Mark woke, first aware of the cramp in the top of his back, then his surroundings, then the reason for them. He clenched his jaw and looked at Susan. She was still sleeping. He tiptoed out of the room, went to the bathroom, splashed his face with water, took a drink from his cupped hand and returned not feeling a whole lot better. He was in shock. He knew how grief worked – shock and denial and all that stuff. But when he saw Susan lying in that bed she looked so small. This incredible, strong woman he so adored and needed – right now she needed him. He had to be the strong one. He sat down on the chair and waited for her to wake.

Susan woke before she opened her eyes. Last night's memory was all too real. When she felt Mark touch her hand she opened her eyes, relieved he was there, though she knew he would be.

"Hey." He mouthed, searching her eyes.

"Hi." She replied softly.

"How you feeling?"

Susan looked down at her stomach. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." He edged closer to her, wanting to hold her so close but knowing he couldn't right now.

"Maybe I could have stopped it – if I'd just…"

Mark shook his head. "It's not your fault."

Susan visibly gritted her teeth. "Maybe it was."

Mark took her face in his hands. And shook his head.

Susan wanted to believe him. "Can we go home?"

"I don't know. I'll go find someone." He got up and walked out.

Susan tried to compose herself while he was away but it didn't work. When he returned he spotted the tearstains first.

"They want to keep you – just a couple of days. I'll bring you some stuff from home." If he focussed on looking after her he didn't have to think about the baby.

"I just wanna go home." She looked up at him.

The sadness in her eyes surprised him. She was always the hopeful one. No matter how bad things go she was optimistic, somehow content with life, no matter what that meant. He could handle her blank expression, even her child-like dependence on him, but that sadness frightened him.

"I know."