Voight heard the alarm of the patients down the hall coding. He heard the hustle of the doctors and nurses rushing to the room shared by the gunman and the driver. By this time the doctor was through examining Olivia and had left. Hank sat back down beside her bed and told her, "I don't know about you, but I feel better now."

"Hank!" Sharon came charging into the hospital room, "Where were you two minutes ago?"

"John," he answered, "What happened?"

She glared at him and answered, "Somehow the oxygen tubes got cut for those two brought in from the crash."

"How odd," Voight answered nonchalantly, "Must've been an imperfection in the manufacturing."

"Hank," Sharon walked over to him, "I know how hard this is for you but…"

"They could've gone either way," Voight repeated, "And what kind of person is sadistic enough to walk into a hospital room and cut the oxygen tubing? They went the other way, simple as that."

"Hank, I am not going to cover for you on this, I can't," Sharon told him.

"Never said you did," he replied.

"Everybody in this city's already gunning for your badge, do you have a death wish?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said with the straightest face imaginable.

"You know I'm going to have to report this," Sharon said, "I'm going to have to have one of the security guards watch you until somebody comes down, somebody from your district."

"Mm-hmm," he grunted dismissively, "Do what you have to."

Defeated, Sharon left the room and a minute later a guard in a security uniform stepped in and planted himself by the door.

"How's it going?" Hank asked nonchalantly, paying no mind to the death glare he received back from the man.

Hank sat in the chair by Olivia's bed and continued to hold her hand, waiting for any sign she would wake up. There were none. Half an hour later, Voight looked up and saw a familiar face trying to get in around the security guard.

"Burgess," he said as he stood up.

Kim entered the room and looked surprised, "Sergeant, I didn't know you were here. We got a report to come down and pick up somebody trying to kill a couple of the patients here." It took her a minute to put two and two together and she got a confused look on her face, "Sergeant?"

"There seems to be a misunderstanding around here," Voight told her, "I go to the can for a couple minutes, I come back and suddenly I'm Captain Hook."

Burgess was at a total loss and it showed. "What should I do, Sergeant? Do I seriously…"

"The cuffs won't be necessary, let's go," Voight told her as he walked past the security guard and out of the room.

"I would like to know why every time I get a headache it has to come out of your district, Voight," Emma Crowley told him back at the station house, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Voight sat across from her in his office, and very calmly and nonchalantly answered, "I was thinking it would be a good idea if I made a trip to the men's room before janitorial services were requested."

"Damn you, Hank," she said to him, "Every time you or somebody in your house crosses the line, you always cover it up. Why can't you level with me?"

"About what?" Hank asked.

"Why did you do it?" she asked him.

"Why did I do what?" he asked innocently.

"You realize this is futile, Hank," Crowley told him, "We're going to prove you did it."

"Did what?"

"You know damn well what, who else would resort to cutting somebody's oxygen tube open to try and kill them?"

"Whoever does, you know I never have, it's not mine either," Hank responded.

"Hank, I am trying to help you," she said.

"What you are trying to do, Sergeant, is get me to confess to something I didn't do. Allowing myself to be framed for something that somebody else did, if anybody else did it, is not helpful to me or my people whatsoever," Voight explained to her, "Let's hypothetically assume for a moment that you're right, I did what they think I did. What's my motive? What reason would I have for doing it?"

Defeat was starting to show in Crowley's face as she shook her head, "I don't know, Hank, that's the only reason you're not already behind bars."

"So nice to be stereotyped," he remarked, "I guess if I don't watch myself, next you're going to try blaming me for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre."

"Don't tempt me," she told him, "Hank, everybody in the department can understand what you're going through…"

"No," just one word, and it said everything. Voight shook his head and told her, "You don't understand, nobody does, nobody will, and nobody else has to. That's very convenient, but I also wouldn't wish it on anybody else."

It was starting to dawn on the sergeant that there wasn't anything else to say, and that Voight was not in any position to confess to anything today.

"You know I'll be in touch," she told him, more a warning than a comment, "You know the routine, don't leave town."

Hank waited until she left his office and the door closed behind her to ask, "Where would I go?"

Reaching over to the intercom, he buzzed down to the front desk.

"Yeah, Hank?" Trudy asked.

"Let me know when Sergeant Crowley leaves," Voight told her.

"Sure thing, Hank."

After she was gone, he was going to go back to Chicago Med and see how Olivia was doing.

"Any change?" Hank asked as soon as he was through the doors to the hospital.

Sharon did a double take, "How'd you get out?"

"Chewed through the wall," he answered nonchalantly, "Any change?"

"No," Sharon answered, then followed after him when he headed back to Olivia's room, "Hank!"

"I'm staying, Sharon," Voight told her, "Get used to it."

"Hank, you shouldn't even be here after what happened earlier," she reminded him.

"Call a cop," he responded as he made his way down the corridor.

Sharon was right. Olivia's condition hadn't changed any by the time he returned to her room. He hated seeing her like this. The machines were doing everything for her. She didn't even look human in that bed. It took him back to too many deaths before, Justin, Camille. It occurred to Hank that the room was starting to spin, he grabbed the railing of the hospital bed to brace himself and he hovered over Olivia.

"Can't you just open your eyes?" he asked her.

If she could've just done that, Voight felt he would have some idea if there was hope.

Hank lowered his head till his almost touched Olivia's, and he said lowly into her ear, "You can't do this, Olivia. You can't do this to me. I've already lost everyone else I cared about, I can't lose you too."

There was only silence except for the machines.

"Olivia," the word was barely audible. Voight placed one hand on the top of her head and stroked through her hair, watching, looking for any sign of change. None.

"Olivia, I love you."

The words were so quiet, the only person who could've heard them was Olivia, but if she did, there was no response.

The first thing Olivia was aware of was pain. She wasn't even sure what it was that was hurting, she was just aware of a dull pain somewhere in her body. She tried to turn her head from side to side but even that was about impossible. Then it dawned on Olivia that her eyes were closed, she slowly opened them and her surroundings slowly came into focus. She'd been in enough hospital rooms to recognize one when she saw it. Then it slowly dawned on her that she was in the hospital bed. She was the patient. How had she ended up here?

She saw the needles sticking out of her arm and traced the tubes back to the IV bags overhead. Then she realized that one of them was a morphine drip, no wonder she was only in a dull pain. And yet…she still couldn't remember what had happened.

Olivia's neck was stiff and hurt to move, even so she tried turning her head to the other side, and when she did she saw Hank Voight asleep in the chair next to her bed. What the hell was going on? How long had he been there? For that matter, how long had she been there?

She opened her mouth and tried to call to Hank, but her throat was as dry as sandpaper and she could hardly make any sound. So instead she reached over with her hand, grabbed his and gave it a firm squeeze.

Voight's head jerked and he sat up straight in the chair and opened his eyes. He looked as surprised as she felt.

"Olivia."

Olivia swallowed the dry lump in her throat and tried again. Her voice came out weaker than usual, but she could be heard. "Hank, what happened?"

"You've been in the hospital for two days, Olivia," he told her.

"Two days?"

It couldn't be possible. And yet…she remembered, the shooting, the car chase, the crash. Olivia's upper body shot up from the bed and she was almost hyperventilating, "The kid that got shot, is he?"

"I'm sorry," Hank told her with a grim shake of his head.

All the stuff that Olivia had witnessed on the job couldn't prepare her for his answer, and it showed in the mask of horror on her face.

"You can't blame yourself for what happened, Olivia," Hank told her, "There wasn't anything you could do."

"I should've stayed with him," she said, "I should've stayed with him until the ambulance arrived…"

"Olivia, it wouldn't have done any good," Hank pointed out, "Now, because of what you did do, the shooters didn't get away, they won't be able to do it to anybody else."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't remember?" Voight asked her, "They tried to run you off the road and got hit by a truck instead."

"My God," Olivia's voice fell to a whisper.

"They survived, they were brought here," Voight told her, and added, "They coded."

"They're dead?"

"Not yet, they're on life support," Voight answered, "It's a game of wait and see right now."

Olivia bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Don't blame yourself for what happened," Hank told her, forcing her to look at him, "You wouldn't even have been out there if…"

"Olivia Benson," Sharon entered the room, "It's good to see you're awake. I'm Sharon Goodwin. You gave everybody here quite a scare."

Olivia eyed the drugs hooked up to her arm and asked, "How long have I been on morphine?"

"Only this morning," Sharon told her, "Before that you weren't responsive to anything, so we took the pain as a good sign."

"Take it out," Olivia said as she tried to sit up, "I don't want it."

"Easy," Voight stopped her.

"Miss Benson, you're going to have to take it easy, you were in a serious car accident," Sharon told her, "It's lucky you only escaped with the injuries you did. We're going to keep you over the weekend for observation."

"Fine," Olivia replied, "But I don't want the drugs."

"You might change your mind," Sharon said, "You were pretty banged up in the wreck."

"I don't care, I don't want it," Olivia told her.

Sharon could see she wasn't going to get anywhere, "Alright, I'll send somebody in to take care of it."

After she left the room, Voight told Olivia, "I know you're not accustomed to it, but in a hospital you don't have to be on top of everything. These people know what they're doing. You could just let them do their job and relax, you know."

"I don't like not being in control of myself," Olivia explained.

"So says the woman who just flew 1,000 miles out of her jurisdiction and left her fate to an unknown pilot of a 300 ton jet," Voight pointed out, "Do you also go on roller coasters?"

Olivia managed a pained laugh, "I live on one."

Once the morphine wore off, Olivia started to feel the pain. This time it wasn't a dull pain somewhere vague in her body, it was a throbbing, excruciating pain throughout her whole body. But she refused to go back on the painkillers, so Maggie was sent in to help.

"Alright, Olivia," she said as she opened up a small package, "These analgesic pads are too strong to wear more than one at a time ordinarily, so you tell me where the worst pain is and we'll start there."

Olivia groaned as she turned over, "The middle of my back feels like somebody tried to break it."

"Hank, you want to leave the room?" Maggie asked in a way that let him know she wasn't asking.

"No thanks, I'm fine," Voight answered as he stood over by the wall.

Maggie shot him a knowing look. Then she pulled Olivia's gown open and applied the patch.

"Give it a couple minutes and you'll feel like somebody set you on fire," she told the sergeant.

"Now I just need one the size of a quilt," Olivia commented half to herself.

"And in a little bit we're going to get you up and walking so you don't get blood clots," Maggie told her.

"I can do that," Hank told Maggie.

She looked at him and smirked, "I'm sure you can but we'll handle it."

"It's alright," Olivia told her, "It's okay."

"I'll get you some scrubs you can change into," Maggie said, and glared at Voight.

"Oh darn," he replied.

"So how're you feeling?" Voight asked as he supported Olivia as she walked through the corridor.

"Only hurts when I breathe," she said in a quick huff.

"You scared the hell out of me, you know that?" he asked her.

"I wasn't trying to," she replied.

"Do me a favor, don't ever try," he responded, "I don't want to see what you can do intentionally."

Olivia got out a pained laugh and told him, "Don't make me laugh, it still hurts too much."

"Olivia Benson," Will Halstead rounded the corner, stuck his chart under his arm and extended his hand, "My name is Will Halstead and I'm your doctor. How are you feeling?"

"You don't want to know," she answered grudgingly.

"Well your tests are looking good," he told her, "We want to keep you for observation for a couple days but if all goes well we should be able to release you then, though I would like you to check back in next week for a follow up."

"I have to get back to New York," Olivia said.

"Well I wouldn't recommend traveling, especially that far, until we can medically clear you," Will told her.

"It's alright, she'll be here," Voight told the doctor.

Both Will and Olivia turned and looked at Voight, who only looked to Olivia and answered, "She'll stay with me until then."