Olivia closed the Captain's door behind her and crossed over to her desk. She reached for her coat on the back of her chair on her way out, but a manila envelope, laying innocently on top of all her paperwork, stopped her. Taking a glance around the empty squad room, she leaned a hip against the edge of her desk and turned her attention to the curious package invading her work. She gave a sad, breathy laugh. No return address. She knew. She knew immediately who it was. And, with a heavy heart, she slid her finger under the crease, pulled out the paper, and started reading.

"This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will…

My rifle and myself know that what counts in this war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit...

My rifle is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my rifle clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will...

Before God, I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.

So be it, until victory is America's and there is no enemy, but peace."*

Olivia furrowed her brow, fingering the crumpled sides of the letter. Why did he send her a creed about a rifle? She didn't know much about the Marines, other than the fact that this package's sender had been proudly enlisted for four years active duty. But what did this have to do with her? With anything?

She shifted her eyes from their useless wandering about the empty bullpen and scanned the bottom of the document, looking for a note of explanation. She sniffed. Of course. Scrawled underneath the copy was the discernible mark of someone she wished she could forget:

'You were my rifle.'

No name, no closing, no 'oh sorry I haven't contacted you in three and a half years,' nothing. Just four words; four words that could have been substituted for the famous three. It wasn't the message it held that brought unwelcome tears to shimmer in her eyes; it was the use of were. As in already happened. Never will again. Something lost. Something that once was.

Olivia blew out the breath she'd been holding, expelling her hopes with the air she'd trapped inside. She finally realized; just as he had obtained leave from the Marines, he had obtained leave from the job, from her. She was just a part of the job; a vital part, but nothing he could hold onto once his work was done. He turned in his rifle, and he was turning in his connection to her. If he didn't, he'd be holding on to things he loved but couldn't have. He couldn't have her.

She smiled, a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. And just as he turned in his rifle, she turned in their relationship. It hit the bottom of the wastebasket with hardly a sound. A silent goodbye. Just as he had done.

'It's over. It's not gonna happen. It was never gonna happen. I'm sorry.'

A/N: *This is the Rifleman's Creed, part of the basic United States Marine Corps Doctrine. All enlisted Marines learn the creed at recruit training and they are expected to live by it.

I've sailed the E/O ship through all the ugly, churning waters, but I needed something to provide closure for what the writers can't allow to happen. (Thanks, Dick Wolf. Love ya bby.) So, it's sad, but this is how I pictured it. But yes, I will continue to hope Elliot shows up during her trial and carries her away bridal style to some cliche' white-picket-fence-and-manicured-yard-home where they have the perfect statistical 2.5 children and live together forever. It can happen. Thanks for reading, all!