I reached for the mail tucked inside the mailbox. The small envelope fell out of my light grip, to the ground. I knew it was from you before I even picked it up. I recognized that penmanship anywhere. My heart skipped a beat. It had been 2 years since your last letter. Other than the simple and emotionless "Happy Birthday" text to my phone, it's been to long without connection. But I am a coward and won't admit it to you.

I sat on the couch as I carefully open the envelope as to not rip the letter. I am nervous to look at the words under my name. I don't know what you are about to tell me.

Dear Elliot,

Almost 2 years since I have wrote to you. I still miss you just as much as I did before. I thought time would take the pain away but in reality it made it worse.
I am getting married on Saturday.
I didn't send you a formal invitation because I couldn't decide if I wanted you there. But I do. If you'll come that is. Part of me thinks sending this is stupid because I know you won't show up. Maybe you will sit in a parked car outside the church like you did at Munch's retirement party. Or maybe you will wait outside the doors just like you did when I was in the hospital after Lewis' attacked me. Yes. I know about those times. I know about all the times you sat outside my apartment debating on whether or not to come in. All I can say is: I wish you would have.
I just want you to know I am no longer angry at you. I don't understand why you left me but I know you, Elliot Stabler, and I know you wouldn't have left your best friend, your partner of 12 years, without a good reason.

I hope you can make it Friday, I'm sure you can, but I know you won't.
Give Kathy and the kids my love.

-Olivia

My mouth dropped opened. Married. My heart sunk deep inside my chest. I have had a few gunshot wounds in my life but I have never felt this much pain before. I can't help but wonder how did you know about Munch's party or the hospital? You have always been so observant, without making it obvious. Another reason you are so good at your job. I run my fingers over the letters that form the words you wrote. Knowing you touched this piece of paper is comforting in itself. I can't even form a thought. My mind is scanning words and emotions but not picking one out.

For now this is just a one-shot but if you guys like it enough I wouldn't mind turning it into a chapter story. R&R and let me know!