She Lost Him
A/N: A little One-Shot of the day Benson was told she had to move on and clear the desk of her partner. Cross-Posted on AO3.
She remembered what it felt like to lose him. She remembered the numbness she had felt standing in line for her coffee from the usual cart the day after she was told he wasn't coming back. Her shoulder felt cold for the first time in years and she wasn't sure how she should be feeling about it. She had looked next to her, where he had always taken up so much space. So much of her space. It had become their space. No matter where they were, they had shared it. She knew it just felt off.
She felt as though someone had taken a dull knife and cut off one of her appendages and she was left to stand there, bleeding out without anyone administering first-aid or calling an ambulance. She knew this wasn't normal, to feel this way, but the longer she dwelled upon the fact that she felt like she was missing something, the more bitter she felt herself becoming. The last time she had felt like this had been when she had come back from Oregon and found the temporary bimbo sitting in her seat with his hands on her.
She remembered that quite well. Only this time, it felt differently. It wasn't hurt like that – this was something else entirely. This was…grief? Was she grieving a man that she knew where he lived but didn't want to stalk him – what the hell was she grieving? Lots of cops lose their partners at some point or another. They transfer departments, they get promotions, they retire. So why was this any different? He just was ready to move on. But he wasn't. He would've told her. He would've spoken to her.
She thinks back to something his mother said, 'If he hated you, he'd just walk away.' Was this a Stabler trait that he had withheld all those years? The flighty behavior where when shit gets too hard, they just walk away.
She ordered her coffee and made her walk into the precinct, and pulled out her chair, plopping down unceremoniously behind the desk. Staring at the frame she knew contained the photo of him with his youngest kid, Eli.
She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat as she rubbed her forehead with her thumb, staring at his empty desk. It would only be a matter of time before they asked someone to clean it out and put all the contents of his desk and locker in a box and they'd have him come get it. Unless he asked for it to be sent to him. Or have someone take it to him. But, somehow, she seriously doubted this was the case, because she knew him. Or, she thought she knew him.
He wouldn't just leave her without saying anything, would he?
She stood abruptly and kicked the bottom drawer of her desk, earning looks from Fin as she walked away from the main room and toward the cribs. When she walked into the room, she sat down on one of the twin beds with the shitty mattresses. It was the same one she had sat on countless times and put her head on the pillow across from him, watching him relax as they tried to sleep while working a taxing case. She'd memorized every line of him in this room, and she now hated this room. Cursing, she abruptly stood up and walked out, almost knocking over a fellow detective. She apologized quickly and then made her way back to her desk.
Munch and Fin were watching her pace between their desks when Cragen finally called her in.
One of the various other detectives in the room was watching her through the window and voiced her opinion that everyone was thinking but were too afraid to vocalize.
"I'm fucking terrified of how she's acting right now, why did the asshole have to leave?" Munch shrugged and no one answered the young detective who was leaning back in her chair, shaking her head. "Does anyone want to drag his ass back here?"
"He's not coming back. Too many hoops to jump through." Someone else answered. "They had a good run, Benson and Stabler. Thirteen years."
"Too damn long. It's like a divorce or a widow situation – don't ya think?" The young detective asked, her brown eyes darting from the desk usually occupied by Stabler back to the office where Benson was standing and a visible sigh could be seen as her shoulders fell.
And before anyone knew what was happening, she had stormed out, and grabbed an evidence box and began clearing the desk. Fin watched as she paused with every item she packed into the box. When she got to his locker, she opened it and one of his jackets was hanging in the metal cubby as she reached out and touched the fabric and closed her eyes, taking the sleeve in her hand she lifted it up and touched it almost reverently. But as slow as her movements had been in that split second, the next moment she tossed it unceremoniously into the box and then closed the lid, writing STABLER on the top of the lid, in sloppy writing that looked nothing like her usual writing – taping it shut, and tossing it to the desk Sergeant at the entrance.
As she sat back down in her chair she looked around the room at all the people who had been watching her. "What the hell is everyone's problem? Get to work." She bit.
Cragen was watching her through his window, an unreadable expression on his face his hands in his pockets.
It was the brave young detective that had decided to take one for the team as she walked over and sat down next to Benson's desk in the chair usually occupied by either a suspect or a victim. She leaned over and said something quietly that caused Benson to nod quietly and the two of them walked out of the squadroom.
Bless that young detective and her courage at approaching the pissed off, grieving, and lost Olivia Benson.
She was going to try to be the both of them and it was going to make her impossible to deal with for a while.
Fin didn't want to say anything, but the day she lost him, she lost a part of herself.