"Hey, my name's Olivia, what's yours?"

She spoke English. I could have answered her back perfectly well but for some reason I didn't feel I had the energy to construct a sentence in English. I continued to stare determinedly at the ceiling until I saw her standing over me.

"Please, I know you've been through a lot tonight but I need you too talk to me."

Of course she needed me to talk to her! I thought I might just remain stubbornly quiet and not even try to understand her words. Then I heard the door open, and heard someone else slip into the room.

Ug, what now? As the door snapped shut I turned my head and saw that a tall powerfully built man had entered my hospital room. His features were distinctly Latino. Aha, Bring in the bilingual cop to talk to the kid who might not understand a word of English. Mmhmm. I thought I recognized this guy from the raid, as well. Was he the one that had carried me out alive?

"Hola!" The man said, coming over to stand next to Olivia, "Como te llamas?"

Spanish. Predictable. My features were either Colombian or Hispanic, it was a good guess. I considered giving them both a hard run for their money by saying a phrase in Arabic or German, but decided against it. My head was starting to throb.

I told this to the man in Spanish, even using my left hand to rub the bandages a little, and I winced. I saw his eyes light up and the triumphant glance he shared with the woman named Olivia. They thought they had scored a point when they heard my Spanish words.

"She says her head hurts." The man reported to the woman named Olivia. I saw her almost, almost roll her eyes—no doubt she could have figured out that much on her own.

The man returned his soft brown eyes to mine, and asked (In Spanish), "Do you remember anything that happened to you tonight?"

"No." Was my automatic, immediate programmed response, but of course I had known what had happened….

"You were shot at." (All this is Spanish), "The man who did it got away. He almost killed you but now you're safe. You're in the hospital."

I tried to look as though this were news to me. The man's choice of words were a little hard to catch up to—He spoke fluent enough Spanish, but it was a little rusty as thought he hadn't bothered to speak it in a while. Not uncommon.

"Ask her what her name is again." The woman named Olivia said, holding my gaze steadily.

He asked me, and I took my time responding.

I decided to reveal at least a small part of the truth.

"I was never given a name." I looked up at the man with the brown eyes and hoped my pools of blue looked innocent and baleful.

I guess it worked. He looked over at the woman named Olivia and said softly, "can't we wait to question her in the morning? She's been through a lot…"

The woman named Olivia nodded. She patted me on the shoulder in what she imagined was a comforting way, and then she and the narcotics cop left me hospital room.

"How's she doing?" Elliot asked as the two exited the room.

"Only speaks Spanish." Olivia sighed heavily, "We didn't get much out of her, only that her head hurts. Not even a name, but I guess she could still be in shock…"

"Well you can't rule out the possibility that she speaks perfect English, but after getting shot in the head she doesn't want to take the energy to understand it…" Mike suggested, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I mean…it's just a thought…"

"No, that's good." Elliot stepped to the window, and watched me through the glass, "Pretty thing, isn't she?"

"Way to pretty to be on that side of town." Olivia said, "I still want to know why she was anywhere near that building, she could have been killed."

"And she almost was." Mike pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them over his broad chest, "It was Armageddon for a few seconds there, she could just be an innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire. If she hadn't of ducked behind one of the trucks waiting there at the docks she'd be at the morgue right now."

"Charming." Olivia murmured.

"Come on Mike, you know on that part of the town there are very few, 'innocent bystanders'" Elliot said waspishly, "Maybe she's a daughter of one of the gang members?"

"It's possible, but I don't know." Mike scratched the back of his head, "Her features seem more Colombian than Mexican, but her Spanish is so perfect she could easily have come from…" Mike gave his head a vigorous shake, "…uhh…sorry guys I can't think straight."

Elliot checked his watch, "Go home and get some rest. Be back here at about ten, we'll need a translator if we want to get anywhere with this kid. You may be right about her being able to speak English, but just in case you'd best be here."

"Cool. Later, guys." Mike nodded and left the premise.

Olivia placed her forehead against the glass, and heaved a heavy sigh.

Who the hell are you sweetheart?

"'Liv, you should get home too." Elliot said softly.

"Yeah…see you tomorrow." Olivia forced a grin and put on her coat.