"Olivia if I have to camp outside of your door for the rest of my natural life, to keep those fears at bay, I will. I let you down. We all did, but I promise you, they are never going to hurt you again."

"It doesn't matter," she insists.

"What do you mean?"

"The damage is already done, and it's irreparable."

"What do you mean?"

"Even if they never come back. If we catch them, and they rot in prison, or even if they're executed it doesn't matter."

"How can you say that?"

"It doesn't change things. It doesn't fix anything. I have to live with what happened for the rest of my damn life, and I'm not okay with that," she admits, on the verge of tears.

"You are going to get through this. It is just going to take time."

"I don't know how. I don't even know where to start. Every time I think that I have made a little progress I can't..." she trails off. She looks away from him.

Cragen tries to read her, but the only thing the can see is the wall she's put up between herself, and the rest of the world. He gently places his hand on her shoulder.

"Olivia, talk to me. Give me a little bit of insight. Tell what I can do to help you."

"No one can help me."

"Why not?"

"Because all I can think about is the monsters inside of me."

He furrows his brow, "What are you talking about?"

She blinks, "I can't do this."

"Do what?" He asks, softly.

"Live a lie. I don't want to live a lie, and I don't know how to tell the truth."

"The truth? About what?"

Her eyes shift, and her glance fixates on his hand. She takes a deep breath, and she reaches for his hand. She swallows hard, and does her best to keep her tears at bay as she mobilizes his hand. She only stops after she's pressed it against her shirt. Her breath hitches as his hand rests upon her stomach. He leaves it there only a moment before he allows it to recoil. His eyes fall from her face. He stares at her stomach, and takes a step back. He takes a seat on a bar stool, nearby. He allows a few moments to pass in silence before he speaks.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"How long have you known?"

"Not long enough."

"Not long enough?"

"Denial is a powerful coping mechanism," she explains.

"How long?"

"With one hundred percent certainty? When I got back."

"You could have told me then."

"I didn't even want to tell me."

"How much longer do you have?"

"Life without the possibility of parole," she answers, flatly.

"You can't look at it like that."

"How am I supposed to look at it? I wanted..." the tears begin to fall from her eyes, "What I want, it doesn't matter anymore. I can't have that. I can never have that. Instead, I have to spend the rest of my life just wondering. For the rest of my life my heart will be beating outside of my body, and there isn't a damn thing that I can do about it. I am completely overwhelmed, and... I don't know how to fix it. I don't think that there is any fixing it."

"Is there anything that I can do?"

"No."

"How long until..." he pauses trying to figure out a delicate way to ask the question.

"Seven weeks and three days."

"Okay."

"Is this where you tell me to take some time... and..."

He shakes his head, "No. This is where I tell you that you better get your ass to work every single day for the next seven weeks and three days."

She furrows her brow.

"I know you. You don't need to stay here, in this apartment, and wallow. It will be the death of you."

"But I don't know how to help anyone..."

He cuts her off, "Yes you do. That is the thing that I have always admired about you. It doesn't matter what's going on in your life you always find a way to help the victim."

"What if what I do isn't enough? What if it's never enough?"

"It's enough."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you make a difference. You just have to see that."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"Can we just take it one day at a time?"

"Okay," she nods in agreement.

"Every day is a new day. Got it?"

"What if tomorrow isn't any better than today?"

"What if it is?"

"Cragen... I know I said that it doesn't matter."

"I heard you," he nods.

She wipes the tears from her face, "That isn't entirely true."

"You want me to find them?"

"I dreamt that he was here, and..." she trails off, to upset to continue.

Don slides off the stool he's on. He steps forward, and wraps his arms around her.

"It's going to be okay," he promises her.

"But what if it's not?"

"We've got your back."

A knock on the door interrupts their moment. Olivia wipes her face, and heads for the door. She pulls the door open, and finds another familiar face. Without a word Cragen leaves.

"What are you doing here?" She questions.

"Just came to check on you," Fin admits, stepping into the apartment. She closes the door behind him.

"You okay?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"You know we got you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Always," he reassures her, "No matter what."