She knew she was dreaming. She had to be. The air was too crisp, the city too quiet. At first glance, her focus was pulled to the beautiful contrast of the bright blue sky and the vibrant green trees. Her feet were planted firmly on the dewy grass, each blade against her bare skin. She carefully reached her hands out in front of herself, watching the marks of scarred skin fade back to her original complexion.
"You're dreaming, Olivia."
She ignored the voice, continuing to take in her surroundings.
The thin white gown on her body flowed with the breeze, gently wrapping around her legs as the wind blew. Suddenly, she was struck with the sound of music coming a few yards from behind her. It was drifting through the atmosphere like a lullaby to her tired ears. She felt herself move in slow motion, spinning her bare heel against the dampened ground. Her eyes squinted, trying to focus the vision that was becoming obstructed by an auburn strand of her hair.
She gulped as soon as she was facing the opposite direction. Rows of stone monuments lined parallel with each other, leading a pathway to a crowd of navy blue uniforms and black dress clothes. Rows of chairs were planted in the grass, leaving a small aisle pointing to a statuesque man standing with his legs spread and his arms behind his back. One by one, almost in sync, each standing body took their designated seats, all except for the man.
"It's just a dream."
The voice was replaced with the sound of her heart drumming loudly in her ears. She had experienced reoccurring or even haunting dreams, but never in a graveyard. She hated graveyards and always had. Too cold, too heartbroken. Any chance she got, she turned away from them. But a whisper that came as softly as the wind told her to take a step, move closer. The band grew louder, instrumental music with violins and trumpets and other beautiful instruments filling the air. She focused on the pattern of her breathing, each inhale powering another slow step closer.
Directly ahead of her stood the man, unwavering in his stance. His head was hanging low, but all she could see was the back of the familiar blue uniform. As the wind blew harder, more strands of her rust-colored hair covered her sight. Slowly, her hand rose to shield above her eyes from the sunlight beaming directly in front of her. He looked... angelic.
"Dreams can't hurt you."
The closer she got to the rows of seated guests, the harder her heart began to pound. Her dress skimmed along the grass as she finally reached the chairs furthest away from the man. Under the rhythm of the music was the faint sounds of sniffles and cries. The symphonic beat began to pick up faster, goading her on to pick up her pace and to continue stepping forward.
Her head turned slowly as she walked up the aisle, spotting the tearful faces from the occupied seats. Some familiar, some completely strange. Gold and silver badges glimmered against the sun, shining brightly into her eyes in tandem with the sun. The more rows she passed, the more familiar the faces became. Her heart was reaching well above the slow-paced tempo of the music that accompanied it.
She stared at the man again, trying to decipher why he looked so familiar. She knew the stance, the legs spread apart at shoulder-width. She knew the sandy-blond, almost colorless hair of the buzzcut on his head. The way his arms were behind his back, pushing his chest forward.
"Or maybe dreams actually can hurt you."
Even as she made her way down the clear aisle, none of the heads turned. No eyes connected with hers and followed. They all just remained the same, heartbroken and grieving, but unaware of her presence. She wanted to scream; to yell until they all turned their heads to see her. Her face contorted into confusion. Why couldn't they see her?
Her stomach dropped as she finally reached the end of the aisle, less than two feet away from the man who stood as strong as stone. She turned her head again, feeling suddenly overcome with nausea as she saw the faces of her friends.
Casey was to the left, crying as she dabbed her shed mascara, leaving streaking stains of black on a white handkerchief. Alex was beside her, one hand comforting Casey by patting her back and the other wiping away her own tears. She turned her head to the other side. Fin's shoulders were just as tense as his jaw, his eyes suddenly squeezing shut. Munch was next to him, his attention dropping to his lap as he tried to hide a sniffle. Melinda was allowing her tears to fall without bothering to clear them from her skin. Huang, seated next to her, furrowed brows and sad eyes that spoke louder than any words ever could. Cragen was at the front, his wide brown eyes looking a hundred years older than they had the day before.
She couldn't breathe. Why was her chest so tight? Even with the breeze, she couldn't catch her breath.
More familiar faces became clear to her, falling together like puzzle pieces. Kathleen was sobbing quietly with her head on her brother's shoulder. Jeffries and Cassidy appeared next to each other, both barely holding their own. Dana Lewis and Dean Porter were behind them, along with Simon and his children. The faces became clearer faster than she could breathe. Maureen, Lizzie, Kathy, Trevor Langan, Elizabeth Donnelly, Chester Lake, Jack McCoy, Ryan O'Halloran, Ruben Morales, Rebecca Hendrix, Judy Siper, Sister Peg, Arthur Branch, Barry Murdock, Lena Petrovski, Ed Tucker, Chief Muldrew.
Within moments, the wind felt as if it had turned into a bitter chill. A shiver ran through her spine, igniting bolts through her skin. She fought to take in a shaky breath with one more short stride. She could practically feel the bile rising in her throat as the imagery around her unveiled itself. One more step was all it took to stand shoulder to shoulder with the man staring down into the grave.
She saw the numbness on his face as he stared down at the casket below the Earth's surface. His eyes were puffy but dry, he'd cried all of his tears already, somewhere that he could do it safely and alone. His pillow, she thought. He always saved the tears for his pillow.
"Elliot," she whispered, trying to carefully reach her hand out for his shoulder. Within an inch of resting her fingertips on the polyester of his formal NYPD jacket, her hand stopped at its own volition. He didn't move, he didn't even flinch. He just stood as cold as ice, staring down into the hole.
She watched for the rise and fall of his chest with worried eyes. Her jaw had fallen slightly at the sight of him. She had never seen him look so broken. There was no light left in his eyes. Over the years, the job had a way of withering that light away. This time, it was gone completely. He looked soulless to her.
Just before she could repeat his name, he begrudgingly picked up the shovel that had been plunged into a mound of dirt. Though her own scars had faded, she could still see his and more. As if he had spent days beating the walls until the walls beat him back. The veins in his temples flared as he used his strength to shovel up a portion of the dirt.
Her body felt frozen, her eyes darting back between the shovel and his face. If she could scream out as loud as possible, she would. In fact, she wanted to scream so loud that it would break through the barriers of her sleep and wake her up from the nightmare. His arm slowly maneuvered the shovel, and after a brief pause, the dirt fell over top of the several red roses that lay over the casket.
"Elliot! Elliot, stop! Who is that!" she finally had enough oxygen to call out. He didn't move. He was stuck, staring down at the grief in front of him. With a soft grunt, he wedged the shovel back into the remaining mound of dirt.
Where had the voice gone? The one reminding her that she was simply asleep and that nothing could hurt her. This world felt too real, too vivid to be a figment of her exhaustion.
He swiftly spun to face her, the force of his movements causing her dress to flow backward from the draft. His ice-blue eyes were mere inches away from hers, holding more pain and hurt than she could've ever imagined. She had never seen him with such an emptiness inside of himself. She'd seen his eyes blown with adrenaline while his fists raged against a perp's body. She had seen his eyes go unfocused after gunshots rang in their ears. But this was a shade of Elliot she had never witnessed. Feral, but void. He was staring into her soul, so much so that she felt the need to recoil under his glare.
"You know who it is," he grit the words out, his jaw so tense she was sure he would break his teeth. The paralysis came back, freezing her in the same spot her feet had been planted on the ground. His tone was as harsh as a blade, she was certain she could feel it carving a piece of her away. He paused, giving her a moment to note the red and bloodshot whites of his eyes that surrounded the cold ice.
"Rest in peace, Olivia."
Her lungs nearly gave out as she tried to force herself to breathe. He turned around, slowly walked away down the aisle of grieving friends and family.
"Liv? Are you home?" Casey knocked against the door, holding her phone in her opposite hand as she dialed Olivia's number once again. She'd tried the number on her way back from the restaurant. She knew Olivia had been at the doctor's, but she was a very punctual person. When a half-hour had passed and Olivia hadn't shown, there was no quelling the worry that she had felt.
"Olivia?" she called out again, hearing the familiar ringtone from inside the apartment. The fear was multiplying faster than she could control it. "I'm worried. You didn't show up for lunch. Are you okay?"
The ringtone continued, but other than that, there were no signs of life beyond the door. Her heart started to beat a little quicker as she knocked one last time. "Liv, I'm coming in, okay?"
Casey silently thanked God that Olivia had returned the spare key back to its original spot underneath the plant beside her door. She slid the key in the lock, giving one last second to see if Olivia would hear her and answer the door. To no avail, the lock clicking didn't raise any sort of suspicion from within the apartment.
It wasn't until she had tried to open the door that she knew something was wrong. The door only opened about an inch, stopped by the weight of something laying against it. She tried again, pushing harder, with no luck.
She leaned down, squinting to peer through the small inch of space that the door gave into the apartment. Through the opening, she could see a limp hand lying on the floor in front of her.
Almost instantly, adrenaline began coursing through her like a river. With her shoulder bearing her weight, she ran and pushed the door open against Olivia's body. The pale and limp body of her co-worker had fallen slowly to the ground, away from where she rested against the door.
Casey rushed to her side, fumbling to get her cell phone out of her pocket. She fell to the floor, using one hand to feel her neck for a pulse while the other hand rapidly dialed for 911. "Liv? Liv, can you hear me?" she called out, patting Olivia's cheek in an attempt to wake her. "I need an ambulance at 203 West 89th Street, apartment 4D. She's unconscious, barely breathing with a weak pulse,"
She stared down at Olivia, panting as she tried to remember how to breathe. She'd never seen her look so pale, almost ghostly. Dried tears were still stuck to Olivia's cheeks from the fight she'd had with Elliot. Casey didn't know about any of that, not that she even cared at the moment. The world was frozen to her, all she could do was wait and listen for the sirens.
It felt like years and somehow just seconds at the same time. The entire time waiting for the EMTs to show up, Casey was jarred with the image of a completely still Olivia. She was almost certain that her own breathing had come to a halt until the ambulance came. Somehow through the fear that glued her feet to the ground, she'd managed to tell the EMTs what she knew about Olivia's health — which wasn't much. A few bits and pieces of memory had broken through as they rode to the MSK emergency room, pieces she had managed to remember from what Olivia had told her.
The speech of the EMTs was practically garbled to Casey. Her head was swimming, fear and shock swirling inside of her like a tornado. She wasn't sure what to think — or even how to think. All she could focus on was the sound of the sirens as the ambulance tore through the city streets.
Olivia didn't move, not a single stir as the vehicle sped over the potholes in the road. Her chest rose and fell, just barely visible to the human eye. They'd seen dead people before; lives taken right in the center of the bullpen. They'd both walked homicide crime scenes without even flinching. This was different in all the wrong ways. She had never seen someone look so still, especially not someone like Olivia.
She couldn't bring herself to wonder what would've happened if she hadn't felt the instinct to check in on Olivia. She couldn't bring herself to think at all. Not really. Her world was moving so slowly, even when the world around her was moving at the speed of lightning.
She wasn't sure who to call, or if it were even her place to call anyone. She'd known this when she dedicated herself to being a support system for Olivia. She knew that it could very well be just her alone. She didn't know about the fight with Elliot, she didn't know that Cragen and Fin now knew the truth too.
They finally reached the ambulance bay of the hospital, everyone rushing towards the back doors to load her out of the vehicle. Casey followed as quickly as she could, trying to listen to what they were saying and to see what they were doing. To say she felt helpless was the understatement of the century.
Just as they wheeled the gurney behind the curtains, Casey was pulled aside by one of the attending doctors she had seen meet them at the door. "N-no, you have to let me in there with her. Please!"
"Ma'am, please. You have to wait in the waiting room while we get her checked out." the doctor said, physically restraining Casey from entering the bay.
She tried to fight back but her body was nearly numb from the shock. All in a matter of minutes she had gone from meeting a friend for lunch to standing in the middle of an emergency room.
The intercom sounded throughout the hospital. "Paging Doctor Keller to the Emergency room"
She stood for God knows how long until another white lab coat ran past her and into Olivia's unit. Would it be acceptable to break down and cry in the middle of the room? She wanted to. She felt the undeniable urge to drop to her knees right there and sob with fear.
She should've gotten there sooner. She waited and waited at the restaurant but her gut told her something was wrong. She shouldn't have sat around while the clock ticked and her best friend laid on the cold floor.
It wasn't long before a nurse led her to the waiting area. As much as she wanted to stay by Olivia's side, she was thankful because the room was starting to spin.
The minutes melted into one another and Olivia was still behind the curtains. She heard the sound of the wind whooshing as the automatic doors slid open across the room. She looked up and saw a familiar face, causing her to rise from her seat. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Elliot charged towards her, looking around with confusion. "Oh great, you knew too, huh?" he shot at her, earning a disgusted look. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. I'm listed as her emergency contact, they called me. What the hell happened?"
Casey shook her head, her mind still frolicking in the meadows of shock. "I-I don't know. We were supposed to have lunch and she didn't show up. I went to her apartment and she was just lying on the floor, I don't know what happened!"
Elliot stopped pacing, scrubbing his hands against his face. "Fuck," he mumbled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"What? What aren't you telling me?"
"We got into an argument. I saw her leaving here earlier and we argued at her place and I left. Casey, I left!" his eyes blew wide with panic, adrenaline filling every vein and capillary in his body. Just before his own tears started to shed, the voices from behind them filled the room.
"She's in septic shock, her pressure is tanking. We gotta get her to an O.R." Doctor Keller called out, helping a handful of other nurses and doctors push her bed towards a set of double doors and out of the emergency room.
Casey and Elliot stood as still as stone, watching as they wheeled her away, unsure if it was the last time they'd ever see her again.