"Every single suspicion your mind is spinning right now is totally on point," Olivia reveals.

"I contemplated if I should even tell you, but my gut insisted it wasn't right to keep you in the dark. Now I'm just wondering what version of Hell I've unleashed for you."

"You aren't responsible for any of this."

"Liv…"

"I should go," she rises from her seat.

Melinda nods in agreement. Olivia makes a beeline for the door, and then abruptly stops when she reaches the door knob. She turns on a dime, and finds Melinda inches away from her. Olivia offers a heavy exhale.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course," Melinda agrees.

Olivia stands silently as Melinda peels back the sheet to reveal the face of a lifeless little girl. Olivia's hand balls into a fist, and she shakes her head. She purses her lips, and clenches her jaw, but none of her tricks do anything to prevent the tears from falling. A tiny human being with a life cut short, who looks eerily similar to her just lies on the cold metal table.

"Thank you. I've got to go."


Hours later Olivia has managed to deliver Noah to school, and she climbs back into her bed. She's taken a personal day, and she prays that she can sleep this away. After an hour it becomes rather apparent that her intrusive cycle of thoughts is going to lead the show, and rest is not to be had. The knuckles wrapping on the door summon her presence, anyway. Her hair is now secured into a top heavy top-knot. She's ditched her professional attire, and swapped for a black t-shirt, and a black pair of leggings. The door is unlatched, and open without her even checking the peephole. Melinda stands on the other side of the door.

"Can I come in?"

"It's not as if I am getting any kind of rest."

The pair of them situate themselves in her living room.

"I get the sense that the heaviness of the whole situation is not something you've shared with anyone."

"Ever. I have never shared it with anyone."

"And you don't have to. I just had to stop by in person. First of all to apologize for launching a grenade into your lap. Also to let you know if you ever do want to tell someone I'm here for you."

"I never told anyone the truth. I could barely tell myself."

"Denial is one of your best super powers."

"I don't remember much of the first several hours in which I was held captive. My memory has actually never fully come back in regards to the first few hours. Perhaps it was the shock. Or maybe it's simply compartmentalized. Some scars can't be erased by time, or thousands of hours of therapy."

"So you didn't know that it had happened?"

"For an incredibly long time."

"How did you manage to keep such a thing concealed?"

"I didn't have an appetite for several weeks. Then there was constant vomiting."

"That didn't make you suspect?"

"Not really. Full disclosure I had taken a proton pump inhibitor for GI symptoms for years. I assumed things had worsened, and I attributed it to stress. I threw myself into work."

"Weren't you in a relationship at the time?"

She shrugs, "It was a complicated situation."

"I don't understand how any of this is a reality."

Olivia chews the cuticle of her thumb, and nods as her mind wanders.


Late one night shortly after the William Lewis trial Olivia sits alone in the bathroom. Brian is on duty, and she's all alone in the apartment. The testimony has taken a toll on her. As she sits on the edge of the tub contemplating her entire existence she exhales. Her eyes suddenly tumble to her midsection. Beneath the edges of an oversized NYPD t-shirt something feels totally amiss. It is rare that she is alone. It is even rarer that she allows her mind to wander such treacherous paths so late at night.

She tries to control her breathing as a panic begins to set in. Her eyes wander once again to the item that has initiated her spiral. Across the room, above her head, in the open medicine cabinet sits an unopened box of tampons. Her thumb pages through the digital calendar on her phone attempting to recall her last menses. Eventually she recalls one occurring in spring?

SPRING?! Last spring?! It's January, for goodness sake. That is not possible. Her thoughts loop unlikely, or perhaps likely scenarios in her head. She tosses, and turns all night. When she wakes in the morning she is relieved to recall she's taken the day off for a root canal. The numbness hasn't fully worn off as she crosses into a small town in Connecticut. She presents a phony ID, that she's hung onto from an old undercover assignment a few years prior.

After several carefully crafted fabrications Olivia sits in a room with a technician who squirts gel onto her abdomen. She closes her eyes, and prays that all of her fears live only in her head, and are not physically present in the room. After a few seconds the distinct sound a heartbeat disrupts her train of thought.

"I'd say that you're well into your third trimester."


Melinda's eyes widen. Her heart breaks as Olivia recounts the details.

"You were certain that…"

Olivia cuts her off, "I had DNA that confirmed Brian was not a match for paternal DNA. And the dates were not possible."

"How did you manage to keep it concealed after that?"

"It was the only gift that I could offer. Also, I apparently have a tilted uterus, so it tilted toward my spine, instead of the other direction."