Originally an idea for a multi-chap fic, but since I've got way too much on my plate as it is, that clearly wasn't going to happen. But an angsty one-shot is a different story. Thanks for reading! :)
It was something that happened every single day without fail, the sunset. The golden rays began their slow descent into the western horizon as the sky left behind slowly faded from light cerulean to deepest navy, moving through the shades of pink and orange in the process. It wasn't something Eric had really ever given much thought to; it was pretty, and it was the transition of day to night, the end of another day.
But nothing could change the way he saw things like the harsh light of tragedy could.
For the first time, he was seeing the darkness of the sunset. No longer was it a beautiful fading of light; now, it was the oppression of light, of happiness. As night pressed in from the east, the sunlight was chased away, allowing darkness an easy victory. It seemed so easily that the light was defeated, too boldly that the shadows flaunted their triumph. It gave Eric that same sinking feeling in his stomach, for it was the same ease with which the light, the possibility of happiness had been stolen from his own life.
Eric gave a deep sigh, resigning himself to the evening. It was early still, but what desire did he have for anything else? Like he'd done for the past week, he padded silently to the hallway, wincing at just how quiet the entire house truly was. It was too quiet for a home that was supposed to be filled with joyful laughter, bubbly smiles.
But now, as he made his way through the hall, the idea of laughter and smiling was all but repulsive to him. Eric knew he would smile again when he witnessed a smile touch Calleigh's lips once more. And that wasn't something he could hope to see for a long time coming.
He sighed deeply as the thief of their smiles became apparent once more. Just like every evening since that fateful day, Eric couldn't help but pause in the middle of the hallway, bowing his head in a grief-filled moment of silence. The final, hazy rays of evening sunlight could no longer reach him; in stepping into the hall, it was as if he'd made his brave entrance into a cave of perpetual darkness, endless sorrow.
But he needed no light to know why he'd paused. It was the epicenter of the cold silence that had taken over, the small, unassuming room to his left. He didn't need to lift his head to know exactly where his steps had faltered. It was the room, her room. Just months before, it had been used as an office, with paperwork and various casefiles on a desk, criminology books and journals on bookshelves. Now, though, there was no indication that the room had ever been used as an office.
The still-unfinished nursery was dark, shadows and ghosts lurking in every corner, a loaded threat to the poor soul who dared step inside. For the foreseeable future, there would be no change to it; it was a room stuck in limbo, unable to go back in time, but equally unable to move forward. It was frozen in time, just as much of their lives had suddenly become.
Behind the curtain of darkness, the walls were a beautiful baby pink, a color which Calleigh had taken such joy in picking out. It tugged at his heart; the first time Calleigh had seen the color, her eyes had sparkled with the utmost happiness, and as Eric saw the soft pink hues reflected within that sparkle, he couldn't help but fall in love with it as well.
The last time her eyes had fallen upon the innocent shade of pink, Eric found himself shaken by the empty, haunted look in her eyes, devoid of any sparkle, any joy. It was the last time, to his knowledge at least, that she had taken a step inside the room, or even allowed herself to look inside as she trudged down the hallway, her slippered feet falling heavily on the floor below.
In the corner of the room was an unopened roll of wallpaper border, dotted with pink and blue butterflies that would've danced along the highest part of the walls, fascinating the bright emerald or deep brown eyes – they would never get to know whose eyes she had gotten, Eric realized with a jolt – of their beautiful, perfect daughter.
He needed no lights to see the empty crib by the wall, the crib that their daughter would never sleep in, not for one night. The musical mobile hung motionless over it, its silence heavy, profound. The soft lullaby inside would never be heard; it would never coax their sweet daughter into the blessed realm of dreams, for she had already slipped silently into the quiet stillness of sleep eternal, before even taking a first breath of the world around her.
For the most part, the room was still empty. No changing table, only a few items of tiny clothing, no stroller, nor the quaint rocking chair Calleigh had wanted for those late night feedings. Eric had fallen in love with the picture immediately; Calleigh slowly rocking while she fed their daughter, the softest, most motherly smile on her lips. The idea that he may never stand in the doorway and watch through the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window shattered his already fragile heart.
It broke Eric's heart into tiny little pieces. He couldn't imagine what it did to Calleigh.
Calleigh.
It was all she could do to stumble past the small room, let alone look inside. Eric could only imagine what torture she went through every time she realized just what she would never get to share with their daughter within that pale pink room. The soft color only served to remind her of the mother she wouldn't be, not this time around, at least.
But what could Eric do about that? Shifting the small room back to the makeshift office it had been before was utterly out of the question, but painting over the soft pink walls would be a sin in its own right. It was, by all rights, her room, and her room it would remain.
Her…they hadn't even had time to settle on a name yet. All the conversations – midnight discussions while locked in each other's embrace, lunchtime suggestions made in between of all his playful teasing about Calleigh's growing appetite – they all seemed so far in the distant past, almost as if they'd occurred in another lifetime.
Isabella, Eric had suggested one night between stealing kisses to Calleigh's softly growing abdomen.
Emma, Calleigh had murmured, almost out of the blue, over dinner one evening.
And then, there was Holly. As soon as he'd whispered the name, Eric found himself addicted to the light that appeared in Calleigh's eyes. The slow smile that spread across her lips had been contagious, as had Calleigh's immediate love for the name. It was perfect. But Calleigh had still felt a bit of a pull for Emma too, so she'd been reluctant to set anything in stone yet.
Nothing was ever set in stone, Eric realized with one more look around the small, darkened room. Just because Calleigh had found herself pregnant with the child they'd wanted for so long didn't mean happiness was right around the corner. Just because Calleigh's intuition and the doctor's expertise said it was a girl didn't mean that they would have an adorable daughter in just a few months. Nothing was ever promised.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Eric turned his eyes away, feeling the sting of tears as the memories overwhelmed him, the realizations that he'd been so close to having the family he'd always dreamed of. He still had Calleigh – he prayed that he still had Calleigh – but why couldn't he have their daughter too? Life could be cruel, sometimes.
Blindly he reached out with a shaky hand, finding the doorknob and flinching at its coldness. Or maybe it was he that was cold; Eric couldn't be too sure. Without another look, he slowly pulled the door, shutting away the shadows and ghosts that taunted him, filling his thoughts and dreams with the family he'd had stolen away from him.
But he couldn't think about that now - it was too late to do anything about it.
Now, he had to concentrate on holding on to what he did have.
Firmly planting that in the forefront of his mind, Eric turned his back on the pink-walled room and silently made his way down the hallway, a familiar block of ice plunging into his stomach. He knew exactly what he would find once he pushed through the half-closed door to their bedroom – it would be the same scene he'd stumbled upon for many nights in a row now, and each time, it served to further his agony beyond what he thought it was possible to feel.
The bedroom door made no sound as Eric gently pushed it open, the only sound at all being the loose floorboard that creaked beneath his silent feet. In the dim light, he blinked his eyes quickly, though more on impulse than anything else. His eyes had long since adjusted to the perpetual lack of light that had seemed to overtake their home.
A lone candle illuminated the darkened room, the light from the flickering flame dancing along the walls, casting shadows that moved with the light, the fitful patterns on the walls sending a chill down Eric's spine. He tore his eyes from their intimidating shapes, choosing instead to search for the woman to whom he'd pledged his life, for better and for worse. He'd never imagined that for worse could mean this, though.
She was exactly where he knew she would be, curled up on her side, her empty eyes staring out into nothing in particular. The stain of previous tears was all too present on her pale cheeks, and Eric bit his lip, feeling his heart ache for her. She blamed herself; of course she did.
It had all happened so fast, and with no explanation. Eric remembered oh so clearly just that morning, kneeling in front of Calleigh, placing first his hand and then his ear over her rounded tummy, utterly in awe as he felt the gentle flutter of tiny kicks. Calleigh had smiled down at him – the last time he'd seen her smile – and gently scratched the back of his neck, giggling softly as Eric babbled nonsense to the baby. He'd nearly bubbled over with joy.
And then, just that evening, it was all cruelly ripped away from him.
There had been a problem with the umbilical cord – beyond that, anything the doctor had said was a blur to Eric. He found it impossible to listen, impossible to think as soon as he perceived the utterly lost look in Calleigh's eyes. That night, she'd sat with him on the couch, her face buried against his chest, her body unmoving. For one night, she'd allowed herself to be comforted, and thusly provide her own comfort to Eric. But after that, she'd closed herself off, spending far too much time simply laying there on her side, one arm tucked beneath her pillow, the other draped heartbreakingly over her abdomen.
It broke his heart; he couldn't just stand there and watch her, even if she had wanted to be alone.
With quiet, gentle movements, Eric crawled onto the bed, his muscles aching with the movement. Sleep deprivation, malnutrition – he couldn't be sure from where the pain stemmed, but he knew making it stop wouldn't be as simple as going to sleep or eating a meal. There was nothing simple about either of those solutions anymore.
Calleigh moved not as he slipped in behind her, and Eric had to wonder if she even fully realized his presence. She was scaring him, more than he'd ever been frightened in his life. She was merely a shell of herself; she didn't talk, she didn't cry. When she moved, it was without a purpose, her eyes empty, lifeless. It broke Eric's heart to see her like this.
His hand shaking, Eric reached out, brushing his fingers ever lightly through her silky locks, watching them fall lifelessly over the pillow. Still she didn't move, though Eric thought he heard the tiniest of sounds, an almost inaudible sniffle. The sound, combined with the visible paths of dried tears along her cheek tugged so strongly at his heart, so much that he felt the familiar sting in his own eyes.
Tentatively he wrapped an arm around Calleigh's stiffened body, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck, then her cheek, then into her hair. His eyes closed in heartache, Eric nuzzled into the softness of her golden locks, his face crumpling as he mouthed a silent prayer to the night, the same one he'd prayed for the past…he wasn't even sure how many nights it had been now. Time was irrelevant; they were frozen, frozen by grief, by guilt, by loss.
He thought he felt her relax just slightly in his arms, but other than that she did not move. He clasped his hand with hers where it rested over her abdomen, squeezing twice, wishing she would squeeze his hand in return. It was just the lightest flutter, but it was there, unmistakable to Eric.
She let out a shaky sigh, and Eric couldn't help but hold her ever closer, wishing that, even as badly as he was hurting, he could endure her pain, her guilt for her. He would give anything to rewind the days that had passed; he'd give anything just to get them both – his joyful wife and his unborn daughter – back.
One was lost. The other…Eric didn't know.
She'd given him scares in the past, but this time, he was terrified. He'd never seen her like this, never. For the first time, Eric was truly afraid he was losing her. And the most frightening part of all…he wasn't sure what he could do. He felt utterly helpless. It was the worst combination – helpless and stricken with grief himself. He only knew of one thing to say; in his own state of confusion and heartache, he only knew of one phrase that was the absolute truth.
"I love you," he whispered, raw honesty in the words he tried so hard to choke out. His voice was heavy with unshed tears, unspoken prayers that she would hear him. More than ever he felt the burning need to get through to her, to make sure she heard those three small words. She needed to hear them, and, more than that, Eric needed to know she heard them. "I love you."
Her eyes closed slowly, succumbing to the deepest feelings of guilt. Logic was out of the question to her heart right now – she'd been the one carrying their daughter; she'd been the one to lose her. And she was the one with the knowledge that only deepened her guilt, her heartache – she'd known how badly Eric had always wanted a family of his own. He'd dreamed of having a family long before he'd ever presented her with that diamond ring under the moonlight so long ago.
And for now, that deepest desire had been reduced to the ghost of a shattered dream.
It was overwhelming, almost debilitating – the combination of her own heartache, her grief, and the guilt from which she just could not escape. It haunted her, leaving her body feeling cold and her heart feeling as though she would never find happiness again.
She heard his three words, his unwavering declaration of love. But so overcome with pain was Calleigh that her only response came in the form of a wordless whisper that Eric would never hear, her lips mouthing the words that she had not the strength to say aloud.
"I'm sorry…"