When Liv faced a loss that would rewrite her entire life, she stepped away from her work. A year and a half later, she returns to the BAU in search of normalcy; so she can finally move on. On a new team, Liv is immediately thrown into the game of ca...
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Liv sat on the middle cushion of her couch, staring blankly at a small vase of flowers on her coffee table. A token for her, left by her mother. Because as much as she could drive Liv crazy at times, she always showed up.
This was her way of telling Liv that this day too, will end. But it hadn't yet, and Liv had only just made it till noon. She put nothing on the docket for a day like this. This is a day for grieving.
She didn't pull herself off the couch until the gnawing hunger in her stomach forced her. Food. How futile of an attempt to curb grief.
Liv had secured these days off by talking to Strauss personally, among other conversations they had been having of recent. Normally, she would go to Hotch to approve of such things, but she had already found herself in Strauss' office. Besides, she was finding every reason as of late to not find herself in a moment alone with Hotch. A golden rule she had broken, but was making no more exceptions for. He didn't try to push it, and Liv found that even more annoying.
Liv stated clearly to Strauss to inform the team of her absence as no more than a few "personal days".
And what a personal day it was.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection on a window and surprised herself with the visible frown etched into her lips. She hadn't even realized she had been doing that.
She shook her expression of it, standing in the middle of her kitchen. If only Ben could have a look at her now. She could hear his voice in her head as he said it, a voice that hadn't aged a day. "You're very sad considering that I'm the dead one, and not you."
Oh, Ben. Always the sarcastic ass when he needed to be.
The thought of it alone actually pulled her lips up a little more. Ben in her head was right. She is very much alive.
She stared at her kitchen in blankness. If he were here, what else would he do?
Waffles.
Liv immediately moved with as much resolve as she had yet that day, swinging open cabinet doors and filling her previously empty hands. He had a thing for breakfast foods, but none drew as much passion out of him than the classic waffle.
And so she gorged herself on them, taking every delight in every topping she could find, and hoping that the ghost of him would be proud of her attempt to celebrate him, rather than feeling so sad. Two years. Two years since he was gone, and the world felt so different. She was still adjusting.
When evening came around, she watched his favorite movie with a glass of wine, curled up on her couch, leaving enough room for him, had he been there. She laughed at all the parts she knew he would've, and she soaked in every moment of it's intention. It was the least she could do. She had spent so long being sad, so long feeling his absence. In the house she existed with him in, it was only right to pay some tribute; some ode to his time. He was remarkable, and she would never forget that, wherever it was she went.
