It had been hard enough to adjust to the idea of having a child at just eighteen.
But at eight weeks along, Holly knew something was wrong. The twenty-four hours over which her miscarriage had happened were such a blur – waking up, near-screaming, racing to the hospital with her husband. Seeing the look in the doctor's eyes that no prospective parents want to see, especially followed up by the gentle shake of a head and an I'm so sorry, Mrs. Truman.
She felt heavy. Weighed down by the notion of everything that could have been. Everything that wasn't. Holly wasn't an existential person, not in the least, but she thought about the fabric of everything that was more than she ever had before.
It was hard for Tim to watch his wife in such pain – physical and otherwise. Walking into their house knowing that they wouldn't hold their baby in their arms, supporting his wife as she cried into his shoulder, he didn't know what to do. The second she caught a glimpse of the bedroom he had painted blue, she wailed and fell into hysterics again.
Nothing he did to comfort her worked. It wasn't for lack of trying – everything he did, she tried desperately to appreciate. But it wasn't as simple as that.
It was a month and a half after they had lost the baby that Tim had an idea. He wasn't entirely sure how it was going to go down with Holly – she had good days, she had bad days. He got out of bed and managed to shower without waking her, and his aim was to be out of the house before she emerged. He was writing his note when she shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing at her eyes.
"What are you doing up so early?" Holly asked, a yawn punctuating her sentence. Tim leant against the counter and surreptitiously scrunched the note in his hand, smiling and shrugging.
"I've got a couple of errands to run," he remarked, "and I was going to try and get them out of the way without bothering you."
"Oh, okay. What are you going to do?" she asked. Tim blinked.
He hadn't thought of that one.
"Oh, uh… we-we're out of milk," Tim stammered, and Holly frowned.
"Really? I swear we just bought some the other day," she said, and Tim's eyes widened.
"Oh, I didn't mean milk," he backtracked, "I meant… that other thing we're out of."
"Juice?" Holly posited, and Tim clicked his fingers and his expression brightened.
"Juice!" he beamed, and Holly's expression was quizzical.
"I've never seen you so excited about juice before," she replied, before a small laugh escaped her lips. Tim had never been so relieved to see her laugh.
"Juice," he said once more, ambling over to her to rest his hands on her hips. She smiled and gently closed her eyes and looked away, as she usually did when he smiled at her, and he leant down to kiss her on the cheek.
"I'll be back soon." Tim pulled away and Holly smiled, watching his pick up his keys and farewell her again as he walked out of the door.
He was glad. He had caught her on a good day.
Holly barely had time to shut the oven door on her third pie of the day when the phone rang. She brushed the flour from her hands and picked the phone up with one hand, adjusting her glasses with the other.
"Hello?"
"Hey, hon."
"Tim? Did you get the juice?" Holly asked, flitting around the kitchen, cleaning up as she went.
"Uh… not exactly."
Holly stopped. Tim had never told her he was doing something and not done it before.
"Not exactly?"
"Close your eyes."
"Tim, what do you mean-"
"Baby, trust me. Close your eyes." She could almost hear his smile, and she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Done. Now, are you going to tell me what you're doing?" Holly asked. She got no response on the end of the phone.
"Tim?" she asked, but instead of hearing a response she heard the front door unlatching.
"It's me, keep your eyes shut!" Tim called desperately, and Holly turned to where his voice was coming from.
"Tim, I don't know what you're doing," she sighed, setting the phone down and holding onto the kitchen counter. Tim set down the bulk of what he had gotten, holding only a part of it – albeit the most important part, in his arms.
"Stay there." His smile was wide as he walked to his wife, shifting the bundle into one arm to take Holly's hand with his own. He gently manoeuvred her hand over to what he was holding, and Holly furrowed her eyebrows.
"Tim, what is that?" she queried, and Tim's smile grew.
"Open your eyes," he said. Holly did as he had told her, and she she did, she came face-to-face with a fluffy, white bundle with pert, pink ears and a tiny twitching nose. Her eyes widened and they flicked to Tim's, his expression cautiously optimistic.
"Tim," she exclaimed, taking in a great gasp of air and reaching for the rabbit, "it's adorable!" Tim gave a small laugh of relief as Holly swept the rabbit into her arms, grinning.
"So, you like him?" he asked, and Holly gushed.
"Are you kidding? Tim, why…" Holly looked at her husband, and for a second she didn't realise why he had gotten the rabbit for her. He wordlessly told her, even though he was fairly sure she already knew. She gave a small exhale, but her happiness only wavered for a moment.
"He's so cute," Holly laughed. Tim nodded and gently petted the rabbit.
"I hoped you'd like him," he murmured, and Holly clicked her tongue.
"Of course I like him, Tim." Holly gently nestled the rabbit in her arms and looked up at Tim.
"He needs a name," Holly glanced back down at the snowy white pet, and Tim sighed and put his hands in his pockets.
"I like George." Tim looked up at Holly, and she smiled.
Truth be told, Tim did not think he would be suggesting that name for a rabbit. He had been sure their child would be a boy, and he had already painted the nursery blue. Holly had been nearly as enthusiastic as he had been – nearly – but Tim had decided to leave the name for a while. And considering they had lost the baby, he realised that was probably best.
"George is a wonderful name," Holy lifted George to look at his face, "a wonderful name for a wonderful bunny." Tim laughed and Holly beamed at the new addition to their family.
Tim woke up at two that morning to an empty bed. Rubbing at his eyes and trying to adjust to the dark bedroom, he heard gently sobbing.
"Oh, no," he whispered, and he stood from the bed and made his way to the living room. He cast his eyes across the dark room and he saw his wife sitting on the couch, George held snugly in her arms as she tried to quell her sobs.
"Holly…" Tim murmured, and Holly's head whipped around. It was all Tim needed to see – she had the look on her face, the look that told him that she was trying desperately not to cry.
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry…"
"No, no, Holly…" Tim rushed over to sit beside his wife and she fell into his hold. Her face fell into the crook of his neck and he rubbed her back, trying desperately to make her feel better.
"Is it the rabbit? It's the rabbit, isn't it?" Tim sighed, and Holly bobbed back up, shaking her head.
"No, no," she wiped at her eyes, "not at all." Tim gently took Holly's spare hand, the one that wasn't holding George, and she exhaled gently.
"George is amazing. And you're so thoughtful. I just…" Holly glanced down, and Tim nodded. He knew how she felt – and she didn't need to repeat it.
"I know, baby, I know." he kissed her gently, but as he did, George sneezed.
They both stopped. Pulling back, the two looked at George before looking back at one another.
"Did he just…"
"George sneezed." Holly cocked an eyebrow, and Tim smirked.
"I've never given much thought to rabbits sneezing," Tim admitted, and Holly giggled. Tim smiled and Holly brought the rabbit into her lap.
"Well, obviously they do," Holly replied, thoughtfully, and Tim nodded.
"They do," Tim said, petting George, "don't ya, buddy?" Holly smiled and exhaled gently, and absent-mindedly she spoke.
"You'd have made such a great dad," she said. She almost regretted the words as they came out of her mouth, and she would have if not for her husband's response.
"I will," he replied, "we will make great parents, Holly."
"Oh, Tim…" she whispered, and Tim laughed.
"But, right now, we have a sneezing rabbit to take care of, hey?" Tim asked, lifting the rabbit from his wife's lap.
"We do indeed," Holly said, rubbing the lingering tears from her eyes as Tim placed George into his cage. Holly stood and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Thank you, Tim," she murmured, and Tim gently rested his hand on her shoulder.
"You don't have to thank me," he said, "thank the rabbit." Holly laughed and her smile lingered.
"I think you'll find his name is George," she clarified, and Tim nodded.
"Of course," Tim remarked, "thank you, George." Holly smiled and gently rested her head against Tim's side.
A rabbit was never going to make up for the fact that they had lost their baby.
But Tim knew that it had made his wife smile, at least for a while. And knowing that he gave her a moment of happiness was everything.
A/N: ARE THEY NOT JUST THE CUTEST OH MY GOD
I've watched precisely four episodes of Army Wives – the first four episodes of season seven. And these guys – I can't with their cute. I hope this was okay :3