Life is unfair, but death is always just, if only in its utter disregard for circumstances. An elderly lady came to this land of the dead, not expecting to find a corpse. A corpse lying above an empty grave, although of course the widow didn't know that. Soaked with last night's rain. And the day was dark and cloudy; that's spring, sunny one minute, raining the next. That's life.
It was small, the ceremony, because they tried to keep it hush-hush, given the situation. Elliot was there, of course, looking guilty as hell, for whatever reason. Rumor had it they'd been on the rocks for a while. Munch didn't offer any witty commentary. Cragen looked like he'd aged twenty years overnight. Fin just shook his head, over and over.
When the last shovel-full of dirt was placed on the casket, the others thought it was over. It was over long before. Years, or maybe days.
She places tulips in front of the simple stone. Cheerful but not outlandish. There's Olivia's mouth on her lips, her neck, her stomach. And Olivia's face in her mind like a slideshow—happy, sad, determined, devastated; beautiful.
"Did you know her?" he asks, stupidly, taking her hand.
She hears herself breathe, once, twice, again. "Yes."