[Plot Bunny wouldn't leave me alone so I'm posting this real quick. No real plan to continue at the moment, but let me know what you think please!]- UNEDITED

Jack is five when he asks.

That week his teacher Sister Agnes had taught his class all about patterns. Sister Agnes had said that patterns were everywhere if you looked and she'd asked them to try and see how many patterns they could find over the weekend.

With his new knowledge Jack was quick to notice all the patterns in his life.

Monday to Friday he went to school and on the weekends he stayed home. That was a pattern. His mommy always cut the crust off his sandwiches. That was another pattern.

On Sundays they went to church and then after they all went to Grandpa's house, said Grace and had dinner. Another pattern!

Sister Agnes would be so impressed, Jack was sure to get a sticker!

But there was a problem, because there was one pattern that Jack didn't understand.

Every Sunday they went to church and every Sunday they had family dinner at grandpa's.

And every Sunday there was an extra plate at the table. But why?

If Jack thought about it real hard the plate had always been there, right next to where his cousin Nicky sat—a pattern.

But no one ever used it or ate off it or sat down in front of it. It was just there.

But why?

Jack went to school from Monday to Friday but not on the weekends because there was no school on those days. Mommy cut the crust off his sandwiches because that was how he liked them. They went to church on Sunday's and had dinner together with Grandpa because that's what Reagan's do on Sunday's.

But no matter how hard he tried, Jack just couldn't figure out why there was always a plate at Sunday dinner that no one ever used, with a chair that no one sat in.

"You okay there bud? You look like you're about to blow a gasket."

Sister Agnes had also taught Jack that he should ask questions if he didn't understand something, so that's exactly what he did. "Daddy what's that extra plate for?"

His teacher told him there was no such thing as a bad question, but Jack got the feel that this had to have been one because all of a sudden everyone stopped talking. Forks and knives clattered onto plates and the gravy boat was stuck in the air as Aunt Erin had frozen in place as she was passing it to Uncle Joe.

No one said anything, no one did anything, they all just looked at each. Daddy looked confused, like he wasn't sure what to say. Maybe he didn't know what the plate was for either?

Jack was beginning to wonder if maybe he should apologize, when his mommy finally said something.

She coughed a little before picking up the bowl of green beans and putting more on his plate. "Eat your vegetables honey. You know you can't have ice cream if you don't eat your greens."

"Ice cream!" Jack said excitedly, all thoughts of his question having quickly been replaced by the prospect of his delicious sugary treat.

His mom smiled. "That's right ice cream. But if you kids don't eat your vegetables fast enough Pop's gonna eat it all. Isn't that right Pop?"

Henry Regan put on a rye smile before rubbing his stomach exaggeratedly. "Chocolate's my favorite. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself..."

At once Jack began shoveling green beans in his mouth and Sunday dinner slowly went back to normal again. Jack would've forgotten all about the plate if his mom and dad hadn't brought it up before bedtime that night.

Their faces are serious and their voices are too so the first thing Jack says is "Am I in trouble?"

"No no honey, you're not in trouble." His mom says quickly. "Your daddy and I just wanna explain about what you asked at dinner today."

"You mean the plate?"

"Yeah bud, the plate."

And so mommy and daddy explained.

The plate's for his cousin they say, and when Jack asks why Nicky needs two plates, they explain some more.

Jack has an extra cousin.

He's disappointed to learn that it's a girl, but she's about the same age as him so that's nice. Mommy and Daddy say that the plate's there for when his cousin can come to Sunday dinner. But even though mommy and daddy did a good job explaining, now Jack's even more confused.

Where was this extra cousin? How come Jack had never seen her before?

How come she wasn't at his birthday party last week and how come she didn't go to church and dinner on Sundays? It was what Reagan's did on Sundays after all.

Daddy looks sad, and again Jack wonders if he should say sorry.

His daddy explains that his cousin is lost. That's why she's never at dinner and why she couldn't come to his birthday. Because she was lost.

Now it's Jack who's sad. He'd never gotten lost before but he knows he'd be really scared if he couldn't find his mommy.

"You'll find her soon though, right daddy?" Jack's dad was a superhero after all, his grandpa and Uncle Joe too. They helped people all the time. If his cousin was lost his daddy was sure to find her.

His dad doesn't answer right away, instead he just holds him real tight and kisses his forehead. "Yeah bud..I'll find her soon."

Mommy and daddy say goodnight to him, but before they do they tell Jack not to talk about his cousin if his Aunt Erin or Uncle Jack were around because it made them sad.

Jack understands.

On Monday he tells Sister Agnes about all the patterns he found but not about the plate.

On Tuesday he asks Dad if he'd found his cousin yet. He says no.

On Wednesday he asks his mom how a baby can get lost if they can't walk. She thinks about it for a long time before telling him she's not sure .

On Thursday, Nicky's at their house because her Mommy and Daddy are fighting. Jack asks her what her sister was like. She says she doesn't know.

On Friday he asks Grandpa if they found his cousin yet. He says no and Grandma Mary looks like she's about to cry. Jack feels like he should stop asking.

Sister Agnes said if there was ever something they really needed that they should pray to God for help, so come Sunday that's exactly what he does.

He shuts his eyes and asks God to please bring his cousin home. He makes sure God knows that today they're having cake after dinner and that he's sure his cousin would like some and finishes his prayer with a thank you.

When it's dinnertime Jack waits, eyes darting every few seconds to the front door. He waits for his extra cousin to come through the door, so she can sit on the chair that no one sat in and use the plate no one ever used.

He waits.

He waits until it's time to go home. But no matter how hard he begged his parents to just wait "five more minutes", no one comes through the front door.

Jack doesn't understand why, but this time he doesn't ask.

Nicky's eight when she asks.

It's on one of those rare Saturday's when both her parents are home from work. For reasons she can't quite put into words yet Nicky's more comfortable saying this to her mom so she waits until her dad's gone to get out to get some chinese.

Nicky was snuggled up to her mom on the couch watching a movie, and though Erin was only pretending to watch she's still caught completely off-guard by the words out her daughter's mouth.

"Mom…"

"Hmm?"

"Is Rosie dead?"

Erin's so stunned all she can do is just sit there for what had to have been a solid minute before sputtering a "what did you say?"

Nicky doesn't say anything now, unable to meet her mother's gaze. She was old enough to know that what she'd said might not have been appropriate. But this particular question had been nagging her for a while now, long enough that it just slipped out of her.

Still not able to look at her mom she repeated herself, voice now small and unsure. "Is Rosie...dead mom?"

Now with wits about her, Erin quickly paused the Tv. She didn't wanna be having this conversation, but she definitely didn't wanna be having it with Shrek hanging out in the background.

"What, why—why do you ask?" Erin's made sure to keep her voice even and gentle so that Nicky wouldn't think she was upset with her but the little girl still wouldn't quite look at her, only managing an 'I don't know' shrug.

"Nicky, Nicky, hey—" she gently lifted her daughter chin up with her finger. "I'm not mad I promise, I just wanna know why."

Finally her daughter looks at her with those big brown eyes that Erin loves so much and lets out a tiny "promise?"

Erin holds out her pinky in response and Nicky quickly does the same.

Pinkyswear now complete Nicky spills the beans.

It was at school she said. Some of the moms that helped with pick-up had been talking about it and Nicky heard. They said that after so long Rosie had to be dead. Nicky didn't want to believe it but she had to know.

At hearing this Erin felt herself fill a silent fury—the most deadly kind.

How dare those women gossip about something so personal. How dare they so callously dismiss her daughter's life, and how dare they be so careless as to do it where her other daughter could hear.

But Erin had been expecting this. They'd hit the five year mark. Any newspaper worth their salt had run a piece commemorating the anniversary. Some were kind. Other less so, pointing fingers and putting their two cents into "The Mysterious Disappearance of Baby Reagan"

Nevermind that the Reagan family would have to deal with the emotional turmoil brought on by their front page news.

The older woman could feel her eyes beginning to well up with emotion but she doesn't allow any tears to fall. Any crying she did was always behind the safety of closed doors and away from prying eyes. She needed to be strong for Nicky she told herself.

Holding her eldest close Erin explains in no uncertain terms that those women don't know what the heck they're talking about. Her youngest is just lost. One day she'd come home, they just had to be patient.

As she says this the elder Reagan hopes to convince herself as well as the child her arms, though she'd never admit it.

When all is said and done Nicky has tears in her eyes (Erin has tears too though her daughter doesn't see them). She wipes away those tears with the base of her thumbs and makes sure her little girl knows she's loved.

By the time her husband makes it back Nicky's eyes are still red. He asks what's wrong but Erin just says they'll talk about it later. The subject was always touchy for Jack and she doesn't feel like starting an argument right now.

Hours later when sleep evades her, Erin finds her mind wandering instead to the conversation she'd had with her child and the newspaper headline that'd had met her gaze the morning previous.

News outlets always seemed to use the moniker Baby Reagan. They never used her actual name. It was always so impersonal, like they were talking about a character in a book and not a living breathing human being.

Still though there were times when Erin was grateful for it—as horrible as it may sound— there were times where she liked to pretend that Baby Reagan was someone else's child. That it was some other parent that had to carry all the worry and the guilt over what'd happened all those years ago. When it got to be too much sometimes she liked to pretend that the dull ache in her heart was someone else's

This shameful little reprieve would've been impossible if her daughter's name were used. It would've been far too real to block out then.

Her name was Rosemary. Affectionately called Rosie, because Rosemary seemed far too big a name for a baby so small.

Erin had always called her Rosebud.

Her little Rosebud.

Due to the happy coincidence that was a shared birthday, Erin had originally wanted to name her daughter Mary Margaret, after her mother—calling the baby Maggie for short. Jack hadn't been sold on the name though and Rosemary had ended up being their version of a compromise.

Erin knew that Rosemary was a legitimate name, as well as spice. But no matter how hard she tried in those early days, the young mother felt as though she might as well have named her daughter Thyme or Oregano or something equally as ridiculous. She had been quick to latch on to a nickname as a result.

The press didn't know that. The tabloids didn't know that. They knew none of the little things that went on in their family. They knew nothing of love that they had for each other, of the dreams they'd had for their child. If they did they'd never think to give certain stories the time off day, like the kind that wondered not subtle about the Regan family's involvement in what had happened to Rose.

Journalism, by its very nature, was about cold hard facts, which Erin, as a lawyer, couldn't usually help but respect. But just this once she'd wished they'd look beyond hard truth on the paper and look at things with more compassion.

The facts are that somewhere around 70% of child abductions are perpetrated by a family member, with less than 1% happening at the hands of a complete stranger. The fact is that the last person to see a victim is the number one suspect.

The facts were that Erin was the last person to see Rosemary. She swears that she turned around for one second and Rosie was gone. But facts were that no one reported seeing anyone leave with her at the park that day.

With no phone call and no ransom, statistics—and by extension common sense— dictated that Erin had something to do with it.

It wasn't long after little Rosemary Reagan was snatched from her stroller, that both her parents had given a press conference, speaking both to plead for the public's assistance and to plead with whatever monster had taken their child.

The next morning, it was all people could talk about.

They talked about how suspicious they thought it was that Erin hadn't shed a tear during her speech, how she didn't seem angry enough, or upset enough for someone whose child was supposedly taken. They dissected every little detail, from the way she and Jack stood next to each other, to Erin's choice of dress.

It'd only been a handful of years since Susan Smith and people were all too ready to think the worst of the young Reagan.

"If it were my kid I'd be bawling my eyes out"

"See how far apart those two are standing from each other, clearly there's something going on"

"Her grandfather's the police commissioner, of course she's not gonna get arrested"

"How could anyone look so stone faced when talking about their child like this?"

Clearly someone was guilty.

What they didn't know was that the FBI had drilled it into their heads that whoever had taken Rose would be watching. No matter how upset they might be feeling they couldn't let them see. If the kidnapper saw that they were angry with them they'd become defensive. If the kidnapper felt unsafe it was likely to cause them to spiral into more dangerous behavior, placing Rose's life at risk.

Her baby was the only thing that mattered so Erin did as she was told. While on the inside all she wanted to do was scream, on the outside she'd put on a mask for the cameras, all to keep her daughter safe.

But people didn't know that.

They didn't know that as soon as the cameras were put away and she was safe in the protective fortress that was her family home, Erin had collapsed into her mother's arms sobbing like she hadn't since she was a little girl.

They didn't know the kind of guilt she carried, because at the end of the day, no matter how much her dad or her brothers tried to convince her otherwise, Erin knew that what'd happened was her fault and no one else's.

Mother's were supposed to protect their children—what kind of mother was she to let her daughter get kidnapped from right under her nose!?

'What Ever Happened to Baby Reagan?'

Erin asked herself that question everyday, not just on the anniversary.

What'd happened to her little Rosebud?

Was she alright? Was she safe?

Was she happy? Or was she out there somewhere, crying for a mother who would never come?

Rosie would've started Kindergarten this year, what would her first day have been like?

What were her first words? Her favorite color?

Erin had been able to see what she thought were the beginnings of dimples in her baby's smile. Would she ever get to see that smile again?

Baby's change so much when they get older, What did Rosie look like now after five years? Did she take more after her husband or herself? Her hair had been such a light shade of brown, was it still that color or had it lightened down to a blonde the way it had for Jamie.

If...if she saw her daughter out on the street now would she be able to recognize her? She hoped to God the answer was yes, but she honestly wasn't sure.

Erin refused to believe that her baby was dead, but would she really ever know the truth? Did she really want to?

Wherever Rose was, did she hate her for not keeping her safe? Because Erin certainly did.

Whatever Happened to Baby Reagan?

Erin wished she knew.