Author's Note: Well, with this chapter, this story is complete. It just felt right to end it here. Thank you all for your support and lovely reviews. This has been my labor of love both for SVU and Chicago PD. Title and lyrics from Big Star's "My Life Is Right." Other quotes are from the show and for the Mass of Christian Burial.

Chapter 7: You Give Me Life And That's Right

Lonely age of uncertainty
They disappear when you're near me
When you're around my life's worthwhile
And now I long to see you smile

By the time she wakes up, Voight's already out of bed. The smell of bacon and coffee is wafting up the stairs, prompting Liv to get out of bed, throw on her short robe and make her way downstairs. Voight's cursing at the griddle because the bacon's starting to look a little extra crispy. She can't help grinning at the colorful profanity emanating from the stove area.

"Need some help?"

"No, goddammit." he barks sharply.

Liv's not phased. She knows today's going to be difficult. It's not about the bacon.

She goes over to the stove. "Let me do it, Hank. Don't be an ass."

Grumbling, he takes a seat at the table, rubbing his face with his hand. Mutters to himself as he practically inhales his black brew.

She's able to salvage the bacon, slides it on a plate for both of them, and grabs some toast.

"You made coffee. Bless you." Taking a sip, she smiles and closes her eyes. "And it's good too. I'll forgive you the bacon."

He cracks a faint smile at that. "Heh." Olivia looks at him closely, there are pronounced circles under his eyes. Clearly, sleep's been eluding

They sip their coffee in silence and slowly. Both of them unconsciously trying to prolong the moment before they have to go upstairs and get ready to bury one of their own.

The silence this morning is heavy and sad. Olivia doesn't try to break it. Sometimes silence is the only balm for an open wound. This is the part of the burden that she doesn't get to carry. Because she didn't know Nadia. Not really. And this isn't her squad.

She's just a stranger there at the request of a friend...lover...whatever this was, she still wasn't sure. Maybe it's simply two people coming together for comfort. It's hard to read Voight sometimes - he's not exactly been committal. She's shared so much with him but he...he can be so closed off.

He's already lost the love of his life so she's not sure if he'll ever be able to truly let her in.

Chicago is worlds away from Manhattan, after all.

And would she want to share space with a ghost?

But then again, would one more ghost matter? She already lives with so many.

…...

"Benson. We gotta go." Voight barks as he paces restlessly at the entryway. He's dressed in his full sergeant's uniform and it's heavy and even though the weather is cold, it's uncomfortable. But it's a small price to pay to honor the girl...woman... who had become so important to all of them.

"Sorry," Benson apologizes as she meets him at the step. He just looks at her. She's wearing her sergeant's dress uniform, hair twisted up. It takes her a moment to figure out that he's looking at her with something like approval. But he doesn't say anything, simply opens the door for her and gestures her through it.

When they reach the church, Voight finds a place to park and they both walk into the vestibule. Nadia was traditional Catholic so she's being buried out of Old St. Mary's in downtown. Ruzek, Alinsky, Lindsay, Halstead, Dawson, Platt, Burgess, Roman, and Atwater are all waiting for Voight. She lets him go ahead and hangs back.

This is where she disappears into the shadows. This is not her place. This is his family, Nadia's family.

Platt sees her standing back and walks over to her. "Thanks for coming today, Sergeant."

"It's my honor." Benson replies. "I'm sorry we didn't find Yates in time."

"They don't blame you." Platt says. "If that's what you're thinking. So if you're here just out of some misplaced guilt, well, you can turn right around and go home."

"I'm here to pay my respects to a very brave young woman." Liv says firmly and she and Platt lock gazes.

Platt nods. "Then we're good. Sit with us."

"I couldn't..."

"Not a request, Sergeant." Platt's words are harsh but her eyes aren't.

We're all family. Cops stand with each other.

Liv's not going to argue. Not here. So, nodding at the members of the squad, she stops in front of Erin Lindsay.

"I'm so sorry." She says softly.

"I know." Lindsay's clearly struggling but she's got her game face on and it's clear that she won't welcome anything that might be considered "coddling." "She was dead the moment he took her."

"If you need anything..."

"I got it." Lindsay's chin goes up. "We got it." Liv doesn't say anything further but she recognizes the pink clouding when she sees it. Erin Lindsay is trying, trying so hard to keep it together, to block the pain. To pretend that she's okay, that she's not internally blaming herself for Nadia's death. It's going to be a rough fall when the pink clouding ends. But she can't tell her that. It's not her place.

Some things people just need find out on their own. So Liv simply nods and makes her way into the church.

…...

It's been a while since Liv's been in a church. She's really had not much use for God. Or maybe it's that God hasn't had much use for her. With everything she's seen, been through... Olivia finds it hard to believe that there's some omnipresent, all-knowing Being that "cares" for people. Because no God would allow the suffering that she – and Hank – see on a daily basis.

But she respects those who hold to religion. Whatever grounds them, keeps them sane, she's all for it. And, clearly, it works for some.

To each their own.

Though I should wander the valley of death, I fear no evil for You are at my side...

Where was God when Yates was brutalizing Nadia? Where was he when she was screaming and crying for it to end?

Where was He when Lewis was brutalizing her? Where was He when she was screaming and crying for it to end?

Surely your kindness and mercy follow me all the days of my life...

Where was the mercy when Yates dumped Nadia's body, covered only by a black tarp, dignity robbed even in death?

Voight, Halstead, Olinsky, Atwater, Ruzek, Platt, Dawson, Burgess, and Lindsay are all escorting the plain wooden casket down the aisle of the church. Voight's face is completely impassive, except for his eyes. Olivia turns away because the pain is so raw, she feels like she's intruding on something very personal.

The veil is drawn back and she's catching a glimpse of the man that buried his wife long before it was her time. The one who had to stand by and watch as cancer dug its way through the love of his life. Until she was all hollowed out and unrecognizable. He's only mentioned her very briefly but the look in his eyes had said enough.

And, although the service doesn't last very long (according to her watch), it feels interminable.

…...

Let us pray, dearest brothers and sisters for our beloved sister, Nadia Magdalena Decotis whom the Lord has called forth from this world and whose body has been given to us for burial.

Olivia bends her head in respect and, although she herself is skeptical in the existence of God, she asks for mercy and comfort for the grieving squad members, whose hard faces are masking fractured hearts. The squad who has been broken once more and will never be the same again.

Out of the hearse, Dawson, Atwater, Olinksy, Voight, Halstead and Ruzek lift the coffin and place it down so that it can be lowered into the open grave. And each of them step forward to put a handful of dirt on the coffin, except for Lindsay.

She lays down a white rose.

Nadia had always loved them.

…...

"When I met Nadia for the first time, one of the first things I said to her when she was still jonesing for a fix was 'if you want a life better than what you got, I will help you get to the other side. That is a promise. Nadia, "Erin pauses, collecting herself as her voice shakes, "...Nadia was one of the bravest people I've ever known. She was tough. She was following her dream. In the end, I wasn't the one who got her to the other side. She was. Because that's the kind of person Nadia Decostis was. Tough, determined, and courageous.

She fumbles and takes out a sheet of paper. "Uh, the deputy chief sent this over. I figure I'd share it.'Ms. Nadia Decotis, this letter is to commend you on being accepted as a recruit to the Chicago Police Department.'" Lindsay's voice breaks. "She would have made a hell of a cop. Certainly one of the bravest.

Nadia wanted to be a cop because she wanted to make a difference. And I just wanna say that her life wasn't in vain because, in the end, she did make a difference. She made a difference in Jay's life, in Dawson's, Olinsky's, Platt's, Hank's...mine.." her voice cracks again..."all of ours. Nadia was committed and that never changed.

Nadia might not have gotten to wear the uniform or carry a badge. But she died a cop."

Lindsay puts her hand on the plain oak casket elevated over the open grave and her voice softens. "I will never forget you. We will never forget you."

Grant that our sister, Nadia, may sleep here in peace

until You awaken her to glory.

….

This is my resting place forever.

…..

And that's when she breaks. Voight walks over and pulls his surrogate daughter into him, his face set hard. And she's trying hard not to sob but the cries are so raw.

Olivia's standing back, not wanting to intrude, almost wanting to turn away from the pain, to spare them a stranger's eyes viewing such naked agony. She's seen it before, the grief-stricken parents, lovers, friends, who threw themselves at her, pounding her frantically, begging her to tell them that it's not true, that their baby isn't gone.

The wind is cold and bitter and small flakes of snow are starting to swirl around them. As they lower the coffin into the ground, Lindsay manages to pull herself together, throwing back her shoulders.

Hank scans her face intently. Lindsay simply nods, he grips her shoulder and then they both turn to watch the coffin being lowered into the grave.

…...

The drive to the bar is a quiet one. Neither Olivia nor Hank feel like speaking. The pain is just too close to the surface, too raw. And, while Olivia did not know Nadia that well, she grieves for the loss of the young woman who clearly had so much potential. Who could have been a good cop.

They were all robbed. And there'll be no forgiveness of Yates from any of them.

Some things are just beyond forgiving and forgetting.

They've decided to meet at Molly's for a good old-fashioned Irish wake. Because Nadia deserved to be remembered and not for the way she died. Remember me with laughter and smiles, not with tears. I want you smiling for me.

Although neither Benson or Voight say a single word, Hank reaches over while he's driving and grips her hand.

Both of them are struggling with their own ghosts who have followed them to that tiny little cemetery in Oak Park, where the snow is falling gently over a freshly dug grave.

When he parks the car, they just sit for a moment, taking deep breaths.

And Voight's just gripping the wheel, knuckles white against it. Each person he buries...it feels like another failure. Someone he could have saved and didn't. And he's seeing another he loves slip away from him like smoke on the breeze.

"I don't know what to say to her." The confession is jerked out of him as if he's been forced to speak the words. And this troubles him more than anything else – he's always been able to help Erin but she's going to a place where's she only been once before. And that had been hard as hell to get her out of there.

Liv looks over him sympathetically. Doesn't try to offer advice, simply listens.

"I'm no damned good at this." Voight curses.

"I think you're better than you think you are." Liv tilts her head at him. "It's just gonna take time. You know that."

He rubs his face with his hand. "Goddammit. We don't have time. Lindsay's gotta have her head in the game. And if she spirals down..."

"Then you'll catch her, Hank." She squeezes his hand. "If anyone can save her, you can. She trusts you. You're her family."

Hank takes a deep breath. "I dunno, Benson. She's been this way once before. Back when she was in the middle of her bad habits. I had a hard time getting through to her then. And Bunny's back in her life now and I can't fight blood."

"Sometimes people hit rock bottom before they're willing to face their demons." Olivia says quietly. "You know this and I know this. You hate that they need to go through it but sometimes the journey to heaven leads through hell."

Hank looks over at her and her face is drawn. She's trying not to but he can tell Lewis still takes up a lot of space in her mind. How could he not? He'd put Olivia through hell and there are moments he marvels at her strength. For her to have gone through that and not totally broken... that takes huge strength of will.

Benson's core is steel through and through and Hank can't help respect and admire that. She's his equal on so many levels and it's been a long time since he's met anyone like that.

The last one was Camille.

"Also, Erin may be leaning on Bunny because she doesn't think she deserves better." Olivia adds quietly. "When you're beating yourself up, you don't think you're worth the love of the people who genuinely care about you. It's easier to go to the people who keep taking from you. You accept the love you think you deserve. And you can't always fight that. Sometimes you just have to let them go and trust they'll make their way back."

"When did you get so wise, Benson?"

Olivia smiles at Hank tiredly. "The way most people do, through experience. And I wouldn't call it wisdom, really – more like realism and acceptance."

He unbuckles his seat belt.

"Walk with me." He says.

"A please would be nice, Hank." She grins.

Hank rolls his eyes a little.

"Fine, please, then."

"Better."

He barks a short laugh, scratching his head. "You're gonna make me whipped, you know that?"

Olivia simply gives him an enigmatic smile. One that, despite the stressful events of the day, really turns him on.

They both get out of the car and walk a distance from Molly's, to a place that's a little sequestered and private. There are some trees over there and empty buildings. It's so quiet; like the whole world is subdued that day.

Hank stands and looks out on the buildings. Looking at him, Olivia realizes that he's looking tired and old and it sends a pang through her heart. It gets tiring fighting so many battles ...and even more wearying losing them. She's not the only one who has been losing pieces of herself to the job.

She reaches for his hand and grips it tightly. And his thumb runs gently over hers, gratefully acknowledging her presence.

"You and Lindsay...your entire squad..." Olivia says, "you'll make it through this."

He sighs deeply. "I wish I was that sure."

"The Hank Voight I know isn't a quitter." Olivia says, a little sharply. "He may be a pigheaded, bull-in-a-china-shop, stubborn son of a bitch but he's not the type to quit when things get tough."

The faint smile on his face is tired and lopsided and skeptical. "Jesus, Benson, I'm flattered." He quips, a bit sardonically.

"You know it's true."

He bows his head in acknowledgment and grins slightly at her.

"I'm glad you're here." He says.

"I am too." She smiles.

And that's when he turns to her and pulls her into his body. For a long moment, they just stand there embracing one another. He smells of Chicago, the wet streets, the air laden with the smell of dead leaves, the sharp clean air, and the smoke of small bars. He pulls back to look at her and something she sees in his eyes makes her stomach flip over. Gently, he brings his hand to her face and, almost unconsciously, she turns her face into it.

What was it about this stocky, burly, rough-around-the-edges, not-just-bend-but-break-all-the-rules cop that got too her so much?

Maybe it's that he fights as hard as she does to get the victims justice. It might be more rough and tumble than what she's used to – or what she'd even find remotely acceptable – but it gets the job done.

Maybe she likes his rough sense of humor, or maybe it's his deep sense of compassion and caring for the people under his command. He's got a loud bark and even stronger bite – but the bites really are reserved for those who go after his city...and the ones he loves.

He'd do anything for them.

Maybe that's what she loves.

And she freezes.

Is she starting to fall in love with Hank Voight?

There are so many reasons why this would be such a bad idea.

First, long distance. Manhattan and Chicago are worlds apart.

Second, their methods. She plays by the book – he likes to not just toss the book in the garbage but pretend he never got the book in the first place.

"Stop thinking, Olivia." Hank whispers, seeing the hesitation and uncertainty in her eyes.

He leans forward and presses his mouth against hers. It's not hard and rough, like most of the others have been, but it's gentle, warm, and kind. It tastes of whiskey – even though he hasn't been drinking yet, it's just how he tastes - gratitude and home. His arm is around her back and rubbing it gently.

And she kisses him back with everything she has. He pushes her back against the tree but gently and nibbles on her ear. Placing her hand on his face, she kisses his mouth and cheek and nose. It's all affection. And she's not afraid.

I think I might love you a little, Voight.

"Olivia, maybe this isn't the best place or best time..." he starts awkwardly. God, he's so not used to doing this and he's just as uncertain as she is. Both of them are rusty.

"You talk too much, Hank Voight." She whispers, trying to ease his discomfort.

He grins. "So I've been told." He brushes a wisp of her hair out of her face. For such a tough guy, he can be so gentle.

They wrap their arms around another again, his mouth closes over hers, and this kiss is different from all the others. It's a promise, hinting at a future.

Pulling back, Voight's craggy face is serious. "Olivia, I want this to work."

"This?" She laughs a little nervously. "You have to be more specific." Because she's still scared.

Oh, God, Olivia, could you sound more idiotic?

"I think this," he gestures between the two of them, "can work."

"I do too." She's initially surprised to hear these words come out of her mouth, given her doubts and insecurities. But she suddenly realizes that she means them. Despite their differences, they have a shot.

This is my Hail Mary, a chance at happiness.

And different isn't always bad. It's just...different.

"I thought Camille was my last shot." Voight says quietly. "I was wrong." He looks at her intently and Olivia can't speak. All her words have deserted her.

"I'm in if you are." He tells her. Behind those brown eyes, normally totally confident and self-assured, is a tiny glimmering of uncertainty. Because she could say no and he knows that what this is between them is still so tenuous.

But she's ready.

"I'm in, Hank Voight." And Olivia finds her voice, as shaky and tremulous as it is.

It's been a long few weeks and cruel ones. And the world outside is still cold, Nadia is still gone, Yates is still alive, and Voight still needs to figure out how to pick up all the pieces from their shattered world. But in this moment, everything is good and the world is kind.

He pulls her into him again and nuzzles her nose.

"Here's to us." And he kisses her.

"To us." She smiles against his mouth. She's finally come home to harbor. And they are both home.

…...

I feel like everything in my life has led me to you. My choices, my regrets, my heartbreaks. Everything.

And when we're together, my past seems worth it. Because if I had done one thing differently, I might never have met you.

...

You give me light
You are my day
You give me life
And that's right
So right
So right, so right