They all stood around the small tombstone holding flowers, tears falling to the ground. None of them could believe it. They didn't want to. No one wanted this to be the end. They wanted it all to be a horrible dream, a horrible dream so they could all wake up and get on with their lives, like normal. No one said anything for a long time, like they expected her to jump out from behind a tree or something and be alive again. It was eerie; they couldn't hear a sound even though the noise of the big city was just down the hill and over the fence. How ironic it was that the only quiet, grassy area was a cemetary. As each person looked over at each other they cried even harder.
Finally someone spoke up. It was weird hearing a voice after silence was present for so long. The voice, belonging to on of the younger men that was gathered at the grave, just said how great she was and how she could put a smile on the saddest face in the world and admitting that she was gone was the hardest part in the world. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in a silent prayer for the young woman they were mourning and then left his flowers on the grave and left the cemetary. The others watched him go. The silence was back but this time it didn't linger as long. Someone else spoke up and said a few words about how she was like a sister to them all and how even when she was mad she was excellent company and made each day like a broadway show. And he too said a silent prayer, dropped his flowers and left.
There were only two people left now, one older and one younger. The older one spoke first. He spoke too her, his voice like he was talking to the daughter he loves very much. He said he wished it were him that was dead; she had so much life still to give. She was his daughter, not biologically but it felt like it. He too left his flowers on the gave but he stayed for a moment in silent prayer before leaving. Now their was only one person at the grave. He was crying the hardest, her death had affected him the most. He was lost in time remembering when they had met. He had arrived early to work that day. He had fought with his wife early that morning and didn't want to be at the house, so he went to work. And there she was, sitting on the steps just waiting...
"Can I help you?" He asked seeing the woman on the steps. "Here come with me."
"Thank's but I..." She let her voice trail off; this guy was being really nice and she could talk when they got inside.
Once they got into the mainroom the man turned to her and said, "Now I assume your here to make a report."
"No I--" She started but he cut her off.
"It's ok, take your time I know it was hard for you to come here."
"No I... actually I'm here because I was just hired, I'm the new detective. I was assigned here yesterday." She laughed.
"O... O I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." He apologized, showing the new detective around the precinct.
He realized he was crying even harder and he wiped his eyes and started talking to her. He confessed everything, how much he loved her, how he wished he had of been shot instead of her, how he was planning on proposing that night she died. He stood their talking to her for two hours, until someone came and told him it was time to go. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay with her forever. But he bent down and placed his flowers, fours white roses and four pink ones at her grave next to the others flowers and walked away.
As he was walking back to the city back to his life, his life without her he could have sworn he saw her in the shadows watching him, watching him walk away. But he shrugged it off. And back at her gravestone a gentle breeze blew over the gravestone and the flowers exposing a ring, a big, beautiful diamond ring. Attached to the ring was a note, and all it said was, "To the love of my life this is for you. I love you so much and I shall not love another. I shall be bonded to you forever and I look foward to seeing you again."
And in one moment, on second the ring and the note were gone. And the woman who everyone was mourning was proudly wearing it. It was evening and the stars were shining brightly and the moonlight was reflecting off a gold picture frame with a picture of a very beautiful woman, the best cop the Special Victims Unit had ever seen, Olivia Benson. And next to the picture was a newpaper article cutout, where the headline read in big bold letters, "DETECTIVE OLIVIA BENSON SLAIN, NO LEADS."
But Detective Benson was far from dead. If fact she was standing just feet away from her gravestone letting the moolight reflect off her ring, eyes closed and with a big smile on her face.