Sorry for this admittedly short chapter, but I know where I want to go with this next and it really just didn't fit into this chapter. You'll see what I mean :P

Thanks for reading!

"You worried me, Alex. I trust the, ah, 'family emergency' has been cleared up?"

"Yes, everything is fine. Thank you for your concern."

"You pay me for my concern," the good doctor laughed. "Just a joke. Since paid or unpaid, I'm quite curious to know what dropped you off the face of the planet for two scheduled appointments, would you have any interest in sharing with me?"

"There's not much I can tell you, Doctor. Most of what happened is confidential information that is limited to the NYPD and the DA's office."

"I don't need to hear those details, Alex. They're important, but not to me. My only job is to find out what's going on in your head."

Alex sighed, tracing her hand across the armrest of the plush chair she sat in. "It was Olivia."

"Oh, so you weren't lying about the family emergency."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not related to Olivia, so yeah, I think I did lie about that."

"She's as much your family as anyone you've got left, isn't she?"

"Touché. Anyway, long story short, she put herself in a lot of danger. And I had to do a lot of thinking about whether I could deal with such constant risk in my life if I had the choice to avoid it."

"And what did you decide?"

"Well you know what? I've had to make this decision before. Last time, I took the safe road, and I wound up in Witness Protection for years. I isolated myself from everyone I ever knew and loved and basically lost everything I had. But was I safe? In theory, yes. I have news for you though—there were some Midwestern nights where I'd stand out in the middle of the road, wanting to scream and shout to the darkness, 'Here's ADA Alexandra Cabot, right here! On the Wisconsin Plain, not six feet under, I'm right here, come get me!', and wait for the bullet to cut through my head or the semi-truck to come out of nowhere and knock me down, because it just seemed better."

Alex paused to catch her breath. Dr. Rosen looked back at her calmly, sympathetically. "And now?"

"I'll still stand out there on the highway, watch all the cars go by, as long as Olivia stands next to me."

Recovery wasn't easy. The pain from the gunshot itself didn't compare to the pain of healing tissue around the vacuum in Olivia's body that used to be solid flesh. The adrenaline that numbed her when it happened didn't stick around very long. But even her girlfriend's cursing fits and threats to rip the IV needle out of her arm and stab the next person that tried to make her get up were not enough to keep away the stone faced Alex.

"You need to go to physical therapy, and you know that. Now get up before I have to attempt to carry you."

"Yeah, I know how that will go down. Literally," Olivia grumbled. "Alright, alright, pull the friggin' chair over…"

"I bet if you ask one of the nurses very nicely, they'll be very happy to provide you with a walker. If you think you can handle that," Alex smirked.

"Which part, the walker part or the asking nicely part?"

"Yes."

"I'll have you know that I'm an extremely polite person!"

"When there are no holes in your body, sure. Stick a bullet through your belly and a hospital gown around your waist and suddenly you're no better than Stabler."

"Who is also very polite! Alex, you're so mean today."

Alex just smiled and shook her head. "Come on sweetie. This is the last time, and then you're out of here. You do want to get out of here, don't you?"

"God, yes!"

It was neither typical funeral weather nor a pleasant day. Olivia had been hoping for one or the other; either pouring rain from a ghastly gray sky, or bright sunshine gleaming through the air. But the sky was just slightly overcast, and the air was thick with humidity, though the temperature was rather comfortable. She sat in her mandatory wheelchair that she despised beyond belief no matter how many times Alex told her that it wasn't so bad and nobody had expected her to even be out in time for the funeral, much less show up at all, so a bit of assistance from the chair would hardly cross anyone's mind.

Olivia felt awkward even being at this funeral. It was a joint ceremony for both Gillian Hardwicke and Garret Frazier, and it was just hitting her now how little she knew about either attorney. Well, not Frazier. She never knew him and wasn't pretending she had. But Hardwicke, she thought she knew. It wasn't until it was too late that she was able to break into the prosecutor's space and find out what was important to her, why she did what she did, or anything about her. If you'd asked, Olivia wouldn't have been able to tell you how many siblings Gillian had, even though she could tell you that Alex was an only child and Casey had two brothers. She didn't know where she grew up or even what car she drove. The same woman she put her life in jeopardy for, the same woman going in the ground that day, was someone she barely knew.

Yet the duty she felt to be there was not one bit lessened, as she sat straight and proudly in her chair, Alex on one side and Casey on the other each holding one of her hands firmly. They, along with Elliot and Cragen, watched as the former ADA's casket was lowered into the ground. Olivia's heart broke just a little bit when a folded flag was placed in the waiting arms of a preschool aged girl that stood bravely to her full three foot stature in the protective shadow of her mother, Allison Hardwicke. Gillian's niece accepted it with an innocent but fiery gaze, and taking care not to drop the American emblem, she picked up one of her hands to salute the officer that gave her the flag.

"Why are they folding a flag for her?" Casey whispered.

"Turns out Hardwicke was in the Navy," Elliot responded, pointing discreetly at a framed photo that was perched in front of the flower display next to the gravesite. In the picture, Hardwicke wore a khaki tan shirt with a clearly visible nametag on one side of her chest and on the other a silver insignia and several colorful ribbons. "Chief Petty Officer Hardwicke, that is."

"Why would she leave the Navy to work in the District Attorney's office?" Olivia chuckled. "Seems like a step down to me."

"Why?" Elliot replied. "I was a Marine, and I joined the force. Either way, she was protecting her country."

He was right. As she assessed the picture of Hardwicke, ever professional in her Naval dress, she suddenly felt a new respect for the woman that she hadn't felt before, and though she struggled in pain, she lifted her arms to the sides of the wheelchair and began to push herself up.

"Baby, what are you doing?" asked Alex, turning to Olivia and trying to put her hands on the detective's shoulders to push her back down in her seat, but Olivia shook her head violently in protest.

"Let me stand up, Alex."

"You're going to hurt yourself, Liv, sit!"

"I need to stand." Alex looked at her questioningly, but slowly drew her loosened grip back and put her hands back at her sides. She stepped in front of the wheelchair, giving Olivia's feet enough room to keep her steady on the solid ground but ready to provide a place to lean should her girlfriend need it. Olivia rose slowly but surely, ignoring the rushing pain in her stomach where the newly healing tissue whined at its disturbance. At the long lost yet vaguely familiar sensation of being completely vertical, she swayed a bit but smiled at the feeling of the wind on her whole body. She laid a hand on Alex briefly but quickly took it back when she found her balance relatively easily.

"You're up."

"I'm up."

And immediately Olivia tucked her thumb underneath her other four fingers and held her palm parallel to the floor as she brought it against the top of her forehead, grazing the rim of her dress cap.

"I salute you, Chief Petty Officer and Assistant District Attorney Gillian Hardwicke," Olivia said quietly. It wasn't loud enough for the participants at the front of the ceremony to hear her as the casket was lowered into the dirt, but loud enough for her colleagues and friends to know why she needed to stand so badly in respect of the deceased.

"As do I," Elliot announced in a voice to match Olivia's, and raised his own hand to his forehead, quickly followed by Cragen. Alex and Casey looked at each other, smiled, and silently agreed that though they were not officers of the law or the military, that they would give their own salutes to the fallen, their own kin, who fell in the line of duty not overseas, but at home, to respect the love of country and defense of its people that claimed the lives of these two lawyers—lawyers that weren't them, but could have been.

And the five of them stood in silent salute as the misty air covered mourners and mourned alike.