Cragen's POV-

There'd been an unnaturally binding bond between the two of them since day one.

We'd been standing there for nearly over fifteen minutes. Sweat trickled down is face, as he listened.

He'd ceased breathing only a moment before. Opting, instead, to listen for any sound that might come from the opposite side of the heavy wooden door. He took a deep breath, the mixture of anger and fear that marred his features, left unchanged. The words that he would have spoken caught in his throat when he heard it. A whimper. Barely audible above the adrenaline rush he'd been on since the whole scenario had started.

I saw it with their first handshake. When their eyes met for the first time. It was palpable in the stare held between them as she sat at her desk for the first time. In the smile that had yet to leave either face since I'd introduced them.

Aiming his gun downwards, his arms taunt, no one could have missed the look of determination and fearing calm that passed over his face.

"Olivia?" He nearly bellowed. It was quiet, until he heard it again. Another, almost imperceptible, whimper. And before another eyelid could blink, his foot was drawn up and the door was forced inwards. Wood splintering from the frame in all directions.

Time has only seen that bond strengthened. The first cords tightened with the first stalker. The over-protectiveness that had radiated from him only made her smile. It was there again, the second time. Only she had responded with anger. The bond was stronger than ever when they had pulled out of that funk. Her mother's death had seen a closeness between the two of them that never existed.

The man had been standing over her. Waiting for our entry. She had been lying on a small cot, to the left of the small room. Blood oozing out of the small cuts on her body. Naked. Bruised and battered. A twisted type of grimace took over the man's face, as he pointed his gun at her head.

He big, chocolate, eyes widened even further, as she attempted to cry out to us. Albeit futilely, the rag stuffed into her mouth made that sound… made the sound even more weak. Our hearts broke. But my best friend's shattered.

"Drop your weapon!"

It was because of that bond that so many operations went undetected by the targets, until the end. The bond that bound them so tightly was thicker than the cables that bind a bridge together. It held strong as business was mixed with personal. Not pleasure.

"I can't! This is hw it ends, don't you see?"

"It doesn't have to!"

"Oh, but it does."

When his wife had filed for separation, the roles were reversed. She became his protector. She guarded him with ever power she had possessed. And I know he was thankful. He had never voiced it, but I knew. And so had she.

Before it happened, she had tried to scream, murderously, desperately, something out that strangely resembled my friend's, her partner's, name. we all knew it was.

The blast had everyone shocker. The man's face remained blank. Neutral. Even I couldn't have stopped the man who stood at my side. The man I thought of as a son. His arms dropped to his sides. A cynical smile overtook his face. Hatred flashed in his eyes, as his head lowered. And he had lunged at the man, who had taken his partner's life only moments before.

All that I can say, now, is that I wish I had established a bond such as they had with my wife, before her death. In the twenty seven years we had been married, we never established a connection like they had on that first day.

My self proclaimed son, my friend, had gotten a good run for his money with the man. Bloodied his up pretty good. As the overly emotional shell of the man, who had been so vivacious only moments before, stood and turned around, no one had the time to warn him that the man, who had been presumed unconscious, had slowly shifted and gotten a hold of the gun. Another blast shocked everyone, yet again.

Even though they are both gone, they are still like my own daughter and son. I will always love them. This unique web of sorts that held them together, we all know that it is still with them. Binding. Connecting. Tying. Rooting. Supporting. It's still there, and it can never be lost. The bond that they have shared in life, I now know they share even in death.

The End.