Author's notes: A big thankyou to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including the guests I've been unable to thank personally. Thanks to the new follows and favs. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

It's not long before Patrick hears Olive's loud cries turn to choking sobs, he knows it's Teresa's doing. He takes comfort from that, but it doesn't stop the emptiness he feels beside him. The emptiness of his arms, he bows his head as loneliness descends on him, crushing his soul.

He shakes his head and stands. With his hands in his pockets, he paces the hallway, trying to deflect his thoughts, but to no avail. His heart feels as if it's being squeezed as the doctor's words runs in circles around his mind. She could die. Meningitis is not a little disease, children die of it all the time, what's he going to do if their little Livvy doesn't survive. It's amazing how quickly they weave into your life, as if they've been with you all the time. He can barely remember what it was like to be just him and Teresa.

Livvy, his perfect little girl, he needs the mornings when he sits and rocks her for a few minutes of just him and Olive. No distractions, just a darkened room and the scents of powder and milk, and sometimes, something more offensive. There's a small tug at the corners of his mouth as he thinks of the amount of stuff that can come out of such a small body, it's a puzzle where she holds it all! So different from Charlotte.

"No! He certainly can't go there! But it's no use, Pandora's box has been opened, and it sends tremors through his body, he sits down before he collapses. He places his head in his hands, his chest's constricting so tightly, he's finding it hard to breathe. He grabs the base of the chair with both hands as he fights the urge to run, his memories of past horrors and grief, want him as far away, from where he is, as possible. If his not here, they can't tell him, he never has to hear the words that his precious daughter's gone. He fears he won't survive a second time.

Thoughts and feelings that haven't haunted him for so long, crash in on him. Unbearable pain of grief, of guilt, of horror. The weight of it all, pressing down, unyielding, unending, A pain, so crushing, it's impossible to function, it turns to powder all the desires, all the dreams, every single part of a life once known.

He barely aware of a gentle hand that's laid on his back until he hears a voice:

"Are you alright Sir?"

He looks up to find a young nurse in the chair beside him, looking at him with concern. He sees an, almost imperceptible, recoil, which she quickly recovers from, and he wonders what horrors his eyes are showing. He nods towards the closed door.

"My daughter.."

The rest of the words catch in his throat. The distress of the man, and the sounds from the room, make it simple for the nurse to understand what's happening.

"Are you on your own?"

Patrick shakes his head and points towards the door.

"My wife…"

The nurse nods in understanding.

"How old is she?"

Patrick looks at the young woman blankly as he searches through his grief for the answer.

"It's okay, what's your name?"

"She's four months…and my name's Patrick."

The nurse smiles compassionately, thinking, such a young age, she's obviously very ill by the pain and horror in this Father's eyes. She tries to distract him, but experience telling her he will only want to talk about her.

"Four months. It's such a delightful age."

Patrick's looking at his hands picturing Olive wrapping her tiny hands around his own.

"Yes, we just started her on solids last week,"

His mouth twitches into a little smile.

"Breakfast takes twice as long. She's not quite sure still about the texture in her mouth and spits more of it out than she swallows."

His smile widens at the memory.

"The first time I gave her some on the tip of a spoon, she looked at me, as if to say: 'What do you think you're doing?' and then spat it all out. She refused to open her mouth after that. She'd forgotten about it by the next time and she was a little more adventurous."

"She sounds like a determined type of girl."

Patrick nods his head.

"She is….. Takes after her mother."

"It'll help her, Patrick, don't lose heart, she has excellent doctors and nurses looking after her."

Patrick looks at her, tears swimming in his eyes.

"Thank you, she's stubborn and she's not scared of a battle…"

"Hold on to that Patrick because she needs you."

Patrick nods his head.

"I will."

"What's her name?"

Just then the door opens and a nurse comes out in to the hallway. Patrick stands, rubbing his hands on his thighs as he does so.

"You can come in now Mr. Jane. We're about to take her up to intensive care."

He feels his knees go weak at the words. He feels a squeeze on his arm and turns to the nurse he's been taking to.

"Good luck Mr. Jane."

"Thank you. Her names Livvy."

"That's beautiful."

He follows his daughters nurse in to the room, There's a small incubator in the middle of the room, Teresa is standing next to it. She looks up at him as he enters, he can see tears behind her eyes as she smiles at him. He moves quickly towards her and she grips his hand. He kisses her and looks at his daughter. She's asleep in the crib, her face flushed. A band aid on her right arm with a lead coming from it. He presumes it's to an iv, but doesn't follow it, he just wants to look at Livvy, and watch her breathing.

Patrick studies the doctor closely as he reading the recorded information on her chart. The man looks as tired as he feels, it's been a long few days. He and Teresa have spent them at their daughter's side. Holding her hand, stroking her, talking to her, singing to her, anything to let her know that although she wasn't laying in their arms, they were there and they loved her.

The doctor's shoulders seem to relax a little and there's less tension in his jaw line. Maybe it's just his imagination, desperately wanting it to be so. He takes a glance at Teresa by his side. Where she's always been. They've clung to each other, holding each other together. Her face is grey from exhaustion, her eyes red from tears shed in his shoulder as her fears spilled over when the news was bad. In a strange sort of way, she's never looked more beautiful to him, he's never loved her more, as her love and fears for their daughter, fills her whole being, her every thought and feeling. He knows she would give her life for Olive to be well, to make it through.

The thought strikes him that he probably looks the same, not that he cares. As horrible as the last days have been, he's surviving – just, because of Teresa. She's been his rock when he's been ready to give in to despair, she's held him, soothed him, strengthened him, so that when it became her turn, he could give that strength back to her.

The doctor coughs, returning his attention, he feels Teresa stiffen slightly beside him. He looks at them for a moment, and his face seeming to give away nothing but Patrick's heart begins to race as he sees a hint of something behind his eyes. Patrick gives Teresa hand a squeeze, then the doctor begins nods to first one, then the other, as he says their names, a trait Patrick would find slightly annoying if he had the inkling to care:

"Teresa, Patrick."

The doctor breaks in to a smile

"How would you like to hold your daughter?"

Teresa splutters in surprise and joy.

"You mean it?"

The doctor's smile widens.

"She's showing significant improvement, in fact it's quite remarkable."

He looks to the hovering nurse, who's joining in with their joy.

"She can move to a regular crib."

He looks to Patrick and Teresa once more as the nurse begins to remove the i.v. from Olive's arm.

"She's not completely out of the woods yet, but everything looks great, her rash is fading, her temperature's down. If she continues, you all could be going home in a couple of days."

Patrick squeezes Teresa's hand as he watches the nurse lift Olive out of the crib. She moves towards them and offers her to Teresa. Teresa takes her tentatively and kisses her, she looks at Patrick, tears flowing down her face, and the most beautiful smile. Patrick shakes his head.

"You hold her a little longer, it's been a while, she missed you."

Teresa shakes her head.

"Take her Patrick., she's missed you too."

He take her in his arms, she opens her tired eyes and looks at him.

"Hello Sweetheart."

He touches her hand and she curls it around his finger. Her touch sends a wave of pleasure through him. It's always been a wonder to him, to have this precious chance in his life, and he doubted he deserved it, but accepted it. As Olive fought for her life He'd begun to fear that his past sins were delivering their long overdue payment, but maybe, just maybe, the price he's already paid is high enough.

Teresa's stroking her head, he bends down and kisses Teresa's hand and then Olive's cheek. Olive's eyes move from one to the other, and she gives a tired smile, and it's like an ignition switch. Patrick feels whole again, feels alive again, feels his world starting again. He looks to his wife, who seems to sense it and looks up at him, they smile at each other. They've all survived.