Author's Note: This story is somewhat of a sequel to Stand By You. You don't have to read that to understand this one necessarily but it would be helpful. Background: Hank and Olivia have been in a relationship for months after agreeing to give it a chance at the end of Stand By You. This story is set shortly after the events in Surrendering Noah and let's hypothesize that SN takes place about 6 months after the Crossover. I know, I know, my timeline is messed up – but work with me here. Any quotes you recognize are from SVU or Chicago PD unless otherwise noted.

Chapter One: Shots Fired

"Hey, Olivia." His rough voice is music to her ears, even though it might sound harsh to others. In fact, often time, it is harsh to other people. Because he's usually yelling at them, threatening them, or just being intimidating in general. Hank Voight is a man of both sharp and blunt edges - and he can be as abrasive as sandpaper. That's just who he is. He doesn't kiss ass or put up with bullshit.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Liv breathes in relief.

"Benson, that doesn't even make any sense because we're not even Skyping." Voight points out, in that obnoxious yet somewhat endearing way of his. When had Hank Voight become endearing? It's a miracle that Olivia's even using that word to apply to him. After all, working with Voight could be a gigantic pain in the ass. So many messes to clean up and keeping his ass in line? It was a full time job.

If you pull that crap again, I will arrest you.

And, yet, someone had to be the one to do it. So here they were, six months later, in a strong relationship. At first, when he'd asked her if she wanted to give them a try, she had hesitated. Her track record with men wasn't all that good and she had Noah. He was her first priority.

And she and Voight...they were so different in many ways, after all. She played things strictly by the book these days – gone were the days of her toe-ing the line or even crossing over it. She was heading her squad now and she had to play it right.

And he had this crazy tendency to not just bend the rules but outright break them. She had witnessed some of it herself.

And I'm asking you – do not do this to me.

But, down in the core, they were the same. They both had dedicated their entire lives to the job. Their priority was the safety of their respective cities and justice for the victims. Both of them had been to their own respective hells and back. They were the same, he and she. And he had a strong sense of compassion and deep loyalty to his squad that she couldn't help but admire.

They're kindred spirits, she and he, despite their widely differing methods. And she's beginning to care for him more than she ever thought possible. It's been a long time since someone has made her feel this way.

I'm not the person I used to be.

Quickly, she shakes her head. Now is not the time for ghosts.

"You know what I mean, you jerk." She says affectionately.

"You checking in on me?" She smiles at the phone in her hand.

"Why? You need checking in on?" He retorts.

Of course he is. She could be annoyed by it, instead she's amused. They're both rusty at this relationship thing and his somewhat clumsy attempts at trying to woo her sometimes make her chuckle.

Not within his hearing, of course. She'll leave the man some dignity.

Rolling her eyes, she chuckles a little. "What's the reason for the call, Hank?"

"Do I need a reason to call my favorite NYPD detective?" He teases her lightly. "Can't I just say I miss your smiling face?"

Small talk isn't normally his forte but she's giving him kudos for trying.

Despite the events of the last weeks, she manages a grin. It's tough to resist that infamous Hank Voight charm which can be pretty lethal when he turns it on. And there are times he's turned it on a lot – long distance is hard and sometimes they've butted heads. Both of them are strong-willed and the combination can be volatile.

But somehow they'd made it through those rough patches.

And Noah absolutely loves him. He has a natural ease with her son – probably because he's been through it before and now that he has his own grandson, it's just easy for him to connect to the baby. Things are all falling together so well it's almost scary. He flies out to see her, she flies out to see him – airfare isn't too expensive and she has almost an infinite amount of vacation days she's accumulated so she's finally started to to dip into them.

She has a life now – a life outside of the job. And she's happy. More than she's ever been, despite the sorrow of losing Amaro.

But she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You absolutely can." Olivia smiles. "But I know there's another reason for your call."

"You got me." She can picture him raising his hands in surrender. "Seriously, Liv, how you holdin' up?"

And that's a harder question to answer. When he had heard there had been a shoot out in the courtroom during Johnny D's trial, her phone had exploded. Due to complications with a case back in Chicago, he hadn't been able to fly out but he had called her every single day – including while she was in the hospital waiting to hear about Amaro. She still never figured out how he found out about that so quickly but she also knew that he has connections he never tells her about.

Sometimes it's best not to ask.

"I'm...hanging in there." She says slowly. "We're short-handed and that's difficult. Caseload has been heavy."

There's silence over the line. There's more that she isn't saying and he knows it.

"You miss Amaro." It wasn't a question.

Her throat wants to close. Three weeks later and it's still so hard to talk about. Nick had been gone three weeks and she's still trying to find her balance in this new squad room. They've had officers pinch hitting from other units and they've been okay but, they weren't Nick. Weren't the partner that she had worked with, had grown with, the past four years.

I've grown more in these four years with you. I have a family because of you.

Oh, Nick...

"Yes." It comes out as a whisper. There's no use lying to Voight; he can tell when she's trying to deflect.

"I'm sorry." That's all he can say. Anything more and it's just cliché. But his words are sincere and underlying note of caring and affection is true. He doesn't offer his help, doesn't say that it'll be okay because he knows that's not what she needs to hear right now.

"Oh well," Olivia smiles tightly, her eyes wet with the tears she thought she'd cried out, "things change, you know? My old captain...he told me once...nothing changes..."

"...except what has to. I know." Voight finishes. "You'll get through this, Olivia. Like you have before."

"I know." She sighs. "I just wasn't expecting it to be this hard." This painful. I had almost forgotten what it was like to lose a partner. She had gotten into such a comfortable rhythm with Nick, once she had gotten past the fact that he wasn't Elliot and never would be. They had found their own partnership, one that was uniquely theirs.

"You feel up for Skyping later?" He asks. "Maybe I can put a smile on that face of yours."

"Wouldn't pass up that up." She smiles. "I could really use the laughs."

"HEY," he says in mock outrage. "just what are you trying to say here?"

Despite the ache in her chest, she grins impishly.

"I miss you, Hank."

"I miss you too, Olivia. I miss this especially..." and he says something especially dirty.

"HENRY VOIGHT!" She tries her best to sound completely outraged but she can't repress the laughter in her voice as she walks out into the New York night. She's decided she's going to walk part of the way home; it's nice weather now these days and she loves being able to smell the warm air and look at the stars. She has her service pistol with her so she feels plenty safe.

These streets...she knows them well.

He simply laughs. "Hank Voight, you're incorrigible." She scolds him.

"That's why you love me, right?"

Dead silence.

Her hands turn clammy.

There's that word again. She's always afraid when she hears that word. Because all of the ones who have said it have left.

It's such a small thing and, yet, so very big.

"Look, Liv, I'm sorry." he says apologetically. He's very aware of her reticence when it comes to this word. He's never really said it to her, except in a jesting way. It's a sore point and he gets it. Voight's loved few people in his life and one of them is buried in a small cemetery out where the winds blow wild and free.

"Don't be." She laughs it off, trying to ease his discomfort. "I know what you meant."

This time the silence that settles over the phone is thick with tension. Over the past two months, she's become fairly certain that Voight loves her. He hasn't said it – in large part due to her own skittishness on the subject. She's okay with the exclusivity but has been reluctant to talk about going further than what they have right now. It's only been six months.

I love you.

I love you too, Brian. Always will.

Goddamned ghosts. They still take up so much space in her head.

Their own squads don't even know about them, although the frequent trips to Chicago have been probably tipping them off. But if they've figured it out, none of them have let on.

The leaves crunch under her feet as she heads toward her apartment.

"Walking home tonight?" He asks.

She's relieved for the change of subject. "Yes. The nights have been really lovely here."

"Got your service pistol?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Hank, would you quit fussing? I'll be fine. I've been walking these streets long before we met, you know."

His low chuckle makes her smile. It always does. "You know I have to do it."

"Quit being such a pain in the ass, Voight."

"Come on, Benson, you know you like it."

"I..."

"Stop right there." A voice breaks into their conversation. "Give me your money."

Olivia whirls around, her phone falling to the ground. There's a masked figure standing in front of her, holding a gun. "Okay," she raises her hands, "let's not be hasty." She backs up slowly, staying between him and her phone.

Please, Hank, I hope to God you're still on the line.

"Shut up, bitch." The voice is harsh and cruel. "Just get me the fucking money."

She reaches for her purse, ignoring the "Olivia? Liv? What the hell's going on?" coming from her cell phone. Hank, get off the fucking line.

"Don't answer the fucking phone." The man warns her. "Just give me your purse. Hand it over. No stupid moves."

Olivia slowly reaches for her purse and tosses it at him and then quickly moves to reach for her gun.

"I said NO stupid moves, bitch." And a gunshot echoes in the air, the sharp crack shattering the noises of the New York night.

And all is silence.

Olivia feels a piercing pain in her chest and staggers backward, falling to the ground, hitting her head on the cement. She has barely time to think who is going to take care of Noah and man, this hurts like a motherfuckerbefore the dark claims her like a smothering blanket.

…..

"GODDAMMIT." Hank Voight swears, slamming down the phone. "Get me Manhattan SVU right now!" He bellows at Adam Ruzek.

"Sure, boss." Adam quickly dials the phone, handing it to his superior. Hank almost rips it out of Ruzek's hand. Adam exchanges concerned glances with Olinsky. Voight's close to coming slightly unglued and it's unnerving the young Intelligence

"This is Hank Voight." He says curtly.

"Oh, hi, Sergeant Voight – this is Amanda Rollins..."

He cuts her off brutally. "I remember you. We don't have time for this. There's been a problem." He quickly tells Rollins what he's heard.

"Get a trace on Liv's cell NOW." He hears her bellow at someone in the squad. "Sergeant Voight, I'm gonna have you talk to Odafin Tutuola, he's our acting number two."

"Fine. Just someone. Find her. NOW."

Voight vaguely remembers Liv's number two. He likes the guy. Close mouthed and awfully eager to shoot perps. He can relate.

"What's goin' on, Sergeant Voight?" Fin asks calmly.

He explains, getting more and more frustrated. If he has to fucking tell his story one more time...

"We're on it." Fin says firmly. "Thanks for lookin' out for her."

"Detective Tutuola," Hank says quickly, before he can hang up, "can you..."

"I'll be in touch." Fin says.

"You do that." Hank says sharply.

To his credit, Fin doesn't respond in kind, simply hangs up.

Hank stalks to his office, slams his door behind him, and slumps down in his chair, putting his head in his hands, hoping desperately that the sound he had heard over the phone was just a car backfiring.

He's been through this type of thing before. The waiting is always the worst.

And the clock's ticking has never seemed so loud.