen asked her question she expected Olivia to demur. Expected Olivia to be vague, to just talk about how badly the Flynns needed help, how wrong it was that Maddie, who was a sweet, gentle kid who'd never hurt anybody in her whole life, should be made to suffer. She did not expect Olivia's confession about her son, and she damn sure didn't expect this. Maddie was kidnapped, drugged, sexually assaulted; how can Olivia have been there? How can Olivia herself have faced such horror? Olivia seems so strong, so resolute, powerful and brave; Maddie is a child. It doesn't make any sense.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't…I didn't know."
Didn't know, and didn't think to ask, before now, about Olivia's life, about where she's been. Olivia is beautiful, always well put-together and elegantly styled, and Eileen never saw it in her before. The grief. She sees it now, though. Behind Olivia's eyes there is a sadness Eileen has only ever before seen in Maddie. In one who knows.
"I didn't tell you," Olivia forgives her at once for her self-centered ignorance. "Because your journey, it's not about me. I wanted to help you find your way, and I knew I could, because I've been down that road myself."
What did it look like for Olivia? That's what Eileen wants to know now, and her throat is tight, choking on questions she's not allowed to ask. Who took you and what did he do to you and just how bad was it, really, and did you ever get over it? The rules of polite conversation and their own delicate friendship won't permit Eileen to be nosy now, but her mind is racing and that feels worse, somehow. Worse, because Eileen knows what was done to Maddie. How that man touched her, got her hooked on drugs and put his hands on her and twisted her heart around until she began to wonder if maybe she'd wanted it; did that happen to Olivia, too?
Christ, maybe Eileen doesn't want to know the truth, after all.
"I'm just…I'm so sorry, Olivia. We relied on you so much and we never knew…"
Never knew what they were taking from her. Never knew what memories, what emotions the sight of their daughter, shaking and terrified and shattered, stirred up in Olivia's heart. The therapist, the one that's been helping Maddie process her trauma, Olivia was the one who recommended her and all this time Eileen figured Olivia encountered the woman in the course of her work but what if that's not true? What if Olivia took Maddie to that place because Olivia relied on the woman's help herself? Just how much of her self has Olivia given to them?
"It's all right," Olivia says gently, magnanimous as ever. "You didn't need to know, not really. I just wanted to help."
"And you did. I think more than you know." It is important to Eileen that Olivia know how much she's helped. That Olivia knows all her efforts, all her sacrifice, the furious way she fought for the Flynns and all the pieces of herself she's handed over to them, that she knows it helped. It's important to Eileen that Olivia knows it was worth it.
There is another question Eileen means to ask her. A question that's been poking at her for months now, ever time she put the compass on. A question she wasn't sure she had the right to ask before, a question she feels she must ask now. This, what they're doing right now, this conversation, these revelations, it's about friendship, about Eileen leveling the playing field between them, because she knows that if the choice is up to Olivia, the Captain will continue to speak only of the Flynns and never of herself, and Eileen is beginning to think Olivia needs to talk about it, about her own journey, her own heart. Whatever else she is, Olivia is a woman, and a woman needs a friend she can talk to. Eileen wants to be that, for her. And if Eileen is to be Olivia's friend, she knows she must be the one to break down the walls of professionalism that stand between them.
"I have to confess something," she says. "I met someone, a few months ago. I was at Whole Foods and I just ran into him in the cereal aisle. The man who gave you the necklace."
The shock that washes over Olivia is immediate, and profound. Her mouth drops open and her cheeks turn pink, and what is that about Eileen wonders. Why should Olivia appear so embarrassed at the mention of her man? He seemed nice enough, in the store, and Olivia has mentioned her son and the boy must have come from somewhere, and Olivia has met Eileen's man, and there's nothing strange at all about two women, talking about the men they care for, but Olivia looks caught out, like a little kid with her hand in the candy jar.
"You met Elliot?"
Elliot. It's a nice name, and Eileen is glad to know it now.
"I didn't get his name," she says. "But he was…he was very kind to me. He didn't seem to mind that you'd given the necklace away."
Seemed to approve of it, in fact, and that, Eileen thinks, must mean that he and Olivia have more in common than their jobs. The same selflessness, the same furious desire to protect and comfort the suffering that compelled Olivia to remove the compass from her own neck, her man must feel it, too, or at least understand it. Whatever Olivia went through before, whatever it was the made her identify so deeply with Maddie's trauma, maybe Elliot knows about that, too. Would have to, wouldn't he, if he cares for Olivia? Did Olivia tell him about it, Eileen wonders; late at night, when Olivia finally crawled into bed, exhausted after another long day of fruitlessly searching for Maddie, did she curl into her man's embrace and tell him how much it hurt her? Did he run his hand over her hair and listen to the outpouring of her grief and pray that God would take this suffering from her?
"He used to work SVU," Olivia explains. "He knew what you were going through and he wanted to help you, too."
In her head Eileen is certain that Elliot and Olivia are in love. That they are together, bound to one another; the necklace is not the kind of gift a man would give to a friend. But Olivia does not speak of him as a lover; she speaks only of his job.
"And he wanted to help you, didn't he?"
Maybe she's being too nosy. Olivia pulls back when Eileen asks her question, winds her hands together in her lap and presses her spine straight against the back of her chair. It's hard to know where the line is, with Olivia; with her other friends, Eileen knows she can say just about anything to them. Those friends, Eileen's known them for years, and they talk about their lives easily, without shame. Or, mostly, it's easy. They don't talk about what happened to Maddie. But their men? Their relationships? Sometimes that's all they talk about. But Olivia isn't an old friend, isn't someone Eileen met at a crafting class or in the school pickup line. Their paths crossed under unthinkable circumstances and Olivia is still, will always be, the cop who worked Maddie's case. Not just another mom, just another friend; their relationship feels colored, still, by the imbalance of power between them. Maybe it always will be. Maybe Eileen was foolish to think they could ever truly be friends; maybe they're just friendly. There's a difference.
"I'm sorry," Eileen says. "I shouldn't pry."
"No, no," Olivia says, giving her head a little shake. "You're just trying to be friendly. I think."
"I am," Eileen tells her earnestly. "I just…I want us to be friends, Olivia. You don't have to make everything about me all the time. It'd be nice if we could just…share."
But maybe that's silly. Eileen doesn't know anything about Olivia's personal life, not really. Maybe Olivia already has enough friends. Real friends, true friends, not victims she had to rescue but people who are her equals, who know her story and do not have to claw it out of her with their fingernails. Maybe Olivia's reticence to talk isn't just how she is; maybe it's how she is with people who aren't actually a part of her life. Maybe Eileen's got this whole friendship thing wrong.
"I'd like that," Olivia confesses. "I'm just…I'm not very good at sharing."
"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable -"
"He did want to help me," Olivia says sharply, quickly, like she's decided to just rip the Band-Aid off and tell the truth before her doubts get the better of her. "He knew I…there's…a lot of things are changing for me, right now. And I was - am, I guess - a little…scared of that change. And the necklace…" When she mentions it her gaze drops down to the little box on the tabletop, to the compass glinting back at her, and the smallest of smiles tugs at the corner of her soft mouth. "He wanted to help me find my way through."
"And you did?"
"I did," Olivia says. "Things are changing, but…change isn't always a bad thing."
That's true, Eileen thinks. Things are changing for her family, too. Changing for the better. The future looks brighter now than it did six months ago. Maybe Olivia feels the same way.
"He's cute," Eileen observes slyly, and watches as Olivia's face flushes bright red.
"And he's got good taste in jewelry."
"That's new," Olivia tells her drily. "I used to…" her voice fades out, and she tugs absently at her blazer.
"Used to…" Eileen prompts her. She was starting to feel like maybe they were out of the weeds, like maybe the tenor of the conversation was growing lighter, but Olivia has swung with dizzying speed from bashful to sorrowful, and Eileen doesn't understand it.
"I used to buy his wife's birthday presents for him," Olivia says. "He was hopeless, he never knew what to get."
Well, shit. So much for the daydream of Elliot and Olivia as lovers; the man has a wife, and that wife is not Olivia, and that's just sad, Eileen thinks. Maybe Olivia is more alone than Eileen ever realized.
"She's lucky he had you, then," Eileen says, and immediately regrets it. The look in Olivia's eyes is so remorseful that a new possibility presents itself to Eileen. A new and unpleasant one. This man, Elliot, he used to be SVU and Olivia used to buy his wife's birthday presents. He doesn't work with Olivia anymore, but he went out and purchased a beautiful gift for Olivia on his own. Hopeless when it came to his wife, and yet he knew precisely what Olivia needed? Eileen can almost see it, like sunlight glinting off the tangled strands of a spider's web.
"It was a long time ago," Olivia says, quietly, as if she's speaking to herself. "She's…she's gone, now. Died a few years ago."
It might be wrong but Eileen's first thought upon learning that Elliot's mysterious wife is dead is thank God. If the woman is dead, then Elliot can't be an adulterer, and Eileen doesn't have to do any moral gymnastics over Olivia's relationship with him, and Eileen's friendship with her. Almost immediately she feels guilty for even thinking such a thing, though, because she remembers Elliot, alone in the Whole Foods, with his little basket, his bag of granola, shopping for one. The quiet tragedy of the too-short grocery list.
"That's…that's one of the things that's changing," Olivia confesses.
Old friends, she thinks. They're old friends, Elliot and Olivia, always only friends - shit, she really hopes they were only ever friends, because she's never really approved of cheating - and now his wife is dead, has been dead for a few years, and the door is open, and Elliot is buying jewelry for Olivia. Picking it out himself. Maybe there's a happy ending here. The two of them lonely, the two of them caring for one another for years, maybe there's a chance that their story ends in peace, as Eileen so fervently prays Maddie's will.
The day Maddie was taken Eileen learned the truth about the world. Began to see it for herself, perhaps for the first time, in all its wild chaos, all its grief and glory. The unthinkable happens every day, and some stories do not have happy endings, but some do. She can see it, looking at Olivia now. Can see a story fraught with sorrow, and the glimmering, hopeful light of a happy ending. Maybe they'll find it, maybe they won't. Nothing is guaranteed.
But it's Christmas, and Eileen wants, very much, to believe in the enduring power of love. Wasn't it love that saved Maddie in the first place? Olivia's love for a girl she'd never met, her unwavering devotion to that girl even after she was brought home safe? That love, it is vast, big enough to encompass every life Olivia has ever touched. Maybe it'll be big enough to save Olivia, too.
"I hope it's a good change," Eileen says.
"Yeah," Olivia agrees. "I hope so, too."
They talk awhile longer. Not about the big man in the grocery store, not about his kind blue eyes or his huge hands or his dead wife. Not about Olivia's boy, and where he came from, and what happened to him when he was taken. Not about the man who hurt Olivia, not about the shape of that hurt or the scars it left on her heart. They talk about Christmas, about presents and schools, about kids and college fees. They talk as friends do, and word by word Eileen can feel the bridge they're building between them. This is how it happens, she thinks. This is how it begins. Piece by piece, board by board, a friendship is built on truth, and kindness, and they share as much of both as they can in that little cafe, Christmas carols playing softly in the background. One day, maybe, she'll know everything. One day maybe she'll know about Olivia's man, about what drew a polished, professional woman to a gruff, bearded man who looks like a bare knuckle boxer. One day maybe she'll tease Olivia about him, and one day Olivia will tease her about the rodeo rider she dated when she was eighteen.
Before they leave Olivia clasps the necklace once more around her neck, and smiles when she does it. Before they leave Olivia hugs Eileen, a little tighter than she ever has before.
Things are changing, and that's no bad thing.