"Damn, Liv," Fin said as he looked at her on the screen, "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks a lot," she replied from where she sat on her hospital bed.

"What's the other guy look like?" he asked.

"There were two of them," Olivia answered as she looked at her phone, "And they look like they got hit by a semi."

Carisi came on the screen now and stood beside Fin, "How long ya gonna be out, Sarge?"

"The doctor's discharging me tomorrow, he wants me to come back in a week, so it looks like I'm stuck here until then."

Olivia was able to see Rollins trying to get between the others to come up on the screen, "No sweat, Olivia, we'll keep the place from burning down in your absence."

"Wow, thanks a lot," Olivia replied, "Actually I already explained my situation to 1PP and they're going to send somebody over to act as my temporary replacement until I get back. So you know the routine, treat them with respect, but don't tell them anything."

"Sounds like my marriage," Fin commented.

"You just get to feeling better, Sarge, we'll hold down the fort and make sure this new guy doesn't get too comfortable," Carisi told her.

"Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it," Olivia said, then disconnected the call.

Olivia looked up from her phone and over at Voight, who had moved his chair over towards the door.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

Olivia tucked her feet under her on the bed, "The last time I was in a car wreck, I was with my partner's pregnant wife, she went into labor, I had to hook her up to an IV while the top of her car was torn off. She had the baby right after we got her in the ambulance, I was one of the first people to hold his son…I think I'd rather go through that again."

Voight laughed. Olivia added, "I'd rather see a new kid come into the world than have to see an older one taken out of it."

"You can't beat yourself up over that," Hank told her. Then he grew somber and added, "I shouldn't have sent you away."

"You didn't," she responded.

"Just as well might've," he replied, "I know that you came out here to try and help me, I appreciate it, I just didn't want to deal with it. See, I'm like you." He had her attention now and he explained to her, "It's not often that I'm not in control of my emotions, but the few times I'm not, I don't let anybody see it. You did."

Olivia didn't respond. She wasn't sure how to.


"You might be relieved to know I cleaned the place up a bit," Hank told Olivia as they walked up to the porch and he took out his key, "I wanted to make sure the place was presentable for my guest."

Olivia laughed and followed him in. Right away she noticed that he was telling the truth. The broken glass that had covered the floor was gone and new lights hung from the fixtures.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," she said as she took off her jacket, "I don't know why that doctor wants me to come back in, I feel fine."

"Famous last words," Voight replied, "That's what everybody says right before they collapse from some unforeseen dilemma. Besides you've still got a ways to go before you look fine." He caught the look she shot at him and added, "You know what I mean."

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment. Olivia sat down on the couch and asked, "So what happens to the shooters now?"

"Hard to say, they're still on life support," Voight answered, "They still could go either way. If they don't die, then they're going to prison."

"Voight," Olivia looked at him, "Did you really cut their oxygen tubing?"

"Who, me?" he asked with a look of innocence, "What would ever give you an idea like that?"

Olivia just smiled and shook her head.

"What's going to happen with you?" she asked.

"Nothing's gonna happen to me, because I didn't do anything," he told her.

"If you say so," Olivia responded, not really sounding convinced.

"So," Voight sat down beside her, "You want to go out for dinner?"

"What if we just stay in?" she asked.

"You never had my cooking, did you?" Voight asked, "You might be sorry."

"After the week I've had, I can think of worse things to risk," Olivia told him.

This time the drink of choice was a simple bottle of wine, and the occasion for it was also different. This time instead of being used to blot out unwanted memories, it was an intimate social drink between two friends looking to put a long and exhaustive day behind them and just relax. They each had a couple of drinks, then Olivia poured another one for herself, and another after that.

"Now I know why you didn't want to be kept on the painkillers," Voight joked.

Olivia responded by playfully punching him in the arm.

"My mother was a violent alcoholic," she said, half to herself, "I should know better."

"Ever black out?" Voight asked.

Olivia thought back to her younger days, "Not for a long time."

"You ever get violent?" he asked her.

"No," she answered, then thought about it, "Not yet."

"Would've happened by now, knowing better but still doing the same thing is what makes us human," Voight told her.

She smiled at him, "Speaking from experience?"

"You don't want to know," he answered.

Olivia let the question rest and didn't push it.

"Thanks again for letting me stay," she said, "If I have to be here for another week I'd rather be here than a hotel."

"I'm glad for the company," Voight told her, "I don't always do well left to my own devices."

"I noticed," she replied.

They made small talk for a while and Olivia started to feel the effects of the wine. Again, not enough to actually get drunk on, but she could feel her head starting to swim and she was getting tired.


"Olivia."

She opened her eyes and shot up on the couch and realized she'd actually fallen asleep, or started to anyway.

"I'm sorry, what'd you say?" she asked Voight, who was seated on the other end of the couch from her.

"When I told you to leave," he said, "There were a lot of things that I was hoping to avoid dealing with, and I thought that'd be easier to do if I sent you away."

"It wasn't your fault," she told him, "I chose to leave."

"Let's be real, Olivia, what choice did I give you?" he asked her, "I knew that you'd come out here to try and help me, and I appreciate it, but at the time I didn't want to deal with it, I didn't want you here. I didn't want…" he wasn't able to finish the thought but Olivia knew what he was trying to say. He didn't want her to see him as he was.

"There were a lot of things I didn't want to deal with, I thought it'd be easier to block it all out if you weren't here. I was wrong."

Olivia felt a massive weight pressing on her as she addressed the elephant in the room, "Justin…"

She expected some confirmation from Voight, he didn't even nod his head, instead he responded, "There's more."

She looked at him, she felt her eyes widen in surprise, "What is it?"

"Something I was hoping I'd never have to explain," he told her, "And I'd still rather take it to my grave, but I don't see that being an option anymore."

"What?" Olivia asked.

She didn't see Voight get up, or even move, but the next thing she was aware of was he was on top of her and kissed her.

Her reflexes were slightly slowed by the alcohol, but suddenly her mind was as sharp as a tack. She tried to grab Voight and push him off of her, with no success.

This was not the same frenzied action that Olivia had experienced a few days ago, of a man half awake and torn out of a nightmare, before he even realized what he was doing. Instead this was the calm, calculative action of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and did it very well. None of which though, could take Olivia's mind off the facts at hand. She tried again to push Hank off of her, finally he pulled away and moved back. He hovered over her now but he didn't pin her down.

Voight looked her in the eyes as he told her plainly, "I love you, Olivia."

Olivia felt her eyes widen again as she tried to sit up, "What?"

Ignoring her question he continued, "I'm not sure when it first happened, but it finally dawned on me when you came out here, then I realized I'd actually felt the same way for a while."

Olivia looked at him, "And that's what you would've rather taken to your grave than confess?"

"Well that's not all there is to it," he told her, "And the next part will be the worst to get out in the open."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well for one thing, I never bothered to consider if you felt the same way, one-sided romances are the worst," he said, "I just couldn't think of a good way, or time, to ask."

Olivia laughed and answered, "Yes, Hank, I love you too."

"Well that was painless enough, but now comes the rest of it," Voight told her.

The tone of his voice told Olivia that this was a very serious situation, and she knew whatever he told he next had to be treated with utmost professionalism, no matter what it was.

"I'm sorry," he told her, and before Olivia could wonder for what, he confessed to her, "I love you, Olivia. Probably more than you'll ever be able to realize. But I don't see this working out." He raised his hand to get her attention, he wanted to make sure she understood, "The reason why isn't anything to do with you, it's not your fault, it's mine. I love you, Olivia, but I can't sleep with you. I haven't been with any woman since Camille, even now it would feel like I was being unfaithful to her. Even if I thought I could live with the guilt anyway, I wouldn't be able to do it. Do you understand?"

Olivia thought back to the first morning, and nodded, "I think so."

He looked at her determinedly and told her, "If that won't be enough, then we need to just leave this where it is and forget about it."

Olivia reached up, put her arms around Voight and pulled him against her, "It's enough, Hank…it's enough."

After a while, Olivia and Voight relocated from his living room to his bedroom to go to sleep. It had been a long, hard, and trying week for both of them, and they were exhausted. But sleep wasn't in the near future for them. In the darkness of the room, Voight talked to Olivia about several things, and she didn't dare interrupt him.

"When Justin was born he was a preemie, two weeks early, only weighed 6 pounds, 5 ounces, smallest baby we'd ever seen," he told her, "We were worried he'd have to stay in the hospital. But after two days we got to take him home, Nothing slowed him down. He was already starting to talk at 7 months, he walked at 8 months, he ran us ragged keeping up with him."

Olivia just smiled and didn't say anything, and listened to Voight talk. He was a completely different man now to the one she saw the last time she was at his house.


The next morning Olivia accompanied Hank out to the cemetery to visit Justin's grave. She'd insisted on stopping first to pick up some flowers, she held two bouquets, one from each of them, and let Voight arrange them as he saw fit. She stood back and watched as Voight crouched down and spoke to his son. It wasn't talking to Justin as if he was actually there, Olivia knew there was always something different in the two, but it was close enough. She also noticed how Voight tried to sound like everything was just fine, like he had everything held together. Never a word about Olive leaving with the baby. It only made sense, people were most prone to only mentioning the 'good' things when visiting with the deceased. Olivia wondered if it actually made any difference.

Then Voight did something that took Olivia completely by surprised. He introduced her to Justin. She felt compelled to step forward and speak, though she had no idea what to say. She crouched down alongside Hank and looked at the tombstone.

"Hello, Justin," she began, "I'm a friend of your dad's. He's told me a lot about you."

Somehow the words came to her and she found it easier to speak. She remembered going to her mother's grave once and speaking with her, even with her mother dead and buried it hadn't gone over much better than the conversations they typically had while she was alive. That wasn't the case here. Olivia really felt as if she was speaking to Voight's son and the words just came out naturally and smoothly.

When it was all over, and they left the cemetery, Olivia couldn't explain it but she felt like an immense weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She hoped that this was a step in the right direction for both of them.

That night Olivia found herself once again in Voight's bed holding him as he sobbed over the death of his son. Hank had held it together all day after they left the cemetery, but finally it all came crashing down on him. This too was nothing like the first night she'd been there. Rather, she had a distinct feeling that this time was a therapeutic release for Voight. Piece by piece he was starting to let go of some of the pain he'd been harboring for weeks. Just holding him against her, she could almost feel a piece the size of an iceberg falling away from him. For the first time since she'd made the trip out to Chicago, Olivia had a feeling that Hank would actually be alright.

She thought back to the morning after…with every fiber of her being she hadn't wanted to leave him, but she knew she wasn't going to get anywhere either. With every step she took to the front door she knew it was a mistake but didn't have any other recourse. She hadn't planned on actually going back to the airport though, she figured she'd check into a hotel for the day and see if he called, she had hoped he would. But needless to say, things hadn't gone as planned.

As Olivia kept one arm wrapped around Voight's back and used her other hand to stroke the back of his head, she could hear him starting to wind down, maybe he was finally falling asleep. She sincerely hoped so, after the night they'd both had, they needed to get some rest.

"It's alright, Hank, it's alright," she said quietly, "It's going to be alright." She couldn't explain it, but somehow she just knew it would get better now.