Here is a little update. Sorry it is short, but I decided to split the chapter as the next part really didn't fit in with this. Hopefully it is worth reading in spite of the shorter length.

Thanks for all the reviews. I love the encouragement from most of them! I see a couple of people are not very happy with the story right now, but I appreciate you taking time to review anyway. To the person who said I act like I don't like Olivia, that is very far from the truth. She's my favorite character on television, and it makes me sad to see the person she's becoming on the show. This is my way of helping her get back to the woman we all love.

Again, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter. :) Thanks for reading.

He decided to wait until it was almost time for lights out before making his way to her room. The evening had been pretty easy-going other than their meeting in the laundry room. There had been one issue with a patient in the TV room, and he'd managed to get the man to his room without incident, and since then he'd been walking the halls and thinking of how to approach Olivia again. He couldn't stand the thought of her giving up on herself or letting alcohol destroy her the way it had destroyed her mother. He needed to help her any way he could.

He peeked through the window, and saw her sitting on the bed. She was looking at a picture of a little boy, he assumed was her son, and her cheeks were stained with tears. He knocked and she turned to look at him, wiping her cheeks and rolling her eyes, putting the picture back on the nightstand, but not attempting to get up to answer the door. He pushed the door open and walked in, carrying a laundry basket and sitting it on the floor, "You left your clothes in the dryer," he said.

"Thanks," she cleared her throat and avoided eye contact. She was angry to see him and he knew it. "I didn't forget them. I was gonna go get them later."

"I figured you could use the help," he wanted to sit next to her, but there were strict rules about employees in patient rooms and as much as he cared about her, he couldn't overstep those boundaries. He pulled out the chair from the small desk in the room and sat in it instead, "I'm sorry I made you upset earlier," he said honestly.

"I'm fine," she insisted, though he knew she wasn't. She put her hand to her stomach, pushing gently on the small bump, and she exhaled slowly.

"Do you feel okay?" he asked. "Are you having pains? I can get the nurse."

She shook her head, "No…she's just fluttering around and I'm still not used to it," she sighed.

"How far along are you? Sixteen weeks or so," he asked. "You're not very big to be feeling her move."

"Almost 20 weeks," she sighed, shifting again on the bed. "Her grandmother apparently thinks I'm a cow. She was making all sorts of comments about how much I'm showing…the night I came here." She focused her sad eyes on him. "The baby's measuring a little on the small side," she bit her lip and looked at him seriously. "The doctor said it might be because of my drinking in the first trimester." It was the first time she'd admitted out loud that the doctor had concerns. She hadn't even told Rafael, and her eyes filled with tears. "I never wanted to hurt her. I was already out of the first trimester when I found out I was pregnant…I'm so old, this never should have happened anyway...she's nothing short of a miracle from God...I never thought I was pregnant...I just…I didn't mean to do this to her…"

"But you drank again," he reminded her. "After you knew. You have this little miracle baby that you admit wouldn't be here without a divine intervention, and yet you were willing to throw that all away for a drink. You can't keep denying this, Liv. I know you didn't want to hurt her, but that doesn't change what's happened."

"I'm not denying anything," she sputtered. "I'm a fucking drunk…just like my mother. I hurt my kids…okay. That's what you want me to say, right? I hurt them. I can't fix it now. I can't make her healthy. I can't get back the times I've neglected Noah or left him with a babysitter so I could go out and drink. I can't do a damn thing about any of this!"

"You can move on from it," he argued. "You can get better, and be the mom they deserve now. I know how much you've wanted to be a mother, for as long as I've known you. How did it get to this, Olivia? I mean…why would you ruin your chance at happiness for the comfort of a liquor bottle?"

"I don't know," she admitted, tearfully. "I hate myself for it. I hate that I've become this person." She shook her head, "But being here isn't helping me. All its doing is giving me time to dwell on the mistakes I've made and hate myself even more."

"You can talk to the therapists…the treatment counselors," he reminded her. "They can give you strategies to fall back on when you want to drink. They can help you identify your triggers. But you have to do your part…and if you're not willing to do that then you're right. Nothing is going to help you."

She shook her head, "I hate it here," she admitted. "I was doing fine with outpatient treatment. I slipped one time, when Rafael made me have dinner with his mother, and she was making rude comments about my weight, and harassing us about getting married, and arguing about the baby's name."

"Liv…that's a part of life," he insisted. "You can't avoid life just to keep from drinking. You do need to be here, so you can learn how to live out there."

She sighed, "Maybe I do need an inpatient facility, but this one isn't right for me. People stare at me here, and they judge me for being here when I'm pregnant. The other patients don't even talk to me. Group therapy is miserable…all these people are struggling to survive…there are women who started drinking as teens, and survivors of rape, and men who were beaten by alcoholic fathers and grew up to be the exact same type of abuser. They are the same people I am supposed to help…and I can't in here…"

"You are one of those people, Olivia," he said softly. "Help yourself this time. Please…it's not your job to save everyone here. You have to save yourself."

"Don't you get it? I don't know how," she cried. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

He stood up, walking over to the bed and sitting next to her, wrapping her in his arms while she cried. He didn't care about the rules anymore. All he cared about was her. "You are a good cop, a loving mother, a beautiful woman who deserves to have the life she's always wanted. And I promise you…you can do this." He rubbed her back while she leaned into his chest, her tears staining his uniform. "Promise me that you'll go to your sessions and listen to what they say. Please…just try it…"

She pulled away from his embrace, nodding slightly. "I'll try…but it isn't easy. You don't know what my life is like now. You've been gone…you walked away from me and never bothered to return a call or check to see if I was alive or dead. I've had some things happen that you don't even know about…and I thought I was dealing with it…I've been in therapy for a couple of years…but then I'd go home and the wine made me feel better…and I'm scared to find out who I am without it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there…" he offered. "When I left…I really thought you'd be better off if I cut ties. I mean, I felt like I was keeping you from pursuing a life of your own, and Liv, I wanted you to be happy. To fall in love and have the kids you'd always wanted, and I knew you wouldn't do that with me there," he sighed. "I was wrong. And if me leaving you in any way led to this…I take full responsibility for that and I wish I could change it."

"This has nothing to do with you, El," she said honestly. "You have your own family to worry about. Your wife and your five kids. I'm over you leaving," she sighed.

"Then why'd you keep my shirt?" he asked, looking at how the Marine Corp t-shirt clung to her shape. "And why are you still wearing it?"

She looked down at the way the shirt pulled across her stomach, and shrugged, "I guess you left it at my place and I just came across it one day. It was comfy to sleep in…and now, most of my clothes don't fit so I just put it on. I can change. You can have it back if you want it."

"I don't want it back," he gave a weak smile. "I just don't want you to pretend like me leaving didn't hurt you. If that was part of what led to your drinking, it's okay for you to tell me…and I'm sorry. I want you to know, I missed you too. So much, Liv."

"I'll go to the session in the morning, and I'll do my part to get myself out of here…" she looked around the room, changing the subject. "I feel like I'm in prison…I'm sick of being told what to do…when to eat. I'm pregnant for crying out loud, and I'm hungry, but dinner is over by 6:30 and there's nothing to eat until morning. I feel like puking when I wake up because I'm starving. And they tell me when to sleep too…I'm awake in bed half the night, and tired all day…"

"Speaking of…" he stood up. "It's gonna be lights out. Are you okay if I go? I need to check the other halls."

"I'm okay," she nodded.

He glanced at the picture on her nightstand and smiled, "He's a beautiful little boy," he said gently. "Keep thinking about him…he wants you to come home."

"I know," she forced a sad smile. "God, I miss him. Fin brought him to see me, and I didn't want to let him go."

"You'll be back with him soon," he promised. "And here," he pulled something out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her, "For you and the baby…I don't need a late-night snack and maybe you won't feel so sick in the morning."

She reached out and took the Snickers bar, letting her hand rest on the swell of her stomach, "Thanks…"

"I'll bring you something healthier tomorrow," he promised. "Get some sleep. Goodnight," he whispered, heading toward the door.

"Night, El," she said, falling back on the bed and letting herself rest for the first time since she'd been there.

tbc