Not really much to say about this. Obviously I suck at life and, specifically, updating. My motivation to write marches to the beat of it's own drum and there's not been much of a beat lately. Unfortunately for those still with me, this is a pretty boring chapter you're getting after such a long break, so my apologies. But, I have to write the story as I see it in my head and I felt like this chapter needed to be what it is. A huge thank you to the fabulous Doctor Sara for providing her medical expertise on this one. She spent a good hour answering my questions, and was just an all around rockstar about it. Also, anything that I might have gotten wrong is my own error and not hers, as there were a few things that I didn't ask her specifically about because an hour of dealing with my ignorance was enough. So I think that's it. I hope you manage to find this somewhat entertaining/worth reading.

"She lost consciousness in the ambulance."

"Detective."

"I don't know if she's… I don't know."

"Detective Amaro."

"What happened out there?"

"Detective Amaro?"

He felt fingertips on his shoulder, demanding his attention. His head whipped to the side. He found the kind face of a nurse staring at him with concern.

"Could you roll up your sleeve?"

"Yeah, sorry."

He quickly did as she requested and stuck his arm out on the small table in front of him.

"Are you alright, Detective? If you need to talk to someone…"

"No. I just need to see my partner. Have you - Do you know if she's okay?"

"I don't, I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I know you're ready to get out of here. I'll make this as quick as possible."

She examined the vein in his arm, then ran an alcohol pad over the site. She discarded the pad in the garbage and made her way across the room.

Nick heard a stray voice from the room next door where Amanda was also waiting to have her blood taken. Neither were strangers to the procedure. Yet familiar as it was, there was very little in the way of precedent for a situation like the one they were in. Out of jurisdiction, with the whole of the NYPD four hours away. After speaking with the Captain, who'd been in contact with 1PP, it seemed all involved agreed allowing the state police to run the show for the time being was the easiest solution. The Captain had offered to call a delegate for them, but in this case it was more of a formality than anything. There wasn't a delegate within an hour of the hospital. Not that it mattered. The only thing they'd find in his blood was an abundance of fear and regret.

The nurse hurried back across the room and laid tubes on the arm of the chair. She produced a purple band and wrapped it around his upper arm.

"Make a fist."

He clenched his hand and she pressed on a vein until she was satisfied with it. She attached a collection tube to the needle and held the needle over his arm.

"A little stick."

She pressed the needle into his arm. He watched the point break his skin, and slide into the vein, with a distant numbness. He glanced at the clock on the wall, but realized he had no idea when they'd gotten to the hospital or how long it'd been. Too long was the only measure he could ascribe to it. His phone vibrated on the table next to him. He picked it up and read the message from Maria.

Amidst the chaos of the fire, the crash, the hurry to get to the hospital, any thought of updating her had left his mind. He typed out a brief message with one hand letting her know they'd found Olivia and they were at the hospital.

The nurse untied the band around his arm and pulled the needle out, replacing it with a piece of gauze, which she taped to his arm.

"Okay. You're done, Detective."

"Thanks."

He shoved the phone in his pocket and fumbled at his shirt sleeve as he walked out the door. When he stepped into the hallway, Fin was standing against the wall waiting for him. The sight of him there, grim-faced, stopped Nick in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" He asked fearfully.

Fin held up his hand. "I just came to tell you and Amanda they're moving Olivia up to the ICU."

Nick released a breath, but the relief was short lived as the weight of Fin's statement settled on him.

"How is she?"

Fin shook his head. "I dunno. They didn't tell us anything."

"Cassidy up there?"

"Yeah," Fin confirmed.

Nick put his back to the wall across from Fin, staring down onto the tiled floor.

"If she's in the ICU, it's bad."

"We don't know that. There's no point in makin' assumptions."

He didn't argue, but it didn't stop his mind from running through every moment, from the time he'd first seen Olivia, until the time she'd disappeared into the ambulance, conjuring a litany of terrible possibilities. He didn't even realize he'd begun to pace up and down the hallway, until Fin's voice interrupted his rhythmic movement.

"I'll wait for Amanda. You go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

The ICU waiting room was smaller than the ER, but with a more inviting warmth to it's decor. Beige walls, carpeted floor, pink flowers in vases situated on tables, and landscape portraits on the wall. There was a flat screen TV that hung on one end of the room emitting a constant stream of noise. At the front of the room was a small reception desk where a young woman with light brown hair was talking on the phone. And next to it, a set of double doors with the words Intensive Care Unit over the entryway. It was quiet, vacant, but for a few people scattered about in the large, comfortable-looking chairs. A much different world from the ER with the crowds of people, plain walls, and harsh light. He spotted Brian in a chair at the front of the room, his head in his hands. He looked defeated and distraught. Nick anxiously maneuvered through the chairs to where he sat.

"Cassidy."

Brian lifted his head at Nick's voice.

"How is she?"

Brian shook his head, motioning toward the front at the young woman. "She says she can't tell me anything. I'm waiting for a doctor."

"What's taking so long?" Nick asked, taking a seat across from Brian.

"I don't know," Brian answered, running his fingers over his short, cropped hair. "I can't stand this. I need to be in there with her, not stuck out here." He slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair.

"I'm sure it won't be long."

"You weren't in that ambulance. You didn't see her..." Brian lifted his gaze from the ground, glancing at Nick. "She's gotta be okay."

"She will be."

"You don't know that," Brian snapped, his tone suddenly cool. "Where are Fin and Rollins?"

"They should be up soon."

Brian nodded in acknowledgement, but his eyes were fixed to the ICU doors.

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Nick suggested.

Brian leveled Nick with a glare. "I told you I already did. She's not gonna tell you anything."

"Yeah, I heard you. I'm just sayin', an extra voice couldn't hurt."

"Whatever."

Nick bit back an angry retort. Brian seemed to be looking for a fight, and Nick understood that all too well. Trading fear for anger, because anger was so much easier to appease.

"Look, Cassidy -"

He cut off, relieved when he saw Fin and Amanda enter the waiting room. Nick pointed in their direction. Brian craned neck to see the two approaching.

"Still nothin'?" Fin asked, as he reached them.

Brian shook his head, still glowering.

"Damn."

They took seats next to Nick, across from Brian, all of them staring anxiously at the double doors to the ICU. They waited for what seemed like hours, but according to the clock on the wall, was only ten minutes. When the doors finally opened, however, it wasn't a doctor walking through them, but a gray-haired woman. She was crying, holding a tissue to her nose. A man met her as she made her way across the room and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I hate hospitals," Fin muttered, watching them sit together on the other side of the room. "Depressing."

Amanda waved him off. "Shhh."

"What?"

"Look."

Amanda pointed to the TV. They all looked up in time to see a clip of Nick, Amanda and the EMTs carrying Olivia on a backboard toward an ambulance. The video was shaky, and it was obvious it'd been taken from a cell phone belonging to one of the bystanders. The view changed, and they were watching the EMTs load Olivia into the ambulance, Brian by her side. There was a red rectangle along the bottom of the screen with the words 'Kidnapped NYPD Officer Rescued: Two Dead' in large, bold letters.

"They move quick," Fin said to no one in particular.

"Yeah," Amanda murmured distractedly, still watching the video, which now showed a black body bag being hoisted up the embankment onto a waiting stretcher. The view switched suddenly to a reporter standing outside, what Nick recognized as, the front of the hospital. She stared into the camera, held the microphone to her lips, and opened up her shoulders as she began reciting her rehearsed script.

"Sergeant Olivia Benson was rushed to St. Mary's hospital to be treated for her injuries. A source inside the hospital tells me she's in serious condition and being treated in the Intensive Care Unit. As for any criminal charges that may arise from the kidnapping of Sergeant Benson and little Zara Amaro, the State Police Public Information Officer says the investigation is ongoing and they are looking at another suspect that may have been involved in some part of Lewis' crime spree. Stay tuned for more updates on this breaking story."

The view shifted back to the newsroom where a man and a woman in heavy makeup sat behind a raised news desk, staring into the camera.

"We just need to find out who their source is. They can leak the information to us," Amanda said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Nick was out of his chair before he'd registered his own intentions. And if anyone was protesting his impatient move, he didn't hear it. Not that he cared to. He made a beeline for the reception desk where the young woman, Amber, according to her name tag, was speaking with a tall, lanky man in scrubs, who was leaning against the desk. He waited a few seconds for her to acknowledge his presence. When she didn't, he interrupted their idle chatter.

"Excuse me."

"Yes sir. What can I do for you?"

Nick flashed his badge quickly. "I'm Detective Amaro. I'm trying to get an update on a patient that was admitted."

"Yes of course, Detective," Amber said, her back straightening. "What's the patient's name?"

"Olivia Benson."

"Just one moment, I'll see if I can get someone out here to speak with you."

Amber picked up the phone, flashing a smile as she put it to her ear. Nick tried to smile in return, but thought he'd failed in that endeavor. She held a short conversation with someone on the other end of the line, then hung up the phone.

"The doctor will be right out."

"Thank you."

Nick spun to find the others watching him. He turned his palms up, as if to say, 'we'll see what happens'.

"Detective, just so you know, there's coffee in that room right there," Amber told him, pointing in the direction of a small lounge.

"Thanks."

Moments later, the ICU doors opened, and a woman with short blonde hair, wearing a white coat over gray pants and a black shirt, approached him.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Marko. You're the detective?"

"Yes. Detective Amaro." Nick flashed his badge again.

"Amaro? I'm sorry, I'm confused. I assumed you were the detective from the state police that I talked to on the phone. Detective Granger."

"Uh no," Nick conceded, putting his badge away. "I'm with the NYPD. I'm working with the state police. Olivia...she's my partner. We've been looking for her since Monday night."

"I see," the doctor replied noncommittally.

"Listen, I'm desperate here. I just need to know if she's going to be okay. Please."

Dr. Marko scanned the waiting room, then motioned him toward a group of nearby chairs. He sat in one of them and Dr. Marko sat across from him. She clasped her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze on him.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to do this. Especially now that someone here is leaking information to the media. If anyone finds out I told you…"

"They won't," Nick assured her. "You have my word."

She paused, pursed her lips, and leaned forward.

"We tend to give cops some latitude, so...I will tell you that your partner's condition is serious. She's severely dehydrated, starved. Her right lung collapsed and she's bleeding internally from a liver laceration. Both of those injuries were caused by the broken ribs she sustained. The liver laceration is small enough that she may not need surgery, assuming the bleeding stops. Which is fortunate, because right now, frankly, I'm not sure she's stable enough to get through a surgery."

Nick's mouth was suddenly dry, and he was having a hard time forming the words to the question that resounded in his head.

"What about her lung?" he finally managed to choke out.

"She has a chest tube in to help her breathe," Dr. Marko explained. "It's draining the air that's pressing on her lung, which will allow the lung to reinflate. The tear should heal on it's own, but she'll have to keep the chest tube in for at least a few days."

Nick put his hand over his mouth, nodding silently. At his indication that he was still with her, Dr. Marko continued.

"She has a number of other injuries. Burns, cuts, a couple of broken bones. We've taken care of those injuries as best we can. She also sustained a stab wound to her left hand that will require surgery when she's stable."

"But she's going to be okay?"

"We never make promises in the ICU. You just never know. But if her liver stops bleeding and there are no other complications, then yes. I think she'll recover."

"Can I - can we see her?"

"I'll allow you to see her, one visitor at a time for now. You'll have to keep the visits short tonight. I should also warn you that she won't be conscious. We're giving her medication to keep her sedated for the time being in order to give her body a chance to heal. When her vitals start to improve, then we'll slowly take her off the sedative."

"Okay. Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, Detective," she said kindly. "I'll send a nurse out to get you when you can see her."

Nick exhaled a long, deep breath and stood. He watched Dr. Marko disappear through the double doors, back into the ICU. Her words rushed through his head, intermingling with his own panicked thoughts, creating a deafening roar. He suddenly felt unsteady on his feet and reached a hand out, bracing himself against the back of the chair. He could feel eyes on him. He slowly turned, hand still planted on the chair, and stared across the room to the three anxious people watching him.

The smell of sterility greeted him as he entered her room, something like antiseptic and cleaning solution. It was dark. The curtain was drawn across the windows, leaving the space black, but for a light that was attached to the wall above the head of the hospital bed. Her room was private. Something he was immensely grateful for. Being there was bad enough. The last thing he wanted was for some strangers to be witnesses to his despair.

He took slow, quiet steps forward. Hesitant. Afraid. His gaze was drawn to the tube that protruded from beneath Olivia's hospital gown and ran below the bed to a small box. He could hear a faint sucking noise coming from it and surmised it must be the chest tube. There were wires and tubes in her arms, her chest, her nose. His eyes traveled over her, taking a mental inventory of the marks on her face, her neck, her arms. A splint covered her left wrist and her hand was bandaged. There were bandages around her right arm, just below her elbow, and bruises circled her wrist.

He leaned forward and slowly, lightly placed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. He let his hand slide up to her forehead, pushing at the strands of hair around her face, lightly tracing over her temple down to her cheekbone; careful to skip over the bandage, which he knew covered a gash in her head.

He stared into her battered face against the white pillow, days of torture and agony written into her skin in angry red marks and discolored patches. As vivid a story as any novel ever written. His sorrow for her was all consuming. The physical ache of it almost too much to bear. He leaned down and put his forehead to hers, savoring the feel of her cool skin against his. When he lifted his head, a drop of moisture was streaking down her cheek. He studied her face, certain somehow, despite the sedative, she must have awakened. But she hadn't, and it was then he realized the tear had come from his own wet eyes, not hers. He wiped the drop from her cheek, swiped the wetness from beneath his own eyes, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Liv," Brian whispered into her skin. "I'm so sorry."

Nick stopped outside of Zara's room and put his back to the wall, letting his head fall back against it. Days of worry, frustration, and fear washed over him in waves that threatened to pull him to the floor and drown him. The images from those days were relentless. They flashed through his head like a narrated slide show on a never ending loop.

The forest. The fire. A gunshot. Lewis and his taunts. Lewis assaulting Olivia. The doctor's sympathetic face. The horrific list of injuries. Olivia in the hospital bed. Olivia's desolate eyes.

The door to the room across the hall swung open, interrupting the onslaught of images and memories. A nurse stepped out into the hallway and, when she noticed him, smiled politely before walking past him to the nearby work station. Nick took a breath, braced his hands against the wall, and pushed himself away from it. He turned to the door, twisted the knob, and took a step inside Zara's room.

Maria was sitting at Zara's bedside; she lifted her head at his appearance. "Hey," she whispered, studying his face, searching for some hint of the answer to the question she was preparing to ask. "How is she?"

Nick trudged to the bed and dropped down into a chair at Zara's bedside, across from Maria. He could feel her eyes on him, begging for an answer that he couldn't seem to vocalize yet. He let his gaze linger on his daughter's sleeping form. She looked peaceful. The covers were drawn up to her chest, her face relaxed. He reached out and touched her small fingers protruding from the cast that covered her arm, before lifting his head to meet Maria's questioning look.

"She's not good. She has a lacerated liver and a collapsed lung. That's just the worst of it."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know." He shook his head, staring up into the ceiling. "She looks so...broken." He paused and rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes. "They're keeping her sedated for now to give her body a chance to heal. Cassidy's staying with her."

There was a protracted silence, both of them watching Zara sleep. Finally, Maria's soft voice fractured the quiet.

"What happened?"

He let out a long, slow breath. His gaze shifted to the window where he stared into the darkness outside.

"The cabin was on fire when we got there. We couldn't get inside. I thought she was in there. I thought…"

For a minute, he was lost in the memory of it. In the cabin and the fire. In the weight of Olivia's loss. How he'd felt smothered by it. And he'd thought, with some measure of clarity, what it would be like to put that weight on every day. A suit made of devastation and sadness, sewn with threads of regret and guilt.

"But she's alive," Maria reminded him, pulling him from the suffocating memory. "You found her."

Nick considered this for a moment and then slowly shook his head, his eyes focused on the floor.

"We didn't find her," he admitted. "Lewis - he was taking off with her I guess. I don't know. Somehow he knew we were coming. He crashed the car. Some kid found Olivia handcuffed in the backseat and called it in."

Nick chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head. He released a shaky breath, his eyes staring blankly into the blue blanket draped over Zara.

"When we got there, Lewis had already shot one of the cops on scene and he was holding the gun to Olivia's head. I knew he wasn't going to let her go. I knew it. But I couldn't take the shot." He stared down into his open hands as if they'd betrayed him. "If I'd hit her, or I missed and he shot her - even though I knew he was never going to let her go, I couldn't live with it." He lifted his eyes to Maria's. "He was taunting us - hurting her - and I just stood there."

The anguish that saturated his voice, twisted his face. He shut his eyes against the sound of Lewis' taunts ringing in his ears.

"There's not an inch of her skin I haven't touched."

He put his palms to his forehead in a futile attempt to shield himself from the memory.

"Nick."

His hands fell back to his sides and his eyes flew open into Maria's troubled gaze.

"I know you. You're a good cop, a good partner. You did everything you could."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "It wasn't enough. None of it. I failed her."

Nick stared into Zara's serene, sleeping face, searching for relief from the thoughts that plagued his mind. But the sight of his daughter safe and sound in her hospital bed only served to contrast with the image he held of Olivia in hers. There would be no relief. He reached out and put his hand over Zara's.

"How's she been?" He asked.

"Better, I think. She's talking a little more. She kept asking about Olivia," Maria recounted. "She finally fell asleep an hour ago."

Maria reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from Zara's face.

"What are we going to tell her?"

"The truth. That Lewis is gone. That he can't hurt her or Olivia anymore."

"She'll want to see her."

Nick sighed. "I know, but she can't. Not right now."

"It'll just be good for her to know Olivia is safe."

"Yeah," Nick murmured distractedly. "I uh - I should call my sister. See how my mom is doing."

"Okay."

Nick stood up, leaned over, and kissed Zara's forehead. He smoothed over her hair affectionately, the corners of his mouth turning up despite the heaviness that weighed on him. He noticed a piece of paper, folded, sitting on the table next to her. He picked it up and read the large, messy letters scrawled on the paper in blue ink.

"She made it for Olivia."

He stared at the paper a second longer, noting a picture that he couldn't quite decipher at the bottom of the page. He set the paper back on the table and went to leave the room, when Maria's voice stopped him.

"I don't know what I'll say to her."

Nick spun to face Maria, his brows furrowed in confusion. He was about to repeat his previous answer, that they'd tell Zara the truth, but something about the look on Maria's face told him she wasn't talking about Zara.

"What do you say to the woman who went through horrible, unimaginable things to save your child's life?" Nick heard a quiver in Maria's voice as she broke off. Her eyes trailed up from Zara to meet his, a film of moisture glistening over her green eyes. Her shoulders raised ever so slightly. "Thank you doesn't seem like enough."

"It's not," Nick said softly, turning away from her, his hand on the doorknob. "We could say it for the rest of our lives and it would never be enough."

"...Sergeant Benson is one of the NYPD's finest officers and, I'm sure no one here would argue when I say, a hero."

The rapid click of camera shutters resonated through the press room of St. Mary's hospital. It was an unusually chaotic Sunday afternoon there. Streams of reporters, cameramen and journalists had taken over the parking lot early that morning, then proceeded to invade the hospital at noon in preparation for the press conference. Every seat in the room was occupied. Some were left to stand along the wall. They were joined by a few members of local law enforcement, hospital administrators, and the occasional doctor or nurse who'd been drawn in by the spectacle of it all. Video cameras lined the back wall, aimed at the front of the room, where a panel of individuals sat in chairs situated on a raised platform. NYPD Deputy Commissioner of Public Information, Hank Abraham, stood at the podium addressing the media.

"She risked her own life to save the life of a child. This comes as no surprise to those of us who've had the privilege of working with her over the years."

Nick rolled his eyes and shook his head as he listened to the Deputy Commissioner act like he knew a thing about Olivia. Amanda glanced in his direction and raised her eyebrows in a similar sort of exasperation. The man was insufferable, even if what he said was right.

"I'd like to turn it over Captain Donald Cragen for a brief summary of the extensive search his unit conducted that ultimately ended in Sergeant Benson's rescue. Captain."

Captain Cragen stepped forward hesitantly. He looked exhausted. He'd arrived at the hospital early that morning in his dark suit and red tie, a shade that was matched too closely by his bloodshot eyes. His face was lined with worry, and seeing Olivia for himself had only deepened the lines. For the first time, he appeared to stand before them, not as their unshakable Captain, but as a troubled, weary man. Even now, as he stood at the podium, the air of disquiet surrounded him, invaded his voice, weighed on his shoulders.

The press conference went on for half an hour. The County Sheriff spoke somberly about Deputy Sinclair, calling her an extremely bright and capable officer. The State Police public information officer detailed the investigation at the various crime scenes and confirmed the death of Jonathan Allen, the man Lewis had shot and stuffed in the trunk of the abandoned SUV, parked at a storage unit facility. And a doctor from the ER provided a short summary of Olivia's and Zara's injuries. After everyone had finished, the questions began. They were rapid fire. A swell of eager voices vying for attention, hungry for every detail of the ordeal, and nearly as greedy for every scrap of information on Olivia.

"I'm outta here," Fin grumbled, after one particularly egregious question from a blonde reporter in the front row. Amanda glared in the direction of the reporter, who was none the wiser, and followed after him. Nick pushed away from the wall, prepared to do the same, when he noticed a man and woman standing to his right, staring at him. He recognized them as the state police detectives that'd visited the hospital the previous evening, hoping to procure a statement from Olivia, only to find out she wouldn't regain consciousness that night. He nodded in their direction, a brief acknowledgment, then he followed Fin and Amanda out the door. He caught up with them at the elevators. Fin was muttering under his breath, smacking his fingers against the up arrow impatiently while Amanda inspected something on her shirt.

"Damn."

"What?" Nick asked.

"I spilled coffee on myself this morning," Amanda told him, grabbing the soft pink fabric around the stain and showing it to him.

"You're in a hospital. Nobody cares. They've got other things to worry about."

"We have to give our statements tomorrow. I only have the clothes I wore yesterday."

"We'll find a place to stay tonight. You can do laundry," Fin told her.

"Or you could buy new ones," Nick suggested with a shrug.

"Detective Amaro."

Nick heard the voice call out from behind him and spun to see who'd beckoned to him. The state police detectives were striding toward them purposefully.

"What do they want?" Fin asked.

"I have no idea," Nick answered.

"Detective Granger," the man flashed his badge, then motioned to his female partner. "Detective Bishop."

"Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a minute? We'd like to speak with you."

An elevator to his left opened. Nick turned to Amanda and Fin.

"Go ahead."

"Nah. We'll stay," Fin said.

Detective Granger led them away from the elevators, toward a vacant area of the lobby.

"What's this about?" Nick asked.

"Simon Casey," Detective Bishop answered.

"What about him?"

"He's going to be arraigned this afternoon on the charge of obstructing governmental administration in the first degree."

"Wait a minute. That's class E. That's nothing," Amanda argued. "He probably won't even get jail time."

"Simon helped Lewis keep Olivia and Zara at that cabin. Why the hell isn't he being charged as an accessory?" Fin demanded.

"ADA Carver doesn't think we have enough to get him on criminal liability," Granger explained. "At least not right now. Simon's hired two of the best lawyers in the state to defend him. They're tough. She's not going to bring charges she doesn't think she can back up and everything we have is circumstantial at best. We have a few weeks, maybe a month, to build a case for criminal liability charges before pretrial."

"And unfortunately, until Sergeant Benson is conscious and able to give a statement, we don't have much to go on. Simon claims he didn't know Lewis was holding them at the cabin and that he was never there. We can't prove he did or was."

"Does he have an alibi for Friday night?" Amanda asked them. "Zara saw someone at the cabin before she escaped."

"He says he was home. Both of his kids were out with friends," Granger answered.

"That's convenient."

"Yeah, well, it's not surprising. And any evidence tying him to the cabin is useless because it's his - you'd expect to find his DNA there."

"There won't be any evidence. The fire took care of that," Fin muttered.

"Actually, it didn't."

"How? The place was destroyed. We saw it ourselves."

"It was," Granger confirmed. "At least, everything above ground. But the basement - it's all concrete. There was nothing there to burn except an old mattress. And it was shoved into the corner of the room, underneath one of the few parts of the floor that didn't fall."

Detective Bishop scanned all three of their faces, then continued. "Our crime scene unit found blood and semen on the mattress. There was blood on the floor as well. The samples are at the lab being analyzed as we speak. We should have the results in a few days."

It was as if a bomb had exploded, knocking them back, stealing the air from their lungs. Heat coursed through Nick's body. Tension seized his muscles. He felt a sudden flare of anger at the detectives before him, irrational as he knew it was. His eyes narrowed and he glared in their direction.

"So why the hell are you here?" Nick asked cooly.

Granger and Bishop were taken off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. After a tentative glance at her partner, Bishop answered. "We'd like to ask your daughter some questions."

"No," Nick said immediately. "She can't identify Simon. It was dark. She didn't get a good look at him."

"Even if that's true, her statement is still critical to the investigation. I don't need to tell you that. We need to know everything she knows: what she saw, what she heard, what happened to her."

"Nothing happened to her. Lewis didn't do anything to Zara," Nick insisted, his voice raising.

"He kidnapped her. Held her hostage. I'd say that's enough," Granger argued. "And there's a lot we don't know."

"I know, okay? She says he didn't hurt her."

"Has Zara ever mentioned being kept anywhere except the basement?"

"No. Why?"

"Last night one of our teams found a small shed out in the woods, northeast of the cabin. Inside there were empty bottles of alcohol, food wrappers, cigarette butts..."

"What does that have to do with Zara?"

Detective Bishop focused on Nick. "It looked like someone had been locked inside. There were towels spread out on the floor, a bucket with urine in it. They found a padlock on the ground outside. Our crime scene unit recovered prints off an empty bottle of vodka. We'll go through the process of ruling Lewis and Sergeant Benson out, but it's just a formality at this point. They're small. A child's."

Nick stared unfocused at the wall behind them. He could vaguely hear Fin asking a question, but it was indiscernible noise, because his own thoughts were pounding in his head like a drum.

"I want to be clear, Detective, that we didn't find any evidence of…violence. But you can understand why we need to talk to her. If she was alone with Lewis…" Bishop voice trailed off, appearing to decide against continuing that particular line of persuasion. "He could've said something to her. Something that would implicate Simon."

"She's traumatized. She can barely talk to me about what happened. I can't put her through that."

"We're not saying it has to be today," Bishop allowed. "We realize she might need a little time."

"You make the rules. You wanna be there, you wanna bring in a professional. Whatever. We'll do it. We all want the same thing."

Granger held out a card to him and Nick took it.

"Simon is going to pay for what he's done. That's a promise coming from a fellow officer. Whatever it takes."

A yellow glow illuminated the cross on the wall at the front of the room. The only other source of light was the slight glare pouring in through the stained glass window. The room was small. There were two lines of chairs extending from the front to the back, and across a narrow aisle, two more lines of chairs side by side, all of them empty.

Amanda sat in the second row, her eyes forward. To the casual observer she might've appeared to be a devout worshiper seeking solace or guidance. In truth, she had been seeking something when she'd wandered into the dimly lit hospital chapel, she just wasn't sure what it was. She suspected it was solitude more than anything else. It was hard to come by seeing as most of her time was spent in the waiting room with the constant drone of the tv (mostly the news), the curious stares of the people that, after a day of seeing the same video clip over and over again, recognized them from said news, and Fin, Brian and Nick - her constant companions. To her bewilderment, she'd found herself longing for home and Frannie frequently. She'd have given anything to be curled up on her couch with Frannie beside her. Not that she didn't want to be there for Olivia and Zara, she did, but the image of home and Frannie provided much needed warmth when the cold reality became a little too much. But, it left her feeling more than a little guilty to be thinking of her own comfort when Zara and Olivia's lives had been shredded to pieces that might never fit back together again.

She stifled a yawn with a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were heavy from days of little sleep, demanding relief with an irresistible pull on her lids. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands, grudgingly acquiescing to that demand. She heard his voice first. She'd expected it. Twenty four hours of experience told her it was coming. The sound of his taunts, his laughter filled every space in her mind, echoing to life. And then she was back amongst the trees, twisted metal, blood on the ground. She stood across from Lewis while he held Olivia in front of him like a proud artist presenting his masterpiece to an audience for the first time. Bruised, battered...the woman before her appeared utterly desolate. And Lewis...he smiled. It chilled her. The same way it'd chilled her in the park, thought it was a time she preferred not to think about. She had known from the beginning what he was. At least she'd thought she had. But the truth was, she'd never truly understood until that moment, when he stood in front of her in all his cruelty, unmasked.

A clicking noise startled her back to the darkened hospital chapel. A narrow column of light hit the floor beside her. She heard faint footsteps, then the light disappeared and a quiet thud signaled the close of the door. She straightened up, but didn't turn around, listening to the footsteps as they approached, irrationally annoyed by the intrusion into her solitude.

"Amanda?"

She recognized the voice and turned to greet the Captain, who stood a couple of rows back in the middle of the aisle.

"Hey, Captain."

He took a few steps closer so he was standing in line with her chair. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get away for a little bit. Wasn't gonna risk goin' outside where all the cameras are. This was the next best thing."

"Would you mind some company or would you rather I left you alone?"

Amanda rested her head against the back of the chair and looked to the side. "No. Stay."

Cragen took a seat across the aisle from her. They sat in silence for a while, immersed in the peace and quiet the room afforded them.

"The world just stops in here, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," she agreed. "You can almost shut it all out. Forget everything outside of this room."

"Almost," Cragen repeated wistfully.

They fell into silence again. The sound of laughter from a passerby in the hallway seeped through the door, the walls, into the room. She thought how odd it was. The idea of someone laughing. A concept that felt almost as foreign to her as a day when she didn't feel like the world was crashing down around her.

"It's bad." She was surprised by the sound of her own voice. She hadn't meant to say it. It seemed unnecessary. He knew it was bad. They all knew it was bad. It was like saying the sky was blue. But sometimes the sky was so blue, you couldn't help but say it.

"I know."

"I felt so damn lousy that day, watching her walk out of the squad room. There have been a lot of bad days on this job, but I think that was probably the worst, knowing we'd hadn't been able to help her at all. I didn't think I could feel worse than I did then, but...here we are."

"Amanda -"

"You know, they keep saying she was rescued. On the news, at the press conference. I couldn't quite figure out why it bothered me so much until just now."

She could feel the Captain turn toward her, giving her his full attention, but she couldn't look at him. Not while she was expelling this thought that'd taunted her since the previous night.

"I know they say we rescued her because we shot Lewis before he could shoot her, but they're wrong. They're wrong because the Olivia I saw - I didn't recognize her." Amanda turned her head, meeting the Captain's gaze for the first time. "She wasn't there, Captain. She was there, but she wasn't." She looked away, letting her eyes fall to the floor. "That wasn't a rescue. I think we were too late."

The air was heavy with tension. She could feel it all around her, suffocating her. The silence in the room was loud, deafening. She wanted, needed, him to say something.

"I don't believe that," the Captain said after a lengthy pause. "I know Olivia. I've known her a long time. And the one thing I know with certainty, above all else, is that she never gives up. Even when she should. So I have to believe she's not about to start now. When Lewis had the gun to her head, she was still fighting. That's Liv. She's still there."

"I hope you're right," Amanda murmured, chancing a glance in his direction.

Despite the confidence in his words, she saw the shadow of uncertainty in his face. "Me too."

She busied herself with checking her phone in the awkward silence that followed, undeniably a little lighter having put a voice to the thing that troubled her. At least one of them. She decided she'd hidden long enough and stood.

"I should probably go find Fin. See if he needs some help. He was trying to find us a place to stay."

"You left him in charge of that?" Cragen asked, feigning surprise.

Amanda shrugged and offered a small smirk. "I trust my partner."

"As you should. I'll see you at headquarters tomorrow. And Amanda…"

"Yeah Captain?"

"Get some sleep. Whether you believe it or not, you did good work. You all did. Now it's time to take care of yourself."

"Sleep," she repeated softly. "Do you sleep, Captain?"

The corners of the Captain's mouth turned up into a sad smile. He raised his shoulders. "Old men don't need sleep."

Amanda returned his smile with a weary one of her own. She pursed her lips and offered a knowing nod.

"Me too. Goodnight Captain."

It was Monday afternoon when he finally ventured off the third floor for the first time since Olivia had been admitted to the ICU. There'd been plenty of opportunities for him to leave. Nick, Fin, and the Captain had all been spending time in Olivia's room - Amanda preferred to make her show of support from the waiting room. There'd also been regular mandatory breaks in visitation. But Brian had stayed nearby, only venturing as far as the bathroom and the vending machines down the hall, where he'd been getting what passed as meals for a day and a half.

It was one of Olivia's nurses who'd finally ordered him off the third floor on one of the breaks. She'd even followed him out to the waiting room. He couldn't really say why he listened other than he was too tired to argue, and technically, she had the power to kick him out of the room anytime she pleased. He hadn't really had a destination in mind when he stepped off the elevator, he'd just ambled around aimlessly until he ended up in front of the cafeteria. The resounding growl of his stomach let him know he was in the right place. It was after the lunch rush so it was relatively empty. He walked around the small, circular area in a daze, past pizza, hamburgers and salad. He'd made the trip around the circle two times when he finally decided to counter his indecisiveness by checking out a small refrigerated section. He peered into the refrigerator and pulled the door open to take a closer look. He picked up a round container and read the label. Hummus. Next to him, a hand reached inside and pulled out a similar container.

"I love this stuff."

Brian glanced at the man to his right, then down at the container in his hand.

"Never had it."

"It's good. You should try it."

"Chickpeas?" Brian repeated after reading it off the label. His face twisted in distaste and he put the container back in the refrigerator.

"I don't know if I'm feeling that adventurous."

"If you're looking for something besides burgers and fries, there's always the salad bar."

"I've been eating out of a vending machine on the third floor for the last day, so anything that doesn't come out of a bag will work."

"Third floor. That's the ICU. I was up there with my mom about a year ago. It's rough."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Who is it?"

Brian stared at him blankly.

"I just meant who are you here to see?" He put up his hands. "You know what, I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"Oh. No, it's fine. My girlfriend. She was…" Brian considered what he should say and decided on the path of least resistance. Or in this case, the path of fewer questions, "in a car accident."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Brian moved toward a counter where an older man was ladling soup into a small styrofoam container.

"Your girlfriend - is she going to be okay?"

"I think so." Brian murmured distractedly, catching a glimpse of a familiar profile sitting across from a woman at a nearby table.

The man behind him was talking again, but Brian was watching the couple stand and walk away from the table.

"Sorry, I see someone I know," Brian mumbled, without looking away.

He strode past the registers, through the scattered seating, his gaze never wavering from them. He was blind to everything and everyone else, and they were completely oblivious to him as they stepped out into the hallway. When he caught up to them, he reached out and put his hand on the man's shoulder, spinning him around.

"Detective -"

"You son of a bitch," Brian seethed, swinging his right fist, connecting with Simon Casey's face. Simon was sent stumbling a few steps back, holding his cheek.

"Hey!" The woman with Simon yelled.

Simon held his hand up to Brian. "I didn't know -"

Brian swung again. Simon dropped to one knee, holding his nose which was bleeding profusely. Brian took a step forward, but immediately felt hands on his shoulders pulling him back.

"Alright, that's enough."

Brian glanced back in surprise and confusion, registering the familiar gruff voice of Lieutenant Tucker.

"Kelly call the police," Simon ordered, with his hand still to his nose. "I want to report an assault."

"Put the phone down, Kelly," Tucker commanded, releasing Brian. "Mr. Casey doesn't want to do that."

"The hell I don't."

"You're a businessman, right? Image is your brand. How's it going to look when the media starts running stories about how you're stalking your victims in the hospital where they're being treated?"

"Stalking my victims?" Simon exclaimed indignantly. "I had no idea -"

"Bullshit!" Brian yelled, trying to push past Tucker. "You knew and you helped Lewis keep her there."

Simon ignored Brian and addressed Tucker in a low voice.

"I have perfectly valid reasons for being here."

"I believe you, Mr. Casey. But do they?"

Simon glanced to his right at Kelly, then down the hall where a group of people had stopped to observe the commotion.

"My feeling is you want this all to go away because, let's face it, that old saying any publicity is good publicity? We both know that's not exactly true. Especially not for someone like you. And if you have him arrested? All of this," Tucker motioned to the people who were watching them. Some blatantly, some surreptitiously, "only gets worse. And that's if you can find a cop in the city that'll arrest him. Because I'm guessing, at this point, they all know what you did. And cops? They don't like people that hurt other cops. But it's your call."

Simon took one final look around, stared at the blood on his hand, then turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction, Kelly trailing behind him after a brief hesitation.

"Let's go." Tucker led Brian in the other direction. They started down the hallway at a brisk pace, their shoes clicking against the floor. "Using the man as a punching bag in the middle of the hospital isn't the smartest thing you've ever done."

"No. But it felt good," Brian said, opening and closing his hand.

"And a jail cell? How would that have felt?"

Brian was silent in response to this.

"The judge must've granted him bail," Brian said angrily. "That bastard should be in jail, not walking around here."

"He was always going to get bail for that. Have their ADA get an order of protection against him. That should keep him out of here at least."

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "Yeah, I'll talk to her. I thought you were at headquarters taking statements."

"We wrapped that up. Had to swing by here to get some information from the nurse who did the blood work up."

"Right." Brian stopped and faced Tucker. "Amaro and Rollins - everything's good on that right? When Cragen said you were coming here to take their statements for the review I thought - well, I just wondered if the brass is pushing an angle."

"There's no angle. We're doing them a favor. The alternative was to make them come back to the city. I figure they'd rather be here."

"Yeah. Of course."

"How is she?"

"She's...better," Brian answered, with little conviction. "Her vitals are good. I think they're going to wake her up soon."

"That's good news."

Brian nodded in agreement.

"I assume you'll be taking some time off."

"Yeah. Look, I- I know it's crappy timing. But I need to be here."

"Cassidy," Tucker interjected. "I wasn't asking for justification. We'll manage."

"Okay."

"Benson... She's one of the good ones."

"She's the best. Always has been."

"Not just a good cop. She's that, no doubt about it." Tucker paused, seeming to struggle in finding the words he wanted to say. "No one deserves what she's been through. Least of all her. I'm - you know, I'm pulling for her."

Brian slowly lifted his gaze from the ground, fixing it on Tucker, surprised by the genuine quality in his voice.

"Surprise Cassidy, I am human."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I should go. Sergeant Draper should have what we need and we've gotta get back to the city."

"Yeah." Brian started to leave, but stopped. "Hey, thanks. for...you know."

"Just try to keep your fists out of his face from now on. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but you have places you need to be and jail isn't one of them."

Tucker inclined his head in Brian's direction, turned on his heels and started back down the hallway.

"Copy that, Lieutenant."

On Monday night, Olivia's nurse brought the news they'd been waiting for - Olivia was no longer being sedated. Brian's relief at the news was tempered with the swift realization that he was terrified. Mostly for her, though selfishly for himself as well. What was he supposed to say? Do? How was he supposed to help her? In the aftermath of Lewis' first attack, he'd fumbled blindly through her recovery. Navigating the darkness alongside her as she tried to find her way back to the light. It'd been an uphill climb out of that darkness. There'd been slips, foundations had given way. The distance that she had traveled was immense. But now? Now she was back at the bottom, and he was determined to climb alongside her again, but he couldn't deny that the way up looked darker and steeper than it ever had before.

Olivia hovered on the precipice of consciousness that night - trembling, flinching, emitting small, pained noises that twisted his insides. More than once he'd gotten out of the chair at her bedside and put his hand to her forehead in, what he hoped was, a soothing gesture. He whispered to her, told her she was safe. And it seemed her unconscious mind believed him, because her movements stilled, and the tension in her face disappeared. At least for a little while.

He watched the first rays of light penetrate the night sky through the window. Headlights were visible as people traveled the streets in their cars below. Lights in surrounding buildings switched on room by room. The city was beginning to awaken. And so was Olivia. Her movements became more frequent, her cries more frantic, until suddenly her whole body jerked. He leaned forward in his chair and covered her hand with his. She flinched beneath his touch, yanking her hand away. He pulled his hand back and studied her face. He waited, barely drawing breath, watching the furrow of her brows, the creases around her eyes as she struggled to awaken. Her eyes slowly opened, fluttering under the weight of her sedative-induced fog.

"Hey."

She focused on him from beneath heavy lids. He saw recognition in her eyes, but there was also an unmistakable glaze of uncertainty that spread as she peered past him, at her surroundings.

"You're in the hospital."

"Wh -" Her voice broke off. She reached for her throat and winced in pain at the movement of her arm.

"Let me get you some water."

Brian grabbed a cup off the table next to Olivia and took it to the sink. He quickly filled it with a small bit of water and returned to her side to find her head tilted down, inspecting the place where the tube emerged out of her chest beneath the thin hospital gown. Her fingers brushed lightly against the area around it.

"You have some broken ribs. One of them punctured your lung. The doctors had to put in a chest tube to help you breathe."

She stared at it a little longer, offering no reaction to this revelation.

"Here." Brian held the cup out to her and she took it from him. She hesitated at first, but finally put it to her lips and drank. When she was finished she set the cup down on her bedside table, her gaze lingering on the bandage that circled her outstretched arm. She pulled her arm back and tucked it beneath the blanket, putting the bandaged part of her arm out of sight. Her head lifted and she began surveying the room again, eyes landing on a small table and the folded piece of paper that was perched atop it.

"Zara?" She croaked.

"She's okay. Broken arm, but she'll be alright. She was released from the hospital yesterday."

Olivia closed her eyes and nodded, her hand coming to her side again, her brows drawn together in discomfort.

"You're in pain. Let me call the nurse." He reached for the call button.

Olivia's eyes flew open. "No. Please." She cringed at the sound of her own voice. She took, what appeared to be, an agonized breath. "It's fine."

It wasn't fine. She wasn't fine. But he would've given her anything in that moment.

"Okay," he relented, pulling his hand back. He waited a beat. "Liv, I -"

She seemed to sense what was coming and she couldn't, or wouldn't, hear it. "How long?"

He knew what she was asking immediately. "Five days."

Her mouth opened but no sound came out. She turned her head away from him and stared blankly out the window.

"We found you Saturday night, but you were in bad shape because of your lung and...everything. You've been sedated since then."

"I thought… It felt like…" Her voice trailed off. She wiped at her eyes preemptively and stared at the bit of moisture that clung to her fingers when she pulled them away, transfixed by it.

The door to the room opened and a nurse entered the room wearing light blue scrubs, sporting a ponytail. She didn't seem surprised to find Olivia awake, nor did she seem fazed by the heavy mood of the room. Tension was evident in Olivia's body as she watched her move across the room.

"Good morning Olivia, my name is Emily. It's good to see you awake."

Emily checked the readings on the monitor and the fluid in the IV bags, then turned to Olivia.

"How are you feeling? Are you experiencing any pain?"

Olivia glanced at Brian, who kept his face impassive, but couldn't keep the plea out of his eyes.

"Yes."

"How would you rate the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

Olivia waited a beat. "Eight."

"Okay. I'll speak with Doctor Marko about adjusting your pain meds. Is there anything you need? Some water? Ice? Anything?"

Olivia shook her head, grimacing.

"Do you have any questions?"

"When can I go home?"

Emily was frozen by the question, her mouth hung open. She glanced at Brian, who appeared less stunned by it, but similarly speechless.

"I...I don't really know. I think that's a question for Dr. Marko," Emily told her. "Why don't I go speak with her and I'll be back to check on you soon."

Emily made a hasty exit from the room while Brian resumed his position in the chair at Olivia's bedside, silently watching her stare blankly at the wall with the intensity of a man who knew what it was like to lose everything. He was mere inches from her, but she was so far away. All he wanted to do was reach her.

"Nick and Fin and Amanda are here. Cragen was here yesterday, but he had to go back to the city. I wasn't sure if I should call your brother or -"

Olivia stiffened.

"Liv? What's wrong?"

"Simon," she whispered. She shifted her gaze to meet his. "There was someone...a man -"

"We know about him," Brian assured her. "His name is Simon Casey. The police arrested him Saturday night. You don't have to worry about him."

He wasn't about to tell her Simon was out on bail and had been roaming the halls of the hospital only hours earlier. She didn't need that. And he couldn't stand the thought of putting anymore pain or fear in her eyes.

"He was there. That day," she said in a monotonous tone, staring out the window. "He set it on fire. I was inside. Tied to a chair.

"You were - Simon set the fire?" Brian's head was spinning. If Olivia registered his question, she didn't show any sign of it. Her eyes were fixed on the window and her mind, somewhere else altogether.

"He didn't care, he just wanted me gone." Her voice went flat and the sound of it left Brian with an undeniable sense of unease. "I guess he didn't see."

"See what?"

"I already was."