Olivia is sitting on a barstool at her kitchen counter clacking away on the keyboard of her laptop. She stares at a bottle of wine that peers down at her from a cabinet. She exhales, and shifts her focus to the screen in front of her. Knuckles wrapping against her door startle her. She glances at her watch. It is nearly 11 o'clock. She is contemplating reaching for her firearm when a voice announces its presence.

"It's me, Liv," a gravel-y voice announces from the other side of the door.

Olivia vacates her seat, and crosses the room. She carefully unlocks the door, and pulls it open. Fin closes the door behind himself. He hands her a box full of take out.

"I didn't know that you were coming."

"I hope I'm not imposing."

"Not at all. I am just trying to fill out some department paperwork for my leave of absence."

"You seem disappointed that I interrupted," he jests.

She places the bag of take out on the coffee table. She takes a seat on the couch.

"I was actually sitting there thinking about how badly I just want a glass of wine."

"I can understand that. I can offer food. I brought a variety of things. I didn't really know what you might feel up to eating. It was a last minute decision, so it's nothing fancy."

She opens the bag, and finds Chinese food inside. He smiles at her.

"I know what you're thinking. This is from the new Chinese place that opened up. They only use organic vegetables. There is no MSG, and they pride themselves on being non-GMO."

"At this point I am willing to eat anything that I am not going to become reacquainted with later."

Silence fills the room as they open the containers one at a time. Her mind wanders to the last thing she's eaten. Finally she determines at 2 PM lunch of barely buttered toast, and ginger ale.

"Should I have called first? I figured you would still be up."

"You know that I rarely sleep."

"I just wanted to check in on you. You haven't said much since your appointment a few days ago. I just figured I would give you a little time to let the shock wear off."

"I am just waiting to wake up, and find out this is nothing more than a dream."

He looks around as she begins to eat. Despite her grueling work hours she manages to keep her apartment tidy. He tries to re-arrange the layout in his mind, but finds it quite difficult.

"What are you thinking about, over there?"

"Where are you going to put two babies?" His lips pucker.

She grins, "I have a drawer in the kitchen cleaned out for them."

He rolls his eyes, "This is not Little House on the Prairie."

Her hair is secured in a haphazard pony-tale. Her glasses are on her face, and she looks as weary as he has ever seen her. She has changed out of her work clothes into something more comfortable. She wears a pair of pajama bottoms, and a t-shirt that accentuates her growing belly.

"They fit in here, certainly they'll fit in a drawer to start with," she quips.

"Why do I get the sense that you are in crisis mode?"

"I am a woman of a certain age. I should be considering retirement. Here I am over here thinking about bringing two new lives into the world. What the hell is wrong with me? When I thought that it was just one baby I figured that I could just put the crib in my room at least initially. I thought that I had time to figure this out. All of this is just happening so fast. I don't have the first thing ready for them. I just feel like I am running out of time. I mean, what are the odds that I make it anywhere near term?"

"Slow down. You're catastrophizing," he calls her on her bullshit.

"Obviously!"

"Are you opposed to living somewhere that someone has been murdered, or died by suicide?"

She furrows her brow, "I suppose it would depend on the circumstances. Why are you asking?"

"I have some good friends that specialize in crime scene clean up. One of them was talking about how people are still not as willing to live in those places, which is crazy to me."

"I thought that as cutthroat as the market is right now that people would be willing to live anywhere."

"It depends on the circumstances, and the neighborhood. I mean some of these places aren't even fit to be a trap house, but there are some nice places."

She falls silent. He sits in the chair next to her, and watches her as her brain spins in circles. She eats her soup, and reflects on what he has said. As his eyes drift to her midsection he feels hopeful. His mind wanders back to the day that she asked him.

It's nearly 1 AM, and the squad room is nearly dead. Fans whir overhead, and the coffeepot percolates another pot. As he stands in front of the coffeemaker he notices Olivia out of the corner of his eye. They are the only two left. They have had a string of difficult cases lately. She seems unusually quiet, even for her. He pours a couple cups, and pulls a chair to the end of her desk. He offers her a cup.

"Thought you might want a cup."

"Thanks, Fin."

"I know that it's none of my business, but you've been too quiet lately. Are you okay?"

She shakes her head. She turns towards him as she sips her cup of coffee. She contemplates lying to him. She is reminded that she is talking to a friend, and that she doesn't have to have her guard up all of the time.

"I've been struggling lately. Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it."

"I hear you," he empathizes.

"I just think that sometimes it would be nice to…" she trails off.

"To what?"

"Have some semblance of a normal life."

"In what way? I hate to tell you this, but you're not normal."

"I know that, but it doesn't stop me from wishing that some parts of my life were."

He nods, "Okay. If you could have any normal thing, what would it be?"

"A baby. I've always wanted to be a mom."

"Then do it," Fin suggests.

"It isn't that simple. I am not anyone's ideal candidate to become an adoptive parent. I suppose that I could do artificial insemination, or IVF, or something like that, but…"

He cuts her off, "If it is something that you really want you are going to find a way."

"Full disclosure, I've actually been looking into the process."

"And?"

"I just can't wrap my head around having some stranger's baby. We both know that genetics is not the end all be all, but it is terrifying. What is the screening process for these donors?"

"That is what is holding you up?! Just use a donor you know."

"That's a pretty awkward conversation, don't you think?"

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"What about you, would you consider being a donor?"

"I have no problem with it. Just tell me where I need to go to make a deposit."

She waits for the punchline.

"Liv, I'm serious. If it means that much to you, I'm happy to volunteer."