It was frightening how intimately familiar she was becoming with her doctor. Well, one of them. Her oncology specialist, Doctor Keller. He was the only one so far who had the balls to tell her the unbridled truth. Even if it was a truth that didn't sit well within her. She knew, deep down somewhere inside of her, beyond the anger, she was thankful for the bluntness. 

Another cloudy grey cotton gown was on her form, donning patterns of polka dots and triangles. She'd never get used to the scratchy tinge of the fabric, no matter how many times she would need to wear it. 

Her left arm was up in the air as she laid against the exam table. Another day, another ultrasound. Although this time, there was just a little bit more peace of mind. No random nurses and radiologists, just her and the man who would be attempting to save her life. 

She was supposed to be back at work by now. Even if it meant ass duty, her fourteen days were up and she had been expected to return. Until a small problem arose and she was forced to take another — well, she'd find out today how many days it would need to be. 

"You've definitely got an infection, Liv." the doctor commented, waving the gelled wand around the sore area. She tried to hide the wince of pain as the apparatus pressed into her skin. "It's a build-up of fluid. The tumors in the lymph nodes are causing a blockage, and it can't filter out the waste it's supposed to." 

She felt dumb for not paying closer attention. Nobody had told her that she wasn't supposed to be having shooting pains in the affected area. They had described discomfort, and her high tolerance for pain had chalked it up to be nothing. She tried ignoring it, in fact. But when her blood results had come back with a high white cell count, she knew that her team would be adamant in finding the problem. 

He handed her a washcloth to dry away the excess gel on her skin and offered her a hand to sit up. After retrieving everything he needed from the machine, he pulled the rolling stool out from under the exam room desk. She could tell from the look on his face already that he was getting ready to read her the riot act... again. 

For two weeks, his presence had become somewhat like Cragen's. A near authoritative figure to keep her on the right track. He had worked with people of all walks of life, her top-cop intimidation tactics didn't do anything to help her case of protesting whatever it was he would be telling her. He was a kind man and clearly caring, but stern enough to get the message across to someone like her who would need a bullhorn to hear it loud enough to believe it. 

"It's been two weeks, you've been stalling on your treatment plan, Olivia." he sighed, giving her a pointed look from rolling chair he was in. "Most of my patients start chemo within days of their diagnosis and I know you wanted to talk about your options, but the longer we wait, the fewer options there are to even consider." 

Her head rolled against her shoulder, her body language screaming that this was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But, as much as she hated it, he was right. She hated herself for stalling so long, but she had other decisions that needed to be made in the meantime. 

"You were right, y'know," she whispered, her eyes focusing on her feet that dangled off the exam table. 

"Pardon?" 

"You told me there was no point in chasing the past... that my old life wasn't coming back. You were right," she admitted quietly, but finally harnessing enough strength to look him in the eyes. 

"Well," he cleared his throat, clearly thrown off guard by her statement. "I'm glad you see it that way. That's progress. It's all about finding a new normal, even though the new normal may be temporary."

"You didn't let me finish," she cut in, refusing to let his ego get the best of him just yet. As much as she despised the fact that this man was in her life at all, she did consider him somewhat of a 'friend' of sorts. Enough so that she wasn't afraid to call him on his bullshit from time to time. "I'm not chasing the past anymore. I did some thinking and I realized that it isn't a part of my past that I would choose for myself, so there's no reason to choose it now. Instead, I think it might be time to get started on my future." 

His brows furrowed in confusion. She was definitely one of his more... eccentric patients. Maybe eccentric wasn't the right word. If anything, she was just as blunt as he was. He was starting to consider her just as much of a 'friend' as she considered him – which made it okay for him to consciously accept her as a thorn in his side at times and not feel guilty. "What are you saying?"

"I need sixty days," she said plainly.

His eyes shot open and she swore that if he had been drinking something, a perfect spit-take would've occurred. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Sixty days. I need to postpone treatment for sixty days or less. You were right, my past is in the past, so in order for me to accept that, then I want to be able to choose my future. I'm choosing to pause treatment for now because I'd like to do a round of IVF and retrieve my eggs before its too late." she said matter-of-factly. 

Clearly she had practiced her little speech in the mirror. That, or she was just being nonchalant for the hell of it. She didn't even flinch. She was asking for the impossible with the same demeanor she'd be asking for pepperoni on her pizza. 

"Olivia..." he huffed out a breath in shock, unaware of where to even start. "Olivia, we might be past that point. You're teetering between stage III and stage IV right now. Postponing treatment for that long is just the more opportunity for the cancer to spread."

She shrugged her shoulders. "If I had waited an extra sixty days before getting my mammogram, would it truly have made a difference? Probably not. In fact, I really only need less than 40 days. Sixty is just being generous for appointments, scheduling, my cycle, and the rest."

Doctor Keller was becoming more frustrated by the moment, feeling as if she weren't taking this as seriously as he had been trying to get her to. "Okay, maybe you have a point there. But you have to remember, this cancer is in a part of your body that can be severely affected by those types of hormone injections. We're still mapping out your diagnosis and prognosis, we don't know how your body in particular will react to the drugs." 

She paused for a moment, letting the silence hang heavily above them. She'd promised herself going in that no matter what, her stance wouldn't change. This was what she wanted, and to her, it was well worth the risk. "I realized a long time ago that I wanted to be a mother... and I didn't take the steps to become one because I thought I had more time. I'm single, I work long hours, nobody is going to let me adopt. I can't sit around and wait for the universe to get things in order for me because then what happens? This." she pointed at her chest. 

"Olivia," he started to protest. 

"Remove the tumor, or as much of it as you can. Remove the cancerous lymph nodes. That should at least buy enough time to do the IVF before I have to undergo chemo and radiation and lose my chances forever!" she argued. 

"And what makes you think that your body can handle a round of fertility drugs and two invasive surgeries?" the words came out with a near-sarcastic laugh. Although, he wasn't laughing. He was angry. Two weeks in her presence and she had the same effect on him that she had on everybody; she got under his skin. No matter how hard he had tried to distance himself and disassociate with her, she was creeping in. "Olivia, this isn't something to mess around with. I think that you might be forgetting that this isn't a boo-boo. This is a malignant set of tumors and time, as well as exposure, are very important variables here." 

"You have embryologists in your network that you send other patients to see, correct? It would be the fastest way to start the process through referral, and they'd know a little bit more about what methods of fertility treatments are best to work alongside with what I have." Even in pleads, she could barely say the word 'cancer' when referring to herself. 

He could see the pain in her eyes that she was trying to hide behind a stoic and strong expression. He took a long and loud deep breath, rolling his eyes before exhaling. "Let's make a deal. We get the infection under control, and see where to go from there. I don't feel comfortable starting the chemo until the infection is controlled anyway. I will talk to my colleagues and your team, and we'll see what the best route is to take. If that infection doesn't go away, we may need to intervene with surgery anyway." 

Despite the fear of hearing she was bordering the line of requiring surgery, she felt a surge of relief flowing through her. The corner of her lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, but one that spoke of how deeply grateful she was that he was at least trying to hear her out. 

"Thank you."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders. "I'll see you in three days for a follow-up. I'll call in some antibiotics for the infection. Go home, get some rest. Mandatory three days off of work. You need time to heal."

A small bit of her self pity had started to lift. Now that she had the possibility of a light at the end of the tunnel, she was slowly regaining her momentum. Talking to Eva had felt more like an epiphany, rather than asking for advice. The entire situation still felt as if she were driving down a foggy road with a dead headlight, but being able to see at least a foot into her future was better than the two weeks where she saw nothing at all. 

Cragen had become worried when she had told him that she needed a few more days. He wasn't just a friend, he was her superior officer and eventually, he'd need to understand what exactly was happening. So, she had agreed to meet him for lunch to finally rip off the bandaid. Not a single iota of her was looking forward to finally telling him, but she knew that it would feel better to bring one more weight off of her shoulders. 

She swung the door to the Pearl Diner open, spotting the familiar tan trench coat seated in one of the booths. He was hovering over his coffee, his back to the door. From the slump in his shoulders, she could sense his worry. A wave of guilt, or another for that matter, washed over her. If she had been clear-headed, she would've told him the same day she asked for the time off. 

But she didn't, and she had to live with that. 

"Hi, Captain," she spoke softly, sliding into the booth seat across from him. His tired brown eyes perked up just a little when he finally saw her. She knew from the look on his face that he could already see the difference in her. Her eyes had become darker and slightly more sunken in from the weight loss and lack of sleep. Her skin had lost some of its color and glow. She realized the only person who consistently saw her enough to not notice it right away was Casey. Maybe Fin had noticed too and just didn't say anything; but the worry on Cragen's face was discernible. 

"Hi, Liv. How're you doing?" he matched her soft-spoken tone, being careful and gentle with his words. Even though the change in her was noticeable, it was much different than the first night she had come to him. That day, her eyes had been swollen from crying and her voice hoarse and cracking. It was strange to see her, knowing something was wrong, but a different level of wrong compared to the last time. 

Instinctually, she pulled a sugar packet from the side of the table to fidget with. She could hear the granules clicking against the paper sleeve as she pinched it within her fingers. "I don't really know how to answer that." 

She wasn't trying to avoid the question, but she was living about five different degrees of life, all of which were in different states. Some good, some bad, some unthinkable. She was alive, was that good enough of an answer?

She gulped, trying to find some sort of explanation to tide him over until the words came to her. "Look, Captain, a lot of things in my life are changing right now. I don't mean to keep you in the dark, I just... I'm trying really hard not to lose control over everything in my life. My job is the one thing I had left to protect and I don't want it to change." she heard herself choking up as she spoke, fighting like hell to keep herself together. 

"Liv, just talk to me." he pleaded with saddened eyes. "Whatever it is, I'll do what I can to help you. All of us will. Whatever this is clearly isn't something that two weeks can fix. I mean, are you in trouble or something?" 

He understood grief. Maybe in different aspects. She'd heard the way he spoke about Marge and losing her so tragically. He was always an open book with his addiction struggles. Grief in different ways became so ingrained into his identity, he never tried to hide it. God, if anyone were to understand, it'd be him. 

But he was still somewhat innocent. Just like when Casey was trying to figure out what was wrong. It all came down to them thinking it was something related to their radar. At first, the night she had asked him for her time off, she suspected that he had an inkling of an idea. Maybe that was gone now. She hated the idea that the one person she could rely on to remember that they were merely humans with human problems was becoming more enveloped by the job and its effects.

Her mouth opened and shut a few times, each time nothing more than an empty and unfulfilling breath coming out. "I'm sick, Don." she breathed, her voice barely above a mumble. The tears sparkled in her eyes, and as soon as they blossomed in his, she was forced to look away. 

He stared at her, dumbstruck. He didn't blink or breathe or even exist for those few moments. He was just a vessel, beating and living, but the thing about understanding grief was how just knowing someone important is experiencing it could make the soul leave the body.

"No,"

There was that goddamn word again. She was so sick and tired of hearing it. Every time, she wanted to scream 'yes!' at the top of her lungs.

Yes. She had cancer. It was an ugly and disgusting word that haunted everyone, leaving nobody exempt. Yes, she was sick and she wasn't going to get better for a long time, if ever. Yes, it was happening. Yes. Yes. Yes. 

The word always slipped so easily off of everyone's mouth. As if they could just deny the universe of the truth by saying 'no'. It didn't work like that! She had tried that. God, she had screamed it so loudly it reverberated off the tiles of the shower and back into her eardrums like a haunting echo. There was no saying no, goddamnit!   

If it were that easy, she would've shouted the word from every rooftop. 

"Liv, I'm so sorry," he whispered, a tear shedding down his cheek. She didn't want to look him in the eyes, fearing that if she did, she would get physically sick. The closest thing she had ever had to a father figure, and even though she knew it wasn't the case, she felt like she was letting him down. All she could do was gently shrug, careful not to completely fall apart from doing so. 

"I don't want to lose my job. I don't want to go on disability. I will ride the desk for the next 5 years if I have to. I can't lose it, Don. It's all I have." she sniffled, dabbing away the sadness with her sleeve. "That's why I wanted to use vacation days. I needed time to figure out what to do. I know IAB or the commissioner or who the fuck ever will put a boot up your ass to get me to leave but please, please don't make me leave. Please, I just ca—"

"Olivia," he interrupted her, gently grabbing for her forearm. "Take a deep breath," he whispered, hoping it would calm her from the hysterics she was falling into. "Listen to me, okay? We'll make it work. I'll do what I can, as long as it isn't putting your health in jeopardy, because whether you like it or not, that is the top priority. Okay?"

She nodded, sobbing quietly into her other sleeve. 

"Liv, there's gonna have to be some changes. But, if you think I'm gonna let IAB drag you away, you're just as nuts as they are." they both chuckled through the tears. "Wild horses couldn't drag you away if you weren't ready. As long as you're feeling up to it, and I really mean that your health is going to need to come first, you're welcome in my squad room. Whoever has a problem with it is gonna take it up with me first, alright? Please don't worry about that."

"Thank you," she sniffled. 

His expression shifted into serious mode. "But I know you, I know how much you like to pretend you're okay when you're not. That's gotta end right now if this is gonna work. From here on out, it needs to be brutal honesty. If at any point that you feel even the slightest bit compromised, then I need you to tell me, and you'll need to remember that nobody is going to judge you for that. But the only way we're gonna get through this on the other side without a big stink from IAB and the commissioner is if you're willing to reevaluate your limits. We all have 'em. You can't be superwoman all the time, Liv. You can't hide your bad days from me or pretend they aren't happening."

"I got it," she nodded vehemently. 

"And God hear me when I say it, Olivia, if your doctor tells you at any point that it's not safe to work, then we deal with that until you can work again. You have a dedication to this job like no other, but that dedication from here on out is now in second place. Got it?" 

Another burst of sobs errupted from her and she no longer cared who around her was watching or judging. "Thank you, Captain." 

Wordlessly, he patted her arm once again, giving her the unspoken message of care. 

Finally, she ordered a coffee and a light meal, enough to break up the tension and give them a chance to talk about the situation in a way that work wasn't the center of it all. She'd gotten around to explaining what it was she was dealing with and how the treatment plan was looking. It was made apparent that once she was undergoing chemotherapy, working in the precinct was off-limits. She tried to protest but he'd seen the effects of the treatment in friends of his before, and he knew her protests would die out as soon as the chemical was in her veins. 

"Elliot doesn't know yet, does he?" he asked, swallowing a bite of the Reuben sandwich he had ordered. 

She shook her head, using her finger to pick through a plate of french fries. "No. He knows something is wrong. But, I have a gut feeling that he's next on my list to infect with awful news." she mumbled, suddenly losing her appetite. 

"He cares a great deal about you, Liv. It's a rare partnership that you two have. Believe it or not, I understand why you wouldn't want him to know." 

"It's not that I don't want him to know, it's just..." she trailed off, fighting to find the right words, as if there ever would be any. If she let the barrier down just a little, she could be honest. She could let just the tiniest bit of weight off of her shoulders. "I don't know."

"My AA buddies and I always say that 'admitting it to someone else means admitting it to yourself', which is the hardest part. It makes it real. It takes all of that pent up emotional abuse you inflict on yourself and then it makes you feel guilty when you have to share it. But when you're in the thick of it, you'll never realize how lonely it gets until you let someone in."

"I know," she mumbled weakly. "If I'm being honest... it feels a lot like how I felt growing up. Y'know, I never wanted to speak up about my mom, it made it real. But there was more to it. You drag those problems around on your shoulders, terrified to shift the tiniest bit of weight onto someone else because you know how painful it is to carry it yourself, you couldn't imagine giving it to someone else, even if they wanted to help. Then time passed and I looked at it in hindsight and by then, I couldn't entirely understand why I didn't ask for help. The memory had sort of dulled out... now, here I am, right back to understanding exactly why I kept my mouth shut." she tried to hide the self-deprecating chuckle that came in under her breath. But he heard it, and he understood it.

"Liv," he laughed, a sound that quickly pulled her attention. "You've dealt with Elliot's shit for ten years. You never even bat an eye at it either. I know what you're saying, but I also want you to remember that he will always be willing to do the exact same for you."

With roles reversed, she never would've given it a second thought. He was her best friend, it was only logical. She cared about him; she'd carry every ounce of his pain for him if it meant that he would be given any comfort. But as hard as she tried, she just couldn't apply that logic in return. She knew he would do the same, but it was a matter of whether or not she wanted him to. 

She wouldn't wish this on her worst enemy, let alone the most important person in her life.