DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are
property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fic that I wrote on a bet so please comment whether I should write more or pursue other hobbies.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Have you noticed how much death is in our lives? I mean I get up in the morning like every other human, wash my teeth, have a shower, eat my breakfast and go to work only to be face to face with crimes sometimes so awful that it makes me wanna scream. But I don't. Instead I do what is expected of me every day and live with it. I wonder if there is a limit to how much contact to death, misery and abuse one person can handle. Sometimes I wonder if I'm nearing that place where everything starts to be too much. But here's the thing it never seems to matter enough. Of coursed I feel compassion and do anything and everything in my power to bring the perpetrators to justice but I never mourn.
At the start of my career I spilled countless tears for them, but as the years went by my tears dried up and now it is part of the routine, like paperwork. Can you believe I just compared those two? Sometimes I scare myself. It just doesn't seem to affect us when our loved ones are not involved. Yes I get to know all those people during the investigation but there is never a connection. You see their relatives, friends crying and offer your condolences, squeeze their shoulder or offer a napkin but it really doesn't concern you. Am I an awful person for saying that?
Sometimes I think you are lucky. Cases come to your desk in files, written with black ink on white pieces of paper, occasionaly with pictures. And I envy you because you're never there to look at a lifeless form lying in some ditch or seedy motel room. It's all so clinical, wrapped in neat frames when you come into the play. Makes me wish I had a higher average in college to study law. But then again sometimes I appreciate the roughness of my work. Makes you never take anything for granted. Seeing how bad things can be in this world makes you really grateful of the little things you have.
I never thought I would silently thank the higher powers for having a blue hairbrush next to the mirror. Or a plain white coffee mug with a slightly worn out silver lining in my kitchen closet next to my own.Or a rose scented bath oil in the bathroom cabinet even when I can't stand anything that sweet smelling. Even if I was bitching about the files that were all over my living room I loved them there. It gave me a certain contentment to see your things mixed with mine all over the place. It made me feel that this was real, we were real as can be and somehow coming home to that made everything else easier to bear.
Sometimes when you were busy with crucifing another scumbag I put on that goofy sweater you bought me for christmas, you know the one with rudolf the red nose raindeer in front, made myself some hot chocolate and sat on my couch, watching tv and I felt so content and normal as I hadn't in years. That sweater smells of you, smells of us and it makes me feel utterly safe. It's the next best thing to having you there with me. Nothing beats that!
I still remember the first time I asked you over after a friendly drink at the bar with the guys. You looked so out of place at my worn out couch with your Armani miniskirt and sparkling white shirt. And how your blue eyes searched for answers from mine as I kissed you that evening. I wouldn't trade those moments alone with you for anything in the world. I love that little knowing smile that curved on your lips when I ramble on about a difficult case. You always knew just the right thing to say and when there were no words good enough those soft wonderful lips of yours knew just what to do to make me forget.
Sometimes I wonder did I tell you what you meant clearly enough, often enough. What it meant to me when you came down to discuss a case you never forgot to give me just the slightest touch to show your affection. Those little smiles that were directed at me even after you finished with a difficult interview. You always gave me strength when I needed it most. Did I tell you that I loved those lunches in that little park near the courthouse? We talked about silly things like what colour you wanted your office walls to be painted and whether grey went with green. The talking really didn't matter. You were there and I was there, I entwined my fingers with yours and everything made sense all of a sudden. Elliot always teased me if I had gotten laid during lunch when I returned from our walks. But it was you who made me glow like that, with just being there. Well maybe I did glow a little more on the days we sat on that little bench in that secluded corner of the park. The one that bearly accomodated the two of us, you practically in my lap, trying your best to devour me in broad daylight. The mind-blowing sex was just a sweet bonus of having you in my life.
But much more than sweaty and steamy I'll miss the afterglow. The way you entwined our limbs together and I didn't know anymore where I ended and you began. The feel of your skin next to mine after a long and gruelling day when I was so tired I couldn't even think of sex if held at gunpoint. You always understood as if you knew how to speak to my body. One touch and you gave me exactly what I needed at that moment. And I'd never in a million years would have guessed that you were a snuggler. I've never been happier in my life to have been wrong, cos I'll never forget that morning when I woke to your beautiful blonde hair tickling my nose and the numbness of my left hand. In that moment I felt complete. I had everything I had ever wanted in my arms, crushing half of my body yes, but it felt so deliriously good that I wanted to freeze time to stay there for eternity. I don't think I had one nightmare the whole time we slept in one bed and if you do what I do you get lots and lots of material to have nightmares about trust me. The smell of you, the feel of you kept me so safe as I've never felt in my life.
I can never describe the terror that gripped my heart seeing you lying on that gritty sidewalk. Olivia the cop ceased to exist and all I wanted to do was sob like a little girl. Not a night has gone by that doesn't have your pale face imbedded to my dreams. Those glazy eyes seeing nothing and everything haunt me and I would have it no other way. When they took you away in the hospital I sat there for hours and refused to wash my hands from your blood. Seemed like a lifetime till the doctor came to give the horrific news. I don't know how long I would have stood there if Elliot hadn't escorted me home. I remember very little about that ride. There was a mantra running in my head : "this can't be happening!". How can this life be so cruel? I just found you, we only had 4 months ..4 gloriously happy months, but right now I'd sell my soul to eternal damnation to have just one more day. I know this is totally selfish of me but I just want you back in my life no matter the cost.
I didn't make it to the bed that night. It just felt so wrong to lay on it alone. I crashed on the sofa and just stared at the ceiling waiting to wake up from the nightmare. I guess I fell asleep sometime near morning hours and upon wakeing I almost forgot that you weren't there. I made coffee for two in the kitchen and stuck the dark rye bread in the toaster, you know the one only you are able to eat, the one I ran all over the town trying to find just the day before yesterday. Somewhere between flipping over the eggs and smearing butter on your bread it hit me that you're not there anymore. The eggs burned to a crisp and the bread got cold as I curled up in a ball in one corner of the kitchen and cried as never before.
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