A/N: Once again tremendous thanks to everyone reading and reviewing this story. Some have found it too dark. This is the start of the climb out, but I'm not the kind of person who makes everything better in the space of a paragraph. I want to see the struggle to happiness because then you know how much they deserve it. So while I am certain of how this will end (and my profile will tell you that much) they will have to work toward it. It's the journey that shapes you, not the ending.

I'd like to make a special shout out to dtrekker for the cover art. I absolutely love it and am very grateful for her making it for me. And as always special thanks to those who take the time to let me know what they think. I have a very busy job and I can't always be as fast about updating or answering every review, but I cherish each one. You guys keep me going even when I'm on call (like today) and am supposed to be doing various doctor type stuff in the hospital but instead find myself furiously typing out this chapter. :)


He awoke with a start. Long hours spent plotting and planning were taking their toll. He'd allotted an hour and a half on the couch in his office. That was the length of a sleep cycle, and he'd long ago figured out it would give him the maximum benefit ratio of time spent with his eyes closed (i.e. wasted time) and the rest his body requires to continue functioning. This type of nap had become a signature of sorts for him and for years had served him well. He certainly got less sleep than anyone else that he knew, but he also was able to spend a lot more time awake and planning than anyone else.

It had been a real advantage over the years; these days he was finally reaping the benefits as everything coalesced nicely with his position at the apex of the numerous plans assured. Yet, for the last few months he was having trouble sleeping for the first time in his life. He'd never felt exhaustion like this at any previous time. It was inconceivable, yet that didn't change that it was.

He'd set an alarm for the exact amount of time; his extreme fatigue made him narcoleptic, so as soon as he'd stretched out on the couch he'd sank into the realm of the sandman.

Years of being who he was and doing what he did inured him to what others might call nightmares. No, his dreams were never haunted by the unfortunates who'd been in his way. His dreams were of the future possibilities. The paths opened up to him by his actions. Reflections on past actions were a waste of time and memory.

So why was he once again wide awake a good forty minutes before his alarm was set to rouse him? What had intruded on his self-imposed slumber? Why couldn't he sleep?

It wasn't anyone from his staff; they were aware of his nap and wouldn't disturb him for the world. His phone was on silent. No tweets or chirps or notifications allowed until the alarm was needed.

No, he was still alone in his office. It hadn't been an external force that had awakened him. Which left…

No, it couldn't have been anything from his own mind. The same mind that craved sleep so badly in the first place would surely never startle him awake prior to a completed sleep cycle.

He tried to relax back into the couch, seeking comfort from its supportive cushions once again. Had he been dreaming? The latest dreams that he remembered were of large sandstone neoclassical mansions. Especially anything designed by James Hoban. These were quite acceptable dreams. Exciting.

As he drifted back to sleep bits and pieces of his last dream started to come back. He was giving acceptance speeches. His family was picking out bedrooms and getting used to secret service agents. They were causing national sensations over what puppy they bought. He was waving to cheering crowds as he boarded helicopters or Air Force One. He was solving problems and was adored by millions.

He was suddenly in an alley, alone. Then an abrupt, sharp pain erupted in his back. As he collapsed he was suddenly in a modest house facing a police officer. He couldn't understand what the officer was saying but as the other's mouth moved he was overcome with a profound sense of loss.

He was suddenly standing over an open grave. The sense of grief at the sight was so overwhelming that he collapsed to his knees. It crushed him. He'd never be able to move again. As he felt himself being ground into dust by the oppressive weight of grief he realized he couldn't breathe against the pressure. He opened his mouth, trying to suck in any air he could but his diaphragm wasn't strong enough to work against the grief. He was going to suffocate.

He awoke with a start. Twenty minutes until the alarm was due. He couldn't understand why he kept waking up. He had no recollection of any dreams other than that of offices oval in shape. Rooms named after former presidents. Power beyond imagining. Power to truly shape the world. Yet he was powerless to sleep. He didn't understand what had changed. And not knowing the cause meant fixing it was beyond his ken as well. A new emotion was starting to sniff around his closed heart, tendrils of it clutching his gut. A foreign one for him, until now. One that he recognized, having released it often enough in those in his way.

Fear.


She lay in the dark. Not sure of the time of day; blackout curtains in their bedroom ensured near black suffused the room even at high noon on a cloudless day. She preferred the dark now. It was a mirror for how she felt without him. She lay quietly, like always. Yet she was aware of her surroundings.

Her father has entered the room. She senses his presence; the sound of his breathing is different than Alexis or Martha. He's started helping dress her despite his profound initial reluctance. He'd thought she'd come around eventually but there have been absolutely no signs of change and he'd finally given in. He'd never imagined he'd have to dress his adult daughter. Yet here they are.

"Oh Katie. We can't keep this up. It's killing Alexis; she's taken the semester off, but she feels like she's lost both her mother and her father. Martha and I are both too old to care for you all the time. You're slowly committing suicide; not eating. Not drinking enough. Is that what you want?"

She wants him back. Anything short of that is nothing worth doing anything about.

"I asked Lanie to come over today. I know she hasn't been here for a few weeks. I thought maybe she's the most likely to get through to you. She should be here soon. Let's get you dressed."

She allows him to move her extremities around in order to dress her. He is too embarrassed to put on her real underwear; leaves her in the panties and camisole she'd been placed in last night by Martha. She doesn't care what she wears. They could have left her naked and it wouldn't have mattered to her.

He pulls her to a standing position. The change in position is enough to make her dizzy but he doesn't notice. He leads her into the living room and she sinks into a chair at the same time he is pushing her into it. It seems to be mid morning judging by the way the sun is streaming into the uncovered windows. The light hurts her eyes, so long adjusted to the dark of the bedroom. Her head spins some more, unsettled by the movement and the sudden light, but she doesn't get sick as she expected. The dizziness slowly resolves. She's not concerned about it. It simply is. It's not a sensation that leads to anything about him so it's not something to worry about. It will be or it won't.

She has no idea how much time passes before she hears a knock on the door. She hears Lanie's unmistakable voice conferring with her dads. Then Lanie is approaching. Speaking. Trying for a response.

"Kate, I'm so glad you're up. It's good to see you sitting in a chair."

Silence. She hears her moving to the front, sitting next to her. Hears the hiss of breath indrawn as her best friend sees her up close for the first time in several weeks. Apparently not a good sight. Not that she cares.

"Katherine Beckett, what are you doing to yourself? He wouldn't want you to waste away like this."

Probably true. But he's dead. So he has no wants currently. Unlike her. She wants him.

She remained mute, as always. No eye contact, no interaction. She could hear what they said, but it didn't touch her deep inside. She was truly walled off from everything.

Lanie had given up trying to talk to her.

"Is she talking to anyone? Interacting with anyone?"

Jim's voice came from behind her. "No. We dress her. I walked her out here. She'll use the bathroom without assistance, but that's it."

"She looks like she's lost a lot of weight. Still won't eat beyond the shakes?"

Jim must have assented silently because Lanie suddenly pulled her phone out. Finding the contact she wanted, she dialed and waited, still sitting next to Kate.

"Sharon? Hi, it's Lanie Parrish. Good, thanks. Sorry to bother you this morning. Listen, I have a question for you. I need to know how much blood to draw from a woman in her 30's who has lost a significant amount of weight and has become withdrawn."

There is a long pause as Lanie listens intently. "No, it's not a corpse. Yet." Kate feels her shift on the couch, her body language betraying just how uncomfortable this conversation is for her friend. The discomfort is her friend's fault; she hadn't asked for her to come and see her. "No, it's actually a friend. I'm at her place right now and she looks awful. Her family is caring for her but I'm very concerned we may need to hospitalize her unless something changes."

Another silence. "I can't ask that of you. Are you sure? Well, we'd appreciate it. Deeply. Yes, I'll text you the address. See you soon. And Sharon, thank you so much."

Lanie ends the conversation and stands up to speak with Jim.

"That was a friend of mine. She's an internist, one of the best. She mostly practices as a hospitalist now, but has some patients in the office too. She volunteered to come over and look at Kate. I think we're near the point of no return from a nutrition standpoint; if we don't get her help she's going to die."

Jim doesn't audibly reply. Kate remains seated; the conversation is about her but doesn't concern her. Doctors have been to see her, but nothing helped. Even Dr. Burke had given up on her. Her family are the only ones unwilling to let her go.

Twenty minutes later Kate is still seated in the chair, lost in her own living nightmare that won't end, when she feels that familiar feeling building that means she needs to go puke.

She stands, dizzy again, and makes her way unsteadily to the bedroom and the office beyond. Once her stomach regains some equilibrium she moves back to her normal position on the bed. She feels safer in the dark. No one can see her; hiding inside is much easier.

Lanie enters the room twenty minutes later. She is accompanied by a tall, stout woman who is carrying a leather bag. Kate shows no outward sign that they've entered the room.

"Hi Kate. I'm Sharon. I'm a friend of Lanie's. She told me that you've recently lost your fiancée. I'm so sorry to hear that. She also told me you've stopped eating and interacting with everyone. Your family is very concerned about you. Lanie asked me to see you because I'm a doctor and she's worried that you may need to be in the hospital. I'm going to examine you briefly and we're going to do some lab work to see if you're getting enough nutrition to survive on or not."

Kate wasn't paying attention. Nothing could be done to her physically that would alter the mental cage she'd escaped into. They could do anything they wanted to her; she would ignore them as usual.

Deciding Kate's lack of response was an assent, the doctor did a brief exam.

"Has she been weighed recently?"

"Not that I know of. She's always been thin, but this is far lower than I've ever seen her."

"Let's get her up and get a weight. Do you know her height?"

"Yes, she's 5 feet 9 inches."

Lanie had brought the bathroom scale into the bedroom and she and Sharon tugged Kate into a standing position on it. Kate was dizzy again when they stood her up. It seemed to be happening more frequently. She stepped off the scale and headed back to the bathroom to vomit again.

"Where is she going?"

"They told me she'll still use the bathroom independently, but she was just in there."

Lanie had followed her, saw her puking.

"Kate, have you been vomiting a lot? God, why am I even asking you? I know you don't seem to care about what happens to you, but there are people here who love you and want you to get better. Me included. Maybe you think we don't matter, but you're not the only one who lost him you know. What about Alexis? Martha? What about your dad when you finally fall into a coma from a lack of food. God Kate, you're so frustrating. Let me help you."

Kate simply walked past her, intent on the bed. She'd heard the truth in Lanie's voice, acknowledged to herself that she had some good points. However, she felt it was too late; she was nearly all gone from this life. There wasn't enough to hold her to earth now.

She lay back on their bed, assuming her normal position curled so she faced his side of the bed, the empty expanse reminding her of her loss. She felt Sharon approach her again.

"Kate, you weigh 20 pounds below normal for your size. That's pretty serious. I'm going to draw some labs now and I'll call Lanie later to let her know what I think we need to do next."

Kate didn't even notice the prick of the needle. She did notice they finally left her alone about 5 minutes later; Lanie stooped down and tried to hug her before leaving the room.

"I'm sorry for being mad at you. I know his loss has driven you far from us, but Kate we love you. Please come back."

Then she was alone again. Alone in the dark.


She sat up in the dark. She'd been unconscious. Had dreamt that she was locked in a black box. Its seamless walls had been closing in on her. She had initially welcomed the crushing oblivion that seemed to be her only fate when something had changed. She'd sensed something, someone beyond the confines of the box. It, they, were trying to get the box open, get to her. And she'd suddenly wanted them to. For the first time in the time from his death she'd wanted to claw her way out of the darkness, claw her way to the light that whatever awaited her outside represented.

Just as she'd started to try pushing against the unyielding wall the other presence had disappeared and she'd snapped awake. It was a strange sensation, remembering her longing for the thing on the other side of the wall. Disquieting; she'd only ever wanted him. What did this dream mean?

As the dream faded, her awareness of the room returned. She could hear voices in the living room. She could identify her father. Martha. Then she heard Lanie's voice. Still here apparently. There was a pause in the conversation then she heard Alexis' distinct voice arguing something.

Kate lay in the bed, not caring why they were arguing. Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and Lanie and Alexis walked in. Crossing the room, Lanie pulled her into a sitting position on the bed and sat next to her. Alexis carefully sat at her feet, avoiding looking at his side of the bed. The side that yawned to their side, his presence no longer filling it.

"Kate, Sharon called me with some of the results of your blood work. You're mildly dehydrated, but that's easily fixed."

Kate didn't move. If this was all they wanted to tell her she didn't understand why they'd burst into the room and bothered her in the first place.

"Kate, there's more. Sharon ran the usual tests and some strange ones that I would never have thought of. Not everything is back, but one test was positive and I think it may shake you out of this funk. It's got to."

Lanie pulled her into a hug, her arm around Kate's shoulders now.

"She did a beta HCG just to be thorough and it was positive. Kate, you're pregnant. That's why you've been puking."

For a long moment Kate remained statue still. The words had hit her with the force of an explosion; the black box she'd willingly trapped herself in was obliterated with the three simple words 'Kate, you're pregnant.'

For the first time since he'd been taken from her she looked, truly looked, into someone's eyes. Lanie nodded, tears filling her eyes as she finally saw her friend looking at her with recognition. Kate's shoulders started shaking first, then her whole body.

Alexis threw herself into their embrace too. They all three cried together. Mostly in joy, but in grief too. That he wasn't here for this. He wouldn't be able to experience this child with her, with them. Kate felt gravity returning to her body, tethered once again firmly to her family and friends. And it felt safe. Not as good as when he'd been there, but it was still a great feeling.

Jim and Martha must have been watching from the office. They raced in when they saw Kate come back to them and all five ended up in a jumble of legs, arms and tears. Enveloped by her family Kate felt the shutters on her heart lift up enough to let in some light. It was going to be enough. She could go on; for their child's sake. For his memory. For them. For her. It wasn't how she wanted it, but it was enough.