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It’s a wound that has never healed, this weeping absence she carries each day - his missing, his silence, his untethering.
And most days she can pretend it isn’t there, can push back the pit of despair and betrayal that wallows in her chest. Most days it’s just a shadow on her soul, a little patch of darkness where once there was joy.
But then he’s beside her, the same blue eyes crinkling down at her, the same catch in his tone as always. And the void echoes. The fracture smarts.
It becomes a blackhole that throbs and ebbs and pulls everything down to orbit. Turns the world sour and acidic in its wake.
Rafael Barba is before her, vows of protection and desperation on his tongue, and all she hears is the blade of his righteousness. All she can see is his turning away.
Everything burns. The pit roils. And whatever it is they’re trying to rebuild is lost to an old agony. To Elliot Stabler and an empty desk one morning, to unreturned phone-calls, to a question that has never been answered.
She’ll carry the scar of him forever. Most days it’s worth the weight of the chasm, but not always.