A/N: I own nothing.

A/N: As promised this chapter is ER with only one SVU interaction. Any SVU fans who don't understand something ER related, please email me with questions and I will answer all of them for you, I promise. Thanks to my wonderful reviewers from the last chapter: svu101, Clarissa, onetreefan, KaydenceRei, Caia, abby1, MusicaGrant, Dance-Dance89, and Anita Coffee. Love you all! Keep up the reading an reviewing!

The monitors were screaming in Trauma Room Two. Doctors were screaming hurried orders at the nurses; the nurses were running around like maniacs from room to room trying to gather supplies at the speed at which they were needed. A young woman was crashing on the table.

"V-fib!" cried one of the doctors. She had brown hair streaked with blond, pulled back from her face in a ponytail. Beside her was a male doctor with short brown hair. He, too, was concentrated intently on the woman; his dark eyes narrowed. "Page Corday!"

As a black nurse went over to the phone to carry out the order, another nurse with curly blond hair came bustling through the door dragging with her the shock paddles. The male doctor snatched them. "Charge to 300!" he ordered. The curly haired nurse pressed the button. "Clear!" Two pairs of hand jumped quickly back from the patient, as the doctor brought down the paddles to the woman's chest. All looked hopefully back at the monitor. No change.

"Charge again!" called the doctor. The door opened behind them and a curly haired surgeon dressed in blue surgical scrubs came in to join the scene. She walked right alongside the doctor with the paddles.

"Is this the GSW?" she asked.

The doctor nodded. "Clear!"

"And she's not stable for transfer, is she, Carter?" Corday asked, watching the woman jolt up from the table and then back down.

The doctor called Carter looked at the monitor in response. No change. "Okay, another round of epi – charge again!"

"Dr. Carter," said Corday sharply. "Might I speak to you outside a moment?"

Carter frowned deeply. "Abby, take over for me." The doctor with the ponytail took the paddles from his hands. Carter followed Corday out into the hallway. He heard Abby shock the patient again on his way out. He figured there was no change.

"Carter," began Corday angrily. "You cannot continue to call me down for a transfer on a patient that's crashing! Tell me how I transfer that!"

Carter scratched his head. "Elizabeth, we need an immediate transfer-"

"And I can't stand here and wait for a patient who isn't ready to go. There are other patients besides this one waiting in the OR!"

Carter was silent, but was spared answering by the arrival of a man at his side. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what's happening to by wife – Sydney Bloomberg."

Corday flashed her eyes at Carter. "Mr. Bloomberg," he said. "Why don't we sit down?" Mr. Bloomberg didn't look convinced, but allowed Carter to lead him over to some chairs. "Your wife has sustained a serious injury to her chest. The bullet went into her lung and she'll need surgery to repair it."

"But she'll be okay, right?" asked Mr. Bloomberg roughly.

Carter sighed. "Her chances are very slim. Her heart isn't working properly – we're trying to restore a rhythm-"

"You mean she's dying?" shrieked the husband. "Where is she? I want to see my wife!" He leapt up from the chair and began running for the trauma room.

"Mr. Bloomberg!" called Carter. "Come back!"

Mr. Bloomberg stormed into the trauma room at exactly the wrong moment. The room was silent, except for the sounds of the pen on paper as the nurse jotted down the time. The doctor with the ponytail was pulling off her gloves, having just laid down the paddles. "You bitch!" he shrieked when he saw her. He dashed over and grabbed her roughly by the arm. "What the hell are you doing? Why did you give up?"

"Sir," she stammered, "Sir, I don't know what you're-"

"You've killed my wife, bitch!" he shouted. "I'll kill you!" He moved his hand toward her throat. Carter rushed in.

"Sam, call security!" he shouted at the nurse. He ran over. "Mr. Bloomberg, let go of her!" He pried Mr. Bloomberg's strong grasp away. Security came over and grabbed him. The doctor backed away slowly towards the wall. She just couldn't stop shaking. Someone seemed to be calling her name from far away. "Dr. Lockhart…Dr. Lockhart….."

Abby's eyes flew open. "Dr. Lockhart," said the receptionist Jerry, who was standing beside her. Abby deduced that it had been he who was shaking her shoulder. "Dr. Lockhart," he said again. "It's 7:00 – time for your shift. Weaver's already chewing out Susan for showing up late-"

"Shit!" said Abby. She slid her legs around to the edge of the couch she had fallen asleep on and shook off her lab coat she had been using as a blanket. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the haunting image of Mr. Bloomberg grabbing her. It had been over three weeks since his wife Sydney had died, but the nightmares still came. "I was just going to lie down," she said quietly to herself.

"Rise and shine," said Jerry sarcastically.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, Abby found herself at the admit desk. A cup of coffee was in her hand; the other was reaching for a chart. "Good morning, Abby," said a voice behind her.

Abby turned around. "Hey Neela," she said. "Have a nice night?"

Neela shrugged. "Ray kept me up for awhile, but other than that it was okay. You?"

Abby snorted. "I spent my night here."

"Excuse me," said a man approaching the desk. "My son is very ill and my wife and I have been waiting here for over two hours. Can someone please see us?"

Neela looked at Abby. "You want it?"

"Sure," said Abby. She turned to the man. "Come right this way, sir." The man gestured toward a woman and a young boy who were sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs over by the entrance. They followed her into one of the examination rooms. She gestured for the boy to take a seat on the table. "What's your name?" she asked him kindly.

"Jake," he said proudly. "What's yours?"

Abby smiled. "My name is Dr. Lockhart, but you may call me Abby. Can you tell me what the matter is?"

Jake's mother felt the need to step in here. "It's his stomach. It's been bothering him for quite some time now. He's thrown up quite a few times, but we thought it was just flu at first. Then today he woke up with a sore throat and a temperature of over 102. We felt the need to bring him in and get him checked out."

"Okay," said Abby, making some notes on the chart. "Well, Jake, I'm going to have a nurse come in and check you out and see if we can't make you feel any better, okay?"

Jake nodded. Abby turned and looked out the door. "Sam!" she called at the blond nurse who was passing by. "Sam, can you do a little check up on Jake here?"

"Sure," she said. "Oh, and Abby-" Abby paused on her way out the door. "Weaver's looking for you."

Abby rolled her eyes at the nurse. "Thanks, Sam." Great, she thought, I get in trouble with Weaver this early in the morning. What a great day!

Abby walked over to the reception desk. Weaver was waiting for her. Her expression was grim. Abby had worked long enough at the ER to know that when Kerry Weaver was wearing that expression, there was serious trouble. It was therefore with slight trepidation that Abby approached her.

"Abby," said Weaver solemnly. Abby gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the worse. "Abby, there's an urgent message for you in New York."

Abby stared at her blankly for a moment; this was not at all what she expected. "What?"

Weaver handed her a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "You need to call this right away."

Abby frowned at her. She took the sheet, but the number did not seem to be familiar to her at all. "Okay," she said slowly. She grabbed the phone on the desk. To her surprise, Weaver stopped her.

"I think this should be a private call, Abby."

Abby was more confused than ever now. "Take the lounge," Weaver said.

Abby walked slowly to the lounge, still examining the number; it was still nothing she recognized. She picked up the receiver and dialed. The phone rang twice, and then a woman picked up.

"Benson."

Abby frowned, and then regained her composure. "Yes, hello, I'm Abby Lockhart. My boss told me to call this number-"

"Oh," said the woman on the line. "Abby, my name is Detective Benson. I work at the Special Victims Unit in New York City."

Now Abby was more confused than ever. Who did she know in New York?

Benson was still talked. "I'm very sorry. Your mother and brother were both found dead recently."

All the air seemed to vanish from Abby's lungs. She sank down, horrified. The thought of her only family dead was almost inconceivable. And yet-

"Abby?" The detective's voice sounded alarmed.

"How?" Abby managed to croak out.

The woman sighed slightly. "Your brother was found dead this morning. He was murdered."

Abby's throat clenched. Tears welled in her eyes. "And my mother?' she whispered.

There was a pause. "She was found dead the night before last. " Benson hesitated again. "That death was determined a suicide."

The tears spilled down Abby's face. She sniffed and wiped them with the sleeve of her white lab coat. "Special Victims," she said quietly to herself. "That means…"

Benson was still talking. "Abby, I'm so sorry. I know this is a lot for you right now, but there's one more thing we have to tell you."

Now what? Abby wondered. Who else could have died?

Benson hesitated again. "This man who killed your brother – and raped your mother – we – er – we have reason to believe he may be after you next."

Great, thought Abby, just great. "What should I do?"

The detective cleared her throat. "Right now, my partner and I need you to come to New York as soon as possible to collect the bodies. We also have a few questions to ask you concerning you the murderer could be."

Abby nodded vaguely, and then remembered the detective couldn't see her. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," said Benson. "I'm so sorry, Abby."

"Thank you," she whispered. Abby hung up, moving without conviction, still in shock. She sank back down on the couch again, staring into the space in front of her.

The door opened and Dr. Carter entered. He frowned at her, and then walked over and sat down next to her. "Abby?"

Abby didn't appear to have noticed him; she continued staring into space, barely aware of the man next to her.

"Abby," Carter tried again. "What's wrong?" His voice was full of concern.

Abby shook her head; she couldn't find the words, but then Carter seemed to have found them for her. "Is it Maggie?"

At the mention of her mother's name, Abby seemed to come out of her trance. She turned to face him for the first time. She took one look at his worried brown eyes and her face crumpled. Sobs wracked her small body. Carter pulled her into a hug she took his shoulder to cry on. He put his lips gently to her hair and kissed her head. "It's okay, Abby," he whispered, as her sobs filled the room. "It's okay to cry."

A/N: Okay, I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I'm extrememly busy at the moment and I was frankly surprised I managed to update today at all. If you want an estimate for next chapter...let's say Sunday at the absolute, absolute earliest. Until then...ENJOY!