(no subject)
Butchy was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Everyone knew it, though no one could actually pinpoint when it had happened. There was only the overhanging feeling of remorse and the collective acceptance that she would never return.
Our story begins on Christmas Eve. Olivia sat in her chair, counting paperclips and wishing that the night would pass so that the next day would pass so that the world could just go back to normal.
She hated holidays. They carried false hopes with them, dreams of happiness and comfort. Every time she’d ever tried to latch on to the life a holiday presented her with, it was snatched away from her just as quickly. Eventually, she’d just given up on trying and decided it was less effort to approach every holiday with resentment.
As if on cue, the other detectives let out varying groans and yawns, stretching as they rose from their seats.
“Tell me again how it’s freedom of religion when people only ever observe the Christian holidays.” Munch said. “Even the criminals seem to know it’s time for a break. Where was my break on Chanukah?”
Fin rolled his eyes. “Do we have to go through this every year?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we do. If people don’t speak up, it’ll never get fixed. I might be dead before it happens but at least I said something.”
That earned him another eye roll from Fin.
Elliot looked at his partner who was still seated. “Aren’t you leaving?”
Olivia barely lifted her gaze. “I still have some things to finish up here.”
“You’re counting paperclips.”
“I’m on break.”
“Right…” Elliot walked around the desks and grabbed his coat and scarf from the rack, putting them on.
“Need company, Liv?” Munch asked. “Tomorrow’s not even my holiday anyway.”
Olivia managed a smile. “Nah. Get home. Get some rest. Thanks though.”
Munch nodded.
“Hey, Liv.” Elliot said. “Dinner’s around five tomorrow… If you wanna drop by.”
Olivia turned her attention back to her counting. “Maybe.” She said.
“Well… Merry Christmas if I don’t see you.”
“Yeah,” was the only response he got.
The guys stared at her for a moment before exchanging their goodbyes and heading out of the squad room.
When Olivia was sure they were gone, she scooped the paperclips off her desk and dropped them back in their container. She glanced at her watch. It was just after seven. She figured she could bury herself in paperwork until she had just enough energy left to make it home and pass out on her couch.
It was eleven before she finally looked at her watch again. She could feel her eyelids drooping and knew it probably wasn’t safe to get behind the wheel of a car. It was fine by her though. It kept her from having to go back to her empty house just to brood over how empty it actually was.
She put her things away and groaned as she stood, her back aching from being hunched over her desk for hours. She stretched, but the crick refused to go away and she sighed, slouching as made the trudge to the crib.
She curled up on one of the beds and slowly fell asleep.
-----
Olivia felt like she’d only blinked when her eyes flew open again. She shot upright, hand going to her hip, only to remember she’d left her gun downstairs. Smart.
She jumped when something clanked across the room.
“Hello?” She called out, eyes scanning the darkness.
She shivered when she heard a soft chuckle that was almost immediately accompanied by a white light. A figure emerged and Olivia’s eyes widened. She was sure she recognized the rugged beauty but it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. She looked like Olivia… only not. Her hair was cut short and despite the cold outside, she was wearing a tank top to show off well defined muscles.
The figure stopped before her, smirk on her lips. “Hi.”
“I’m not dead.” Olivia said to the ghost without even realizing she meant to speak.
The ghost raised an eyebrow. “No, but I am.”
“Do…” Olivia shook her head. “Did I have a sister?”
The ghost laughed. “Uh… No.”
“Then who the hell are you?”
“You.”
Olivia snorted. “No you’re not. I’m right here.”
“Yeah. Now you is right there. Past you is right here.” Ghost-Olivia grinned. “Though I prefer to go by Butchy McFabulous these days.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Butchy frowned. “Says the woman who likes frills.”
“I don’t like frills… Anymore.”
“I’ll never forgive you for those… Or the hair wings.”
“The what?” Olivia’s brow furrowed.
“Nevermind.” Butchy shook her head and motioned down. “See these chains? These are your fault. You have me locked up and it’s really hard to hit on women when I look like an escaped convict.”
“Women?” Olivia shook her head. “No no no. That was a phase. We are over that.”
Butchy snorted. “Speak for yourself.”
“I thought you were me.”
Butchy rolled her eyes. “Please don’t insult me like that ever again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Olivia frowned.
Butchy groaned. “You might actually be hopeless.” She stared at Olivia. “You’re going to be visited by three spirits tonight. And you’re going to learn from them because otherwise, you’re destined for even worse chains than I’ve got and trust me when I say they’re no walk in the park.”
“Why would I end up in chains?”
Butchy stared at her. “If you can come from me, I don’t even want to know what else lies in our future.”
“I resent that.”
“Good for you.”
Olivia frowned again.
“Please stop doing that.” Butchy said. “I can practically feel the wrinkles forming on our forehead.”
“You know, I don’t actually think you’re me. I was never so…” Olivia waved her hand in the air, unable to come up with the right word.
“Sexy?” Butchy smirked. “Confident? Witty?”
“Not exactly the words I was looking for.”
“I think you were searching for ‘bitchy.’ But I’m pretty sure you surpass me in that department.”
“I’m not the one throwing insults for no reason.”
“I’m stating facts. And besides, I’m you. Sort of. So you can’t really be offended because you’re talking to yourself.”
“I thought you said you weren’t me.”
Butchy stared at her. “Please try and keep up.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’ve never hallucinated before. Leave it to me to come up with something so self-deprecating.”
“You’re not hallucinating.”
“Right. That’s why there are suddenly two of me.” Olivia lay back down. “You can keep talking. I’m actually going to try and get some sleep so I can, you know, save the day tomorrow.”
Butchy snorted. “Right. You can cry while your partner beats the crap out of someone to get information.”
“Hey!” Olivia snapped, curling up with her pillow. “Victims like it when I can relate to them.”
Butchy just shook her head. “The first spirit’s arriving at one. She’s hot. I’m sure you’ll spend ninety percent of your time together trying to feign disinterest.”
Olivia snorted. “Right.” She shut her eyes. “Goodbye, hallucination.”
“Bye.” Butchy said. “Whackjob.” She mumbled under her breath as she disappeared.