A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, especially whoever nominated it for a fic award! BTW, Greer Bontro and everyone else who commented on the viewpoint, I'm writing from Caro's POV because I just read The Lovely Bones for my American Lit summer project.


A funny thing happens when you die.

Your world ends, but you don't know it. Your soul leaves you, but you can't see it. Your body remains, but you can't feel it.

All at once, you lose everything you ever knew and gain everything you ever imagined.


They took my body to the hospital to clean me up and perform an autopsy. Mike stayed in the waiting area, oblivious to my presence beside the vending machines a few yards away.

I watched him as he sat in one of the plastic chairs, the really uncomfortable day-glow orange kind that waiting rooms always seem to have, as if the people there aren't in enough pain already. His posture said it all – he was slumped over, his elbows resting on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. He looked…defeated.

His mind had stopped racing and settled on one topic: me. The hospital traffic went unnoticed around him, taking a distant second in his consciousness. He just sat and thought of me.

I could tell he blamed himself for my death. He couldn't stop replaying the morning, trying over and over to pinpoint when everything had gone wrong. Trying to figure out how things had gone from routine to disastrous in under a minute.

I hated that he faulted himself. Neither of us could have known what would happen. Even first-grade detectives can't predict the future.

I guess that's the risk we all take when we sign up for the academy. You become a cop, thinking you'll get a kick out of trying to "protect and serve" eight million people. You might even do something heroic one day and get a nice shiny medal from the mayor.

Then you realize that you aren't expected to care about a lot of the city, just the ones who pay their taxes and aren't hookers or aliens or homeless. It doesn't take long before you're shoving people up against the wall just to get some information, and you start to wonder what happened to the idealistic, if naïve, person that you used to be. Everybody starts out as a true believer until the real world smacks them upside the head. Wearing the badge wears at you until one day you find yourself nearly blackmailing a witness into testifying against someone who will almost certainly kill them if they do. Bodies, perps, witnesses, lawyers, judges, families, accomplices…they all run together after awhile.


I felt the tears start to fall as I watched him sitting there. (I bet you didn't know the dead could cry, huh?) It was painful to watch him struggle like that, to know that he was in pain and I couldn't do a damn thing. I wanted so badly to go over and hug him, to let him know that he'd done nothing wrong. I wanted to tell him that I'd always be with him, knowing he'd laugh at how cliché it was to say that. It was so hard to see him feeling so lonely and isolated.

He wasn't alone for long. A few minutes later, Deakins, Goren, and Eames burst through the glass doors. Their appearance was enough to cause me to smile for the first time since my murder. I knew I could count on them to support Mike in all the ways I couldn't anymore.

As they nearly sprinted toward where he sat, I realized that they didn't know I was dead. They'd obviously been informed of the shooting, but of my demise, they had no idea. My smile faded as I watched them cautiously approach the place where he sat. Their faces showed the conflict inside of simultaneously wondering and not wanting to know. Their footsteps penetrated his deep reverie, causing him to look up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring at without actually seeing. His expression wordlessly told them everything they needed to know. My tears returned as they reacted to the unspoken truth.

It was almost funny how differently the three of them reacted. Alex instantly dissolved into tears, crying for me as the friend I'd become. She collapsed onto one of the orange chairs next to Mike and sobbed, not even trying to be discreet.

Bobby's eyes widened. He tried to keep his composure, but I could see his eyes welling up a bit. He slowly lowered himself next to Alex, the look of shock remaining on his face. She leaned on him, burying her face in his coat. The two of them sat and held each other, her crying what seemed like every drop of water in her small body, him still trying to hold back the tears.

Deakins closed his eyes and sighed. He seemed to almost cave in upon himself at the news. His shoulders slumped, his head hung, and his whole body sagged. His hand came up to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, like you would if you had a migraine.

It was strange to see them from my new point of view, to know that I was literally invisible to the world. I instinctively stepped toward them, wanting to help, to comfort them, to put a hand on their shoulder and say that things would be okay. I was only a few yards away when I stopped, remembering suddenly that that part of my existence was over.

I stood there and watched them, a feeling of frustrationand torment building inside me, until it all became too much and I had to turn away. I tried to concentrate on the chips and candy bars in front of me, focusing my attention on how many grams of sugar were in the Snickers bar in E5, but it was no use. Even as itbegan to fade, I couldn't avoid the sound of Alex's tears, of Bobby running his hand over her back, of Deakins sighing occasionally.

I noticed right then that Mike hadn't made a sound since we left the apartment building. Deakins had moaned, Alex had wept, and Bobby had tried not to, but Mike had just sat in silence, never saying a word.

But it was okay. He didn't have to.