Chapter Text
Olivia Benson finishes washing the last dish in the sink, lifting the plate from the water and rinsing the bubbles from the delicate flowered pattern before setting it on the drying rack next to the others. She glances down briefly before stepping to the side to slide her hands out of the rubber gloves and lay them over the counter to dry, careful as always not to bump into the person crouched on the floor beside her leg, a finger that is not her own hooked through one of the belt loops of her jeans.
She is used to it by now, this routine that was initially the most bizarre of her life but now seems strangely normal with the passage of time, however heartbreaking it continues to be. Olivia still doesn't know the exact reason this has happened, but after all these weeks has slowly been coming to the conclusion that she may never know and it might always be this way.
It's not that she is giving up and washing her hands of the situation as easily as she has just washed their dinner dishes, but there is a small part of her that wonders if acceptance is the key here; that maybe calming down and finally accepting the circumstances for what they are in the present will be the very thing that allows them revert to what they were in the past.
She certainly hadn't expected her life to change so drastically on that cold winter night; the night she had received the panicked phone call from one of her closest friends and co-workers and everything she knew to be normal was just gone, like it had never even existed in the first place. It had been akin to flipping a switch or snapping her fingers, the change instantaneous as she had entered a totally different way of life; one that she hadn't been prepared for and didn't seem to have much of a say in.
Finally starting to get used to being alone in her apartment after Noah had left for college several months prior, it had taken some adjusting to living with someone full-time again; not just sharing a home but sharing everything - every waking moment consumed with the presence and needs of another person.
Her son was pretty independent by the time he had boarded the plane to take him across the country to his new school, Olivia's heart bursting with a combination of pride and joy and loss, and not since he was a baby has she been this absorbed with the requirements of keeping another human being alive. It's not that her little shadow needs constant reminders to eat and drink and sleep, all the basic necessities of a life; but that Olivia needs to be there for every last thing, no matter how big or small, no matter how important or mundane, never a separation between them.
That had been the biggest adjustment of all; that she was no longer able to move freely about in her own home, engaging in her usual routines without an interruption or an audience. Meals and exercise and television; reading and working and sleeping; even showering and using the toilet, were no longer solo experiences and instead meant to be shared, whether she wanted to or not.
The doctors had said it was a combination of selective mutism and anxious attachment due to trauma, but what that trauma was initially and what it continues to be, Olivia still has no idea. All she knows for sure is that one night she went to bed, her thoughts fixed on what they usually were – how Noah was doing at school, the newest case her squad was working on, the latest gossip at the precinct – and by morning her illusion of normalcy was shattered, the shrill ringing of her phone awakening her shortly after falling asleep and plunging her into a fully conscious nightmare.
Now she shares her couch and her shower and even her bed with someone she never thought she would: someone who had a life before that night; someone with a spouse and children and a job; someone who can no longer be alone for even a moment without having a breakdown; someone who had chosen her above anyone else to be the one that was here for it all, for reasons that she is still unclear on.
Olivia strides to the kitchen light and switches it off with a flick of her wrist, tossing a gentle smile at the person now standing only a few inches away, her ever-faithful companion's eyes meeting her own and a hand that isn't hers tucked into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, snuggled there like a baby bird in its nest. “You want to put an episode or two on before bed?”
Bad reality television is now a part of her routine as well, yet another change in Olivia's life but one that only causes eye rolls of derision rather than massive upheaval. She can admit that it's at least somewhat entertaining, bringing her out of her own dark thoughts and worries for an hour and into other people's chaotic lives, even it if's a chaos that doesn't quite compare to her own.
Olivia heads into the living room, keeping her gaze fixed on the figure attached to her as she shakes out the blanket spread across the top of the couch cushions and prepares to cuddle, knowing she won't be able to just sit here and watch the screen without the usual physical requirements. After barely touching each other for the first couple of decades of their working relationship and the close friendship that had followed, Olivia has now spent more time in this person's embrace than anyone she has ever dated, the clinginess and neediness so out of character that it had literally knocked her off her feet one of the first times it had happened, slender but strong arms wrapped so tightly around her body that her air supply was nearly cut off.
Olivia reaches into her pocket to grasp onto the fingers that are still curled there, giving the warm digits a prompting squeeze, and reminded for the millionth time how much she misses the voice that has disappeared without a trace. "So, what do you say? How about we relax with some shallow, soulless TV before turning in for the night? Does that sound good to you?"
Amanda Rollins nods in response to her questions and even cracks a faint smile in return, but as usual, doesn't say a word.