Overall, I'm feeling pretty good right now. Olivia promised me a date, Cragen gave me a couple shots of vodka, and Healey went home, a double stroke of luck since I get to bitch at her for leaving and enjoy her not being here all at the same time. I'm so the man.

I remind myself not to smile because we're driving to the morgue to get what sounds like bad news from the ME. I glance to my right automatically, wanting to reassure myself that I'm not imagining being here with Olivia, but it's Cragen in the passenger seat. She's in the back. My eyes drift to the rearview, but all I can see are the headlights of the cars behind me.

I stare harder into the mirror, waiting for the lights of an oncoming car to illuminate her face, flash in her eyes. I just want to know she's there. I glance peremptorily at the road, and my original intention of turning around to look at her is erased by the sudden appearance of glowing red lights in front of me. I slam on my brakes, stopping just short of the other car's bumper. "Jesus Christ," I exhale vehemently.

"You okay, Eckerson?" Cragen is looking at me with concern. He's probably wondering if he shouldn't have given me anything to drink.

"No…I mean yeah. I'm just a little tired." I can feel him watching me as I accelerate from the light, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the road. This isn't a fucking date; it's an active criminal investigation. Why can't I remember that for more than five seconds at a stretch?

Liv told me that having things settled would help her keep her mind on work. She's either a fantastic liar or completely different than I remember. Or maybe she just isn't as much like me as I thought. Or maybe this doesn't matter as much to her…

I push that thought out of my mind as I park outside the morgue. Have I been making a complete ass of myself the past few days? Jesus, I really shouldn't have had that second drink. I'm thinking way too much. Olivia promised me a date; I've just got to take it from there.

I take a deep breath of cold air as I get out of the car. It feels good, refreshing. I close my eyes and try to enjoy being awake. It's a lot easier to do after I open them and see Olivia looking at me over the hood of the car. She doesn't look away, but gives me a slight smile. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. I think the heat in the car was just making me tired. I really could use a few days off though…can't wait til we're done with this case." I look at her expectantly, hoping she's taken my hint.

She just nods, looking away. "Well, maybe Warner's got something for us." She points to the door that Munch is holding open expectantly. I follow, reflecting on how glad I am that all she had in her locker this morning was a pair of jeans.

The expression on Dr. Warner's face as we walk in is enough to quash any hopes that she's called us here for good news. It also eliminates thoughts about legs. She gives us the general rundown first, but Cragen interrupts her two sentences in, "Why'd you call us down here, Doc?"

"We found a note during the autopsy," she says after a slight hesitation, indicating a tray with a bloody plastic bag and a small jar on it.

"During the autopsy?" Cragen asks incredulously. "Sorry, Doc, but why did you miss it at the crime scene?"

Warner sighs, as if she anticipated the question. "This time it wasn't external. I found it during the rape exam."

Munch gives a snort of disgust. "Raping her wasn't enough? He has to go and shove a note to us inside her when he's done?"

"It gets worse," Warner replies, lifting the jar from the tray. Inside it is a small fleshy-looking thing. A finger maybe? But the corpse wasn't missing any fingers…

I stare, squinting my eyes as I try to make out details. There's a swelling or something at one end, and it's curved. I've just decided that it's got to be at least a piece of a finger when I hear Olivia gasp. Her nails are suddenly digging into my wrist.

"Is that…?" she begins, her voice betraying her, carrying fear and revulsion and I don't know what. Definitely not a finger, but what the hell…?

Warner nods to Olivia and answers my unasked question almost immediately. "It's a fetus. I'd say about 8 weeks based on the size. It was…in the bag with the note."

Olivia's throat works visibly for a moment, but she's still the first to ask, "And where's the note?"

"I sent the original to the print lab." Warner removes her gloves as she walks to a table against the wall and comes back with a piece of white paper. She seems almost reluctant as she hands it to Cragen. "This is a copy. It's…hmm…" she trails off.

Cragen holds the paper so all four of us can read it.

No riddles this time, kids. It's probably best that Vanessa went this way – I doubt Olivia and Andy could handle someone else's miscarriage either. And much love to the Stabler family, much luckier in the live birth department. Hope the children sleep tight.

T.

Whirling. The room is whirling a million miles an hour. Blood pounds in my ears, blocking out all the things that no one is saying. My hand reaches for the note, but stops halfway. I didn't imagine what I just read and rereading it sure as hell isn't going to change it.

A rattling sound, metal bouncing on metal, calls me back to my senses enough to drop my arm. Olivia is gripping the edge of the metal table, transmitting the tremors running through her body to the cold steel. Oh, Jesus, she's read the note.

Cragen is trying to talk to her. "Liv, just relax…"

How did I not hear her shallow, rapid breathing right away?

"I'm fine. Fine. I just…I just need a few minutes…"

Warner points to a door. "If you want to use my office…" She doesn't seem like the type to leave sentences unfinished. Why am I even noticing that? With some effort, I pull Olivia toward the office. She doesn't fight me. I push her into the office and slam the door behind us.

She looks at me for a moment, her eyes full of pain and anger, before she explodes, "How does he fucking know? How does that disgusting son of a bitch know?"

"I don't know, Liv, I don't know." I'm trying to stay calm, but I think I'm just as freaked as she is. Terry Paige knowing one of the most personal things about our relationship is seriously fucked up. "We've just gotta stay calm." She's been walking back and forth rapidly in the small space between the wall and the desk since we got in here and it's making me even more nervous. "We're gonna figure this out but you've gotta relax."

She goes on like she can't hear me. "Jesus fucking Christ, how did he find out? How the fuck did he know about that?"

I grab her firmly by the shoulders, forcing her to stop her frantic pacing. "Slow down. Let's just calm down for a second."

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? That sick fucking bastard went out and found a pregnant girl so he could rip her baby out of her to taunt me and you want me to calm down?"

She hits my forearms to break my grip, but my hands were already dropping from her shoulders anyway. "What do you mean 'taunt you'? This was aimed at both of us…and Stabler and his family, too. It's not personal…" I trail off lamely. As if anything could be more personal.

Olivia's glare tells me that that's exactly what she's thinking. "The son of a bitch. I mean, Christ, does he have my medical records? Is he talking to my friends? To old co-workers?"

"This isn't just about you!" I shout, wanting her to stop talking, wanting a moment to think. I lean over the desk, my palms flat against its cool surface as I hang my head. I've just got to collect my thoughts, figure out what to say to make things make sense, make things better. Shit, I've never been good at the last one. I just need a minute…

I don't get it. Her voice is calmer but scarier as she says, "How dare you? A psychopath is using the worst thing that ever happened to me against me and you're gonna stand there and tell me it's not personal?"

I seize on the only coherent thought I'm having. "Worst thing that happened to us. Us. You and me."

"Andy, you have no idea what it was like."

My jaw drops as I stare at her in disbelief. "I was there…I remember…"

"It didn't happen to you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Drop it."

"Hell no. We lost our baby. You hear the words here? We. Our. Now Terry Paige knows about it and we're gonna have to deal with it."

"Why?"

The question is so basic that it catches me completely off guard. "Because…because…"

"Right." The word sounds like a door being slammed. She's trying to close the book on the subject, keep it all bottled up so she can pretend there's nothing wrong. But everything is wrong.

I can't just let this go. "Because we've been avoiding it for ten years and it's gotten us nowhere."

"Andy, I am not going to do this right now. Let's just go back out there and do our jobs."

"No." I step in front of the door, blocking her exit.

"Andy…" Her voice rises, a note of panic almost detectable in it. "Let me out."

"No." I stand my ground as she edges closer. "What are you so afraid of?"

There's a moment of complete silence during which the world moves in slow motion. I see her fist flying at me, but she's at an awkward angle. I dodge the blow and grab her wrist, pulling her arm behind her to restrain her. "Hitting me isn't gonna fix anything. You've already tried it, remember?"

"Do you mean today or then?" She struggles for a moment, but I keep her pinned, my arm secure around her waist. She gives a last, half-hearted flail before going nearly limp. Then, with no warning, her arms are wrapped around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and she's…sobbing? This can't be right. She wants to punch me and now she's bawling in my arms?

Still, for some reason, I can't seem to hold her tight enough.