A/N: Thanks, as always, to boredsvunut. And dedicated, as always to bored, Ink and DS. Folks, this is the last chapter, so enjoy it and review. Please. Oh, and the song is courtesy of Darryl Worley.

Chapter 7: Awful Beautiful Life

I laid in bed that night and thought about the day

And how my life is like a rollercoaster ride

The ups and downs and craszy turns along the way

It'll throw you off if you don't hold on tight

You can't really smile until you shed some tears

I could die today, or I might live on for years

I love this crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magc

Awful beautiful life

"Munch, Benson!" I turn to where Captain is standing in his doorway. "Erikson's boyfriend got home this morning. Go knock on his door."

Benson and I glance at each other before our coats on. It's a slower walk to the elevator than normal, both of us occupied by our own thoughts. Once on the elevator, we tuck scarves in coats, buttoning up against the cold that awaits outside the building. I hold the door open for her and quickly pull on my gloves, climbing into the sedan, passenger side. The ride to Private Eric Bauer's apartment is quiet and I can't decide whether to enjoy it or break it. I decide to enjoy it and we pull up in front of his building far too soon.

I knock on his door. "Who is it?"

"Police, Mr. Bauer. Could we talk with you?"

SVU

The wind tugs at my coat as we climb back into the car. Benson starts it and turns the heat on full blast, though we both know it will take a while to warm up. Like my heart, I think out of the blue and quickly berate myself for thinking about things like that now. We've just finished talking to Carol's boyfriend and it turns out he received some phone calls before he left for Iraq. Threatening phone calls. Once, he dialed star 69 to find out who it was, only to not have anyone pick up.

I take out my cell phone and dial Stabler's number. "It's Munch. We gotta pull Eric Bauer's phone records." I spell out Bauer for him and we hang up.

"He gonna call back?"

"Yeah." Silence for a moment as we sit and let the car warm. "Maribel said she never received any threatening phone calls. And we won't know from Elaina Simnowski anytime soon."

"Maybe Maribel's husband always happened to pick up. And what about Cheryl Simnowski? Maybe she got the calls," Bensons says reasonably.

I shrug. "So, what do you want to do about it?"

"Let's go back to the house and if Elliot calls on the way there, we'll figure it out."

"All right. Let's go." The car's warm now and she eases her way onto the street. We drive down to the corner of the block when my cell phone rings. "Munch... Okay, we'll be there in ten minutes."

"Elliot?" she asks.

I nod. "Got the name of a Jason Cusack."

"All right then." She turns the corner and we're off.

I knock on the door, hoping he's home. I'd hate to have to wait for him, especially if he's our guy. "Jason Cusack! Police!" I hear glass shatter and Benson backs up before kicking down the door. Guns are drawn and we go through the apartment. The bathroom window's broken and I make sure the glass is gone from the frame before climbing through onto the fire escape. I don't see anything and I'm about the go down when I hear movement and he jumps out, a gun in his hand. Before Benson or I can say anything, he fires and I can't help but yell out as pain shoots through me knee, along with the bullet. I fall back against the railing and drop my gun, though it thankfully falls on the landing.

"John!" she yells, but I wave her off as I slide down to the metal grating beneath us.

"Go get him," I tell her through clenched teeth. "I've got my radio, go. Go!" I say more urgently as she hesitates. She clangs down the fire escape and I'm left on my own. No big deal though. Not really, except the last time I got injured, I was in a jungle, not the city. I fumble for my radio. "Ten-thirteen. Officer down," I manage. "I repeat, officer down." I look down at my leg, seeing my black slacks get blacker with blood. Looks different with such a neat little hole piercing my pants instead of having them torn and hanging.

My knee hurts like hell and I wonder when the bus'll get here when I hear the pounding of feet. I should try to staunch blood flow, I think weakly as I slip a little more down the railing and closer to unconsciousness. My eyelids slide close as I try to block out the pain. Just make it stop. I hear someone, Fin probably, yelling my name in the apartment, but I can't yell back. His voice cursing reaches me through the window and he clambers through.

"John, can you hear me?" A light slap to the face. "John!"

I grunt. It's all I'm able to do.

"John, c'mon, hang in there man. The bus is coming. You're gonna be fine."

I don't know how long it took him to get here, but I don't care. I wonder if Benson got the bastard.

"John... hey, stay with me." I open my eyes a little. Just a crack. "That's it. Stay with me."

Cragen leans into view. Maybe through the window. "Hey, John. Bus is on the way. Can you tell me what happened?"

I'm still leaning against the rail on the fire escape and it's starting to dig into my back. My mouth feels awful dry, but I tell him anyway, haltingly and not even in full sentences. "We came in... he went out fire escape... followed him... shot me... Benson kept after him."

"Good job, John. Where?"

"My knee." I see Fin looking at it briefly and hear the wail of sirens as the bus pulls up to the building.

"Any minute now, John. Just hang in there." Cragen leaves my field of vision and I hear muffled voices and then two paramedics come over. They start taking my blood pressure and one cuts through my pant leg. Fin moves to the side and they put a collar on my neck and move me onto a backboard. With practiced ease they lift me up and I'm tempted to pass out. The medics lift me through the window and Cragen and Fin come back into view. They both follow as we move down the stairs. Finally we're out on the sidewalk and I can see all the lights from the bus and the squad cars. I notice the car Benson and I took here before the medics put me on a waiting stretcher and lift me into the bus. Fin climbs in and we start moving almost immediately. It's then that I finally pass out.

SVU

When I wake I'm in one of those horrid hospital gowns and I feel like shit, to put it mildly. There's a nurse in the room and when she sees I'm awake, she smiles before fetching a doctor. I look around the room, noticing it's not as bad as some hospitals I've been to. Quite nice actually, I think as the doctor walks in.

"Nice to see you awake, Detective." He smiles, but there's a sense of horrible news coming.

"Cut to the chase, doc. How bad?"

"Well, the bullet shattered your left knee." Pleasant. No wonder it hurt like hell. "We had to replace it."

"So am I on permanent desk duty or what?"

"You're going to need to be transferred to a rehabilitation center after a few days here. You'll stay there for a week or two, then a few months of physical therapy."

"How long till I can go back to work?" That's all I want to know now. The only thing I'm really thinking about.

"Your knee is going to be stiff and you might have problems bending it fully for quite a while. As long as you do well in rehab and in physical therapy, in a month or so. I'll have to check on you before I clear you though. After that, it's really up to how well you progress."

I sigh. Great. Basically, I'm stuck at a desk for the rest of my career. "What are the chances of never getting back out on the streets?"

"Well, you won't be able to chase anyone." Like I really run anyway. "But you'll be able to do just about anything else. I'd say probably what you do now. Very slim chance of you never making it back out."

"Thanks."

I expect him to leave, but he stays standing beside me. "There's something else." Shit, what now? "We found some metal fragments in you knee and removed them. Do you know what they were from?"

"Shrapnel in Vietnam."

He nods, quiet. I wonder if he's going to ask anything or say anything more.

"That all?"

"Yes." He finally leaves and I'm left to wonder about who's sitting in the waiting room. Fin's probably fit to have a hernia and Benson and Stabler might be doing paperwork for the arrest that I hope they made. Cragen'll be there unless the Brass wants to know anything. Maybe the nurse will send them in, or perhaps they haven't left her alone since we got here. I'm suddenly overcome with all these thoughts about the crappy waiting room and I want to roll over, face something other than the ceiling. Fat chance of that happening. Oh well.

SVU

"Hey. How are you doing?"

"Did you get him?" That's all I want to know right now. No more doctors reports. No more case facts. Just that one piece of information. Because I know that if I hear that, leaving won't seem so bad. Going out on a win wouldn't seem so bad.

"Yeah. We got him. He was very happy to know he added another charge to his indictment."

Should I tell her first? Should I tell her that I can't do this anymore? Fin deserves to know first, something tells me, but I want her to know. And now... now just seems right for some inexplicable reason. "Benson...Olivia, I can't be a cop anymore." I look straight at her for the first time in a week. Straight into her eyes as they squint and try to comprehend the thought. No, not comprehend. Accept.

"Don't say that. A little rehab and you'll be back out there."

"And don't you be stubborn. I'm okay with it. So please, you be okay with it too." That's some weird English, my disassociating brain says.

She shakes her head. "You could ride a desk. Cragen'll help you out. Next year, you'll be back to making collars. I'll help you."

She'll help me? How? How could she spend all that time on me, but when it really matters, let me walk away? "Olivia," I take her hand in mine, "two years until they make me leave. What's the difference if I stay at a desk for those years or do something else? Hey, maybe I'll be some rich prick's butler. Your tea, sir." I fake an English accent as her eyes shine more than normal. Damnit! Don't cry now! I don't want you to cry. I want you to accept it and move on. Forget me. Forget me and go fall in love with some guy who's at least your age. Some man who'll take care of you and won't be as burden. Some man who won't break your heart. Some man who isn't me.

"That's not what you want and you know it. You know as well as I do that the only job you've ever loved is the Job. Don't feed me that bull."

She's angry now and all I can do is look from her fiery eyes to the side, trying to make her see without... without really showing her. Yeah, perfect sense there, John. Bloody perfect. "Please, don't do this now. I just-" I realize how much I sound like a husband urging his wife not to start of fight in front of all these people, honey.

She cuts me off. "No, John. You don't do this now. I hate when you get like this. Elliot, Fin, Cragen, me, Casey even... we're all here for you. And you can bet they won't want to hear what I've just heard. We'll fight tooth and nail for you. Don't you dare think that we're going to let you sit at home, or at some rich prick's house waiting for orders."

I knew that she wouldn't take this well. But the sensible part of me says she's right. I guess I knew it all along, but facing retirement is easier than facing this. Facing the fact that, no matter how many times Fin yells at me to get my skinny ass in gear, no matter how many times Elliot yells at me to throw away the empty coffee can, no matter how many times Cragen yells at me to shut up, and no matter how many times I show up at some insane hour at Casey's, they all care. They care whether I stay for another two years or reitre now. They care whether I live or die. Damn, this is worse then facing some messed up child rapist.

Her warm, soft fingers are suddenly holding my chin lightly as she turns my head to face her. "I love you, John and I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'm sorry I didn't see it that night. But if you can't promise me you'll get back on your feet and at least get a desk job back at the squad, promise me you'll try your hardest. And if you can't at least do that, then you're not the man I thought you were." Her voice is choked up with tears and I know now, in this moment, more than I ever have, that she cares. It's in her eyes, her voice, her touch and I... I can't believe I ever thought there was a moment she didn't care. That I ever thought she let me walk away because she didn't care. She let me walk away because she didn't know what else to do. She was Olivia that night, on that bench, cold and hard. She wasn't Liv and she wasn't Benson. She was Olivia. And she was scared and so was I.

"I promise." I squeeze her hand to emphasize and she gives a small smile.

"I knew you would." And I don't doubt it.

There's a moment of silence, except for the slight beep of machines and the noise from the hallway, but between us, complete, beautiful silence. "What now?" I whisper, hating the fact that it's me breaking the silence.

She shrugs and I grin impishly. "What?"

I grin even more and she leans in and kisses me. A sweet, wonderful kiss. When she pulls away, my smile is gone, but it's understood that it isn't necessarily a bad thing. "Thank you," I whisper and she looks at me funny.

"For what?"

I smile. "You'll see. In time, you'll see."

"I hate when you get cryptic."

All I do is look at her, unable to come up with a wise remark. I'm tired and happy. For the first time in what seems like forever, I'm truly, wholly happy.

Happy...