Author Note – AU for Smoked. WARNING – CHARACTER DEATH! Don't read beyond this if you're uncomfortable.

Disclaimer – I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit or any of the characters.

Engulfed

"Lovers dream of one more embrace.
One more kiss.
One act of love, no matter how small.
For in loving, lover and beloved
emptied themselves.
Now,
they look for their oasis
like men engulfed in flames.
Even filled to the brim,
they will never satiate.
For they continue to leak, these
cracked vessels.
How else did love seep through?"
― Kamand Kojouri

The words are spoken and you watch the doctors' mouth form them rather than actually hear them. Someone asks, begs, the doctor to tell them he's wrong but all he does is shake his head sadly and offers his condolences. Blood rushes to your head and your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Everything happens in slow motion as you watch the kids grab hold of one another, hands clasp jackets and pull into fierce embraces to shield one another from the devastating situation. Tears slip down their cheeks as they start to cry, the girls sob loudly while their brother stands motionless in the middle of their huddle, silently mourning his father.

This isn't happening. It can't be. You can't stop it.

You want to get out of here, be anywhere but here. You twist your body but your legs refuse to co-operate and give way causing you to collapse against the wall. Your body fails to recover from the falter and you aren't able to dodge the warm arms that envelope you to pull you away from the wall and into your comforters' arms. Her blonde hair falls across your face as her head drops onto yours. Her grip is tight and her fingers push into your shoulder as she pulls you in closer. You wrap your arms around her waist as the tears begin to flow.

Neither of you care about the blood that's all over you. Right now you would give anything for it to be yours and not her husband's, your partner's. There was so much in the squad room, not just his. You wiped your hands hours ago but they still feel sticky from where you put pressure on the bullet wound.

Everything had been a blur since the bullet hit Elliot in the chest, you never registered the final shot firing from Fin's gun as it hit Jenna's shoulder and the teenager had fallen only to be restrained. Immediately you sprang from your crouch to kneel beside your partner, your hands finding his wound as you pushed and held on tightly. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Munch take your previous position over the fallen Sister Peg. You already knew she was gone.

Elliot's hand slipped around your wrist, drawing your attention back to him. You met his eyes and were taken aback by the emotions. Pain. Shock. Regret. Goodbye. You gasped quietly and told him help was coming. You thought his responding head shake was from the pain but looking back you know it wasn't.

He knew. And you refused to let yourself say goodbye.

Moments later you were hoisted out of the way as the medics descended on him and the rest of the wounded. You hovered close by and no one tried to stop you as you followed his stretcher from the squad to the ambulance. Once inside you watched helplessly as they worked on Elliot on the way to the hospital. His arm limply fell off the side of the stretcher. You grabbed hold of it, pretended to feel the warmth of his skin, imagined his fingers tightening on yours. You kept hold of his hand until he was wheeled away to the operating theatre.

Then you were alone in a busy hallway full of strangers for what seemed like hours but it was less than an hour before Kathy and the older kids turned up. You told yourself he was going to be fine. He'd been shot before and survived, he could do it again. He was strong.

You straighten and tighten your grip on Kathy. You should be comforting her rather than the other way around. Neither of you say it'll be okay, you don't know that it will. She has her children to console yet her concern is for you. You share a stranger bond with her than you do with her husband.

Did.

Did.

You have to remember that.

The shared grief is something you've never truly experienced before. You learn to deal with death as a part of the job, learn to compartmentalise, accept the generic consoling words from those who have nothing else to say but don't want you to think they don't care. Deaths of victims and co-workers affects everyone you work with and you commiserate each other over a drink but in the end it's a solitary grief to deal with on your own.

You don't know if your strong enough to deal with losing Elliot on your own. You don't want to burden Kathy with your grief and regret, she doesn't deserve it. Perhaps that's why she's holding you, she recognises her own grief in yours.

You want someone to come along and say it's a sick joke.

As much as you want to wallow in denial, it won't last. You're going to get angry and question everything that led to the shooting. Someone else will ask you those questions and you'll have to find answers you don't have right now. Once that ebbs, it will be followed by the regret, the what ifs and you'll wonder what you could have done differently and what you would do if you had one more minute with Elliot, if you could do over that moment in the squad room. Maybe you wouldn't be able to, maybe the words would get caught in your throat and you would squeeze his hand tighter and nod back.

You don't know.

You never will.

You look over Kathy's shoulder at the children, Eli had been left with a neighbour. Tears flow harder. They've lost their father. Eli is too young and he'll rely on their memories of Elliot. You know his children were his last thoughts. And later you'll cry that they weren't able to see each other before he died. Right now you want to mourn their father.

Right now you want to mourn your friend, the man who knew you better than everyone. Right now you want to mourn your partner.