"Have a seat."

He stands beside her bed, with his arms crossed, and a scowl on his face. He shakes his head. "I'll stand," he argues.

"You should sit."

He reluctantly takes a seat. He scoots the chair closer to the bed.

"What's going on?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Obviously."

"You're not going to like it."

"I am sure that I won't."

"Please, just let me tell you."

"Ok."

"And take a minute, before you say anything."

"I will try."

"I am pregnant."

He doesn't say anything. He just looks at her, in disbelief.

"Say, something," she prompts him.

"What?"

"Anything."

"You just told me not to say anything."

"Say, something," she insists.

"I don't understand," he admits.

She sits up. She scoots the tray table away from her. She pushes the covers down, and sits up, on the side of the bed.

"I should have told you sooner, but I didn't know how to."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"I don't have a choice," she points out.

"So why are we here?"

"Last night, I started having contractions."

"Contractions? How far along are you?"

She allows a moment of silence. He looks at her, and tries not to make any assumptions. In her hospital gown, it is impossible to guess how far along she is.

"Thirty four weeks," she finally answers.

"What?" he swallows hard, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I..."

"You what?"

"I haven't known, that long," she insists.

"Olivia..." he begins to choke up.

"I didn't find out, until I was pretty far along."

"How long is pretty far?"

"Eighteen weeks."

"Why didn't you..."

She shakes her head, "I don't know. I couldn't, I guess."

"Why would you put yourself through this?"

"Who knows."

"You should have told me."

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"That you would react the same way that Amanda did."

"You told Amanda?"

"She was there the day that I found out."

"So she knows?"

"No, I told her that I wasn't going to go through with it."

"I don't know what to say."

"I know that I should have said something, but I couldn't. It gets harder, and harder to hide, but... I know that I can't tell anyone else. I know that they won't understand."

"You don't know that."

"Fin," she pauses, "I don't even understand it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I am not going to tell anyone. I can't."

"But..."

"I am not going to keep it. I can't. I know that. I know what that childhood is like, and I would never subject someone to that."

"You should have told me."

"I couldn't."

"It's no wonder you're still having a hard time."

"I just want this nightmare to be over with."

"Olivia, it's never going to be over. You're going to have to find a way, to cope. Even after you have this baby, it won't be over. Because even though, it won't be with you, it will be somewhere. It will be out in the world, somewhere, and you'll wonder. You'll wonder how it's doing, and what it looks like. You'll wonder if it's ok. You'll wonder what if. You'll always wonder."

"I know."

"Do you know what it is?"

She shakes her head, "No. It doesn't matter."

"I guess not."

"It's not fair," she points out.

"I know."

"I have wanted a child, for... a long time. It's as if mankind is playing a really cruel joke on me. I am never going to have another child. I can't have this one. I don't want this one."

"But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No," the tears start to fall, "because now, there is always going to be a piece missing."

"Shh! I got you," he hugs her.

She cries on his shoulder. He doesn't let go. She holds onto him, with everything. After a while, she lets go, and sits back up. She looks at him. He hands her a tissue.

"I just want this to be over, but last night..."-

She sits up, and realizes what's happening. She feels the contraction. She doesn't touch her stomach. For sixteen weeks, she has known. She has felt the baby moving, and growing. She refuses to touch her stomach, and acknowledge that it is there. Even, in the middle of an interrogation, when it would kick her in the ribs.

She swallows hard, and she lets the wall fall, for a second. She ignores her head. Her hand flies to her stomach. She swallows hard, trying to stave off the tears.

"I know."

"All I could think about, was that it was too early. I don't want it, but..."

"But that doesn't mean you don't want it to be healthy."

"Most of the time, all I can think about, is it being over, but last night, I just kept praying for a few more weeks."

"You prayed?" he smiles.

"Yeah," she realizes.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She nods.