Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Everything belongs to Dick Wolf, except the song, which is Ironic by Alanis Morisette.
This is a post-Loss pre-Ghost oneshot. Obviously A/O. Enjoy!
An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic . . . don't you think?
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would have thought?
It figures . . .
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down, he thought,
"Well isn't this nice?"
And isn't it ironic . . . don't you think?
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would have thought?
It figures . . .
Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic . . . don't you think?
A little too ironic, and yeah, I really do think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would have thought?
It figures . . .
I'd waited my whole life for her, and now here she was, giving herself to me fully and completely. Maybe she knew. Maybe she guessed, maybe she suspected something that I couldn't – or wouldn't – see. Maybe I was too blinded by the gift she'd given me that night, and maybe I took advantage of her vulnerability, or maybe she knew that this was our last chance. But it was perfect. But I wonder – did that one perfect night make up for the next days, months, years of despair?
I'd loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her and the night after the bombing, all I could think was, It could have been her. I was almost glad that he had died, because in my perverse sense of illogical logic, I figured there was only room for one in heaven that day. If he was dead, she wasn't. And I loved her too much.
In that one moment, I realized how precious life was, and maybe she did too. Because when I asked her to come back to my apartment with me, she said she would. I'd asked her so many times before and she'd always refused, citing an abundance of excuses, but that was all they were – excuses.
But that night, it was just the two of us. The world around us disappeared. There was no crime, no monsters, no victims or perps. There was no Elliot and no Donnelly and no Cragen, nothing to prevent us from being together. We talked and we laughed and we declared our mutual, undying love. We told each other everything under the sun and we made love and we fell asleep in each other's arms, content with the knowledge – with the illusion – of safety. That night was the true definition of bliss.
The next morning, notwithstanding the dark days behind and surely ahead of us, we walked into work with huge grins on our faces. We were together now, Cabot and Benson, forever. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together. We had plans. I had never dreamed I could love someone so fully or wholeheartedly as I loved her. And it felt so good.
That night, we were out having a drink. The melancholy had returned to envelop us, but I took comfort in the knowledge that in a short time, I would be back in Alex's arms, feeling safe in the closeness we shared. And then – it all happened so fast. "Go, go, go!"
And she fell to the ground, her eyes blank, blood seeping from her wounds. Horrified, I ran to her, trying to hold back my tears as I futilely tried to staunch the flow of blood. She couldn't leave me! Not now, not ever! Especially after the night we'd just had. We loved each other and life was perfect. Nothing could stop it now. She had to be okay, she just had to be.
But when they came to take her away, I knew she was gone. Her blood soaked my shirt and tears ran unchecked down my cheeks as I watched them load her onto a stretcher.
She wasn't dead, but she was as good as. Because the next day, when Elliot and I were called out to the middle of nowhere to say goodbye, we knew that this was forever. And again, for the second time in two days, as I watched the car get smaller and smaller before it finally disappeared altogether, I cried. And once again, there was no one there to comfort me. All I wanted was her. But she was gone. For good. The night before had been so perfect, but happiness can never last.
Isn't it ironic?
I hope you liked this little oneshot. Review if you did!