"Linda went into premature labor. They said it was caused by stress and lack of sleep and such. She, um... it was a still birth." His mother's voice haunts him that week.
"It was a girl. We would've had a girl." Linda's voice haunts him that week too.
Her sad, brave eyes tear his heart into a million pieces. She acts happy, acts like everything is okay for the sake of their sons. Sons who came into this world in traumatic ways, but are living breathing proof of miracles. Sons who defied science, gave the middle finger to the obgyn who told his wife she wouldn't and couldn't have children after her stillbirth. Sons who make the loss a little more bearable.
Danny sighs, stares at his phone. He wants to call Linda, but she's working, and he doesn't know what he wants to say to her anyways. Maybe he just wants to hold her, let her cry for the child that they lost. Maybe he wants her to hold him, so he can cry for their little girl, a girl that never had the chance to be a girl.
Danny Reagan is never on time, but he never misses a therapy session either. And unless he's busy chasing down a perp, or getting a confession, he is usually good about answering his phone, which is why Doctor Alex Dawson finds himself strolling into the reception area outside of his office.
"Carol," he starts, confusion written on his brow, "what day is today?"
"Wednesday, Doc. All day long."
He nods, "that's what I thought."
Carol looks up from her computer, "something wrong?"
"Yeah... one of my patients isn't showing up. He's never on time, but he's never more than ten minutes late. He never misses a session."
"has he called?"
"No, and that's what worries me."
"Do you want me to try to get in touch with him?"
He doesn't know what good that would do, since he's been calling from his personal number, but he nods anyways. "Thanks, Carol."
He's skipped work, turned the sound and vibration off on his phone. He's cold, despite the ninety degree weather. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he's just walking. He doesn't know where his destination is, or even what it is, but he keeps at it.
There's a garden he visits a lot- The Angel Of Hope Garden. Somehow, he's ended up there. Somehow he's ended up in front of a small grave, pink flowers from a few days ago wilted and dead. Faded letters stare back at him: Ella Rosita Reagan... their first born. Their first born he never got to see. "Stupid bullet hole," he mutters, kicking at the grass and dead rose petals.
He sneezes- stupid allergies to a plant he doesn't even know the name of- and starts crying softly.
It's six o'clock, and Linda's grateful they could afford a camp this year. She can go home, order food, and mourn the loss of her daughter without having to smile for the boys. She's wanted to cry all day long, and now, in the solidarity of her car, she can. She can cry and cry and cry until her head hurts and her throat is dry. She's approaching the corner that'll take her home or take her to her daughter. She and Danny had agreed to visit Ella at the same time on Friday, the day that would have been her birthday had she survived the early birth.
"She wasn't even a live to survive the birth," her inner voice tells her almost maliciously. She swallows and turns her blinker on. She's going to see her baby.
Her phone rings, scaring her out of her thoughts, which is probably a good thing. She sniffles, answers. "Hello?"
"Mrs Reagan, this is Doctor Dawson, Danny's psychologist."
"Is he okay?" She knows he's got an appointment today.
"That's what I was going to ask you. He didn't show up for his session. He isn't answering his phone. I thought maybe you knew were he was at?"
She's about to tell him she has no clue where her husband is at, then she realizes he's where she's going. "I know where he is."
Doc furrows his brow, "Have you been crying?"
She sighs, "tough week. Do you need to know where Danny is?"
"Yes, I'd like to know where he's gone off to."
"The Angel of Hope Garden."
"But that's where babies who died are buried." He doesn't mean to be so callous.
Her voice is soft and tight, "yes, exactly."
It takes a second to piece the puzzle, then he sees the full picture. "Oh... oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't know-"
"It's okay, Alex, you couldn't possibly have known. But that's where he'll be. That's where I'm going."
"I'll let you two be alone... I'm sorry."
"It's okay." She hangs up after a goodbye and a promise to have Danny call and reschedule. She parks her car, walks the all too familiar path to where their daughter lay in the ground. She sees her husband, the tension and sorrow practically rolling off him. She walks up to him, silently slips her arm around him. He does the same to her.
"Was it scary?" Danny's voice is quiet.
"Was what scary?"
"Knowing Ella wasn't going to make it."
"One of the scariest moments of my life... I never heard silence quiet that loud... it was deafening."
His hold on her grows tighter. Part of him wishes he could have been by her side, instead of in another hospital room. Part of him is secretly thrilled he wasn't there with her, wasn't there to see a lifeless baby be born. And he knows that part of him is incredibly selfish, but who wants to see their child die?
"I wonder sometimes what she would've been like, you know?" Linda's voice breaks the silence. "Would she have had your eyes? My smile? Would she have been kind and gentle, or loud and unapologetic?"
"She definitely would have been like you. You wouldn't have let her be like me."
Linda laughs, "She would've been a daddy's girl. I know so."
He grows quiet again, "It would've been nice to have just one minute with her. I don't know what I'd do, but it would've been nice. I think a minute's enough."
"That would've made it harder. Because for one minute... you would've had everything, and then nothing. I couldn't bear that."
He holds her even tighter when she starts to cry, turning her head into his shoulder. He kisses her blonde curls. There isn't a day that goes by that the parents don't miss their first child. There isn't a day that goes by where they think about what she would have been, what she could have accomplished.
Danny is convinced Ella would have been like her mother: strong, smart, kind, compassionate, eager to learn with an undeniable need to help people. Linda is convinced Ella would have been like her dad: strong, passionate, determined, accepting, with a need to protect. The truth is, she probably would have been a perfect combination. Her love, just like her mother's, could hold up the world.