Three Plus One Will Always Equal Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except the idea and my heart that has had another chunk ripped out.

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She stared out into the backyard. It was spacious for this area and filled with trees. There was a rope swing hanging from the thick branch of an ancient oak. The little garden they had planted just three months ago showed signs of neglect, the small plants overrun by weeds. There was a swimming pool and patio where they'd had so much fun with their friends, now both full of leaves that no one had bothered to skim or rake.

She turned from the sliding glass doors and looked into the great room. A room filled with memories. The fireplace they'd eaten many a romantic meal in front of during their early days together. More recently, the place where they read books to the boys and had tickle fights, played with trucks and blocks. This is the room where they'd snuggled on the couch and watched movies, first as a couple, later as a family. The place where, after the boys were asleep, they'd listen to music and dance in the soft glow from the fire.

She looked to the left at the kitchen. Her dream kitchen, fit for a gourmet chef. She'd taught her husband to make chicken marsala and he'd taught her the secret of his scrambled eggs. She'd baked cookies with the boys in this kitchen. She could still picture their smiling faces smudged with flour.

She walked to the end of the hallway, to the master bedroom, decorated in soft earth tones. The room where they'd made love and made up after fights. This is the room where they conceived their first child. They'd planned out their future while cuddling in the big, soft bed. There was a garden tub in their bathroom where they'd taken bubble baths together.

She moved down the hall to the room of their five-year-old, the walls a dark blue, his favorite color. His growth was marked and dated in black sharpie on the white door frame. She ran her hand over the top numbers. He'd grown so much in the last year, a growth spurt.

Next to that, the baby's room. Though he was no longer a baby. A big boy of three. This room was always full of noise. Beeping monitors, the noisy compressor of the suctioning machine, music that was almost constant to mask the mechanical sounds and provide him with entertainment. He had some medical problems and had been through several surgeries. His feeding tube was due to be removed and hopefully, after one more surgery, his trachea tube as well. Then she'd finally get to hear him say his first word. Hopefully, mama.

She stood in the doorway of this room, a lighter shade of blue than his brother's. She could picture herself rocking her sick boy in the big chair in the corner. Reading him books when he was restless. Lying next to him, talking softly and cuddling with him after a bad dream. Brushing his soft curls while his daddy sang him songs.

She took a deep, shaky breath. Now all she could see when she looked in this room were paramedics, kneeling over her son, the revolving lights of the ambulance rolling across the walls. The only noises she remembered were the sirens and the gruff male voices relaying information, their radios crackling with static. Then the horrible electric build up and discharge from the defibrillator as it shocked her baby, his little body jumping with each shock. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth as she bit her lips to stop from screaming. She remembered squeezing her husband's hand as they stood there helpless, witnesses to their worst nightmare.

She closed her eyes and sagged against the door frame. Tears were streaming down her face. She felt like her knees were going to give out. She had loved this room, this house. It was their first home. Their dream house. They'd been lucky. Too lucky, I guess, she thought.

She felt hands on her shoulders, their gentle pressure so familiar. These were the hands that had done so much to comfort her and their remaining son in the last few months as they all struggled and adjusted to being three again. No, not three. Four minus one. The hands that held her every night as they adjusted to a silent house. No more noisy breathing that she was so attuned to, she could hear the slightest difference and anticipate Jason's every need. No more beeping and whirring machines or air compressors. They hadn't even played music since that night.

"Come on, Mel." She took another shaky breath and turned to him. The pain she felt was reflected in his eyes. She nodded and brushed at the tears with the back of her hand. He led her back down the hallway toward the front door.

They stood there, taking one last look around. Melissa wiped fresh tears that spilled from her eyes. This place that she'd so carefully decorated, where she'd imagined watching her kids grow up, growing old with Jackson, playing with their grandchildren, now stood empty. It was nothing more than a painful reminder of what they had lost. Memories that had made her so happy in the past were now like knives in her heart. Their 'Home Sweet Home' had turned into a house of horror.

She had shut down almost completely in that first month, too depressed to get out of bed. Too numb to feel or see anything. Jackson had picked up all the slack and taken care of them. He'd taken Jake to school, made his lunch, checked his homework, bought the groceries, cooked the meals, did the laundry, paid the bills, found the new house, arranged for their move, everything.

She turned and looked at her husband. He was staring out at the rope swing he had made. He'd said it was for the boys, but Melissa had caught him, on more than one occasion, using it himself. She saw the unguarded emotion on his face and realized how blind she'd been since that night. She had thought he didn't feel it as deeply as she did. I'm so stupid! He just buried his feelings like he used to. Melissa realized he was feeling just as hurt and lost as she was. Jason had loved music like his father. Jacob liked music but didn't show the interest in it that Jason had. Jackson had talked about teaching him to play guitar as soon as he was able. Now he wouldn't have that chance. The little guitar he'd bought would never be used. Jackson had smashed it to pieces in the garage the morning after the funeral.

Melissa reached out and caressed his cheek. Jackson turned to look at her. She felt a rush of love then a stab of guilt shoot through her as she saw the look in his eyes. "Thank you and…I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, confusion clouding his features.

"Thank you for allowing me to…break down, for taking care of everything, for being there and keeping things going for Jake, for being…you. And I'm sorry that I was selfish and didn't think about your feelings. All I could think about was my own grief. That wasn't fair to you or Jake. Please, forgive me."

"Mel, there's nothing to forgive! I mean, you gave up your job to stay home and take care of Jason day and night. You spent weeks researching his condition, you found the best treatments and doctors, you hardly had any breaks in three years and suddenly…" his breath hitched. Jackson closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. After a deep breath he said slowly, "Suddenly, it was all…gone."

"But you took care of him, too, Jackson. And you and Jake still needed me, I should have been there for you two these last months," she said, tears blurring her vision.

"You were taking care of all of us for three years, you never once neglected Jake, Jason or me. You've been incredibly brave and strong through all of this and you never complained once. Jason was your priority, he had to be. We understood and were okay with it, Jacob included." He reached out and traced her cheek. "We're partners, Mel. You needed to grieve, so I needed to be strong."

"It still wasn't fair to you or Jake."

"There is no fair in this situation."

Melissa took a deep breath and said in a stronger voice, "Now, I'm here for you. It's my turn to be strong and take care of us and your turn to grieve. I love you, Jackson."

Jackson looked at her and saw the old determination in her eyes. He was reminded once again why he loved her so much. "I love you, too, Mel."

She wrapped her arms around him and held him. Her embrace was different this time, he could feel her inner strength. That strength caused something deep inside him to open. He choked off a loud sob that escaped and tried to regain control but her arms tightened around him and he knew that it was time to let it out. Jackson's knees buckled and they both slowly slid down to the floor. He couldn't hold in the tears any longer, he knew he didn't have to. Almost three months of sorrow came pouring out. Melissa cradled him as he sobbed uncontrollably, her own tears held in check this time.

When he finally quieted, they sat there, holding each other, his head on her shoulder. Melissa guided his hand to the small bump in her midsection "We're together, we're going to be fine," she said softly. "You, me, Jake and Michaela." He gently rubbed her growing belly and smiled slightly. It was the first semblance of a smile either of them had attempted since that night.

"We'll always carry Jason with us...we're five minus one now," she whispered. Jackson closed his eyes and nodded. One last tear slipped down his face. Melissa reached out and wiped it away.

Jackson slowly stood and pulled Melissa to her feet. She kissed him on the cheek and he kissed her forehead. They embraced again and stood there a few minutes, leaning on each other.

Finally, Melissa broke away and took his hand. "Come on, it's time to pick up Jake and go to our new home."

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A/N: Based on an actual event. Writing is one way I've been coping with a devastating loss. I can't sleep because the broken voice and grief-stricken face of my closest friend haunts me.

Sorry, but I may not be updating anything for a while. My heart is just too heavy right now and I need to be there for my friend.