Synopsis: Amelia is forced to face her own demons from the past when she discovers her niece is in rehab. Focuses on Amelia's journey through recovery and struggling with relapse. Set around the year 2020.

A/N: I wrote this story initially to be about Amelia and her niece, but it expanded to be a lot more about Amelia's own journey. The niece in this story is not Zola, or any other child of Meredith and Derek. Her niece is Kathleen's (oldest Shepherd sibling) youngest daughter, whom I have named Olivia Madison. Although it is set somewhat in the future, it's only about 7 years or so from the end of the series. Ships appear, but only briefly, and are not the focus of the story.

Living Proof

If Amelia closed her eyes, it was as if she were back in time. The sounds, the smells, the same mixture of fluorescent and natural lighting shooting through her eyelids; it was as if she never left, and yet as if a million years had passed since she was that person, tweaking from angry nerves, paying her back for months of abuse. The dark circles around her eyes had returned, but this time, it wasn't Oxy behind them, it wasn't Michelle, it wasn't Ryan, it wasn't her dad, and it wasn't her unicorn baby. It was Olivia – or that's what she told herself.

Was that comfort she felt or irreparable pain that had become so familiar?

As she crossed to the front desk, she begged her mind to return to her body. She had to be strong this time. It was her turn to be the rock.

"Hi," she greeted the woman who sat behind the marble-topped counter. She tried to force a smile, but her face just seemed to contort instead. "I'm here to see Olivia Madison. I'm her aunt, Amelia Shepherd."

"I'm sorry," the woman responded, "she's in the detox room right now—no visitors."

Amelia nodded. She remembered the drill. "How long?"

"A couple days."

"Okay, thanks."

She tried to walk normally, as if the ghosts of this place weren't chasing her, but her pace subtly quickened as she reached the door, practically bolting to her car.

Her second entrance wasn't much easier, despite what she had hoped, but there was noticeably less shock attached to the haunting emotions that surrounded her being. She drifted to the front and asked again for Olivia. This time, the soft blonde woman stood to fetch the young girl.

Amelia propped herself against the marble and took a breath. She still hadn't dared to ask herself why it hurt so much to be back here when so much time had passed. Hadn't she already worked this crap out? Hadn't she been to enough meetings? Hadn't it been enough that she got through losing Ryan and Michelle and her dad and her baby? She pushed away the glimmer of dread that suggested maybe she hadn't gotten through it, just survived, and maybe that wasn't enough.

She was here for Olivia. Focus on Olivia.

The woman returned quickly with a tight smile. "Olivia isn't available right now."

"I can wait," Amelia offered, unappealing though the idea seemed. If she left now, she knew she could catch a meeting across town. It had been awhile, but she still knew the best places.

"She's been asked to be left to herself."

Amelia smirked. The woman was clearly trying to be polite. Olivia was never much of a soft-spoken girl, despite the best efforts of Amelia's oldest sister, Kathleen.

"Right. Tell her I'll be back tomorrow. She's not getting rid of me that easily."

And so the pattern repeated itself for the next week and a half. Amelia would show up every afternoon at the same time, and wait a little bit longer with each visit. She was starting to become accustomed to the cold in the pit of her stomach that served as a reminder her of her own horrors. The familiarity had begun to surface again, and she wondered if time had ceased to pass at all. Yet, it became harder to leave behind, and the despair began to make it's home inside her.

"Amelia Shepherd, here to see Olivia Madison." The introduction was unnecessary, since the woman, Karlyn, had come to know her. Amelia made her way to a bench while Karlyn nodded sympathetically and headed off down the long beige hall. She wondered briefly if this was how Sheldon felt all the times she refused to see him. The thought sent an extra pang of guilt through her gut.

She pulled a magazine from her bag and flipped through a dozen pages before finding an article that piqued her interest enough to read it. She studied all of her attention on a fashion critique of a celebrity she had barely heard of, but her mind kept wandering back to the icicle that had lodged itself permanently in her throat over the last few days – whether she was there or not.

"Aunt Amelia?"

Amelia's eyes shot up immediately and she stood to greet her niece. "Olivia."

"Hi."

Amelia took in the sight before her. The last time she had seen the girl, she had been a bouncy twelve year-old with a little extra weight around her face and an embroidered pink jean jacket. Now her sunken blue eyes bore similar circles to those worn by her aunt, and her skin was a sickly pale. She looked as if she hadn't eaten in months and Amelia wondered if the girl might snap from a hug. Still, that didn't stop her. She moved forth and grabbed hold of her niece in a tight embrace. She felt the girl's body stiffen beneath the touch, but eventually wiry arms wrapped tentatively around to meet behind her back.

They stared at one another in silence a few moments. For all of the time she had spent on the rides over or sitting in the lobby or awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what she would say, all coherent thought had dissipated from Amelia's brain. She wanted to scold the girl, to slap her or yell at her, but she also wanted to hold her forever and protect her from the world. She wanted to let her know that it would get better — and to make her believe it — but she was scarcely sure that she believed that at times. Mostly, she wanted her to know she wasn't alone. But none of these sentiments would make their way to the surface.

Olivia cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

Shaking the chaos from her mind, Amelia took her by the arm and started to lead her toward the patio outside. "Let's go for a walk."

Amelia couldn't help but shiver, recalling the stroll she had taken down this same path with Sheldon years before. Hollow sadness made its home in her chest. She stared down at the ground, trying to think of something eloquent or wise to share. Nothing.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked again.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"A couple weeks ago, Mom thought, 'hey, let's take Olivia some place new and exciting!' and then she dropped me off here for kicks." Olivia rolled her eyes and focused down at the flowers lining the sidewalk. "I think it's pretty damn obvious why I'm here."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"What did you mean?"

"I meant how did you get here – how did you…" Amelia trailed off. "Never mind. I guess that doesn't matter much right now."

"Well you haven't seen me for seven years. A lot has changed," Olivia deflected. "So are you going to answer then? Or just no?"

"I'm here to see you. I thought that was pretty obvious, too."

"Right," Olivia emphasized sarcastically, "but like are you here to yell at me, tell me what a horrible disappointment I am, disown me? Or to pity me and tell me you'll always be there and blah-blah-blah?"

"That would be hypocritical, wouldn't it? I'm here because I care about you."

"Right. You've barely said a word to me outside of Christmas and birthday cards since I was like thirteen."

"I know, I'm sorry. I—"

"How did you even know I was here? Mom's been telling everyone I'm off on some vacation or helping kids in some poor country or something."

Amelia sputtered out a dark laugh. "It wasn't hard to figure out. That was exactly what Kathleen said when I was here. She told everyone I was doing some impressive volunteer work or something. The truth was too embarrassing."

"For her or for you?"

"Both, I guess. At first I was pissed, but honestly, I was kind of glad most people didn't know."

"Yeah. Me too, I guess. Just kind of—" Olivia frowned. "So…you were here too?"

"I thought you knew."

"That you were in rehab?" she laughed. "I definitely did not know that."

"I guess you would've been too young. I think you were like a baby the first time, and the second, you were probably barely eleven. I guess I thought you'd know by now, though."

"Mom doesn't like to talk about family crap. She'll solve everyone else's, but with us, it's like radio silence. We have no problems, ever, obviously. Just perfect little–whatever." Olivia sucked in a breath. "Wait, you were here more than once? Ouch, man."

Amelia nodded. "Yep. That's how I got the name Hurricane Amelia. I'm surprised I wasn't your cautionary tale."

Olivia shrugged and muttered something under her breath. Shaking her head, she raised her voice just enough for Amelia to understand. "Honestly I sort of tuned out everything Mom told me about this stuff. I didn't think it would ever actually affect me."

"Me neither. Until it did."

"Pretty much."

They continued in silence for several steps, the light wind pulling apart Olivia's sloppy ponytail. Although she paused to blow hair from her face, she made no effort to rectify the damage.

Amelia tapped her fingers together, a nervous habit she had picked up from a quick motor function test she would sometimes give to patients.

"So that's why you're here then?" Olivia asked, a hint of accusation creeping into her tone.

"What?"

"Because you think I'll be like you. Is that why you're here?"

"No, I—"

"Then why? It's been almost seven years and you chose now to show up because…why? Because we're apparently both addicts, you think now would be a good time to just pop up out of the blue?"

"I would have come sooner, if I'd known," Amelia exhaled.

"Right." Olivia studied a stone in front of her before turning abruptly. "Well, I should go."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Thanks for dropping by."

"Sure. I'll come back—"

"Whatever. Bye," Olivia cut her off before disappearing inside the building.

Amelia stared off after her, running over the conversation in her head to determine what had just happened. Alone again in this place. Her brow furrowed and she turned on her heel, heading hastily back to her car. A part of her couldn't shake the feeling of relief to be getting out of there again, but by now the ghosts could follow her. They knew where she lived.

Amelia lay on her soft bed, propped up by several pillows, her face blank. She fidgeted with her phone, pleading with it to give her a distraction, but instead it shone back at her with a photo of a newborn whose blue cap almost hid the portion of brain he was missing. She begged it for a second to stop drowning in thoughts racing too fast for her to catch. Images of her father, of Ryan, of her friend, Michelle, and worst of all, of the unicorn baby whose name she never spoke aloud, flooded over her. A few times, it crossed her mind to go out to a meeting or for a run, but the message seemed lost somewhere between her mind and limbs. What she really wanted were pills, and the fight against herself kept Amelia stalled in place.

She swallowed hard and blinked her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She tried to focus on her breathing, but inhaling completely seemed an impossible feat with the weight on her chest. She could come up with a million reasons not to use, but reason meant little next to craving, and even less next to mourning. She became sure that if she moved, she would find herself in the company of the dealer on the pier who used to bring a kid with him while he sold drugs to the most desperate residents Santa Monica had to offer – a further argument against productivity.

It could have been hours or only minutes that she stayed like that before the sound of a door unlocking drew her eyes upward. Either way, it felt like an eternity.

"Honey, I'm home," James sang.

"Hey," Amelia responded as best she could manage as he appeared in the doorway of their room.

He grinned at her quickly before turning toward the bathroom, a small girl bundled up in his arms. "We got a bit dirty at the park, didn't we Michelle?"

The dimpled brunette looked up at him and nodded, grinning mischievously before turning to see her mother. Her bright blue eyes gleamed, somehow shinier next to her mud-covered cheeks.

Amelia forced a smile of her own. "Get into trouble, did you Little Bean?"

A slight giggle escaped the toddler as she was whisked behind the door to be scrubbed clean.

Alone for what she knew would only be a few minutes at most, Amelia sniffed and shook her head, trying to snap herself out of her state of melancholy. She held her finger against the cheek of the baby on her screen a moment before clicking off the phone. She did her best to block out the knowledge that today he would be eight years, one month, and three days old — a count she hated herself for keeping — and doing her best not to imagine what he would look like now, if only genetics had been on their side.

Forcing herself off the bed, heavy limbs brought her to the kitchen where she began to prepare dinner. It was a bit of a pathetic meal, in her opinion. James had always been the better cook, but despite his loudest protests, she and Michelle both loved over-cooked grilled cheese and tatertots – her specialty. At least he would acknowledge it was better than the toast and ice cream she used to survive off before they moved in together.

He rolled his eyes as he emerged to discover what his night had in store for him. "Gourmet tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear? I'm quitting neurosurgery to become a full-time chef."

"How did it go today with your niece? Did you get to see her yet?"

Amelia shrugged. "Yeah. It went okay."

He studied her expression. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she shook her head. "Just a lot of feelings."

He waited a beat, hoping for elaboration, but knew better than to push her when she got like this. "You'll let me know if that changes and you want to talk? Or if you need anything?"

"Yeah."

She didn't sound very convincing, but before he could press her for more, Michelle bolted clumsily from her room, dressed in a clean princess nightgown her grandmother had sent. She held out her hand, opening her fist.

"Look!"

A ladybug crawled out from between miniature fingers.

"A ladybug, huh? Did this little miss come home from the park with you?" Amelia asked, crouching down so she was eye-level with the little girl.

"Mhm!" Michelle was eyeing the creature intently. "Keep! Pet!"

"Pet, huh? She's a cutie, but I don't think we can keep her."

"Keep!"

Amelia changed tactics. "Where are her parents?"

"I dunno."

"Oh no. They must miss her by now."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh. I bet her mommy and daddy miss her a lot. She's going to miss supper time with them and they'll be really sad."

"No."

"Yeah. Daddy and I would miss you so much if you were gone. Wouldn't you miss us?"

Michelle nodded.

"Yeah, I thought so. And I think Miss Ladybug misses her family too."

Big blue eyes widened and Michelle's jaw dropped. "Uh-oh!"

"Yeah, uh-oh is right!" Amelia held out her hand. "How about we set her free so she can go back to them?"

The girl frowned. "Keep?"

"No, honey. We have to set her free."

"Daddy?"

James crossed over to where his wife and daughter were crouched. "I think Mommy is right. Even ladybugs have homes."

Reluctantly, Michelle allowed the bug to crawl from her fingers into her mother's palm. She waved to it as they opened the window to set her free. Amelia ruffled her daughter's hair as she crossed back over to finish cooking dinner.

"I'm going back to see Olivia again tomorrow," she stated, serving each plate onto the dinner table. Amelia's tone told James this was not a discussion, and he tried his best to respect that. He would know if she was going to start using again, anyway, wouldn't he?

Karlyn stood immediately as she saw Amelia stepping up to the marble counter of the rehab facility the next day.

"Olivia has requested no visitors," she stated.

Raising her eyebrow, Amelia weighed out her options. If she went home, she would be alone. Michelle was spending the day at the St. Ambrose Hospital day care with her friends, and James was busy running an ER shift. She supposed she could drop by the hospital anyway and see if there was any work to be done, but having explained the situation to Charlotte, she had been ordered to take time off to look after matters. She was caught up on existing patient files for the time being, and without being given anything new, she would be bored out of her mind. Boredom and addiction did not mix well, in her experience. Hell, boredom and Amelia just did not mix well.

She supposed she could hit a meeting or run some errands, but something was telling her to stay here, no matter how much she disliked the feelings it brought up. Maybe she also still feared that leaving would find her at the pier. Besides, there was a faint glimmer of hope that perhaps Olivia would change her mind.

"Tell her I'm here anyway, and I'm not leaving."

Karlyn frowned. "I really don't think—"

"Please. Just tell her."

The woman rolled her eyes and strolled off in search of the young woman. Amelia pulled out her phone to text James what was going on. As she flicked it on, the photo of her son appeared across the screen. She fumbled a moment, nearly dropped the phone altogether before she was able to quickly click out of her gallery.

When Karlyn returned, she was alone, and without a message, although it appeared clear to Amelia that the real message was, "Go away, I don't want to see you."

Still, she remained in place, determined to keep her vow. She settled in on the familiar bench, trying to steady her shaking foot. She pulled a couple of medical journals from her bag and distracted herself with medicine of another sort.

Three days. It was three more days before Olivia finally made her way to the foyer to see her aunt again. She didn't tell James. She had no desire to talk about this, not to mention he could be protective to a frustrating extent, and he would have tried to stop her from going. Or worse, he might try to join her. As much as she loved him, this was something she wanted to do herself - something she needed to do herself, even if it seemed fruitless. He didn't need to know.

So it was her, some journals, and scarcely populated but over-air-conditioned lobby.

"You really are still here."

Amelia jumped. Four hours staring at the journal in front of her, flipping occasionally through trashy magazines for a break from the dullness of technical language, and she had all but given up on the day.

"She lives!" Amelia exclaimed. "I thought you'd never emerge."

"Yeah, well apparently you don't understand the meaning of 'no.'"

"Stubbornness is a Shepherd family trait."

Olivia folded her arms across her chest.

"Did I do something?"

"I'm not some addict pity case," Olivia stated. "I'm not interested in your sympathy visits."

"Sympathy visits? Clearly you don't know me very well, because I never—"

"You're right. I don't. I don't see you for years, and you don't show up until I'm in rehab, and so what am I supposed to think? I'm not interested in your good will or whatever. You practically cut yourself off from our family except for Uncle Derek, and show up when you think you can be the hero?"

"Whoa," Amelia breathed. "That is not what this is."

"No?"

"Definitely not. I'm here because—I'm here because we have a lot in common, you and me."

"Like what? Being the youngest of five? Blue eyes? And being addicts? Did I miss anything? Oh, wait, I probably did, since like you said, I barely know you."

Amelia nodded, taking a moment to contemplate her response – something that was a bit of a rarity for her.

"I'm sorry, Liv. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I—I had a lot going on. I was going through a lot after I got sober, and the idea of facing my family pretty much seemed unbearable. I could barely even get myself out of bed some days, let alone to work. And you're right; you're not a pity case. That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I love you, even if I haven't been around. I'm here because no one came for me, except a couple friends from work, and I'm here because when I was in your place, I really needed someone. And most of that is my fault. I told them not to come. But I was hurting and I was lonely. And I didn't want that for you. I wanted you to have someone, even if it's just me. I'm not trying to be a hero. I don't think you need saving. You're already here, saving yourself. I'm just here to help. I'm trying to be your aunt – or at least to be your friend."

Olivia's face softened slightly, but her eyebrow remained raised as she tried to maintain her indifference. "What happened after you got sober?"

Amelia bit her lip. "It's a long story."

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?"

"Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yeah, I want to know where you've been all this time." Olivia shrugged. "Plus, seriously, I need to get my mind off...things."

They began to walk toward the beach where she had once spent so many mornings with Hailey. "I don't really know where to start."

"Start wherever."

"Okay," Amelia paused. "I was going through a lot of stuff. At first, I started drinking because I thought I could handle it, and I just felt like I needed something so badly. I told myself I was just having fun, you know?"

Olivia stifled a laugh. "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah. But then I started operating under the influence. No one died, but my surgical privileges were revoked until I could prove I was sober again. It was humiliating. It was humiliating being at day one again. I had to take a breathalyzer before work and everything. But I told myself I could stay sober and I tried really hard to be who I was before, even if I was just faking it. And then my friend started experiencing symptoms of Huntington's and she asked—well, she killed herself. She OD'd on oxy, but there were still some pills on the bed next to her when I found her. And I didn't just slip, I full-on plummeted at that point."

"You found her?"

"Yeah."

"That sucks." Olivia looked over at the water. In just above a whisper, she confessed, "I found my girlfriend. She didn't kill herself though. Not intentionally. She overdosed, and now—now she's in a coma. Her mom keeps her alive but she's probably never going to wake up. And I'm not allowed to see her."

Amelia felt the urge to reach out for the girl, to offer her a comforting touch, but sensed from her refusal to even look in her aunt's direction that it might be a mistake to do so. Instead, she continued.

"Ryan. He was my boyfriend–my fiancé, actually. He and I made a pact to get sober together. I—I suggested we get high one last time, even though he didn't—he didn't want to, but because of me—I woke up and he was already dead."

Olivia nodded, but made no effort to respond.

"So I got sober. He would've been pissed if I died too, so I came here and I got sober." Amelia paused, sucking in a deep breath.

"But you said something happened after?"

"Yeah."

After a moment of silence, Olivia prodded, "So what was it?"

Amelia swallowed. It took a moment for her to be able to respond.

"I found out I was pregnant. I had Ryan's baby. Only the baby was anencephalic, meaning he was born without most of his brain, and I only got to hold him for a couple of minutes...and then he was taken for organ donation."

She was almost impressed with herself for maintaining such a level voice, but the threatening tears in her eyes told another story. Her chest felt as if it were about to explode. This wasn't something she liked talking about — in fact, it had taken months for her to confide it even to her therapist, and even then, she barely said a word — but it was something she felt her niece needed to hear.

Olivia looked horrified and devastated all at once, still refusing to make eye contact with Amelia. She searched for words of comfort, or really any words with which to reply, but nothing seemed quite adequate. All she could manage to squeak out was, "Shit."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I know that's kind of arbitrary to say, considering, but I am. I—I had no idea."

Amelia shrugged, forcing herself to refrain from crying again.

"Can I—I mean, was it—was it because of the drugs?"

Amelia shook her head. "No. I—I thought it was. I was so afraid it was my fault. But it wasn't. It was a genetic thing. That doesn't really make it hurt less, though."

Olivia nodded. She abruptly turned and pulled her aunt into a hug, bursting into tears. Amelia held on to the young girl, visibly confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

As quickly as she started, she stopped. Olivia pulled back and roughly wiped the wetness from her ghostly skin. She pushed back her hair and adjusted herself. She looked as if she wanted to apologize, but no words made their way to the surface. Instead, she turned back to stare uncomfortably at the waves crashing against the rocks and sand.

Amelia blinked. "Liv?"

Olivia sniffed. "Mhm?"

"Are you...?"

"I'm fine. I'm good. I just—I just really miss Ana is all. And...it's just that you went through so much and you're not using and I don't..." she trailed off.

"You don't think you can stay sober?"

Olivia nodded.

"I didn't either. I still don't sometimes. It can get easier to fight it off, but it never goes away, and sometimes it feels impossible. But it's one day at a time, right? And if you do it like that, you can get through. When I got sober the first time, I became a doctor, and I saved so many lives, and I've saved so many since becoming sober again. It's stuff like that that gets you through. It's the good stuff. And eventually it outweighs the bad."

"You still think that? After all that shit you went through?"

Amelia nodded. "I do. I'm married now. I have a little girl. And I save lives. I want to use so badly sometimes, but I know that if I don't, I get to keep all this. I get to have a life. And if you don't use, you get to have a life, too."

"I don't know if I want one without Ana."

"I felt like that after Ryan, and again after the baby. It'll happen for you, too. You'll find a good guy — or girl, I guess — to settle down with. You'll find a job you love. You'll find reasons to live."

"I guess," Olivia shrugged. "But when does it stop hurting so much?"

"It doesn't. It just gets easier to live with."

Amelia left that evening with a promise to return — and a promise from Olivia that she wouldn't be spending any more afternoons waiting alone in that lobby. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she told herself she was going right home, but she knew that was a lie. She clutched a fat teddy bear and a bouquet of white roses, almost in a daze as she approached the cemetery gates.

The slightly overgrown grass crunched under her feet, and it didn't take long to find the two headstones, side-by-side under a domineering tree.

Ryan Alexander Kerrigan

1978-2011

It looked so lonely, no words to accompany someone who had so profoundly changed her life. She had always wanted to add something, but his mother never would give her the time of day. They were getting married, but most of their relationship had been a drug-fueled haze, and she supposed that to others, she had no right to such a claim. She bitterly hated that she never got to know him sober and briefly an image flashed through her head: two boys, two girls — so no one would get lonely — and Ryan, alive. She placed the roses next to his name. She brushed her fingers along the stone and choked out, "You gave me love," before moving on.

Christopher Ryan Kerrigan

May 15, 2012

Beloved Unicorn Baby

Amelia hesitated before crouching down next to the stone. The ice that had built up in her chest over the past few weeks shot itself throughout her body and her stomach flipped over on itself. It took a moment before tears began to burn her eyes. She was torn between devastation and dissociation. She wondered how any mother could sit by their child's grave with any measure of composure. She wondered how any god could allow such a thing to happen.

Her mind flashed to his birth, and then to the birth of her daughter, and the stark differences in circumstance. Michelle had been a nightmare pregnancy for symptoms. She was sick every day, her favorite foods made her cringe, and her husband's cologne almost warranted a divorce. A couple of times, she nearly passed out during surgeries, and she had to pee so much she became seriously concerned about dehydration. But Michelle was healthy. She was a perfect, healthy baby, and after months of fear of repeating the horror of losing a child, Amelia was able to have her baby, and no amount of pain or discomfort would take away her joy. Christopher had been easy on her body, comparatively, but emotionally, it was still shocking to Amelia that she survived. Sometimes she hated herself for living without him.

On the day Michelle was born, Amelia wondered if a greater happiness and greater sadness had ever greeted one another so intensely. It felt like a betrayal that she was able to love her daughter the way she had never been allowed with her son, and she silently promised him that he would never be replaced. She couldn't have helped the fantasies in her mind of a round-faced boy holding his baby sister and proudly declaring himself as a big brother, as Derek had once done with her. She couldn't have helped the sobs that escaped her throat or the fact that she clung to Jake and Addison while James was in the nursery. She couldn't have helped that as happy as she was to have her daughter, a part of her still wished she had died with her baby.

She had never been to his gravestone — not since the funeral, anyway. She knew Addison or Jake would sometimes come by to ensure its aesthetic upkeep. She was grateful for that. A few times, especially on his birthdays, she had wanted to come by, but never could she muster the courage. She studied the stone, carefully putting the teddy bear down next to it.

"I miss you, baby. I wish I could've been your mom. I wish you could've known me, known your sister, your cousins... I wish you could've experienced life – even the bad stuff. But...I hope your daddy is taking good care of you. And I hope you know that one day—" she choked. "One day, I'll be there with you. And we may be ghosts or whatever, but I'm going to hug you so hard, baby. So hard. I love you so much, Unicorn Baby—Christopher."

From her crouched position, Amelia fell back on her heels so she was sitting with her knees pulled up against her chest. She clutched her bag as if it were the only thing keeping her from drowning. She wanted to say more, but words would not form. Nothing seemed adequate to convey the depth of her loss. So she sat and she cried and she allowed her forgotten dreams of the little boy who never got to open his eyes or experience the world to wash over her.

It seemed an eternity passed while she was there, and it was only when the sun started to set that she realized how long she had been sitting beside the grave. Her tears had dried, but an emptiness remained in her chest. Sucking in a breath, she pulled herself off the grass. Amelia kissed her hand and touched it to each of the graves before turning back toward the gates.

On the ride home, she put her music on full volume, occasionally catching herself singing a few bars unconsciously.

When she walked through the door of her home, it was only seconds before tiny legs carried a round-faced girl into the room. Amelia bent to pick up her daughter, wrapping her arms tightly around the girl.

"Hey Little Bean," she smiled.

This was her reason to stay clean. This was her reason to live. It gets easier, she thought, but maybe it also does get better. Slowly. And with a lot of tears. But better, nonetheless.

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