I was in a Church I visited occasionally, sitting on one of the pews. My faith was important to me. Everyone I worked with knew that. After that last..brutal case, I disappeared for a few days. The case got to my head and I needed time to myself. What I never really thought about was you—my partner, my friend (maybe even best friend). I never really thought about how my disappearance may have affected you or everyone else we worked with.

The doors to the Church opened, and I just knew it had to be you who walked inside. I could tell from the shoes that clicked against the ground as you walked.

“Dominick..” You called out. You walked closer to where I was sitting, but my back was facing you.

I always loved how you called me “Dominick” instead of “Sonny” or “Carisi” like everyone else. It made me feel special. Your voice seemed to be mixed with anger and hurt though. I’m sure you were happy that I was still alive, but..I did not want to talk. I did not want you mentioning the last case, I did not want you mentioning how I haven’t answered your texts or calls. I just wanted to be left alone.

But a little part of me—and I mean a little part of me—wanted you to be there, wanted you to comfort me, wanted you to just…hold me and tell me I’d be okay. Would I ever admit that to you? Hell no. I’d argue and yell at you first before I’d ever admit that.

And if I did argue with you right now, which was very likely, I hope you’ll stay with me and not leave. I hope you’ll see past me being a jackass. I really hope you’ll stay.