A/n I was reading fics and one had Huang and Olivia. I just can't see that
as very likely... So I decided to write a Cabot/Huang one. After Alex is
forced to go into WPS.
For Her, I ache
Ever since she's been gone, the precinct has been quiet. I can tell all of the detectives miss her. We went to her funeral two weeks ago, and I've barely been able to control myself ever since that fateful night. I wasn't even there to be with her as she lay dying. I never even got to tell her that I loved her one last time.
I look around the precinct and I wonder, if anyone knows the pain felt from losing a loved one that never knew. Oh sure we had dated. Plenty of times. We had even shared the magical first kiss of a relationship. We had a perfect world built together. Everyone knew and approved, even Cragen. But now, it's gone.
I wish I were a drinking man, like Elliot or Fin. But, it's just not in my genetic makeup to be drunk. Instead, I devote my time to doing something Alex would've approved of: volunteering at battered women's shelters. Working with rape crisis centers. Picking up where her abrupt death left her.
Every time I've helped a girl or woman get a semblance of her life back, I feel a pang or regret. If I had been with Elliot and Olivia at the bar, maybe, just maybe, I could've helped. They keep telling me, that no I was right the first time. There's nothing I could've done to prevent it. But that doesn't help me sleep at night.
I hardly ever have free time, that's the way I want it. If I had free time, I'd be thinking of her. If I thought of her, I wouldn't be able to help the SVU or her. She would have wanted her friends to be able to grieve and move on. So I look at the sky every night and wonder, just where in heaven she was and if she missed me as I missed her.
And whether she ached for me, for my embrace, as I ached for hers.
For Her, I ache
Ever since she's been gone, the precinct has been quiet. I can tell all of the detectives miss her. We went to her funeral two weeks ago, and I've barely been able to control myself ever since that fateful night. I wasn't even there to be with her as she lay dying. I never even got to tell her that I loved her one last time.
I look around the precinct and I wonder, if anyone knows the pain felt from losing a loved one that never knew. Oh sure we had dated. Plenty of times. We had even shared the magical first kiss of a relationship. We had a perfect world built together. Everyone knew and approved, even Cragen. But now, it's gone.
I wish I were a drinking man, like Elliot or Fin. But, it's just not in my genetic makeup to be drunk. Instead, I devote my time to doing something Alex would've approved of: volunteering at battered women's shelters. Working with rape crisis centers. Picking up where her abrupt death left her.
Every time I've helped a girl or woman get a semblance of her life back, I feel a pang or regret. If I had been with Elliot and Olivia at the bar, maybe, just maybe, I could've helped. They keep telling me, that no I was right the first time. There's nothing I could've done to prevent it. But that doesn't help me sleep at night.
I hardly ever have free time, that's the way I want it. If I had free time, I'd be thinking of her. If I thought of her, I wouldn't be able to help the SVU or her. She would have wanted her friends to be able to grieve and move on. So I look at the sky every night and wonder, just where in heaven she was and if she missed me as I missed her.
And whether she ached for me, for my embrace, as I ached for hers.