Just like that, you were gone. No premonition, no goodbye, no farewell.
I've been in a uniform longer than I'd care to remember, yet this hits me hardest. It is one thing to find out about a fallen officer, but it is a whole different issue when it is someone that you know. I didn't just found out about it, I witnessed it.
I took for granted that you would always be there when we needed you the most, that you would always be able to get us the search warrant that we needed to do our jobs. I took for granted that you would always be there to answer our calls, or that you would always be standing beside the Captain when we get done interrogating suspects.
To this day my stomach still flips every time I think of you. But the one image that threw me over the edge was Olivia. My partner, my best friend. The emptiness in her eyes was unmistakable. That night I broke down into sobs every time I flash back to the both of you at the sidewalk. I still do, sometimes. It is starting to bother Kathy, that I'm all worked up over two other women. Hopefully she will understand that Olivia is important to me, and that you were- still are- important to her. That's why I tense up whenever I hear her mention your name. I know she doesn't open up easily, and I'm glad that she has started talking about you again. Whenever I see Liv looking out of the window or staring into a blank space, I know she is thinking of you.
I don't think you know just how much your friendship meant to her. My partner doesn't spend much time away from work, and the nonexistent circle of friends and love life are a living proof of her dedication to it. Sure, she and Jeffries were friends, but they weren't close like the both of you were. I'm fairly confident that she didn't tell her about the disaster with Cassidy, or the tinge of anger that she still feels for that sleaze bag journalist Nick. I'm glad she chose to share it with you, because I know there are things that I wouldn't understand even if she had tried to explain it to me.
To this day I am still puzzled as to why you wanted to let both of us know you were in the Witness Protection Program. For closure? To tell Liv that you were ok? That you'd be leaving your old life behind and you'd be making new friends? That Liv had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to her?
I don't know if I'm angry at you, or if I should be angry at you. All I know is that ever since we came back from that meeting with you, Liv was never the same again. Sure, she grieved for your loss, just to put up a show, then went back to work like normal again. But I know my partner. She keeps everything to herself now, sometimes even shutting me out.
The fire of passion still burns in her, though the flame is barely enough to get the job done. She no longer has that bounce in her stride, that edge in her voice, or that twinkle in her eyes. In their places now are a lazy stride, a dull voice, and a pair of icy, cold eyes. It is as though she has lost interest in everything in life.
I've been watching her closely the past few days. It has been a year since you got shot. Nobody around the squad seemed to have remembered, but I know Liv did. She's been quiet, her responses to others were minimal, and the guys were worried. I told them it was nothing, but I couldn't quiet my own worries.
To say that something was not right wasn't it. Something was right for a change. Liv was starting to become herself again. She's more cheerful this week, a stark difference from last week. The guys think it was the caseload that was taking its toll on her. Or maybe it's the new ADA that's been getting on her nerves. But I've been watching Liv closely, and I think I know why.
I didn't notice it at first, me being fashionably challenged, but Liv started wearing this brown leather jacket more and more. That's when I took note of it. It was similar to the black one that she already has, this much I can tell. Every time I see her pull the jacket around her a little tighter and I ask her if she's cold, she always shakes her head and says no. One day I asked her what had happened to the black one that she always wore, and for the briefest moment she went blank, only to shrug it off and change the subject.
Throughout our years as partners, Liv only did that twice. Once when she just got the news of her mother's death, and the second time when I asked her about her meeting with Richard White. I wasn't about to let this subject die, so I tried my luck again a few days later. We went to the deli across the street to get our lunch, and sat down to enjoy the sandwiches at the park.
I didn't want to waste time, so I told her what's been bothering me. She tried to look away, and looked as though she was about to get up and leave, but something stopped her. She took a deep breath to steady herself while I sat patiently across from her, waiting for her to say something. It was then that she told me about the leather jacket. It must've been a few months before the shooting when she bought the jacket, under your urging no less. Did you know she has been hanging the jacket out on the closet door since you were gone? She said it was her way of dealing with your absence, that it was a constant reminder to her that there would be happier days ahead; that when she was ready, she would put on that jacket and walk out the door to face the world once more.
Time passes by quickly, Alex, I hope you realize that. I know it's not up to you to decide when you can return, if you want to return at all. But know this, you've got a friend waiting and praying for your safe return. I hope you don't disappoint her. I hope that when she walks out of that door one day, you'll be standing on the other side, waiting for her.
I've been in a uniform longer than I'd care to remember, yet this hits me hardest. It is one thing to find out about a fallen officer, but it is a whole different issue when it is someone that you know. I didn't just found out about it, I witnessed it.
I took for granted that you would always be there when we needed you the most, that you would always be able to get us the search warrant that we needed to do our jobs. I took for granted that you would always be there to answer our calls, or that you would always be standing beside the Captain when we get done interrogating suspects.
To this day my stomach still flips every time I think of you. But the one image that threw me over the edge was Olivia. My partner, my best friend. The emptiness in her eyes was unmistakable. That night I broke down into sobs every time I flash back to the both of you at the sidewalk. I still do, sometimes. It is starting to bother Kathy, that I'm all worked up over two other women. Hopefully she will understand that Olivia is important to me, and that you were- still are- important to her. That's why I tense up whenever I hear her mention your name. I know she doesn't open up easily, and I'm glad that she has started talking about you again. Whenever I see Liv looking out of the window or staring into a blank space, I know she is thinking of you.
I don't think you know just how much your friendship meant to her. My partner doesn't spend much time away from work, and the nonexistent circle of friends and love life are a living proof of her dedication to it. Sure, she and Jeffries were friends, but they weren't close like the both of you were. I'm fairly confident that she didn't tell her about the disaster with Cassidy, or the tinge of anger that she still feels for that sleaze bag journalist Nick. I'm glad she chose to share it with you, because I know there are things that I wouldn't understand even if she had tried to explain it to me.
To this day I am still puzzled as to why you wanted to let both of us know you were in the Witness Protection Program. For closure? To tell Liv that you were ok? That you'd be leaving your old life behind and you'd be making new friends? That Liv had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to her?
I don't know if I'm angry at you, or if I should be angry at you. All I know is that ever since we came back from that meeting with you, Liv was never the same again. Sure, she grieved for your loss, just to put up a show, then went back to work like normal again. But I know my partner. She keeps everything to herself now, sometimes even shutting me out.
The fire of passion still burns in her, though the flame is barely enough to get the job done. She no longer has that bounce in her stride, that edge in her voice, or that twinkle in her eyes. In their places now are a lazy stride, a dull voice, and a pair of icy, cold eyes. It is as though she has lost interest in everything in life.
I've been watching her closely the past few days. It has been a year since you got shot. Nobody around the squad seemed to have remembered, but I know Liv did. She's been quiet, her responses to others were minimal, and the guys were worried. I told them it was nothing, but I couldn't quiet my own worries.
To say that something was not right wasn't it. Something was right for a change. Liv was starting to become herself again. She's more cheerful this week, a stark difference from last week. The guys think it was the caseload that was taking its toll on her. Or maybe it's the new ADA that's been getting on her nerves. But I've been watching Liv closely, and I think I know why.
I didn't notice it at first, me being fashionably challenged, but Liv started wearing this brown leather jacket more and more. That's when I took note of it. It was similar to the black one that she already has, this much I can tell. Every time I see her pull the jacket around her a little tighter and I ask her if she's cold, she always shakes her head and says no. One day I asked her what had happened to the black one that she always wore, and for the briefest moment she went blank, only to shrug it off and change the subject.
Throughout our years as partners, Liv only did that twice. Once when she just got the news of her mother's death, and the second time when I asked her about her meeting with Richard White. I wasn't about to let this subject die, so I tried my luck again a few days later. We went to the deli across the street to get our lunch, and sat down to enjoy the sandwiches at the park.
I didn't want to waste time, so I told her what's been bothering me. She tried to look away, and looked as though she was about to get up and leave, but something stopped her. She took a deep breath to steady herself while I sat patiently across from her, waiting for her to say something. It was then that she told me about the leather jacket. It must've been a few months before the shooting when she bought the jacket, under your urging no less. Did you know she has been hanging the jacket out on the closet door since you were gone? She said it was her way of dealing with your absence, that it was a constant reminder to her that there would be happier days ahead; that when she was ready, she would put on that jacket and walk out the door to face the world once more.
Time passes by quickly, Alex, I hope you realize that. I know it's not up to you to decide when you can return, if you want to return at all. But know this, you've got a friend waiting and praying for your safe return. I hope you don't disappoint her. I hope that when she walks out of that door one day, you'll be standing on the other side, waiting for her.