The rear doors of the ambulance flew open as soon as the vehicle had come to a complete stop. Medics and nurses crowded around, reaching for the stretcher, while Buchman gave her preliminary evaluation.

"Patient is female, late 30's with dual gunshot wounds to the torso. Current stat is critical. She has gone into amorphic shock and will need to be admitted immediately."

The stretcher was quickly removed from the ambulance, the feet unfolded and clicked into place. Buchman placed a blanket over Olivia's exposed flesh, laying the travel pack, containing the monitoring equipment and drip, next her prone body.

"Two wounds. One entry above the left collarbone, exit below the trapezius of the clavicle. Second entry below the third rib with exit wound midway through the lattimus dorsi. Severe blood loss is causing aggressive trauma to the heart. Transfusion recommended. Blood type unknown but patient is a Detective with the NYPD so her file is on record."

Buchman waved Abbie out of the vehicle and motion for her to follow them as they entered through the doors to the ER. The stretcher was rushed down a crowded corridor and into a waiting bay, where the duty surgeon had staff on the ready for the transfer from stretcher to bed. Buchman took Abbie's hand and moved her off to the side while they watched a nurse pull the institutional blue curtain closed, shielding the chaos that had begun behind it.

"You can't go in there just yet. They gonna work on her and try to stabilize her for surgery. Come with me and I'll get someone to look at you. You hurting anywhere else?"

Abbie, eyes wide with fear, slowly shook her head no. She looked down at her shaking hands, covered in both Olivia's blood and her own, and inspected her palms.

"I need to clean up and umm... I gonna need to talk with Detective Stabler."

Abbie looked around the unfamiliar rooms of the ER while Buchman gently took her by the elbow and guided her over to an empty consultation room. She walked her inside and sat her down on a plastic chair. Buchman crouched before her and held her hands down on her lap.

"We need to have you checked out before we hand you over to the D's. There's nothing you can do for your girlfriend just yet. You need to let these good people work on her as well as you. I can let Detective Stabler know when you are and you can go see him later but right now, I'm gonna get Doctor Marko and she'll come look you over." Buchman stood and lent on the doorframe. "Can I get you anything? A soda, cup of coffee?"

Abbie looked up and smiled sadly. "She's not my girlfriend."

Buchman leaned over and gave Abbie's arm a soft squeeze. "I'm gonna get you a cuppa. White? Black? Sugars?"

"Black. No sugar. And thanks."

"No worries."

Abbie watched Buchman walk over to a doctor in her mid fifties, hand over a clipboard and disappear round a corner. The doctor frowned as she surveyed the chart then looked at Abbie, their eyes holding for a moment before she too moved out of view. Abbie looked at her hands again and tried to rub away some of the dried blood on her fingers but was startled when she heard a sharp rap on the door.

"Abigail Carmichael?" Without waiting for a reply, the young intern continued.

"I'm Doctor White. Up on the table so I can have a look at you."

He motioned for Abbie to sit up on the examination table while he pulled out a rubber glove, which he slapped into place with a little too much enthusiasm. He tilted Abbie's head to the side and examined her nose before pressing along the bridge. Abbie yelped out and gritted her teeth, while her hands grappled with the cotton sheet.

"That hurt?" Again he continued without waiting for a reply. "Well, I'd say you've got yourself a broken nose." He moved in closer to her, under the pretense of examining her nose and rested his upper thighs against her knees. He rested one hand on her knee before continuing. "I'm sorry about your friend. They worked pretty hard on her but...you know."

The intern moved his fingers back to the spot he pushed on before, but Abbie grabbed his hand and glared at him before responding.

"My friend? What's happened?" She placed her hands flat against his chest and shoved him back while she slid off the examination table. She tried to maneuver past him, towards the door, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the chair.

"Hey! Settle down. Look. I thought someone had told you already." Abbie tried to stand but the intern pushed her back down. She stood again, only to have him thrust her back into the chair, again, but he lent his body against her, holding her arms down beside the back legs of the chair, which pushed the sharp curve of the plastic chair into her hip.

"Get off me!" she struggled against him before she managed to get a hand free. She slapped her palm against his ear hard enough to make him howl and watched him clutch his head and sink to his knees.

The door flew open and the doctor that Abbie had seen earlier looked at the intern and then at Abbie, herself.

"What in God's name is going on? Dr White? What's going on?"

"She attacked me! Geezuz! She just exploded when I was looking at her. Apparently, no one told her about her friend's death and she just went nuts!"

Abbie gently rocked back and forth in the chair, sucking huge gulps of air as she held her head in her hands. Her nose throbbed horribly in this position but the pain helped her control her overwhelming need to cry.

"Detective Benson is NOT dead. Why on Earth would you say such a thing! Get UP!"

The intern placed a hand on his knee and prepared to rise to his feet. His cheeks were a smoldering crimson and he found he could not look his superior in the face.

"I thought she came in with the accident from Central Park. I didn't know..."

"Why are you in here? I don't remember telling you to take patients from the room list. You are here to manage ER 1 overflow and patients in the Howell corridor." She held the clipboard that had Abbie's admittance information tighter, her knuckles turning white.

"I can't see this helping in light of your other indiscretions. Get back over to Howell and report to Dartmouth and I want to see you at the end of your shift."

The intern scrambled to his feet and mumbled his retreat. The older Doctor moved over to Abbie's side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, which brought Abbie's rocking to a halt.

"Ms Carmichael? I'm terribly sorry about that. White is an incompetent fool with more money than sense behind him. Be rest assured that Detective Benson has the finest care this Hospital has to offer and at present, her condition has stablised... somewhat. I believe she's un-route to surgery as we speak."

Buchman stood at the open door, watching the Doctor comfort Abbie, with a styrofoam cup in one hand and a gym bag in the other.

"Um... excuse me, Doctor Marko? I have some hot coffee for Ms Carmichael?"

Marko looked over at the young EMS and beckoned her in with a wave of her hand and a small smile. Buchman placed the coffee on the desk and deposited the gym bag next to Abbie's chair.

"I thought you might wanna change into something else, seeing as your clothes are kinda ruined, not to mention soaked through. You'll find a clean pair of sweats, t-shirt and pullover in there, if you don't mind wearing gear tagged with Station 12. You might have to wait until you talk with the Detective's cause they'll wanna bag what you're wearing..." Buchman looked at her shoes for a moment, sensing she may have assumed too much by offering this woman, whom she knew nothing about, clothing she might not want.

Abbie, who was still seated, with head in hands, looked at the gym bag by her feet. She tried to recall the last time someone had performed such a selfless act for no other reason but to be of some assistance and came up short. Plenty of people did things for her but she always felt there was some sinister reason behind it and more often than not, there was a price to pay for their generosity. She looked up at the young EMS while she rose to her feet. She took in a large breath, held it for a moment then exhaled before straightening to her full height and squaring her shoulders. Again she furnished Buchman with a weak smile, looked down at her Ralph Lauren long coat, her charcoal Armani high-cut suit and Prada boots, all hideously expensive and now showing signs of the trauma both Olivia and herself had experienced and cherish the thought of being able to strip them off.

"I want to thank you but I don't even know your name." Abbie notice her voice had taken on a gravelly tone and she thought she sounded a little hoarse. She self-consciously tucked strands of stray hair behind her left ear.

"Liz. And it's my pleasure. I think your gonna be a little busy when the Doc's finished with you and well...the station's just a block down so...it was nothing. Well I'm back out...so... I hope Detective Benson pulls out of this one OK."

Buchman retreated from the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Ms Carmichael?"

Abbie looked at the doctor beside her before placing both hands to her face and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, pushing at the ache, while trying to regain some composure.

"I have no doubt that your nose is broken but looking at it from this angle..." she reached out and tipped Abbie's head to the side, "I don't think we're going to need to set it." She looked back at the clipboard, pulled a pen out of her coat pocket and began to write.

"I want you to take an anti-inflammatory for the next few days, something like Di-Flam and I'm going to prescribe Tramadol for the pain. I want you to come see me again in a few days so we can see how the break has settled." She finished jotting down notes on Abbie's admittance sheet. She paused for a moment before continuing.

"I'm aware of your recent appointment to the DA's office and can only assume how important these next few months are for you but I must insist that you take a leave of absence..." Abbie looked as though she was going to protest but the doctor held up her hand and continued. "For at least a week. You're going to need a few days rest and I can tell you now, your going to hurt tomorrow. I can either prepare a certificate for you or call Arthur Branch, giving my recommendation. Which ever you prefer."

Abbie chewed on her bottom lip while she thought. She knew that Branch would never let her chair any of her current cases with two black eyes and a busted nose but he would not preclude her from continuing on her pending paperwork. She could always take the urgent casework home and have one of her ADA's call for a continuance on her upcoming trail dates.

"A certificate will be fine. Um... Whom can I speak to about Detective Benson's condition?"

"Ah...I think she has gone into Doctor Harris' care. Let me just finish up here and I'll find out for you OK? If you go to the nurses station just to the left as you leave and give this to the attendant..." she handed Abbie slip of paper "... they'll supply you with a couple of Tramadol tablets to get you through this evening."

Abbie nodded her appreciation as she walked to the door, gym bag in hand, straightening her long coat and squaring her shoulders. She stood for a moment; hand on the doorknob in unwanted anticipation of what was to come; the grueling interview with Detectives and the long, agonizing wait for the outcome of Olivia's surgery. She twisted the knob and prepared herself for the deluge of questions, not only from Detectives but also from friends, colleagues and other well-wishers. In the distant hallways she could hear women screaming, couples shouting, the shrill ringing of the duty desk telephones and the canned laughter of mediocre sitcoms from the wall-mounted TV's. All of this did nothing for the thrumming headache that had set up residence in the front of her skull. The neon light overhead pierced into her eyes like sharp pins and she felt her stomach churn, making her feel dizzy and a little nauseated. She looked down the hallway, towards the entrance doorway, to find Elliott pacing back and forth, with a drawn look on his face. He peered up, his face a mask of sorrow. His skin was pale; his eyes were red and his once white shirt was now marked with streaks of dirt and blood.

"Geezuz Abbie. Are you alright?"

He couldn't help cringing as she drew closer. The purplish bruise was quickly masking her tanned features.

"How is she?" she asked, not quite wanting a truthful reply. He reached over and took her hand.

"She's been in surgery for about 15 minutes but...it wasn't looking too good." The last few words caught in his throat, causing him to cough aloud. He looked at his feet for a few moments before continuing.

"I'm gonna have one of the guys take you home. Go get changed. Take some time out and then we'll meet up with you back at the Station."

Abbie had started to shake her head no before he finished.

"I'm not going anywhere. I have a change of clothes and I can clean up here. I want to get started on this now. Besides... I'm not leaving until we know for certain." She turned to walk towards the duty desk as Elliott reached for her.

"Hey. Slow down. You need..." Abbie shrugged out of his grasp and spun around to face him.

"The only thing I need now is the get out of these clothes." Abbie's hands shook uncontrollably beside her. "I'll be able to "take time out" later so do me a favour and let's just do this." The last sentence was more a plea than a statement.

Elliott moved closer without saying a word. He reached out and took her into his arms and pulled them tightly around her. Abbie was stiff in his embrace, at first, but after a moment, she began to relax not only physically, but emotionally as well. The walls she had erected around her emotions began to crumble and for the first time that night she let herself cry.