This takes place after Ghost. AO. I own nothing.

The call came a year and a half after I'd resigned myself to fate. It was too late and I hadn't been able to help her, protect her as I'd always promised. I'd accepted that I was never going to see her again – and then came the phone call.

"Olivia," said a weak voice I never thought I'd hear again. That was all. Just Olivia. I'd never thought hearing my own name could be so sweet.

There was so much I wanted to ask her, so much I needed to say, and I tried to say it all at once. "Baby, what is it? Where are you? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Is Velez dead? Are you coming home?"

Her next words were hoarse, choked out in a fit of coughing. "I – I need you."

"Is he dead? Can I come get you? Will you come home?"

Silence, and then, "No."

"Baby, I don't understand."

Silence again, and finally, "I think – I think I'm dying."

My heart skipped a beat, my mind racing with all the possibilities. Cancer. A car accident. Velez. "What happened?"

"I just – I just need you here with me. Please come." And that was all, the dial tone echoing in my ear. I held the phone so long that all I could hear was intermittent ringing, and then, "Please hang up and try your call again."

I dropped the phone and stared at it, tears welling up in my eyes. I had just spoken to Alex for the first time in over a year, and now I could trace her call and go wherever she was. I always said I'd follow her wherever she went, and now – now I really could.

The phone she'd called from was registered to a hospital in Appleton, Wisconsin. I called the captain, told him about the call, and asked for a week off. He was happy to oblige, and I hopped on the first plane to Wisconsin, closer to Alex with every mile. I thought of her to occupy myself, recreating those bottomless blue eyes, that beautiful smile, in my head.

Then I turned my attention to what she'd said, replaying her words in my mind. I think I'm dying. What had happened to my Alex? Had she been shot again? Had Velez returned? Was she ill?

Anxiety and adrenaline mixing as they coursed through my veins, I hailed a cab to the hospital, my heart pounding in my chest. When we got there, I shoved a twenty at the taxi driver and all but ran inside. I flashed my badge at the receptionist and said, "I need to know which room Alexandra Cabot is in."

The receptionist checked the computer. "Sorry, there's no one here by that name."

Right. Of course she wouldn't be registered as Alex Cabot; she'd be registered by her new name in WPP. "Um, she's blonde, long hair, blue eyes, 5'9", might have come in with a gunshot wound?" Of course, I wasn't sure how much of that was true anymore; she could have gone brunette, could be wearing contact lenses, but that was all I knew to do.

"Sorry, Officer, I can't help you."

I wanted to yank my hair out in frustration. "Um, I need your patient list." It was a small hospital, and I was confident that I'd be able to figure out which room Alex was in.

"I'm sorry, but our patient list is confidential."

"Fine. Could you check the list for anyone matching that description?"

She sighed as if she had so many things she'd rather be doing right now, but obediently checked the list. "Emily Rogers," she finally said. "Room 102."

"Great. Thanks." And I ran as if my life depended on it.

My heart broke when I flung open the door and found Alex, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to too many machines to count. She looked so small and vulnerable, lying on her side in that huge bed as she slept. And she was all alone.

Cuts and bruises covered her face and she had a fading black eye. That perfect alabaster skin was marred with welts and contusions, and I had to wonder who on Earth had hurt my Alex like this. I would kill them. They would never get away with this.

And in fact, she did indeed look like she was dying.

I perched on the bed beside her, trying not to cry at the bittersweet sight of my beautiful Alex. She looked so broken, so afraid, and yet, she was here. I was with her for the first time in months. And that almost made this – whatever this was – worth it.

I wrapped her up in a tight embrace, holding her close. She'd lost weight, a lot of weight – I could feel her ribs through her thin hospital johnny. Bruises adorned the rest of her body, but I ignored them, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple and tenderly stroking her hair.

Her eyes fluttered open and she flinched, then her face relaxed into that beautiful smile I'd missed so much, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. "Liv," was all she could say, and I could see how hard it was for her to choke out the words.

"Shh, baby," I said quickly, kissing her forehead. "Don't try to talk. It's okay. I'm here. I've got you."

She nodded, the tension mostly leaving her frail body as she rested her head on my shoulder.

I continued to stroke her hair. "I love you, baby. I missed you so, so much."

"Me – me too," she whispered, trying so hard, so hard to speak, but her words were barely audible.

And I didn't ask. What had brought her here wasn't as important as how to help her now. That was what mattered most.

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