Work Text:
In a parallel universe . . .
She often found herself thinking about that universe, any universe, in which it would be them. The single decision—that flapping of a butterlfy’s wings that led to a hurricane in history.
Was it a missed subway train? A chance encounter at a coffee shop? Or was it simply that she would arrive at the bullpen on her first day at SVU to see that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring?
She wondered about the children in those parallel universes. Strong, stoic Maureen. Resilient, resourceful Kathleen. And Noah—her sweet, beautiful, vivacious, incredible boy. How could she ever imagine a universe without Noah?
In every universe they had to exist. Along with Eli, Dickie, and Elizabeth.
How, she wondered, did his hypothetical universes compare to hers? Was it a rush for a taxi? A glance over a barstool, or perhaps something more fundamentally important—like choosing not to run after shooting Jenna.
How, she wondered, did his regrets align with hers? What, she wondered, would he keep the same and would he change?
The confidence with which wrote “always”—as though there there there were no permutation of the world in which they did not find their way together, was as humbling as it was inspiring.
“You’re quiet,” he observed, lacing his fingers through hers and kissing her shoulder.
She brought their joined hands to her mouth, kissing them. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Just thinking.”
“’bout what?” he asked, again tightening his grip on her until her rear was firm against him.
She rolled over to face him. “Parallel universes,” she said. “Tell me about yours. Take me there.” She smiled as she said it, drawing her palm down the valley between his pecs.
“No,” he growled with warmth, drawing his lips first over her her jaw and then down her neck, and then finally back to her mouth. “No,” he repeated. “I’d much rather focus on this universe and you and us.”
She angled her head to look back at him and wrapped a leg around his. “Okay,” she whispered. “What is it? What’s our story?”
“It started twenty-five years ago,” he said, “but it’s also only just beginning. There was heartbreak along the way, but also hope. I fucked up, but you forgave me. And together, we lived happily ever after.”
“When’d you get so good with words?” She struggled to speak around the lump in her throat.
“Easy,” he answered, his blue eyes as dark as the sea. “I’ve got the perfect muse.”
~end