Numbness For Sound

I'll wait here

Or should I start pushing my way home?

Two weeks went by and Brooke finally started to store her clothes in the drawers Haley had left empty. Nathan went job-hunting after school and returned from grocery expeditions with the diet soda she always craved. Every night, she tugged his hand until he moved from the couch to the bedroom with her.

Neither of them mentioned the changes, but they were there just the same.

Wednesday night was an exception, because some kind of championship was on TV that Nathan wanted desperately to watch. Brooke went to bed alone and it took longer than usual for her to fall asleep, but it was hardly cause for concern.

Two hours later, Nathan's temples throbbed from the concentration he'd been giving the game. Making a quick pit stop in the bathroom, he dug around the medicine cabinet for anything that would make falling asleep easier and came across the one thing that guaranteed it would be difficult.

His wedding ring was sitting right where he'd left it weeks ago, gleaming as the overhead light caught it in its glare. Frowning, Nathan picked it up, held it close for inspection.

It seemed like an artifact from ancient history. His marriage to Haley felt like it had happened to someone else. He'd changed substantially since she'd walked out the door and now, he wondered if it was because she'd gone or if it would have happened anyway.

Either way, he wasn't the same person who had sworn to stand by her until death did they part. And her departure had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't the same woman who'd taken that vow. Maybe it was time to end their marriage officially and begin to move on.

"Nathan!" Brooke's scream tore through the apartment, making him jump and lose his grip on the ring. It clattered into the sink and then down the drain as he raced to the bedroom, mindless of anything but her cries. "Nathan!"

He burst through the door and flicked the switch, flooding the room with light. Brooke sat in the middle of the bed, the sheets stained crimson with blood, and raised wide, terrified eyes to his. "Something's wrong," she whispered, and then passed out.

XXX

Brooke woke up slowly, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks before opening fully. "Morning," she murmured to Nathan, then blinked when she realized she didn't feel his warmth beside her. "Nathan?"

"I'm here," he said immediately, and she found him sitting beside the bed, his arms stretched across the mattress so that his hands could hold hers. "You've been out for awhile."

"What happened?" She had a vague recollection of a stomachache the night before, but it seemed like nothing more than a bad dream now. "Are we – are we at the hospital? Oh, my God. The baby. Nathan, what happened to the baby?"

He didn't need to say anything. Just one look at his face, the tight lines around his mouth, the black circles under his eyes, and she knew why she suddenly felt so empty.

"You had a miscarriage last night, Brooke," he reminded her, as gently as possible. "I brought you to the hospital, but the doctors said it was too late. There was nothing we could have done."

It was coming back to her now; the vicious twisting in her abdomen, the tears that had welled in her eyes as she spilled blood that wasn't even hers. "No," Brooke whispered, shaking her head vehemently, "No, Nathan, please."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Nathan shook his head. He was hardly able to believe it himself, and he'd been awake all night turning the events over in his head. If only he'd been quicker, faster, smarter. If only he hadn't wanted to watch the stupid game. If only, if only, if only. "Your body, Brooke, you … you just weren't ready. We couldn't have stopped it."

"But I was ready," she argued, wrestling her hands out of his grip. She didn't want anyone touching her, not when she was so obviously poisonous from the inside out. "I was going to have the baby. I'd finally … I'd decided. I was going to tell you on Friday night. I wanted to … I wanted …"

She collapsed in a fit of sobs, her hands clutching at her abdomen, fingers digging into the soft skin as if she could find what she'd lost. Aching for her, Nathan held her body still until she'd worn herself out. "We're gonna get through this, Brooke," he told her, when she was calm and on the verge of sleep again. "We will."

He wasn't sure if she was still listening at that point, but her fingers flexed and tightened in his, and he took that as a good sign.

XXX

Brooke was kept overnight for observation and forced to meet with a grief counselor before the hospital would consent to her release. The doctor talked and the therapist talked and Brooke listened as best she could, but she didn't come any closer to understanding why she'd had a life inside of her and now she didn't.

As promised, Nathan arrived to shuttle her back to the apartment at promptly twelve o'clock the next day. He talked about trivial things and cast her worried looks when he didn't think she was paying attention, but not once did he ask her how she was feeling, and she was grateful for that.

"I'm going to take a nap," she said when they'd arrived home, even though she was so tired of sleeping that it hurt to even close her eyes. To her surprise, he followed her into the bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and pulled back the covers. "What are you doing, Nathan?"

"Taking a nap," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. At her hard stare, he sighed. "I'm not going to let you go through this alone, Brooke. I won't talk. I won't even snore. I'll just be here, with you. Okay?"

Because it was arguably the nicest thing he'd ever said to her, and because her body hurt in ways she couldn't even describe, she didn't put up a fight. Instead, she crawled under the covers, seeming to take up less space than before, and accepted his arms encircling her from behind.

Nathan wasn't sure if minutes or hours had passed when Brooke finally spoke. The sound of her voice startled him, thin and reedy, not at all the confident timbre and self-assured speech of two days ago. "I was thinking about names, you know," she said, concentrating on tugging at a loose thread in the sheets. "Parker, if it was a boy. Parker James Davis."

"And for a girl?" He wasn't sure he even wanted her to answer. Giving a name to the tiny, faceless tragedy didn't seem like the best way to move forward.

As usual, Brooke was brave enough for both of them. "Cady." She cleared her throat. "Or Madison, I couldn't … I couldn't pick."

He considered. "I like Cady."

Brooke kept her eyes very wide open and focused on the alarm clock that lay on the dressing table. A minute ticked by, then two, and when she thought it was safe to speak without crying, she wet her lips. "Do you … do you still miss Haley?"

Taken aback by the random change of subject, Nathan thought carefully before answering. "Sometimes," he decided. "But I think it's more that I miss how I thought it would be. I saw Haley as my chance to start a new life, be a different person than I was. You know?"

"I know," she whispered, and let the thin rope of fabric fall from her fingers so that she could grasp his hands, pressing both their palms against her flat stomach. "I know exactly what you mean."

Nathan propped himself up on one elbow and turned his other hand over in hers so that their palms lay against each other. Slowly, he interlocked their fingers and guided her knuckles to his lips. "It'll get easier, Brooke," he told her, thinking of how his own wounds had mended without him even realizing it. "I promise. We'll get through this."

Brooke turned so that her body curved into his. His words made her feel like not everything was ending. "I think I believe you," she murmured drowsily.

There was something else he wanted to say, an idea that had flirted at the edge his mind for weeks and been cemented into place somewhere between the bedroom and the hospital, but Nathan closed his mouth firmly. Her heart was breaking right now and he didn't want those words to get lost in the gap. It – she - was too important.