Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

Fuck you.

That was the last thing she said to him before this shit happened.

Fuck you.

Not "I love you." Not "Be careful." Not "I'll see you later."

Fuck you.

And with those two words, she grabbed her jacket and stormed out of the squad room, not bothering to look back at him. With those two words she was gone. That was three hours ago. That was right before she got roped into taking one last call before her shift officially ended. That was before she stepped into a pile of shit in an attempt to save a life. That was before she walked into a hostage situation that, right now, she couldn't see a way out of.

She tuned out the man's angry voice, she ignored the barrel of the gun aiming at her, and she focused on one thing, the one grim thought that wouldn't let her be: the thought of him. She wondered if she would ever see him again, ever look into his swimming-pool eyes and stare until her problems melted away. She began regretting not telling him how she felt sooner, scoffing at her own fears over something that had turned out to be the most amazing thing in her life. Fear, real fear, was seeping into her pores now.

She was afraid of losing him, of never seeing his daughters get married, his sons graduate. She was afraid of never having her own children to give his name to, to give his legacy to. A tear rolled down her cheek as the violent cursing from her captor finally registered.

"I don't know," she said with a sniffle, snapping back into her cold, stoic demeanor. "I'm not that important to them. They might not come for me at all, and then you'll have wasted your one shot at getting out of this mess." She turned to look at him. "You think they're gonna offer you any kind of deal if you kill a cop?"

Ignoring whatever gruff response he gave her went unheard, her eyes blurring as her thoughts slipped away to him again. God, if she could say one last thing to him, so that his last memory with her wouldn't be fucking 'fuck you.' So that he wasn't left with those two words.

In the distance, she heard sirens. Closer, she heard slamming doors and loud footfalls. And as if they were directly in front of her, she heard voices. One of them sounded like her captain, the other like someone trying to yell, cry, and beg at the same time. Her lips twitched, attempting to curl into a wicked smirk, but she refused to give anyone else any hints that shit was about to hit the fan. She moved further in front of the little girl she'd been protecting, vowing to see it through.

Another low growl from the gunman got her attention and she tilted her head, narrowing her eyes a bit. She heard words, muffled but distinguishable, and she knew what she had to do. They needed him in front of a window, she'd get him in front of a window. "I already told you, you want her, you have to go through me." She backed up, keeping her body fully in front of the small, crying child.

Bait and hook, she thought to herself, as the man aimed his gun and took one single step forward into sunlight, into the sight line of a gun-ready former Marine. Without a moment's hesitation, she turned, shielding the girl from shattering glass and the vision of her kidnapper's crumpling body and pooling blood.

The door burst open and several uniformed police officers marched into the room, three immediately surrounding the body and two attending to the girl. She blinked, as if just realizing it was all over, and she ran one hand over her Kevlar vest, the other through her hair, as she took a deep breath.

"All right, Detective Benson?" one of the young cops asked.

She nodded, but she may have lied to him. She sidestepped other uniforms and EMTs as she tried to squeeze through the door, needing fresh air. Her lungs were tightening, closing. She was suffocating and burning up, and as soon as she reached the front yard, she began to heave. Choking sobs built and escaped as she unstrapped her vest, threw it to the ground, and curled over with her hands on her knees. She let herself cry for a solid ten seconds before straightening up and looking around for the one face she needed to see more than anything.

Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe she only wished it was, so she imagined his panicked voice and angry shouting, she imagined him being the one that told the captain he was firing his gun as soon as he got a clear shot. Maybe she had gone temporarily insane instead of having her life flash before her eyes. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes, feeling the pain in her chest wane slightly. Until she saw him.

She braced herself as she saw him rear back and spring into a sprint, heading for her like a powerful locomotive. She let out the gasp before he even wrapped himself around her, but his lips caught any sound that would have come from hers. Being lifted into his arms, she clutched the sides of his face and let him kiss her as hard as he wanted, let his hands dig into the flesh of her thighs and coax her legs around his waist, and she let him tell her the words she'd been sorry she hadn't said before.

She nodded, still clinging to him, kissing him back with fervor and fire. Taking a shaky breath, she pulled away from him, a strangled cry of his name leaving her with harsh, throaty sobbing. Her head pressed to his, she swallowed hard and apologized over and over.

"Sorry?" he cried through his own tears. "What the hell are you sorry for? You were doing..."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, silencing him. "I shouldn't have said...I never want to leave you without...did you just kiss me? With Cragen standing two feet away?"

He laughed, sniffling and nodding. "Yeah, I'm gonna do it again, too." He tilted his head just a bit and crashed his lips into hers, making good on his promise. It was quieter, calmer, but just as emotional and honest, filled with a power that frightened them both. He pulled away and looked into her eyes, his hands still holding her steady as she curled around his body. "The last thing we say, no matter what...if we are pissed at each other, if we're upset, I don't fucking care...the last words we say to each other whenever we leave each other for..."

"I love you," she breathed, stopping him, hoping it's what he wanted to say.

He nodded again and reclaimed her lips once more.

As she kissed him, she whispered his name and burned the moment into her memory, into her soul. If anyone dared to tell her it was wrong, if anyone so much as hinted that what they had wasn't real and wouldn't last, she knew exactly what she would say to them. She'd hit them with those two words.

Fuck you.

Peace and Love

Jo

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