Xx The Aftershocks Remain xX

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Theme 27. overflow

This was awful. For the first time in his memory he was completely useless. Useless and awkward and a million other things he was not supposed to be right now. Where the hell were all the right words? Where were the things he was supposed to say to make her feel better because they sure as hell weren't in him. All that was in him was a buried sorrow and a lot of frustrated worried tension that was quickly bubbling to the surface.

Fuck! He had to be the worst most relationship inept husband in the world.

If he was half the good husband he had thought he was several days ago he'd know what to do right now. He'd know the right words. He'd be able to hold her and make soothing gestures that'd stop her from crying. Hell! If he was any kind of a good husband he'd at least be able to talk her into unlocking the bathroom door so he could see her. But apparently he was not a good husband, he was a crap husband. A crap husband with no words or comforting motions on the other side of a locked door listening to his wife cry so hard he was almost convinced she was dying in there.

Four years of marriage, two of dating, nine of knowing each other! He should have been better prepared for this! Where were his back up plans? His fail safes? What was the point of all that manipulation and gift of strategy if he was still this useless when it came to his wife?

She had wanted a baby from the get go. She had been very up front about it once it had become obvious that the both of them were serious about the relationship they had, something he had secretly given her props for. After all he didn't know too many women willing to be that blunt and open about the subject that weren't already married. He was man enough to admit he hadn't been all that comfortable with the conversation. Not that he had shown it but deep inside he had cringed at the idea of having the talk with his girlfriend. But she had wanted to be a mom and she needed to know if they were going to be on the same page about it or if they should cut their losses and split while it was still early.

While he hadn't exactly been planning for parenthood he found himself not completely opposed to the idea, which had been enough to her for the time being. Then they'd gotten engaged and the discussion re-surfaced. It had involved a fight followed by a very satisfying make-up session with the conclusion that they would wait a year to see where they were. Sure enough a year to the date she approached him on the subject.

One long conversation about space and cost and how happy a child would make her it had became official. They were going to get started on that family. Over the course of the next two years the idea of a kid had started to grow on him.

Still, it was nothing compared to her.

She was completely in her element. Baby books were worn out with their repeated readings. Colors were contemplated. Schools looked into. Classes in new parenthood and infant first aid were attended. She had even gone so far as to set up a college fund at their bank. She was nothing if not meticulous in her preparations.

Which is why it had hit her so much harder than it had him.

Going into their third year of trying with no signs of a baby, they had decided to go in for consultation. After all maybe there was something they hadn't thought of, something they were missing. It had never even occurred to them that maybe a baby wasn't a possibility for the two of them. That between the two of them the problem actually resided in her rather than him. Something about her eggs or ovaries or something. it didn't really matter what it was.

What mattered was that sad look on the doctors' face. That I'm-Sorry-But conversation that followed. That a woman who had so much love to give, so many maternal instincts couldn't even have a child on her own.

And fuck! He should have known something like this was going to happen. People just don't go shutting themselves in bathrooms and crying as if they were broken in the most basic human way possible out of the blue. There's lead ups! Warnings! Red flags with flashing lights that scream catch me I'm falling signals! Signals that hadn't caught or followed up on.

He had always heard that hindsight was twenty-twenty. That looking back on things it was always easier to see the signals than when they were happening in real time.

Little things and not so little things had been building for weeks now. Starting with that awful trip to the hospital. He should have nipped this all in the bud right then and there when she hadn't done anything more than go pale before thanking the doctor for their time. Then she had gone silent. Not quiet. Not moody but silent. It was three whole days before he heard her speak again and when she did it was like nothing had happened.

Except that the smile was too forced and her eyes too strained for the happiness she was portraying to be real.

But, at the time, he figured it was just her way of copping. If she didn't want to talk about it then they wouldn't talk about it. At least for a little while. She obviously needed some time to sort things out. He could give her time. He could give her space too. So, at least for the next few days, he decided not to push her. He'd let her deal with things her own way before he attempted to converse with her about it.

A week later he decided time was up and he had approached her. They talked. She cried. He thought they'd worked it out.

Apparently that had been complete bull shit thinking on his part.

Sure, for a while there it seemed like things had returned back to their normal routine. She had packed away the baby supplies they had accumulated for the time being. He was even doing some research on his own. Some other options of having a baby that he'd bring up to her when they were over the shock of it all.

Then she had started acting weird on him. He'd wake all of a sudden to find she wasn't in bed. Then, when he want looking for her, he'd find her on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor. Or cleaning out the refrigerator. Or organizing the junk door. He'd leave in the morning and come back at night to find she had completely re-arranged the living room at some point during his absence. The laundry he had seen her wash the day before were back in the washer, despite the fact that no one had worn them in the time in-between. It had worried him slightly but who was he to judge how she worked things out? He'd wait it out and when she was ready to talk. He'd listen.

And he had dutifully followed that plan in the following weeks. He actually thought he was making some progress. She had started cleaning less, had started looking at him like she wanted to talk but couldn't. He figured any day now she'd approach him and they'd be able to work things out.

But that was before.

Before she was sitting there cutting coupons for the week's grocery. Before he saw her go completely still, face drained of all color. Before she knocked over her chair in her haste to get to the bathroom. Before everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

He had caught a glimpse of ad indicating a sale in summer baby clothes before he was pounding on the door asking what was wrong. He'd tried the handle but it hadn't yielded, indicating she had locked herself in.

That had been nearly twenty minutes ago.

He felt himself flinch as another heart wrenching sob was heard through the thick piece of wood that made up their bathroom door. If he didn't know better he'd think she was dying in there.

In all honesty though, he figured that a part of her was dying. Not organs or anything like that but something else. It might have been a bit that made up her being or her hopes or her dreams- he really didn't know for sure. The only thing he knew was that she- they- things between them were forever altered. And he wasn't sure if it was going to be for the better.

After the first five minutes of knocking and questioning and threatening to break down the door he figured that he wasn't doing anything to make the situation better. So he'd stopped, took a few deep breaths and told her he wasn't going anywhere. That he'd sit right there in the hall until she wanted to let him in or she wanted to talk. Whatever came fist.

His heart was in his stomach and he thought he was going to actually be physically ill with worry but he wasn't going to move.

Fifteen minutes of waiting against the bathroom door were pure torture for him. Every nerver he had was on high alert. Therefore it was no surprise that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the shuffle of feet and the quiet click of the lock being undone. Scrambling to his feet he opened the door and rushed inside.

Only to have a little piece of his own heart die a little at the sight that he was presented with.

She looked so broken curled in on herself, hiding underneath the sink as much as she could possibly be. She didn't acknowledge his presence, except for trying to make herself appear even smaller than she already was. Shit! He really wasn't cut out for this husband thing. How was he supposed to handle this?

What was he supposed to do?

Then she whimpered. She whimpered and she shuddered and just like that he was right next to her. He had to crouch more and he was sure his back wasn't going to be happy with him later but at the moment he didn't care. He sat down on his bathroom floor, next to his sobbing wife, and pulled her into the tightest hug he could manage.

She went stiff for a moment before her hands flew up to grip the front of his shirt so tightly that her knuckles went white. He tried to say the right words or any words at all. But nothing could make it past the lump lodged in his throat. So he held her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head in what he desperately hoped was a comforting fashion.

Sitting on that cold bathroom tile he thought that maybe they just might be okay. Not today or next week but eventually.

Make no mistake; he still didn't have the words. He was sure his awkwardness was obvious and he sure didn't feel any more useful than when he was locked out. But they were sitting together on cold dirty bathroom tile: him wound tighter than a drum, her ready to fly apart. Sitting like that there was no way she was letting go and he wasn't going to leave.

That gave him hope.

It wasn't much but it was more than what he could have thought possible only minutes ago.