Old cases had been running through her mind for several days, no rhyme or reason why. Every case she had ever worked involving a child followed her around, but each one started to rise up inside of her like smoke, reuniting her with the low and quiet burning inside of her that came with every child case.
Maria Recinos. How had a nine-year-old victim manage to catch her off guard?
"Do you have children, Olivia?" her sweet and innocent little voice asked. A girl trapped in a room, completely emaciated from the lack of food or water, yet she cared enough to ask Olivia about her life. A little girl who had been to hell and back somehow asked her the most important question she had ever been asked in her entire life. She was just a child herself, children didn't usually ask those questions. Maria was special though, and Olivia swore she had felt her breath hitch in her chest when the question was asked.
"No," she had responded, hearing her heart physically breaking as the words left her lips.
"Don't you like them?" Maria had asked, sounding almost fearful that the one person on Earth who didn't have a doubt in her mind that she was a real girl in real trouble, might not even like children. She had continued the call despite Munch and Cragen continuously trying to convince her that it was a prank... and the innocence on the other line was so close to being afraid of something that was the least of her problems... whether or not the woman who was about to save her life even liked children.
"I love them. I would love to have a child." Olivia had answered almost too quickly.
"You wouldn't send her away, would you? Like my mother sent me?"
Dear God, no. Every joint that held her ribcage together burned at the thought. She had seen mothers sell their children for a Benjamin and a half a pack of menthol lights. She had seen girls no older than twelve working corners while their parents shot up and wandered off.
When her own self-consciousness started to take over, she tried to remember that. No matter how bad her genes were, half drunk and half rapist, seeing those children convinced her that she could never ever be that bad of a parent. No matter what, genetics would never have that much say in how she raised a child.
She loved children. She had been chasing motherhood for much longer than she'd ever hoped to.
Elliot had never failed to subtly instill his confidence in her over the topic of parenthood. Even when he was an ass who took his children for granted and called her out on their differing opinions about children, he never once made her feel as if she'd be a bad mother. Instead, he'd made eye contact, ice blue against dark brown, and spoke straight from his lungs with a passion she had never seen. "You're gonna make a great mother someday."
The certainty in his voice had always seemed to soothe her like calamine on a burn. It was a big statement coming from a family man such as himself. Sure, his marriage fell apart and he had some problems with his kids. But it was the fiery passion in his heart for his children that spoke for him instead. If Elliot Stabler, the man who would tear apart Hell for his children, believed she could be a good parent, she believed him. She believed only him. Hell, she'd believe him before she'd ever believe herself.
Those old cases, they were leading her down the yellow brick road, forcing her to finally answer the questions she had been asking herself for ages.
She feels so far away from herself. It was a feeling she was becoming all too familiar with.
Her fist was back, knocking on another door. An address forever ingrained into her mind. The doorstep where she saw one of the most disappointing cases come to fruition. She had more important people to make aware of her condition, but this time, she had walked with less of a barrier stopping her.
It was the first time something felt somewhat right in almost two weeks.
She waited for a moment, feeling an eternity filling the void of silence until the sound of light footsteps picked up from the other side of the door.
She felt horrible for doing this; for rehashing the past. But if she were going to do something for herself for once, this was where to start. She was where to start..
"Detective... Benson?" a quiet and somewhat shocked voice asked as the door opened. Eva Sintzel, one of the most gut-wrenching victims that Olivia had ever connected to. She hadn't seen her since the cryotank had been returned, devastatingly empty. She'd watch the last bits of color drain from the woman's face as she wordlessly delivered the news.
The case crossed her mind from time to time, even more so when she couldn't stop thinking about how badly she longed to start a family. All of those people, losing one last shot at everything they've ever wanted. But Eva had always stuck with her mentally. A woman who had been through hell and back. Married to the job and got so caught up in it until the diagnosis of cancer had brought it all to a halt. A round of IVF to freeze her eggs before chemo would destroy the possibility of ever having biological children. All for nothing.
She'd be lying if she said she hadn't had a nightmare or two about it.
"Hi, Eva." Olivia gulped, looking away from the woman in front of her, whose eyes were as wide as saucers from confusion. Maybe she hadn't thought it through. Maybe it felt right because everything else in her life felt so wrong. Things she recognized as a comfort were now painful. Places to escape to were becoming places to escape from. If this was a mistake, she really fucking stepped in it.
"Olivia, it's uh... it's nice to see you. Are you alright?" the softness of the British tone warmed Olivia's skin, and so did the lack of conviction the same voice had once held.
No.
No, she wasn't okay.
Not really.
She was living in a breach of ethics. Standing on the doorstep of a prior victim of a case she had handled for personal reasons? IAB would have a field day with her if word got out. But somewhere deep within her, a switch had been flicked. She couldn't have cared, even if she tried. She loved her career, but she had finally reached a point where a desire outweighed the job. A point that would be a no-brainer to others, but one in every handful of cops would understand.
She couldn't be married to the job anymore.
Olivia audibly exhaled, the situation sitting heavily on her chest. "Uh... I-I guess I don't know. No, no I'm not. I know this is strange, probably extremely unprofessional and downright invasive but I need help and you're the only person I can think of who has experience here, and I just really need to talk to you."
Her words went a mile a minute until Eva's face dropped. She hadn't needed to spell it out or dance around it. It was the slump in her shoulders, the silent fear in her eyes. Eva knew just by looking at her more than words could ever say. Wordlessly, she opened the door and motioned for Olivia to come in.
As she sheepishly walked through the door, another hurricane of thoughts begun to fill her head. Everything that felt so right suddenly felt so beyond wrong, she could barely breathe. The thoughts came in different voices, Elliot's, Cragen's, hell, even Tucker's. All of them telling her how she was royally messing up. Ethics were out the window and the world was shifting on its axis because the savior was crying on the victim's shoulder.
"Can I get you anything?" Eva asked from behind her. "Coffee? Tea? Water?"
Gracious host. Maybe there wasn't as much bad blood as Olivia had once thought. Even if there were, she knew she deserved it. Accusing someone who had just lost everything of shooting a man in cold blood... thin ice.
"No, thank you though." she took a few more steps, unaware of which direction to go in. She'd waded in the waters of crossing a line, but she had never swum out so far beyond shore. Eva led her over to the quaint little living room, offering her a chair which she instantly took given that her head was spinning so hard she was ready to faint.
A thickened moment of silence hung over the two of them as they made themselves comfortable. Hell was freezing over, she was sure of it. There were at least a hundred more equipped people who could help her in New York alone.
"So," Eva spoke first. "What stage?" she asked as simply as could be. A conversation to be had over finger sandwiches and lemonade, as if they were picking out fucking drapes.
This was her life now. If she wasn't going to wake up from this like she would from a bad dream, then it was time to break herself into the new and redefined attitude of others who were patients.
"Stage III invasive ductal carcinoma," she answered, still choking on the words just as she did every single time she said it.
"I'm so sorry, Olivia. I truly am." Eva responded. For the first time, it was the perfect response. Not in words, no, she had heard the words from several people already. But her tone, it lifted something off of Olivia's chest. She wasn't being looked at as if she were a ticking bomb, but instead, as a human being. Just a human being. Someone who had survived this path already, no demeaning her or throwing an instantaneous pity party for her. The empathy and understanding radiated off of her.
How could words that were so softly spoken alleviate the alienation she had felt from everyone else?
"I wanna do the treatment. I'm willing to do whatever they recommend. I just..." her words trailed off with no promise of a follow-up. Instead, her throat locked to fight off the impending tears. Goddammit, hadn't she already cried every tear she had left? She bit through her pursed lips, praying to any God that would listen to just give her the strength to fight off the next crying jag.
Treatment was stagnant. Most people would've started as soon as possible. Most patients.
"I just can't... not yet." she finally managed to breathe out.
It went unspoken as to what she meant, but Eva knew. Probably better than anyone. The woman nodded once, her expression still remaining strong but empathetic. "You can't close a door when your foot is still in the doorway. I understand."
A small and breathy sob broke from Olivia's chest. For once, she believed it when someone said they understood. So many people in her life had confused the meaning of understanding and acknowledging. They could only ever acknowledge what she felt, but at least Eva could say that she understood and actually mean it.
"I'm scared." she cried softly. "I don't know if this is even the right choice for me to make. I mean, I barely know where to start. For Christ's sake, I showed up on your damn doorstep, that's the best I can do for 'knowing where to start'."
"And you're scared because if you don't do IVF, you'll lose the chance you've been waiting for forever. And that if you do decide to do it, you'll be prolonging your risk, right?"
Olivia gave the weakest nod she could muster up, her head buried in her hands as her fingers wove through her hair. As she leaned forward against herself, her elbows resting on her knees, she felt a soft and comforting hand reaching for her shoulder.
Whatever prayer she said didn't work, and the tears fell anyway. Her heart ached so deeply in her chest, it actually managed to scare her. Could emotional pain even have that capacity? To sit so far within her and just throb? She wanted to reach inside of her chest and tear the pain out with her own bare hand.
She heard a deep and thoughtful sigh from beside her. Nobody would ever be able to give her a straight answer as to what her best path would be. Everyone was unique, and she hated it. She wanted it in black and white, a solid yes or no. Free-falling wasn't her specialty despite how many times she had been forced into it.
Suddenly, the body next to her was gone and the sound of footsteps echoed through the apartment. Olivia looked up with confusion in her tear eyes, watching as Eva grabbed her purse from the kitchen. She fished out a quarter from the bottom of the bag, bringing it back to the couch with her. "Flip a coin."
"What?" Olivia asked incredulously.
Eva's face stayed adamant, handing her the quarter. "Flip it. Heads, you do IVF. Tails, you don't. Go on."
The small nudge of encouragement was enough to convince her. She exhaled deeply from her chest, flipping the coin against her thumb and catching it against her palm. Her eyes darted over to Eva, a wave of fear crashing into her stomach. No. No way. She couldn't make a decision based on some stupid quarter, even if she did believe in fate and how it works.
"Look at the quarter," she whispered.
Olivia fought back another burning round of tears. With shaking hands and more hesitance than ever, she lifted her hand to reveal the results. The silence stayed thick between them as the metal shined against the light.
"It's uh... it's tails."
"And you're disappointed, yes?"
Olivia nodded as she slightly shrunk into her shoulders.
"There's your answer." Eva gave her a soft smile. "The disappointment is your answer. You made your mind up already, long before you even asked the question. There isn't a flippable quarter or a Magic 8 Ball that can tell you what to do. Only you know what you want and what you think is best, sometimes it just takes a little disappointment of a different outcome to make it apparent."
The smile she saw on Eva's face was hauntingly similar to faces she had seen on Elliot. The slightly cocky and arrogant grin of when he knew he was proving a point. It took a moment, but Eva's point was settling carefully on her shoulders. "So... I do IVF?"
"It's not about what you do, it's about what you don't do. Right now, it seems to me that your gut is telling you not to miss out on an opportunity. Don't let the disappointment win. Don't let that chance slip away, Olivia. Even after everything that happened with my eggs, I don't regret it for a moment. In a way, it gives you more to fight for. An incentive. You don't even know who that egg will turn into, but you know that you're gonna fight like hell to see."