Chapter 9

The bang is still ringing in my ears as I drop to my knees, and then completely crumple to the floor. The gun has fallen from my grasp, and has fallen to the side of me. I look to see that the bullet had ricocheted off of a pipe and had grazed my wrist. But the bullet had gone deep, creating a gash in my wrist that began to spout blood. It was completely parallel with the cuts I had created before.

Oh the irony.

"Olivia!" Elliot shouts, and he runs to my side. He is there in an instant, ripping off a shred of his shirt and wrapping it around my bleeding wrist. He is trying desperately, but there is so much blood. So much of my blood… "Olivia, stay with me! Dammit, Liv!"

"Elliot," I rasp. I watch as the blood, my blood, quickly snakes down my arm and soaks Elliot's shirt. He puts pressure on my wrist with his bare hand, but I smile. The blood is already seeping through his fingers and dripping to the floor. "Let me go."

"No, Liv, no!" he cries. "You are not leaving me, Benson, ya here me? YOU. ARE. NOT. LEAVING."

I open my mouth to try to speak, but I have lost my voice. I am so weak, so tired. Everything has a hazy glow around it, and my vision is going fuzzy.

"I'm so tired," I manage to rasp. "Elliot, I want to sleep."

"Don't fall asleep, Liv," Elliot sobs. He is full on crying. I can't help but smile. Elliot Bad-ass Stabler? Crying? "Liv, don't fall asleep! Ya gotta stay awake for me, okay? It'll be okay…"

I smile up at him, and watch as tears run down his cheeks. He looks at me longingly.

"Don't leave me, Liv," he whispers. "Please don't leave me."

My vision begins to fade, and the last thing I see is his face. His angelic, crying face.

"I love you, Elliot," I manage to whisper. "I'll see you on the other side."

"NOOOO!" he cries.

But I am already gone.

[Line Break]

I am standing over Elliot, watching him weep uncontrollably. It makes me uncomfortable, seeing him sob so hard like this. The Elliot I know has never been this emotional. I examine the scene further and notice he is clutching a body. His jeans are soaked in the blood, and it is dripping from his fingers as he clutches the body for dear life.

"No," he whispers. "Please don't go."

He is heartbroken, I can tell just by his voice. His eyes are red and bloodshot from crying, and the light is gone from his eyes. I walk closer to examine the body, hoping it's no one I know. Oh God, I think, I hope it's not one of his kids. I squat down by the head of the body, looking over again to see Elliot is still crying hard. I look back at the face, but it is masked by a wall of cropped brunette hair, matted in blood. It's definitely a female, I can tell.

I brush the hair out of her face, praying I don't recognize her. But I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming when I realize who it is. The body lying there, cold, pale, and lifeless, is… me. Olivia Benson. And then it hits me, like a bucket of cold water drenching me.

I'm dead. I'm dead!

"No!" I scream. "No! I didn't want this! Not like this!"

I remember all of the times I wanted to die; wanted someone to shoot me. They seem so petty and foolish, now that I am truly… dead. I never wanted this. No matter how badly my life had sucked, I realize, I never wanted this.

Are you ready to go? The familiar voice sounds behind me, and I turn to see the man from my dreams leaning against the door frame. By the first look, I know his name. He is Death. He has been taunting me. Had been taunting me. It makes me angry at this realization. Tsk tsk, now look what you've done. I warned you to end it sooner. Now look at the mess you've made. Oh well.. it's time to go anyway. Coming?

I flash back to a time when I was reading a book on folklore during a stakeout. I had picked it randomly to hide my face, at a library, I think, and I had chosen this one by accident. I remember the quote even now, as it had been burned into my brain:

In some cultures, Death is believed to visit and speak to those he knows will fall victim to an untimely and unfortunate death. He speaks to them in the week before their time, and prepares them for when he will come to retrieve them.

"No!" I shout, shaking my head wildly. "I don't want to go!"

You don't have much of a choice now, Olivia, Death tells me. He leans against the door frame and frowns. Remember Gitano? Richard White? Lowell Harris? The countless times you've been shot and attacked? You escaped me all of those times, Olivia, but I'm not letting you slip through my fingers again. I let it slide then, but I'm done letting it slide now. You're mine, now, Olivia. You're going to have to accept that.

"Please don't make me!" I beg, pleading with all of my might. But he shakes his head.

"It's over," he replies solemnly. "There's no going back now."

I take in his words, watching as the paramedics shuffle over in the course of moments. They examine me, hoping, even praying, to find any signs of life. They find none. They sigh in defeat, and pry Elliot away for just enough time to drape a sheet over me respectfully.

Respect for the dead.

But suddenly, I find a spark. A tiny spark, but a spark none the less. A tiny, itty bitty spark that has kept a part of me attached to my body. To my life.

"You're wrong," I tell Death. "This isn't over."

The spark grows brighter, until I am sure Death can sense it too.

No, he snaps. No! I am not letting you get away this time! You have evaded me for too long, Benson! You're had your run! Now you're mine!

But I only smirk, grab hold of the spark with everything I have, and with a flash of light I find myself back in my body. I am in massive pain, but I manage to cough, and I know my wrist has begun to bleed again. Someone takes the sheet off of my face, and I open my eyes.

My last memories before unconsciousness are of Elliot's hopeful smile.

Notes: I always did like a happy ending. ;) Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!