Chapter Text
It felt like the entire scene was happening in a wind tunnel. At first, she could only hear the aftermath of the explosion, the sirens, the chaos, and the frantic calls for a 10-13. Then, she could only hear him, a voice she knew so well she could hear it in her dreams, a guide in her mind at times, but never real, never in person, not for ten years. She couldn't tell, for a moment, if he were real, even seeing him.
She thought he might be a ghost. Maybe he was the one in the car, engulfed by flames. Or maybe she'd been impacted by the blast. Maybe the blast contained mind altering chemicals. That could explain things, but no. He was there, in front of her, and suddenly she was ten years younger, ten years more afraid, ten years angrier. She wasn't sure who she was with him right in front of her anymore.
At the sound of his voice again, it no longer mattered. None of the questions vying for dominance in her head did, none of the undefined but burning emotions did when he said, “It's Kathy. Someone tried to kill Kathy.”
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It was a scene from a movie she was living in the ER while he intermittently paced in the waiting room and sat in a huff with his head in his hands, looking at the floor and trying to breathe while awaiting word on Kathy. It was a movie about her life, or maybe his, but she knew her role. Supporting actress, supportive friend.
It no longer mattered that the hole he left in her life with his abrupt departure ten years prior seared through her and left an ache deeper than any burn that could be inflicted, and she knew a little something about that comparison. It no longer mattered that the hole had been filled, with competence, with confidence, with love, and friendship, and motherhood. She had made herself whole after he had torn her apart, but what mattered now wasn't that. It wasn't who she became. It wasn't all the things she had crawled her way through. It wasn't all the people willing to stand by her side unquestioningly. It was him, again. And it was Kathy.
What was to become of Kathy? Who could survive a blast like that? No one, Olivia suspected, but she hoped Kathy was the one in a million who did. She hoped it for several reasons, the paramount one being that despite ten years of separation, of pain, of questions, relentless questions, she loved him, her old partner, and she did not want to see him suffer this loss. And she loved his family, and she didn't want to see them hurt. And she loved her, at least a little, the woman she had nothing in common with really but her husband. She thought of her as an old friend, and she didn't want to see her die.
Her phone was buzzing off the hook, or it would have been if phones still had such things. When Elliot was seated again, his head lowered to his legs in the chair after being threatened with a call to security by the ER desk clerk, Olivia figured she had a few minutes to answer a call before having to handle him again.
It was Fin. “Where the hell are you, Liv?” He demanded when she answered.
“There was a 10-13,” she said quickly into the phone as she eyed her ex-partner. “I responded.”
“It was your big night, Liv,” Fin shot back. “They're are thirty thousand officers in this city. They could've handled it. Garland is losing his mind.”
“It's Elliot, Fin,” Olivia whispered, “or, it's Kathy. A bomb. Someone bombed their car.”
“What?” Fin replied, adding hastily, “I'm on my way.”
“I didn't even know he was here,” Olivia mused.
“You should've,” Fin asserted, and she thought she detected some anger in his tone. She was glad she wasn't the only one. “You won't be alone with him for long.”
“Can you call Martha?” Olivia asked before Fin hung up. “Tell her to take Noah home, and I'll be late.”
“I'll tell her before I leave,” Fin promised. “They were seated right in front of me.”
“Thanks,” Olivia replied, and before she could even hang up the phone, a doctor came into the waiting room and Elliot's head popped up.
“Stabler,” the man in scrubs said. He looked too young to save anyone. Both she and Elliot approached.
“She's my wife,” Elliot told the young man.
“She's awake. She's stable, but she'll need surgery,” the doctor told Elliot. “You can see her, but the window for it will be short.”
“Thank God,” Elliot sighed. Olivia took out her badge, intent on shoving it in the doctor's face if he tried to stop her from coming back. He didn't.
When they entered the room, Olivia watched Elliot kiss Kathy and brush the hair from her face. Her face was nearly unmarred, a minor miracle, but she knew from experience that what lay under the blankets could tell a very different story indeed.
Kathy smiled at her, and a sense of unreality hit her anew. “I'm sorry I ruined your big ceremony,” she said. Her voice was gravely, strained. She looked vulnerable.
“No, don't,” Olivia said, taking Kathy's hand. “Don't worry about that. Just - get better.”
“It's ok, baby,” Elliot whispered to her, getting close again and kissing her temple. “You'll be ok. You have to be.”
Kathy kept looking at her. “Did you really not talk for ten years?” She asked, and Olivia swallowed hard. She didn't know what to make of the question. Why was that important when she was facing death in a very real way?
“I didn't even know he was back,” Olivia muttered.
“I didn't believe him,” Kathy mused.
“It was true,” Olivia replied, and a look crossed Kathy's face that Olivia couldn't identify. Maybe regret, maybe relief.
“What can you tell me about what happened tonight?” Olivia asked her. She wanted to put on a hat she knew she could wear, forget about the undercurrents between the three of them for the time being, deal with any emotional fallout later, if there was a later for them all. She could take the case. She could solve the case. That she knew, and she would fight for it.
Ten years gone didn't change who she was, who they were. She cared about them, and she was damn good at what she did. Old wounds could be buried until they were all on solid ground, and she'd play her role until then, make the person or people involved in this pay.
Kathy told her little. There was little she remembered, and all too soon the too young doctor came back into the room and told them that they had to take Kathy back. There was internal damage to assess, to fix. As she was rolled out of the room, Elliot gripped her hand, just briefly.
The waiting room was filled when they made their way back. Fin was there with Amanda and Gartland, and Olivia felt just a little bit more stable, just a little bit less alone. Elliot was a vortex, and she was being pulled in, but her world without him still existed. She had to figure out how to have a foot in both.
“I want this case,” she told Garland, and he looked ready to argue.
“Give it to her,” Elliot said, and several pairs of eyes fell on him.
“It's really not proper for the victim of the crime to be involved,” Garland began, but Olivia cut him off.
“I was first on scene,” she argued. “I'm a captain. I've already started the preliminary work.”
“Fine,” Garland sighed. “You can start investigating, but keep it clean. Keep him out of it” He said, regarding Elliot.
Olivia nodded, and before she could start handing out assignments to her team, two more ghosts came through the ER doors. They were older, fully adults now, but unmistakable.
Of the two of them, Kathleen looked the most taken aback as she whispered, “Olivia?”
Dickie stood next to his sister, and Olivia remembered his former hostility towards her, his allegations. He looked guileless just then, only concern about his mother able to be held. With Kathleen, there was something else, something undefinable in her gaze. Suspicion maybe, or guilt, but there was no time for any of it in the scene they were living.
“I'm just here to help,” she told them, and for the moment, it was true.