A/N: Hello! I know this chapter is pretty short, but here you go. Here's a little Cragen.

Your head hurts. The tie around your neck is loose, but it's still irritatingly present, and you just want to rip it off. Not to mention, you're completely exhausted. When is the last time you got a full night's sleep?

With a sigh, you check your watch. It's almost six. Elliot will be expecting you… you told him you'd be by today. It'll be the third time this week. Ever since he woke up, you've been going to see him as much as you can. At the beginning, when the migraines were constant and he could barely formulate a full sentence, you'd been by his side almost every day, from the moment you could get off of work and make the drive over to Mercy to the end of visiting hours. Those first few days had been the worst. He'd been confused, almost disbelieving of what happened, from the shooting to missing over a month of his life.

It's been about two weeks since then. The process is slow, but you can hear how his speech has been improving. He's slowly starting to ask about what happened in those weeks that he missed. You try to visit him at least twice a week, once on a weeknight and once over the weekend, because you know that he needs all the company he can get right now.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, finish putting away the rest of the files on your desk and slowly unroll your sleeves. You've been distracted for the past half hour, and the file on your desk can wait until the morning.

The squad room is quiet. Overall, it's been functional, but it's like a piece has been missing. Losing someone with as big a personality as Elliot has left a hole, especially since he has been one half of one of your best duos. The cases aren't solved as quickly as they used to be. The squad doesn't have the same vibe- doesn't gel in the same way. Olivia's not the same. Munch and Fin aren't the same. You miss the way things used to be. It used to be easy running this unit- not dealing with the cases, but managing the detectives. Now… you're more tired than you've probably ever been as a captain.

Olivia and Lake's desks are empty. They're probably out on an interview. Fin, who's back partnering with Munch, sits at his desk with a case file in hand. Across from him, your injured detective's desk is almost exactly the way he left it- a closed file sits in the center. The desk calendar is still set for February. It's almost like a time capsule- until you're forced to hire more help, you're pretty sure that it will stay that way.

Fin looks up, leans back in his chair and nods. "Goin' to the hospital?"

You nod. Your detectives have come to expect this from you. Munch and Fin have been their fair share of times, especially Fin, who still feels somewhat responsible for what happened. The only one that hasn't is the one that Elliot wants to see the most. The woman whose desk is currently vacant.

"Go home, Fin," you say. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Don't gotta tell me twice. Say hey to El for me."

As Fin leans over to shut off his computer, you grab your coat off the rack and make your way towards the elevator.

/

When you slide the hospital room door open, Elliot sits up in his bed, table over his lap. A pen hangs loosely in his grip. He was able to get rid of the hospital gown a few days ago, after virtually begging his nurse to let him have some normal clothes, and now wears a gray t-shirt with Mercy Hospital printed across the chest.

You knock on the door and he looks up at you.

"Practicing?" you ask, sitting down beside him.

He stares down at the chicken scratch littering the page, frowning. "Look at this. I'm…" The frown grows deeper as he drops the pen and leans back. "Help…hope…less?"

"You're not hopeless. Or helpless. You've just got to give yourself some time."

"Time," he repeats, rubbing his temples. "Too much time."

He's performed that same motion several times in the couple of weeks that you've visited him- each time a precursor for one of the terrible migraines he's developed. You take the sheet of paper away from him and set down the brown paper bag that you picked up on the way over. You've got to calm him down. "Hey. Relax, Elliot, take a break. Have a snack."

He visibly relaxes. One, two, three seconds go by without any sign of pain, and you thank God for small favors. Every break from the shit this man has to deal with is a miracle.

He peaks into the bag and his lips twitch upwards. "Roast beef?"

"What else?"

He takes the sandwich and can of Coke out of the bag, a full on smile crossing his face. "Thanks, Cap'n."

You reach for the remote to turn on the Yankees game as Elliot eats. He asks you to remind him what happened during spring training. It's the third time you've told him, the second time he's forgotten, but you go over the details again with enthusiasm- how they lost against the Orioles, Phillies and Braves, but beat the Red Sox in a shut-out. You lament Carl Pavano's freakish injury at first base. They're currently five and four, but you've got a good feeling about this game against the Royals.

Elliot finishes off his sandwich just as the seventh inning ends. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and stares at you. His eyebrows raise as his fingers rip at the napkin. "Liv?" he asks softly.

"Not today," you say.

You can't take the disappointment in his eyes. Every single time you come to see him, he asks for her. Every time, you have to see that same look. Damn it, she should be the one here with him.

"She'll be here." But truth be told, you don't know if she will be. You've asked her to come here with you so many times, and so many times she's refused with excuse after excuse.

His gaze drops. "I know we were fighting," he mumbles. "But I just thought…"

I meant more to her than this.

The unsaid words hang in the air. You squeeze his shoulder tightly. "Don't worry about her, son," you murmur. "She'll come."

But, in reality, you've never been more unsure.

/

Instead of heading home after you leave the hospital, you drive straight back to the 1-6. As you push through the door to the bullpen, the first thing your eyes land on is Olivia, who sits at her desk with an open case file. Her cheek rests in her hand as she taps her pen against the top page of the file. She looks bored.

Bored. Her partner is laying in a bed agonizing over her and she's sitting, bored at her desk.

"Benson!" you shout. "My office!"

"Yeah, cap?" she asks, stepping into your office. She closes the door behind her and turns towards you. "What's up?"

You have to swallow your urge to just grab her shoulders and shake her. With a calming breath, you sit on the corner of your desk and cross your arms over your chest. You didn't say anything when she asked for a new partner after the Gitano case. You kept your mouth shut about her return after the job with the Feds- out of respect. Out of knowing when they needed a break from each other.

But this… you can't keep quiet with this. You can't watch the man that's been like a son to you grow more and more disappointed with every passing day. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for her to show up at his door when you know she doesn't have any intention of doing so. Just like her stint with the Feds.

No. Now is worse. Now, he barely knows what's in his own head. You've seen the pain and fear in his eyes. There's one person that can help ease that and she refuses to do so.

Fire erupts inside of you. You can't continue to let this happen. You can't watch it anymore.

With one more deep breath, you speak. "I visited Elliot earlier. We started talking and I got to think about what would have happened if your positions were reversed."

Her eyes meet yours and you immediately see the surprise. "Huh?"

"If it was you laying in that hospital bed, I would have had to force him to leave your room. He would have been next to you every second before and after you woke up, Olivia. Would have used up all of his sick time just to stay there with you." You can see it in your head- the heavy bags under his eyes, his rumpled clothes, the days of scruff built up on his cheeks. You would have had to threaten him just to make him go home and take care of himself. You would have seen the tears in his eyes as he confessed the love for her that you've been pretending not to see.

"So what's your excuse?" You immediately change your mind. Excuses aren't going to do any good. They're not going to help Elliot. "No. Never mind, I don't want to hear your damn excuse. Elliot doesn't need it, he needs YOU. Do you know how many times he's asked to see you? And you didn't even show up once for him? What is wrong with you?"

"Cap'n…"

"Shut up. Every time he asks about you, I have to lie to him. And you know the worst thing? I have to sit there and look at the hurt on his face, knowing that you're just refusing to come, at least to say hello to the man. Well, I'm done covering for you, Olivia."

You walk past her, but stop in the doorway, leaving just a few more words for her as she sits, frozen in the chair in front of your desk. "I know you're scared, Olivia, but so is he. And he needs you."

She turns towards you and you watch as she blinks hard. There's moisture in her eyes- tears.

"I don't know if I can…" she stops, biting on her bottom lip as she drops her gaze. "I can't see him like that."

"He has to live like that," you answer softly. "Who do you think has it harder?"

With those words hanging in the air, you leave her sitting in your office.

A/N: Next chapter, Olivia finally goes to the hospital. Review? :)