A/N: Stupid little two chapter thing I came up with at like 3 in the morning when I couldn't sleep. It's bad, I know, but I really like the plot so suffer. :P Oh aaanddd, I don't own anything, etc etc.
WARNING: If you're sensitive to certain subjects- mainly, miscarriages- then please, please, PLEASE go back!!
Ryan and Taylor haven't slept together in months.
No, not like sex- although there isn't much of that going on, either.
It's been six months since Taylor slept in Ryan's arms, curled up on his chest with nothing but his body heat for warmth. Now, Taylor sleeps with her back to him, burried under sheets and duvets and sometimes an extra throw-blanket. Ryan sleeps with no sheets or covers, but fully clothed.
Tonight, Taylor can't sleep. Neither can Ryan.
On the dresser, on Taylor's side, there is a picture of she and Ryan on their wedding day. That was two years ago, and they look so happy. They were so happy.
They've been legally married for two years- but spiritually, they divorced a long time ago. It's been a year since they've been the Atwoods. Taylor sometimes goes by her maiden name. They don't talk or kiss or write little notes to put on the fridge anymore.
Laying on her side, quite uncomfortable, and staring at that picture, Taylor realizes she misses the way it used to be.
Laying on his side, quite uncomfortable, and staring at the armoir accross from him, Ryan knows that Taylor isn't asleep. She never sleeps anymore. He understands it's hard on her- hell, if anyone understands it's him- but what he cannot grasp is why she doesn't talk to him about it.
Ryan misses the way her body fit against his. The way her hair smells. The way her lips taste.
He thinks, as he drifts off to sleep, that in the last year, he's lost far more than a child.
--
Ryan hates spending time with Seth because he has three children. Three happy, healthy children who are beautiful and spirited and so very alive- and as much as he loves them and Seth and Summer, he can't bring himself to accept the fact that they have everything Ryan's ever wanted. Seth doesn't understand. He thinks that this is nothing a little Seth/Ryan time can't fix, but what he doesn't get is that it's not Seth/Ryan time like when they were kids sitting around in a house made of glass. And it can't fix anything.
Right now, Seth is gone to change his youngest's diaper. He's left Ryan alone in the living room. Alone with the suade sofas and the coffee table full of family albums. Alone, until little Olivia Cohen stumbles into the living room. She is the second oldest, the five-year-old, Mommy's perfect little princess, and the spitting image of Summer.
She plants herself on the carpet, palms tucked under chin, and stares up at her Uncle Ryan. Ryan looks away; her gaze is burning holes through him. The look is asking, why haven't you been a better Uncle? Why did you miss my birthday? Why aren't you like you used to be?
Instead, she simply says: "I love it when you come over, Unkie Ry-Ry."
--
Ryan is gone and Taylor is cooking apple crumble cake. It's the second recipe of the day – the first being a peache torte – and as she checks the kitchen timer, she realizes in vain that all this cooking is doing nothing to save her marriage. Or bring back their baby.
Taylor takes a sip of Bordeaux and sits at the dinner table as she waits for the timer to ding. Summer was over earlier to drop off Noah's school pictures, but now she's gone. Seth doesn't come by much anymore, and Ryan is passing his time away from her. Everybody's left her alone; alone with the oak furniture and stainless steel fridge, decorated with family pictures and crayon drawings made by Noah and Olivia.
Nobody waddles into the kitchen to keep her company.
Something catches her eye, a corner sticking out from under a pile of bills and paperwork. She puts her Flute Glass down and pulls at the corner, until the entire picture is revealed.
--
Summer shuts the bedroom door behind her and moves on to the next bedroom, where she finds Seth, patiently waiting in bed.
"Did you check on them?"
"Of course. Paris is sound asleep. Liv kicked me out because she needed her beauty sleep, and Noah is-"
"Pretending," Seth finishes. Summer casts him a satisfied smile and, as she is climing into bed, grants him a peck on the lips.
Seth knows exactly what his son is doing because he used to do it, too. For a nine-year-old boy, rest isn't the most important thing- but scampering under the covers with your newest comic book and your favorite flashlight, however, is.
Comfortable silence falls over them for a few minutes, until Summer asks: "So, how was Ryan today?"
Seth shrugs.
"He was... okay. Better than the last time, to be honest. It just sucks that I can't get through to him. He's been through something big, I get it, but in all other aspects, he has a great life and he deserves to live it."
"Aw, Cohen, that was beautiful."
"I know," Seth replies, with some pride, "now all I need is an awesome way to say that without getting Chino-punched in the gut."
--
Vomit splashes into the toilet. With one hand, Taylor holds up her long hair to avoid a mess. With the other, she clutches the ultrasound so hard her knuckles turn white. Her face is a mess of tears and throw-up, and she finds herself void of the desire to clean herself up.
Instead, she sits on the floor of the bathroom and stares at the ultrasound. It was their baby at three months. Two months later, they found out they were having a little girl. And one month after that, she was gone- and when she left, so did Ryan. So did Taylor.
Ryan was the first to pull himself together and get rid of anything that reminded Taylor of the baby. He stored all the clothes, all the gifts, and all the pictures in the attic. He destroyed the crib and the nursery and turned it into another guest bedroom. For the first two months, Taylor didn't leave the house, and although she kept to herself, Ryan stayed with her.
They missed Olivia's birthday and Kirsten opening her art gallery and Summer giving birth to baby Paris, but they stayed together. Then Ryan got fed up, and he began living his life, but Taylor was stuck.
Taylor is stuck.
Ryan comes home to find his wife like this, an unblinking mess of puke, and instantly, his heart melts. He hasn't moved on. If he was truly living his life, his wife would be right there with him. He sits down across from her and leans against the wall.
"Taylor," he whispers, pushing a strand of hair from her face, "Taylor, I think it's time for us to talk about this."
Taylor looks up at him and fresh tears fall from her eyes.
"I love you," he says, his voice strong and serious, "and I'm not going to let this get the better of us. I haven't been the best husband, but that's going to change starting right now. Talk to me."
"I... love you too, Ryan, I love you so much and I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry I lost the baby, and I'm sorry I shut you out."
Ryan moves closer to Taylor, and her head falls on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her, protectivley, and in a matter of minutes they're asleep.
For the first time in six months, Ryan and Taylor Atwood fall asleep in each other's arms.