A/N: Ok, so here's the deal…I'm thinking of making this into a chapter story. I added a third drabble, and I put them all into one chapter…and I think these three drabbles will serve as a prologue. I'm going to start writing a few chapters, and if I think my idea is going anywhere, I'll start posting the chapters. If it doesn't work, I'll leave it as is.
Never Goes Away, Never Forgotten, Never Lost
I
(Never Goes Away)
I try to imagine what I would say to her if she ever returned to New York. The bureau gave her a new life, a new identity, so maybe she'd have new friends. Maybe her new self doesn't associate herself with lawyers, cops, or other people with dangerous professions. Perhaps she's a teacher in some mid-country state, and she has girl's nights out with her co-workers every Friday, where they discuss knitting and the latest happenings on their soap operas. But she wouldn't do that. Her real self would remember her detectives, and would remember being shot on the cold ground. She'd remember being loved. That's what I would say to her. I love you, Alex Cabot.
II
(Never Forgotten)
Wisconsin, Illinois, Nebraska, Nevada, and even Oregon: Has it been only two years? I have been moved so often that it feels like decades have gone by. I feel decades older. Is that yet another wrinkle in the mirror or merely a crack in the shimmering glass? She probably looks the same: as young, athletic, and attractive as ever with not a gray hair in sight. If decades truly had passed, she would still be eternally youthful in my eye, so beautiful. Her image always will be fresh in my mind, as is the silent "I love you" spoken through her eyes when once she had used her hands to stopper my flowing wounds. I regret that my eyes that night were too cold and gone to say "I love you too." I love you too, Olivia Benson.
III
(Never Lost)
It's this feeling I get that it's still there. They always were making with the secretive glances, which neither of them noticed with the other. One of them would undress the other with her eyes and then look away. Immediately the other would discreetly study the first's sexy sway of the hips as she followed her down the hall. They didn't notice each other, but I noticed both of them. And I still notice that glint in my partner's eyes when she thinks I don't see her gazing longingly at that old picture in her drawer. I just wish my partner could tell me that she was in love with our old ADA: then she might not feel so alone.