Hello everyone. Thank you for checking out the latest installment of my story surrounding the Bryant family. Please be warned that a very harsh topic is addressed here. If you have lost a child, please proceed with caution and know that I am so very, very sorry.

His fingers tapped a quiet, lazy rhythm against the smaller of two stacks of paper on his desk as he peered in contentment across the room at the girl sorting and filing and organizing in front of a cabinet. She was unaware of his gaze, just sifting through her task while she swayed gently to the beat of a song only she could ever hear. At fourteen years old, she was a pretty picture there with her long hair, just slightly lighter than his, falling loose and straight down her back and passing across blue eyes now and then before being tucked back behind her ear. She was wearing the slight, absent smile he fell more in love with every time he saw it. She was a happy child, and once in a while, her doting father couldn't help but sit back and marvel.

After a moment of this silent watch, she seemed to feel the gaze and glanced over her shoulder with a blink. Little Chava, not so little anymore, tilted her head to one side and laughed in silence. What? she signed with one hand. The smile was contagious, and he returned it on a slightly smaller scale and shook his head.

Lost in thought, he replied, content to speak with his hands, too.

Chava crinkled her nose playfully. Are you falling asleep on me, Daddy? she teased him.

"On you?" he asked in good humor, speaking aloud now as he rose to his feet to come toward her from his desk. He rested his hands on her shoulders from behind and drew her against him affectionately. She was a small thing, slender, but with long legs. Her head only came to his chest, but he and Raine were both of the opinion that she would probably continue to grow for a few years yet. For now, though, she was still his tiny princess. "Never."

Chava leaned her head back to beam up at him, a smile the humbled man continued to return before he reached around to take the remainder of the stack in her hands. It was about time to call it a day; he only ever worked half-days now, with the baby due at any time. Their third, but the excitement never dulled. Raine called him "antsy." He preferred to call it "anticipation." Either way, they could both probably use some fresh air.

"I know your brother was rather disappointed he couldn't join us today, and heaven knows your mother could use a treat." When it came to his family, he was well aware that he spoiled them. It really didn't bother him, either. Raine had lived a very conservative life – and his children were, well, his children. It was his job above all else to care for all three of them. Soon, he thought, his smile widening a little, all four of them. "What do you say we stop to get something to bring back?"

She laughed again, and he knew she could see right through his thoughts, but they just shared a bit of an impish look before he guided her toward the elevator with a hand to her back. As it turned out, however, they didn't even get the chance to summon it before the doors opened to a sight that took them both by surprise: little Micah standing there by himself, a frown on his face and his eyes red and puffy from tears.

Immediately, paternal impulse kicked in. His son was alone and, though admittedly rather volatile emotionally at the best of times, in clear distress.

"Micah," he blinked, going into a crouch as his son hopped from the elevator just before the doors could clip him – which served to agitate the poor child even further. Micah sent a reproachful glower toward the doors, rubbing the arm that had nearly been snagged by them. Beside their father, Chava knelt to be eye level with her brother, but Micah surprised them both by stepping around her and all but throwing himself into Regal's lap instead.

His frown deepened as he caught the boy in an instinctively protective grasp. Something was very wrong; his youngest had a sometimes unhealthy level of attachment to his parents, but he almost never turned down his big sister's attentions. Ironically, being the one he went to made the back of his neck prickle with nerves.

Regal lowered his head a bit toward the mussed white crown and spoke more quietly. "What is it? Who brought you here?" Surely it wasn't Raine, for she would never have let him simply wander off on his own, and if he were going to seek comfort with one of his parents, it was generally his mother to whom he clung, unless he had gotten in trouble with her. But there was no reason anyone else would have done so, either, except at his own request, and there were few reasons for that, too. The chilld's answer only made him more confused, however.

Micah shook his head as his cheeks flushed with the telltale symptoms of an impending tantrum. "Nobody," he huffed.

Regal shifted and lowered himself onto his knees. Sitting back on his calves, he drew the child into his lap sideways in order to keep his face in view. Normally, this would have been cause for reprimand; they were raising their children to be capable and independent (something to which Chava had much more readily taken, he had to admit), but there were lines to be drawn, and walking through Altamira alone at six years old pretty solidly crossed one. At the same time, though, Micah was not one to go off on his own even under permissible circumstances, and he couldn't shake the nervous, queasy feeling.

"Where is your mother?" he pressed, smoothing back unruly hair. "She must be worried..." He did his best to avoid making it sound like a question, though even he could hear the note of inquiry in his voice.

Again, Micah gave his head a wild shake. "Nuh-uh. She didn't get me from school, and when I went home, she wasn't there, either. She wasn't anywhere, 'cause she forgot about me!"

The puzzled frown deepened as the tightness in his chest grew worse. "She didn't... Micah, who picked you up from school, then?"

Clearly, the boy was not amused. "Nobody!" he cried, a fresh wave of tears glossing over his eyes and turning his pouty face a brighter shade of pink. "Nobody came to get me! I waited five whole minutes, and Mommy didn't come, and Evvie didn't come, either, like she does sometimes when Mommy is extra tired. Nobody came, so I went home by myself, 'cause I'm a big boy like you tell me, only all the lights were off and nobody was there, just Azzy!"

Nobody. Not at home, not at school... Regal blinked again, and automatically he looked toward Chava as she signed what they were both thinking: She probably left a little late and missed him on the way. Though he could also tell by the look buried behind exasperated amusement that she was having as much trouble truly convincing herself of that as he was. Still, he took his role as pillar very seriously, and it was his job to keep his children from worry until there was no other choice.

"Probably," he agreed for Micah's sake if nothing else. "In which case, she will be quite concerned when she doesn't find you there. We'll have to go find her ourselves, yes?"

Micah sniffled again and wiped his hand savagely across his nose, and after using his own thumb to brush away a few lingering tears, Regal hefted his son into his arms and stood. But scarcely had Chava joined him on her feet and they turned toward the elevator again before it was opening to yet another unexpected arrival – and the knot sitting so heavily in his gut sank and clenched even more tightly at the drawn expression on George's careworn face.

That was not a routine concern on his mind. It wasn't business, or even political. Those were trivial at the end of the day, and while his old right hand frequently took them more seriously than he did, that was not what instantly made the air thick and heavy.

Regal could tell that the older man was made a little more uneasy by the presence of the children, which only served to worsen his bad feeling. He gave George a look of silent questioning, to which he received the slightest nod in response. Swallowing the lump in his throat and summoning his best poker face, he touched Chava's back and let Micah slide back to the floor despite protests.

"Chava, take your brother home, please. Your mother and I," he added very deliberately, drawing her close to speak against the top of her head, "will join you soon."

She took Micah's hand but lingered, looking up with fear in her eyes. Still, she was obedient, and after he tucked back some of her hair, he watched her tug her brother into the elevator and disappear with him. Only after they were gone did he allow his own expression to draw into similar concern.

No greetings were exchanged; no formalities. Regal just faced his vice president with a heavy stare. "...Raine?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

George nodded just once. "Yes, sir."

"Where is she? What happened?"

"She is at the clinic, Master Regal. They have sent for you, and..." He hesitated and lowered his own voice a little. "I don't believe it is good news."

Good news, no. No, not with the knot in his stomach twisting and squeezing with every breath; not with the tension crackling through the air. He didn't know what the news could be, but it was certainly anything but good.

Or maybe it was just that he didn't want to think of what it could be.

His jaw aching with how tightly he had unwittingly begun to clench it, he reached around the other man to tap the button and summon the lift back. The two stepped in when it arrived, and he took a few seconds to remind himself to breathe through the rush of adrenaline now flooding his body.

"George," he hailed once he trusted his voice. "Please make sure Chava and Micah have someone at the house with them. Keep them there."

"Of course."

"Evelyn would be the best choice, if you can find her," he continued even as the door reopened to deposit them in the lobby. "Micah likes her and is least likely to make a fuss with someone he actually likes."

"Yes, sir."

Regal felt almost as if he had slipped into some sort of sleep while someone else controlled his body and his voice. It was instinct, he knew; he was extremely practiced at defusing emergencies and dealing with crises, and there was only so much conscious thought one could do in high-stress, time-sensitive situations. Still, there was a numbness this time that came with dread, and the tram ride, the trip to the clinic, was a blur. He didn't even heed the few greetings he received. His automated body just offered a vague nod and kept going. It wasn't until he stepped around someone else coming through the door and felt a hand touch his shoulder through the haze that he dropped back into his own mind with a jolt.

Snapping his head to the side, he found himself face to face with the same man who had delivered both Chava and Micah - and the haunted look he found reflected back at him made his stomach drop another inch.

"Doctor," he managed in a gravelly voice that held more than a hint of inquiry. The other man just beckoned him with a subtle gesture, and Regal followed until they had shut themselves away in an office. Only then was any sort of discussion attempted – kicked off by the terrified husband, who was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Where is Raine?"

The doctor crossed the room slowly and lowered himself to sit on the edge of the desk, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "Lord Bryant," he began, but he stopped himself and apparently changed his mind to correct himself softly, "...Regal."

A chill made him shudder from head to toe. That went beyond the kind of familiarity cultivated between them. He didn't care about his title, about formalities, about the damn caste system, but that tone of voice was used for one thing alone, and it doused him like ice water. "Where is she?" he repeated, urgency sending a spike through his voice.

"She's... We hope that she will be fine after some recovery. At least...physically." The words should have been of some comfort, but they weren't. The emphasis, the inflections stood out, and he had no doubt this was clearly spelled out on his face as the doctor continued. "It is very important, before I say anything else, that you understand something – that you both do. This is no one's fault. Not hers; not yours. Nothing you did or did not do was the cause of this-"

"What has happened to my family?" he finally pressed, barely able to hear himself over the pounding of his heart.

For a moment longer, they just stared at each other. Then, at long, long last, the silence was broken again.

"There were complications, Regal. The unborn child your wife is carrying did not survive. I'm sorry... The baby was lost."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach entirely, and with it, it seemed, the floor. His entire world lurched, and had there not been a wall nearby to catch him, he would have fallen. His heart stopped; he couldn't breathe. For what seemed an eternity, he couldn't see or hear anything but a quiet, beige nursery bathed in the early morning sunrise; Raine, humming a quiet lullaby and arranging stuffed animals on the windowsill when she thought no one was looking; his visions of Chava cradling her new baby brother or sister, Micah learning to be a big brother... His family. His beautiful, precious family.

...Raine. Oh, goddess, Raine. What would this do to her? What had it already done? Physically, emotionally... His eyes stung. Though he was still struggling to breathe, he pressed a hand to his heaving chest and managed her name aloud. She needed him. And if he were honest with himself, he desperately needed to see her, hold her, be with her, too. He needed to hold onto what he still had, cherish it, never let it go. Oh, Raine.

For the second time, a touch to his shoulder reminded him that the rest of the world still existed. Regal blinked several times until the dream gave way to the doctor's blurry face. His legs still felt unsteady, though, and he lingered there against the wall's support for a moment more while he tried to gather the few pieces he could.

"What h... What happens now?" he gasped. The pressure in his chest threatened what remained of his composure with every breath he forced his lungs to draw, but he shoved it back, just enough – just long enough. What he would say to her, how he would tell his other children... He didn't know any of that. All he knew was that he needed to do everything in his power to keep her safe, to understand.

The doctor's grasp on his arm stayed firm and sure when everything else was shifting and spinning. "The baby...has to be delivered one way or the other," he replied gently, as though hating the words. "A natural birth is the best option, but it does mean she'll have to go through labor."

Regal swallowed hard even while he managed to nod his understanding. "Then do we have to wait for..." His voice broke, and he choked on the rest.

The other man shook his head. "We can do our best to induce labor, if that's what both of you want. That's entirely your decision – really, it's hers, I think, but the two of you should discuss it."

He brought one hand up to rub at his damp eyes but nodded again. Of course it was hers. It had to be hers. His shoulders gave a single jerk as though racked with a smothered sob, and his voice, when he chanced it again, had gone hoarse. He couldn't even bring himself to meet another's gaze, he realized detachedly. "I want to see her. I need...to see her."

"Of course. There's a nurse with her now – I didn't want her to be left alone while we tried to find you."

As he followed the doctor, every step feeling both frantic and leaden at the same time, he didn't speak the words that came to mind. He appreciated their care, the consideration – but he knew her, and he knew her extraordinarily well. The last thing she would want would be the company of a stranger. All the more reason he was so desperate to be there himself. It was also why, though it sent another stab of pain through his chest, he was not surprised to find a very subdued, nervous young nurse standing right outside the door they were approaching. She looked up at them and clasped her hands.

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but she said she wanted me to leave," she offered quietly. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the haggard father, as though to apologize to him, too. Regal just shook his head dully.

"It's not you," he reassured her distractedly, but that was all he said before, not entirely thinking anymore, he moved closer and put his hand on the knob. He paused there, resting his forehead against the cool wood to try to draw at least one deep breath. But finally, not even noticing the other two now, he turned the knob and opened the door gently, quietly.

Another blast of frigid air hit him full in the face the moment he stepped into the sterile, impersonal room. She was hard to miss, standing there, leaning sideways against the wall next to the far window. But while anyone else might have just seen an eerily still, quiet, calm statue, his eyes knew where to look; what to look for. The slow, detached blink; the hand against her middle as her thumb absently stroked back and forth over the child she had carried for so many months; and, worst of all, the ever so subtle tremble of her other hand. His fingers curled into a fist at his side, clenching to match his jaw in the rising instinct to fight – fight off what threatened, tore apart his family, some unnamed villain, monster. He couldn't fight this, though. He couldn't beat it into submission, overpower, or even intimidate. He knew all too well that death always had the final victory.

Death.

The door clicked softly behind him, apparently drawing her attention at last. Her lashes fluttered, and she turned, whipping her head around toward him. Any scathing words she had for whomever she expected, however, died on her lips, and he watched the shift take place in her eyes. From a thin mask of anger to silent, wrenching agony. Her face was so pale, and the ache in his throat worsened to see it.

"...What have I done?" she murmured faintly after they had passed several seconds just staring at each other. "The child... Goddess, what have I done?"

No. No, no, no. With her name riding a pained breath, he crossed the distance between them in an instant and took her into his arms, pressing her face firmly, securely into his chest. He felt her body shudder, her shoulders begin to heave. Half a second later, she became dead weight in his unwavering grasp; he knew that if he hadn't been holding on so tightly, she wouldn't be standing at all. The sobs that she had undoubtedly forced back before came freely and violently, and in short order he could hardly see himself through a wave of tears.

"No, Raine," he whispered brokenly. "No... This is not your fault."

Her fingers clung to fistfuls of his shirt while his threaded through her hair and clutched her to him. "Why," she wept, her voice muffled. But he had no answer to that. He could only lower his head to set his brow against her crown and confess the truth.

"I don't know." He didn't know what they had done to deserve this. He didn't know why they were marked for suffering. He didn't know how to take the pain from her, how to go forward, what he could possibly say. "...I don't know."

In the face of incredible tragedy, the woman so often revered as the level head and steady voice, accused of being cold and heartless, couldn't find the strength to be anything but shattered. The man of dignity and composure, rationality and eloquence, was nothing more than a broken and grieving father. They both cried – her for the baby they would never raise; him for both the loss of their child and the unbearable pain in every harsh sob, every lurch of its mother's body. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair, and while he held onto her to give her a safe place, wishing he could fix everything, it was just as much for his own comfort.

Hours. Hours he spent in that room with her, holding her, stroking her hair, reminding himself and her that they still had each other. They still had a family, and none of them would walk through this alone.