It took a year before they thought about it again. Richie had spun deep into a depressed state, and it took months of therapy to heal. His personality was slowly coming back.

Eddie was so thankful for it. It was so weird, not hearing those god awful puns, the dick jokes, his voices and impersonations. So when they started to make an appearance, he nearly cried when he excused himself.

And now, the question was thrown into the air again. They both still wanted a baby. So so badly. For Richie's sake, they chose a surrogate.

Her name was Michelle, and she was very sweet. She'd helped numerous couples bring their babies to the world. And they were no different. She had used her experience to her advantage. Three babies of her own, and two for other couples, she knew every trick.

Richie was so excited, but he was equally as terrified. But the excitement got larger and larger over the course of their 6 month journey. And by seven months, they were planning a nursery.

"We are not painting those walls yellow!" Richie counters. "What kinda color is that?! Looks like something you'd find in a damn toilet!"

"What else are we supposed to paint it?" Eddie counters, raising a questioning brown towards his beloved husband.

"I dunno! Not fuckin yellow," Richie answers, crossing his arms. "No kid of mine is getting a piss wall," Eddie simply stared at him. "Don't give me that look! We can just wait til tomorrow,"

"Alright..." Eddie sighs out, dropping the still clean paint roller to the ground. "But I get to choose the theme," He counters, grinning.

"You're lucky I love you, you ass," "Oh please. You love my ass," "Yeah..."

Michelle smiles widely, waddling up to the duo. She was 8 months along with their baby boy. And she was always happy to pay a visit.

"Michelle, what're you doing here?" Eddie asks, hugging her with a smile regardless. She was always welcomed though.

"We'll, I know Richie's worried. And I would be too," She simply smiles. Michelle always let him feel the kicks, talk to him, all of it. It's worth it to see his face light up behind those Coke bottle glasses.

"You're a real saint," Eddie smiles. Thank goodness for her kindness... .

"I know," Michelle teases, waddling inside with a smile.

Eddie frowns deeply. Michelle had had some bleeding, and went to her doctor's for a small checkup. And they didn't want to worry Richie.

But now, the worst has happened. The baby wasn't doing well. His brain hadn't developed nearly half of what it needed to, and his heart was struggling. It happened so suddenly, it was a shock to even the doctors. Michelle cried, not even for herself. Those poor boys... .

"Richie... honey..." Eddie walked up to his husband, who was currently engrossed in his laptop writing new jokes. He took a deep breath.

"What it is, Spaghet?" Richie asks, pushing his glasses up to finish editing a segment. But when there was only silence, he looked up. "What?"

"Michelle called..." Eddie swallows the lump in his throat, "He's not doing so good,"

"No," Richie responds, his eyes flooding, "No. That... that can't happen... Not now.."

"I'm so sorry," Eddie sits next to his husband, watching the gears turn in Richie's head.

And on April 15, 4:26 am, baby Lincoln Wentworth Tozier-Kaspbrak was born. He was 4 pounds, 4 ounces, and 8 inches long. The baby boy was a month and a half early, for everyone's own good.

Eddie and Richie got to hold him, before he was gone. Time of death; April 15, 6:26 am. The sobs Richie let out were so raw... Eddie couldn't handle it. The amount of problems they've had, and the amount of tragedy, he didn't know what else he could bear.

He watched, with a broken heart, as Richie gave their baby a final goodbye. "Goodnight angel..." The taller male kisses his little head, "sweet dreams..."