Chapter Text
It was late in the day. The sun had gone down, and Dr. Charles was exhausted. All he wanted was to go home, get something to eat, and sit down in front of the television in his favorite chair. In all probability, he was likely going to fall asleep in that same chair and end up waking up around 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, only to slump into his bed for a few more hours.
Stepping out into the parking garage, Charles’ footsteps echoed softly amidst the sound of the occasional engine and squeal of tires. The Emergency Department at Chicago Med that day had been chaotic, and he was looking forward to a quiet evening.
“What a rat race,” he mumbled to himself as he approached his car.
Clicking the key fob in his hand, the familiar beep of his car unlocking greeted him as he approached the vehicle. Charles suppressed a yawn, climbed inside, and started the engine. Automatically, his phone’s Bluetooth connected and one of the few songs he had downloaded on his phone started playing instrumental jazz.
With a sigh, he went to turn down the volume. However, as he reached for the knob, a mechanical ring over the stereo system replaced the music. Glancing at the display, he immediately recognized the name coming across the caller ID.
“Hey, Bobby,” he said, answering the phone. “How you doing, buddy? You know, it was really good seeing you today. Though I have to be honest with you, I would have preferred the reason you came to Med wasn’t because you were being admitted for a gunshot wound.”
“Uh, yeah,” the detective on the other end replied, his voice reverberating through the speakers. “Sorry about that.”
“You know an apology isn’t necessary, right? It’s not as though you intentionally got hurt,” Charles replied, his brows crinkling. “Bobby, do you often apologize for things that aren’t your fault?”
On the other end of the line can the sound of a contentious huff.
“I’m working on that, doc.”
A little concerned that he had offended the detective, Charles changed gears and asked, “Anyhow, how’s that arm doing?”
“Still hurts. But that’s not why I’m calling. I need a favor.”
“Favor? What sort of favor?”
“It’s not the sort of thing that I’m comfortable talking about over the phone. Listen, Dr. Charles, if it’s not too much trouble, can you meet me tomorrow morning before my flight?”
“Sure, buddy,” Charles agreed, sensing whatever it was that Goren was concerned about, it was important. “What time?”
“My flight’s at 10:00. So can you meet me at 7:00? I’ll text you the address.”
“7:00. I’ll be there.”
The next morning, Charles was running a bit late as he turned the corner and approached the address Goren had sent him the night before. Of all the places to meet, the location in question was a church. He wasn’t sure why the detective had chosen a church to meet. However, as he approached, Charles knew he was at the right location as he spotted Goren sitting alone on the front steps of the building.
Parking, the psychologist exited his car and walked over to the detective. Goren was sitting, his legs slightly splayed as his arms rested on his knees, his hands clasped together and hands down between them. With his head bowed, it appeared as though he was praying, if not lost in thought.
“Bobby,” Charles said, as he came to stand in front of him, “you’re looking nice and neat this morning.”
And it was true. The detective had neatly combed and coiffed his hair that morning. He wore a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and a tie tied tightly and snuggly against his throat. It even appeared as though he had taken the time to polish his shoes.
“The jacket doesn’t look too bad, does it?” Goren asked. “I didn’t have time to get a new one, so I cleaned this one the best I could and stitched up the tear.”
“I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said anything,” Charles admitted. “It looks good, Bobby.”
A tight smile crossed Goren’s lips as he rubbed his hands together anxiously.
“Thank you, Dr. Charles,” he replied.
“Bobby?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to tell me why you wanted me here this morning?”
“I, uh, needed you to witness something.”
Torn between curiosity and concern, Charles asked, “And what is it that I’m witnessing?”
“A marriage.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
Charles felt his brows raise and his jaw went slack in disbelief.
“You’re getting married?!”
The detective nodded.
“Today? Now?”
“That’s the plan. Though, I admit, it’s a little last minute.”
“But … Bobby, have you thought this through? I can’t possibly imagine a scenario where you would have a wedding this far away from home, without Lieutenant Eames or even Miss Basil by your side. What’s the rush? And who are you even marrying?”
“My lieutenant.”
“Benson? I know you like her but –”
“I love her,” Goren interrupted abruptly, correcting Charles.
A few moments of silence ticked by before either of them said anything.
“She’s pregnant,” the detective finally admitted. “So if we get married, here and now, then it will buy us some time before our relationship comes to the attention of the NYPD leadership. And, hopefully, with it legitimized, we both won’t get the sack for behavior unbecoming or some other nonsense like that. We just need a second witness.”
“Who’s the first witness?”
“Voight. He’s in there now with Liv and the priest.”
Heaving a sigh, Charles found himself sitting down next to the detective. The chill of the stone steps radiated through the seat of his pants. Still, the psychiatrist did not shift away from the cold or the awkwardness of the situation.
With as much empathy and compassion as he could muster, Charles put that affection in his tone as he said, “Marriage is a serious matter, Bobby. Impulsively entering into such an arrangement is … ill-advised.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
Nose wrinkling at the term, Charles answered, “Well, as much as I don’t much care for the word crazy, to be honest with you, marriage is a crazy thing. You’re taking values like trust, honesty, and respect and then complicating them with potent emotions. And while no marriage is perfect, I have found that there is no set configuration that can be followed in having a successful union. Trust me, I’m a big believer in marriage. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been married four times. So, no, Bobby, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
Rubbing his hands together, Goren confessed, “Do you think she is crazy for marrying me? I mean, you know what I’ve gone through. I’m not exactly anyone’s first choice. She is just doing this because she thinks it’s her only option.”
“Bobby,” Charles offered, “can I tell you something?”
Shrugging, Goren gave silent permission.
“I don’t know your lieutenant, except in passing. But I can tell you this, the first time I saw you two together, I knew there was something special between you. I remember thinking that there were layers of unspoken attraction. To be honest, I think you two might be meant for each other.”
Goren shook his head, confused.
“When you visited, we hadn’t even–”
“You getting cold feet?” a voice called out, interrupting the detective.
Turning to look, Charles watched as Lieutenant Benson approached them. She, too, looked remarkably neat and clean. The billowing white blouse she was wearing wasn’t quite a wedding dress, but it served its purpose. It made her look feminine, besides being both dignified and respectable.
“Sorry, Liv,” Goren said, getting up and brushing off the back of his pants. “I was just talking to Dr. Charles. I was going to ask him to be my best man.”
Benson laughed, “Does that make Voight the maid of honor?”
Standing up as well, Charles interjected, “Congratulations, Lieutenant Benson. It’s very kind of you to include me on your big day. And of course, I’m happy to be a witness and stand in as the best man.”
“You’re very kind,” Benson replied, the tone of her voice almost causal, before directing her next remark to Goren. “Bobby, if we’re going to do this, we need to do it now. We have a plane to catch.”
“I’m coming, Lieutenant,” Bobby answered back.
Quirking a brow at him, Benson turned and entered the church.
“You call your fiancée ‘lieutenant’?”
Goren shrugged.
“Habit.”
As the two men followed Benson into the building, the detective paused right outside the door.
“Dr. Charles, I hope you know I’m just not having you stand in as best man. If Liv and I had gone the traditional route, I still would’ve asked you to be here.”
“I’m just glad to be here,” Charles replied. “Now, let’s get you married.”
Walking through the foyer, the psychiatrist could see Voight standing towards the front of the small chapel with a priest. The two of them had their heads bowed in a hushed conversation.
“Will you go on ahead?” Benson asked Charles. “Not that it’s much of a ceremony, but I think Bobby and I will walk each other down the aisle.”
“Of course.”
“Wait!”
A hand had taken a hold on his sleeve, halting him.
Turning to look, Dr. Charles’ eyes locked with Goren’s.
In his upturned palm, the detective held out a cell phone, with the display illuminated and the video function activated.
“Take this,” he said. “We’re going to need to have more than just a signed and dated marriage certificate.”
“Bobby,” his lieutenant chided softly. “I don’t know if that’s the best of ideas.”
Looking over at her, he explained, “We came to Chicago because of a recording I was forcibly coerced into making. So when we’re back home having to prove the legitimacy of this relationship, I’d like to have a recording showing that none of this was coerced.”
“Bobby is right,” Charles said, taking the phone. “And you’ll want something you can show your children. Don’t worry, I think I can manage.”
“See, there’s a reason you’re the best man,” Goren said. “Thank you, Dr. Charles. Just make sure you hit the record button.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Charles quickly made his way down past the pews to where Voight and the priest stood.
“Are they ready?” Voight asked.
“Ready as they’ll ever be.”
Next to him, the priest pulled out a small remote from his pocket and hit a button. Soft instrumental music filtered through the speakers high above.
“Interlude muzak,” the priest quietly explained with a small smile. “Wouldn’t want the whole chapel to be both empty and quiet, now would we?”
Reflecting that same small smile, Charles lifted the phone and hit the record button.
Walking hand in hand, Robert Goren and Olivia Benson proceeded down the aisle. Each step they took was in sync with the other, their footsteps being the only sound besides the music in the nearly empty room. As they passed each empty row of pews, Charles couldn't help but think that if these two were getting married in New York, friends, family, and colleagues would have packed those same pews. As it was, this particular wedding march was the most reserved he had ever seen.
Finally, the two of them reached the end of the aisle and stood silently in front of the priest while Voight stood off to the left. Charles, taking just a few seconds, propped the phone up on the armrest of a nearby pew before taking his position to the right of the groom.
“As I know we’re pressed for time,” the priest said, clicking off the music, “I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.
With a bible in hand, the priest cleared his throat and continued, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony in the sight of these witnesses and of God. It’s no accident that brought the two of you together as the union between man and wife is ordained of God and is one of the most sacred sacraments that he has prepared for his children.
“So, without further ado: Robert Oliver Goren, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Though hesitant only minutes earlier, the tone in which Bobby answered the question was anything but. His voice was steady as he stood tall and firm.
“I do.”
“And you, Olivia Margaret Benson, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Benson replied, her voice soft and filled with emotion.
The priest continued, directing this next part toward Goren, “Then repeat after me. “I, Robert Oliver Goren, take thee, Olivia Margaret Benson...”
“I, Robert Oliver Goren, take thee, Olivia Margaret Benson,”
“To be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.”
“To be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.”
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
“To love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
“To love and to cherish, till death do us part,” Goren repeated, his voice becoming thick with emotion.
As the priest had Benson repeat the same words as the detective, Charles was struck by how she was looking at Goren. Or, more accurately, how they were looking at each other. For two people rushing into a marriage, by all appearances, they only had eyes for each other.
“Do you have the rings?” the priest asked.
“No,” Benson replied. “Can’t we just skip that part?”
“Actually,” Goren interjected, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out a slim gold loop.
“Bobby,” she said, “where ever did you get that?”
“Couldn’t sleep last night. Went for a walk and I ended up at a pawnshop.”
“Well, if it’s just the one ring,” the priest noted, “it’s better than none. So, Robert, place the ring on Olivia’s left ring finger. And, Olivia, you repeat after me as he slides it on. By accepting this ring...”
“By accepting this ring,” Benson echoed.
“As a token and pledge of your constant faith and abiding love.”
“As a token and pledge of your constant faith and abiding love.”
Silently, Charles looked on as Robert Goren, a man he had once tirelessly worked to pull back from the brink of devastating trauma, slid a ring on the finger of Olivia Benson, the woman with whom the detective had inexplicably found love.
The priest uttered, “I give unto you that same pledge.”
“I give unto you that same pledge,” Olivia repeated.
With a gold band now encircling the lieutenant’s ring finger on her left hand, the priest said, “Now, by virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
