Prompt 232 - Silence is a great healer - Sound Therapy - Fringe

[sarbear12456.livejournal.com]

Title: Sound Therapy
Fandom: Fringe
Prompt: Silence is a great healer
Warnings: Angsty and Melodramatic.
Rating: K
Summary: A sob, startlingly loud in the silence that had encased her for hours, came from her chest.

 

 

She looked at the room before her, combing for even the slightest hint that, for the last few weeks, another person had lived here. Already she had dealt with the obvious things: her clothing, bedding and toiletries, but still the small space had yet to feel like home again. As a result of the lingering sentiment, she had gone to even further lengths to eradicate her imposter’s presence. DVD’s had been rearranged, unfinished books placed back on the bedside table, pantry restocked, garbage thrown out and nick-nacks arranged just so. Her near perfect memory was being put to work reconstructing every minute detail of her apartment as it had been before she left.

 

Some of the things she had found surprised her. There was a post-it note with various phone numbers on it. It struck her as odd that they needed to be written down, not memorised as she so easily did. For example, Olivia could recall exactly how much her groceries had cost this week. The new revelation made her feel momentarily released from the melancholy mood that had been plaguing her: she was different, she was better than the other one. They then returned full force. They were two completely different people, how could no-one notice? With those thoughts reclaiming a hold on her mind, she tore the note from the refrigerator door and threw it at the bin. Feeling a tingle in her finger she saw that her violent actions towards the offending piece of paper had left her with a paper cut.

 

She put the small cut, like many other things, out of her mind.

 

He mobile was next up for inspection. Already, the GPS, calls and messages had been analysed by a team of forensic scientists and returned to her in less than a week. She glanced through her inbox. Nothing had been deleted. Painstakingly she went through each message, determined to delete those sent and received in the last eight weeks, but no more. This was done by reading as few as possible, pressing the buttons in the right order, barely glimpsing at the screen. Still, the fact did not escape her that most were to or from Peter. She also noticed there had been fewer and fewer between them since her return.

 

Finally, exhausted by the mental power used to recall such details and able to find no discrepancies between her apartment now and the one in her memory, she showered, with new shampoo and conditioner, and changed into freshly washed pyjamas.

 

Lying in bed, face buried in citrus scented pillows, she allowed herself to think. The task she had just completed allowed no room for distracting thoughts, it was a distraction in of itself. Her mind, no longer forced to quiet by menial tasks, was free to wander. She could only hope she did not think of things best left forgotten.

 

But Olivia Dunham was not known for leaving well enough alone, even in her semi-conscious state. Unguarded, she was bombarded by memories, some good, some bad, all unwelcome. A sob, startlingly loud in the silence that had encased her for hours, came from her chest. After leaving work that day she neither made nor heard any sound above easily ignored white-noise. It was soothing

But she found that screaming her frustration into silent pillows was just as therapeutic.