Lift Me Up

Chapter 1

She came to on the floor, feeling something warm and wet against her cheek. Amanda Rollins blinked a few times, squinting against the ceiling fan lights overhead, then shut her eyes again, the brightness too harsh for her pounding head. She heard a plaintive whimper; the moist tongue moved from her cheek to lap her forehead. Frannie. Blindly, Amanda groped for her dog, desperate for the soft fur, the comforting contact, as her apartment swam and spun around her.

With one hand hooked under Frannie's collar for support, the hungover young woman groaned, forced open her eyes, and pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her mouth felt full of cotton. If she could just make it to the bathroom, splash some water on her face—but before she had time to react, her stomach lurched. Though she tried to clap a hand over her mouth, the vomit still spewed forth, gushing down the front of her rumpled tank top. Amanda coughed and heaved helplessly, the aftertaste of vodka and bourbon and pretty much every kind of liquor she had in the kitchen cabinet a sour burning in her throat. Humiliated, drenched in her own puke, she stumbled to her feet and groped her way toward the bathroom and the shower, her mind a slur of dark thoughts. Wash up you disgusting bitch…

After peeling off her clothes, she made sure the shower was freezing cold, the knob for the water turned all the way to the "C", so that the icy spray made her flinch and gasp. She took pleasure in penalizing herself with a cold shower, in punishing herself, period, these days, and stood there shivering until she felt numb . She might have stayed there for hours had she not heard the familiar twang of her ringtone over the running water, a country song she couldn't remember the name of but that reminded her of home. Kim…it could be Kim…she thought as she always did when her cell rang, and she fumbled out of the shower and ran into the living room dripping and naked, stupidly hopeful as ever that her little sister would be on the other end of the line. She had been so drunk the night before that she had no recollection of where she left her phone, so she followed the music until she found it wedged between the sofa cushions. "Hello…"she gasped, answering without checking the caller ID in her rush.

"Amanda… Finally you pick up! I've been trying to reach you for days. So has Fin. What the hell's been going on?"

Amanda felt another wave of nausea, this time sick from disappointment. Nick. Of course it wouldn't be the sister she had failed. She made to disconnect the call, but the male voice on the other end of the line had her frozen. Her heart had kicked up it's pace; her mouth gone dry. She was acutely aware of her nakedness and stumbled back into the bathroom with the phone still clutched to her ear, groping for a towel to wrap around herself. "Amanda? Christ, Amanda, are you there? If you don't answer me, I'm coming to your place to check on you whether you want me there or not. I've been scared shitless about you and…"

"No! Amanda choked out. "No, Nick, I need space…I told you I need time!"

"Needing space is one thing, Amanda. Disappearing for days and avoiding my calls is another. The entire squad is worried. Liv was ready to send an officer over to your apartment…"

Amanda's heart did a little hop . "Olivia? Olivia asked about me?"

"Of course she did. You're supposed to come back to work in a week and no one's seen you."

Something hardened in Amanda's chest. "Oh," she muttered. Of course. Olivia was only concerned about whether she could was going to show up and do her job.

Nick let out a long sigh. "Well? Are you coming back to work, Amanda? I understand you needing to take time after what happened to you with Patton, the trial, everything. I really do. But I can't help but feel that you're hiding away."

"I'm not hiding away," she snarled."I want to be left alone." Amanda jammed the off button on her phone and cut off Nick's voice, curled up on the bathroom tiles, and lay trembling under her towel, her shoulders quaking with rage. But, as always happened when she lashed out, the anger slowly drained out of her until she just felt empty.

Later that night, Amanda dreamt of Kim. Her sister was dirty, clothes torn, barefoot in an alley at nighttime. "Manda! Manda!" she sobbed, arms outstretched. "Help me!" Amanda could see the bruising under both her sister's eyes. She wanted to run to Kim, to hold her, to help her, but strong arms pinned her back. She twisted and writhed and tried to break free. "Get off me, "she shrieked at her unknown captor. "Get off me!"

The all-too-recognizable voice hissed in her ear. "You know I don't take no for an answer, Amanda." And just like that, Amanda went limp. She would do it. She would do it if it meant reaching her sister. Deputy Chief Patton whirled her around and slammed her up against a brick wall. He lifted up her skirt, yanked down her panties, and thrust inside her, over and over. Panting, groaning, he finally backed off. Amanda crumpled to the pavement. She turned to look for Kim but she was inexplicably gone. Vanished, as had Patton, leaving her alone on the ground. Amanda tried to call out over and over again, staring up at a starlit sky, but her screams were silent. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared in her line of vision. Brown eyes that could be both stern and gentle glistened softly in the darkened alley. It's okay, sweetheart." Olivia murmured. She lay a cool hand on Amanda's forehead.

Amanda startled awake, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. Something was still pressed against her forehead. Her hand flew to her hairline and the cool nose snuffed her. Frannie. Just Frannie. Her poor dog was probably confused as ever that her owner kept ending up on the floor. But that's just how low she felt those three weeks that she had taken a leave of absence at work after admitting that Deputy Chief Patton had raped her.

Before Patton had come into town, before the trial, she had managed to keep things together. Sure, there had been the drinking, smoking, and the gambling. But she had thrown herself into her work to the best of her ability. She reached out to victims, gave chase after rapists on the street, was able to hold her gun with a steady hand. She had even managed a semblance of a relationship, grabbing drinks and dinner with Nick, managing nights in together, even forcing herself through the sex. But since she had said those three words aloud, "he raped me," it felt hard to be awake, hard to be alive lately. Amanda spent time trying to make herself small. She curled up under the blankets in bed, hunched over on the couch and stared blankly at the TV, or staggered home drunk, sometimes crawling on her hands and knees to the toilet, other times passing out only to wake up with a migraine and fuzzy memories. She was escalating with the alcohol.

Shivering, Amanda shifted under her towel and moved her cheek from the bathroom tiles. She had to stand up, at least. Get dressed. She could manage that, couldn't she? Plus, she needed to walk Frannie. Groaning, she pulled the towel more firmly around herself, stumbled into the bedroom, and threw on some sweats and an NYPD t-shirt. Squirming with anticipation, Frannie barked and nudged her leash hanging by the door. Amanda walked out of her apartment without remembering her coat. Her mind was still on her nightmare. That, in itself, was nothing new these days. But she wondered how Olivia Benson had wormed her way into her dreams.

Amanda tried not to care what Olivia thought of her. She had come to New York in awe of her; her reputation as a female SVU detective was one of the first things she had learned when she had transferred from Atlanta. But there had been too many disappointments, too many false starts at friendship, too many times when she had disappointed the detective-turned-sergeant, that she had given up on forming any kind of real working relationship with Olivia and even grown wary of her. They were just too different, Amanda reasoned. Sergeant Benson was strong, put together, smart, beautiful, and intelligent. And she was, just, well…Amanda Rollins. So she made sure there was a good distance between them. She had perfected her blasé , "okay Sergeant. Yes, Sergeant." She knew how to respond with a neutral raise of the eyebrows or silent nod when reprimanded, without wincing or looking at the floor or showing the slightest crack in her indifference. But some days, after arriving to work late and mumbling some unconcerned, rehearsed excuse to Olivia, she would go into the bathroom and pinch her wrist, hard, until her fingernails cut crescents into her skin. Other times she felt a stab of longing and sadness when she saw Olivia and Nick banter with one another and bring each other lunch. Or, she might be at Starbucks ordering her Chai Latte, see someone order a mocha with two shots of espresso, and think, "That's Olivia's drink," and she would feel sad, because if they had been friends, they might have bought each other coffee.

The night before Amanda was supposed to return to work and meet Olivia in her office to be reinstated on the job, she couldn't sit still in her apartment. She kept wringing and clenching her hands and opening and closing the liquor cabinet without pulling anything out. Rarely had Amanda gone without a drink those nights since she had taken her leave—yet in spite of the craving she had, she was trying to refrain from alcohol. She had to be on time tomorrow, and passing out wouldn't do. To hell with Liv, she murmured aloud, testing the words out on her fourth trip to the liquor cabinet. She fingered a bottle of vodka but didn't pull it out. The problem was, when she wasn't drinking, she thought about gambling. She had been holed up in her apartment so long the last few weeks that she hadn't really gone to meetings, so the urges came strong . Yet she hadn't been to a casino. That was one thing she could say. Grabbing a fistful of skin on her wrist, she pinched hard at the thought of playing a hand of cards, of cashing chips. Just one shot, she reasoned. Just to get me into bed. If she was asleep, she couldn't gamble. Caving, she opened a kitchen drawer and grabbed the "NYC" shot glass that Fin had bought her as a gag gift her first week in New York(his real welcome present had been a vase of daisies placed on her desk to commemorate the start of their partnership.)She quickly poured and then chugged the cheap vodka.

One shot, of course, wasn't going to work right away. She went to the coat closet and retrieved a pack of Marlboros and a lighter from her coat pocket, taking care to leave the car keys behind (they were too much of a temptation.) Once again not bothering to bundle up, she walked straight out into the biting February night air. Unlike Nick and Fin and Olivia, who managed to afford loft apartments with indoor access, her place had doors the led directly outside—gambling debts meant that she couldn't spare any extra on rent or amenities. Yet she liked feeling the immediacy of the city right outside her door; her heart always quickened when she stepped out onto the eighth floor walkway and saw all the buildings around her and heard the rush of traffic below. "I'm in New York, she thought. Tonight, though, there was no familiar thrill when she came outside. Her heart was just restless. She took a few long, slow drags on her cigarette, its glowing amber tip all the nearby light she had, as the outdoor lamp by her door had longed burned out and she had neglected to change the bulb. The city around her, of course, was always lit up, always awake. She listened to the honking of horns and the screeching of tires, the voices echoing on the sidewalks below. A few puffs later, her pulse began to slow and the liquor and nicotine began to take effect. But along with the quieting of her body came a steady melancholy. She missed Kim. She missed her coworkers. She missed the casino.

A snippet of her last conversation with Olivia office crept into her thoughts. "I know you don't like self-pity, Amanda," Olivia had said. Ha, Amanda thought bitterly. If the Sergeant could see her now. Flicking ash off the side of the balcony, Amanda turned her back to New York and leaned on the railing; and suddenly she was being pinned up against another railing outside of a third-floor motel room one humid Georgia evening, Patton's hands wandering under her shirt before they had even swiped the key to get inside. "It's what's best for your sister, Amanda," he had growled, already aroused. And right there, outside in the open, where everyone could've seen, she had put her own two trembling hands on the sides of his stubbled face and forced her lips to his.

Startled, horrified that this memory had invaded into her mind, Amanda gasped, struggling to catch her breath for a few long minutes. She thought of her former self that night. That woman, that person, was pitiful. She yanked up her sweatshirt sleeve. With one angry, deliberate motion, she ground out her cigarette on her forearm. Then she took the still-hot tip to each of her palms, the hands that had touched Patton.

Amanda jogged into the squad room at 8:01, panting and out of breath. Shit, she thought. One minute late. Clutching her side, which was in stitches, she ignored the pointed stares she got from Fin and Nick and concentrated on making her way to her desk, eyes sweeping the room for Liv. Did the Sergeant know she hadn't made it on time? Luckily, the door to Olivia's office was still closed, the blinds shut. She saw Nick approaching from her peripheral vision, tensed, and jammed both burned hands inside her coat pockets.

"Amanda...hey. Welcome back. Glad you made it."

She cleared her throat. "Yeah…glad to be back," she muttered, avoiding eye contact. "Does Liv know I'm late?"

"Nah, I don't think so," Finn chuckled. He moved forward to hug Amanda, but she kept her hands firmly in her pockets, so he backed off awkwardly. The blond detective felt her face flush. "It's 8:02, Amanda," he said, keeping up the smile.

"Liv's on the phone about Noah," Nick cut in, trying to keep the conversation going. "I'm sure she'll be out to talk to you soon-"

"Yeah, but I'm ready to work, " Amanda said . "This meeting with Olivia is just a formality."

Both men were silent. Amanda sat down stiffly in her chair. Fin finally broke the quiet. "Baby girl, glad to see you're among the living." he said softly. He graciously walked back to his desk, offering Amanda some needed space. Amanda swallowed, simultaneously full of affection for her partner and shame for wanting him away from her. Nick, however, was not ready to back off. He hovered over Amanda, waiting for her to say something else. Luckily, just then, Liv swung open her office door.

"Morning," she said, nodding to Nick and Finn. "Rollins…come on in."

On feet made of lead, Amanda stood up and walked towards Sergeant Benson's office. Olivia held the door open for her, then carefully closed it behind them.

"How's Noah?" Amanda choked out. Her cheeks burned hotter than they already were. She didn't usually make small talk with Olivia. She didn't have the right to, really—not when it was a ploy to steer the conversation. But Olivia circled around her desk and actually smiled at the detective. "Fine, thanks for asking. Getting bigger every day. I just spoke with the pediatrician; his ribs and lungs are doing well." She took a sip from her Starbucks cup and motioned toward the leather couch. "Have a seat," she said.
Amanda perched on the edge of the couch. She made sure to keep her hands in her pockets. " I'm ready to work, Sergeant. I think I've taken enough time off and-"

"Amanda," Olivia cut in softly. Amanda froze. She and Olivia hadn't been on much of a first name basis. It was usually "Sergeant" and "Rollins." But three weeks ago, after she had disclosed the rape, Olivia had called her Amanda, too. As then, Olivia's voice was gentle. "You have dark circles under your eyes. You're pale. You're thin."

"I'm fine."

"Fin and Nick had been calling you for days; they thought you were missing. We were about to put out a report before Nick finally got ahold of you. "

"I needed space," Amanda snapped. "I did what I needed to get myself back together. And I'm ready now…I'm ready to come back to work. That's the important thing, isn't it? That I'm ready to do the job ?"

Olivia sighed and studied Amanda for several moments. "Amanda…did you see Dr. Lindstrom for that referral we talked about?"

Amanda bit her lip, hard. "I went to his office," she mumbled.

Olivia studied her and sat quietly. Her unwavering gaze was full of sympathy. It was the face of compassion that she gave to victims. Usually, this look would have infuriated Amanda. But, to her horror, it moved her to tears instead.

"I—I tried to go in," she stammered, defeated. "I tried, Serge." She hung her head and let out a soft sob.

Amanda heard the wheels of Olivia's chair squeak as she pushed back from her desk. She went rigid as her sergeant made her way over to the sofa and sat gingerly beside her. She didn't try to touch Amanda. "It's okay"…she murmured softly. "You can cry."

Amanda begged to differ; she swiped angrily at her cheeks and tried to staunch the flow of hot tears. "I wanted to go in…but I panicked. I'm a coward."

"Would you stop?" Olivia said. "Stop blaming yourself, Amanda." She scooted a little closer to the detective. "Listen to me…I want you to try again." Before Amanda could even respond, Olivia had pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started dialing a number.

"Hello…Dr. Lindstrom? It's Olivia Benson. When is the next appointment you have available?"

Amanda's mouth dropped, but Olivia held up a finger to silence her. She nodded into the phone. "Uh-huh. Great. Okay then, bye-bye."

Olivia flipped her phone shut. "He has an appointment open tomorrow at 10:00 am. I want you to be there. Do you have anyone who can go with you?"

"I'm supposed to be working tomorrow at 10:00," Amanda argued, finally having gotten the tears under control. Olivia shook her head. "I want you back to work, Amanda. But not until you're ready. Not until you've gotten some help."

"I'm the one who decided to take a leave of absence," Amanda shot back. "It was never a condition of employment for me to take time off."

Olivia didn't rise to her anger. "I know," she said simply. "But I'm making it one now."

Amanda should of screamed and raged at Olivia, but just like in her dreams, she couldn't make a sound. Not go back to work? She looked imploringly at her Sergeant, then looked at the floor. A slow agony took ahold of Amanda, and suddenly the tears were flowing again.

"I want you back to work," Olivia whispered this time. "Do you have anyone who can go with you to your session tomorrow? Fin? Nick?"

"I… I can't…" Amanda fell silent. I can't be around men right now, she thought. But she couldn't say the words aloud. "I don't feel comfortable with that," she mumbled instead. "I just… she choked on another sob. "Olivia, I won't be able to do it. I won't be able to go into that office." The words tumbled out before she could stop them, like tossed dice. "Remember that horrible thing I said to you about 'paying someone to listen to your problems?' I said that out of spite, cause I knew that I wouldn't ever have the guts to get help."

" I could go with you," Olivia said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I could have Fin cover the station for an hour or two. I know I'm not your first choice, but…it's an option. I could sit with you in the waiting room till it's time to go in."

Amanda was speechless. It shouldn't have come as a shock… Olivia had done no less for the victims; she had gone out of her way to take a few of them to therapy and help them take the first step to recovery. Again, in theory, that should have had Amanda raging…that Olivia thought of her as a vic. But mostly, she was deeply moved.

Swiping away more tears, Amanda looked at the floor. "You'd…do that for me?"

"Of course, Amanda. And I'll take that as a yes," Olivia said, pulling a tissue out from the Kleenex box on the side table and offering one to the detective. Amanda took it and mopped her damp face. "And if I go to the session, I come back to work?" She tried to make her voice sound authoritative, like she was driving a hard bargain or placing a bet, but it quavered again.

"Yes, Amanda…but let's give it till next week. I want you to rest up a couple of days before you're working cases again. And I want to see you at 10:00 tomorrow. On time," she said, smiling slyly.

Temporary relief exploded in Amanda's chest. She could still have her job. But she didn't know if she could make it through tomorrow morning's session, even with Olivia there.