Thanks for all the reviews and the interest guys- i'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Part 4

Ever since she's got here, she's been preparing herself for that moment. But now, she realises that you can never really know what it's like, to see for the first time in three months the man you love and the father of your lost child – and to see him hold against him a little boy whom you've grown attached to, a little boy who shows you what your son could have become. And you can never know what it's like to see this man look at you with such cold anger – not the anger of heated rows, but the anger born from months of nurtured pain and hostility.

Zach's broken chatter jolts her out of her gloominess. In a blur, she hears Fitz suggest to her that she wait in the small office while he puts Zach to bed, and she sees herself hug Zach as tightly as he hugged Fitz earlier.

In the office, she can't stay still. All she can think of is this long talk she had with her father, three weeks earlier. He'd picked her up after work, concerned at how drawn and wan she looked, and for the first time in a while, he had found the courage to probe, and push, and insist, until she would tell him what she was thinking, feeling, about Josh, Fitz and trying to cope with everything. And for the first time in a while, she managed to explain it all to him.

Dad was wrong, she thinks, as she is remembering that painful evening. I shouldn't have come here. What was I expecting? That three months here would have enabled him to forgive me? That we would be able to make peace with each other, as Dad is hoping we will, and that we would both be able to move on? What a joke.

"Olivia."

She hadn't heard him come in, and she whips around. "Fitz! You scared me."

"Sorry."

Now that she is facing him properly, she notices the small changes in his appearance. The deeper lines around his mouth. The very short stubble forming on his chin and his hair greyer in places than she remembered. His skin, tanned, where it's sunny here all year long, compared to the US. His eyes, flat somehow, guarded.

Neither says anything, and the tension mounts. She has to break the silence. "Fitz, look… I wish they had been able to contact you before I came. I never wanted to spring it on you like this…"

"Why did it have to be you? With the supplies, I mean." He refuses to beat about the bush. He's given his agreement to David but he is damned if he is going to pretend that it's all fine by him.

"Fitz, please…I didn't come here to make a scene or…."

"Ah. Yes. Exactly the words you said when you came to my cabin in Vermont. We both know what happened next." He can't believe he's just said that, and with such venom, such bitterness. She's gone very pale, and her eyes are filling with tears. "Olivia… I… I'm sorry, I should never have said that. That was…"

"Don't worry", she cuts him off, devastated by his ability, and willingness, to hit her where it hurts the most. "I have no intention of telling you that I love you, that I am convinced you love me… And I have no intention of sleeping with you tonight, or any night for that matter. And even if I did, this time, believe me, I'd make absolutely sure I wouldn't get pregnant. I came here because I…" And then, she stops. What's the point, she thinks bleakly, what's the point of trying to explain when he won't listen. And why should he listen? I shut down after Josh's death and pushed him away again and again so….

She turns away from him. "Look, I'll tell David I can leave tomorrow. Obviously you don't want me to stay so…"

As she is making her way out, he says, very quietly: "I told him I was OK with you staying for three months. We desperately need a new nurse. Plus, the children… Zach needs you. And anyway, you and I won't have much to do with each other outside my rounds. I'm sure that we can both remain professional and deal with it well." He himself can hear how formal he sounds – as if he were interviewing a prospective candidate for the job. When will I ever be able to relate to her normally, he thinks in despair, when?

She looks at him, with almost pity. That's it, Fitz, go android on me. God knows I've learnt to match you on that front.

"Good", she replies, equally formally, but slowly crumbling inside. "Now, if you don't mind, David and Abby are expecting me. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Good night."

"Good night, Olivia", he whispers as she walks off. He suddenly realises how tense his body is. Slowly he forces himself to relax. It's going to be OK, he thinks, I'll do my rounds, and I won't really see her outside them, except for when I come and pick Zach up, but that's only five minutes now and then so… it'll be fine. We don't need to have anything to do with each other

Except that Zach has other ideas.

-x-

Zach doesn't understand what's going on. When Fitz left two weeks ago – he knows it's two weeks, because Fitz showed him how to count days on the calendar., he was very upset. Fitz has promised he would be back. But Zach didn't know what a promise means, so he assumed that Fitz had left for good. All the grown-ups he's ever loved has left him behind, so why not Fitz? But it hurt –a lot. It's not like he needs Fitz to play football or read stories with him, anyone can do that. It's just that when he is with Fitz, things feel better. He can forget what happened when his parents died, and the bad stuff in the camp, before he got here. He likes listening to him and watching him look after the sick kids. It's like, he is very gentle but not pushy like other people who are "concerned about Zach." He's heard them say this a lot, and he isn't sure what it means, but he doesn't like it. It's like… they say it so seriously and it makes him feel nervous. But Fitz is different. He plays with him, and hugs him, and makes it obvious that he cares, but in a nice way. It feels all warm, and fuzzy, and comfortable. And he isn't like this doctor from the camp who…

But he can't think about that now. What he can think of is what happened after Fitz left. For five days – he counted them– he felt as if he wanted to die. He likes David a lot, and Abby of course… but it's not the same. He heard a nurse the other day, who said she liked some guy, but didn't love him. He thinks that's what it is: that he likes David and Abby, but he loves Fitz. And it's very different. Like he loved his mum and dad, and his brothers and little sister. But they died, and Fitz left, so what about him now?

And then, someone called Olivia arrived. David explained it all: she is his friend's daughter and that she will stay for three months and look after all the kids. He counted how many days on the calendar: about 90. At the time he was glad that David said when she was leaving. Because if you know that someone's going to leave, then you know there's no point in loving them. He didn't really pay attention to her at first, until he fell off his bed during a big pillow fight and cut himself on his knee. He had to have stiches. When the other nurse came in with the needle, he started yelling his head off. He can't bear needles. They remind him of the doctor in the camp…

The nurse was getting annoyed, he could tell, but so what. He's decided no one would ever use needles on him. Ever. Not even Fitz. So she didn't stand a chance. And then Olivia came in. She looked at the cut and said that she could glue it back together. No needles. He couldn't believe it: glue? Like when you do collage and that kind of stuff? Olivia started laughing and told him it was a special kind of glue, and she did it. It stung a lot though, and he got upset again. But she took him in her arms to comfort him. He doesn't like it much when people take him in their arms. It makes him go all tense. Except with Fitz. And with Olivia now. Fitz is kind of tall and solid, but Olivia is all soft. It felt really nice. And that's when he started feeling a bit better about things.

And then one day, Olivia started drawing with him. She wasn't really looking at his drawings, or saying much, she was just being there. And they started doing it every day, just the two of them. Nobody else. When she started showing him her stuff, he started doing the same. It's the polite thing to do: Fitz had explained it to him, it's called "reciporcating", or "recirpocating", or something complicated like that. He likes her drawings: they're full of colours and shapes, they're not like houses, or people, or the sun, or trees. Just shapes. Whereas his are… he can't really talk about them. It's too hard. But Olivia seems to get that, because she never asks him to tell her what they are about. And that's nice.

And then Fitz got back. When he saw him, standing there, looking at him and Olivia, he felt all funny inside, like his heart had stopped beating, and like his eyes saw him but he couldn't understand it. And then Fitz smiled at him, and all he could do was run, and run, and run, and throw himself against him. That was the bestest day of his life.

But now, things are odd. Because Olivia is sad. And Fitz is different. Not with him. In fact it's even better now because sometimes he can stay over at Fitz's house, and they have food, and go for a walk, and read lots of stories before he goes to bed. And Fitz hugs him more. But he is kind of strange. At first, Zach couldn't figure out why. But then he realised that it's when Olivia is around. It's like there is nobody there. Like he is there but not there. It's really hard to understand. And she is the same, except that her eyes are really sad. Fitz's eyes are sad too, but he is better at hiding it. Not from him though, because he loves Fitz and looks at him a lot, but also because in the camp he learnt how to figure people out. You had to, otherwise…

But he can't think about that now. In fact, all he can think of is what he heard the other day. One of the nurses and one of the women from the village who comes and helps were talking about Olivia. He was there but they weren't paying attention. When he is a grown up he will never behave as if kids weren't around. Anyway, the nurse was saying something like "it's so hard for Olivia, with her terrible loss…" and then they walked away.

He's been wondering about it all day long. What has she lost? It can't be one of her rings, or a syringe, or a dress… that's not a terrible loss. He felt like asking her, but decided not to. He'll ask Fitz tonight, he is staying at his flat. Fitz always says that if he is worried about something, he must tell him, so…

But when they settle on the sofa, before bedtime, he's nervous. Fitz asks him what's wrong. So he takes a deep breath, and says: "I'm worried about Olivia."

Why is Fitz doing this half laugh half smile thing? It's not funny. "Zach… I'm sorry, I'm not making fun of you… it's just… it's such a grown up thing to say, you know."

OK. But now he doesn't know what to say. "Zach", and this time, Fitz sounds very gentle. He loves it when Fitz uses his very low voice. It's like a soft rumble. "Zach, what are you worried about?"

"Has she lost something?"

That must be a strange question because Fitz looks at him with big eyes. So he tries again. "She is sad a lot of the time. I've seen her cry. She thinks I don't know it, but I do. And this morning the other nurse said she had lost something. That it was a terrible loss."

He's tried to sound strong, but he could hear that his voice was shaking. And why does Fitz look all funny, like he's going to be sick? He's beginning to get really scared. He can't be very worried about two people at the same time, especially the one person he loves and the one person he likes best. It's just too hard.

"Zach." This time Fitz sounds really tired. And really sad. "Zach, Olivia is sad because… well, a few months ago, she had a baby, and the baby died. He was very ill."

"Oh." He finds that very upsetting. He remembers how much his mum and dad cried when his baby sister died. But there's something he doesn't understand. "Fitz?", he asks, feeling very unsure.

"Yes?"

"Does Olivia have a husband?"

Again, the big eyes. "No, Zach, why?"

He has to think hard. Now he really, really doesn't understand. "If Olivia doesn't have a husband, where did the baby come from?"

It's very odd. Fitz looks as if he wants to smile and cry at the same time. "Oh Zach… people can make babies together even if they're not married."

Zach wants to say something but he waits, because Fitz is doing this thing with his face, when he has something really, really difficult to say. And he is holding him very tightly. "Zach… Olivia' baby, it was my baby too. We made him together. "

Zach can't believe it. It all feels like a jumble of stuff in his head: Olivia and Fitz together, and they made a baby, and the baby died, and now they're here at the orphanage. "So why aren't you being nice to each other?", he blurts out, almost indignant.

"Zach! We're not being mean, are we…?"

Zach is feeling sorry because Fitz seems really upset. He snuggles up against him. And then, without looking at him, he says "No. But when my baby sister died, my mum and dad had lots of hugs when they were crying. They were nice to each other. But Olivia and you… it's like… you're not being mean, but you're not being nice too. It's like… it's like it doesn't matter whether you're there or not. It feels like a nothing."

He stops, because he doesn't know how to explain it better. But that's the great thing about Fitz, he gets things Zach tells him even when he can't explain well. "Zach… sometimes, when two people lose a baby, they feel so sad, so bad, so angry about it, that they can't help each other. All they can do is leave the other person alone. It doesn't mean they don't care about them."

He doesn't understand what caring about someone really means. He senses it's not like liking them, or loving them, it's kind of in between. He doesn't like in between feelings. They make him feel uncomfortable. But he realises that he can't ask Fitz whether he likes Olivia or whether he loves her. So he says nothing. Plus, he's getting really tired now. In fact, he can feel he's beginning to fall asleep. Fitz is carrying him to his small bed by the window and kisses him on the head. The last thing he hears is Fitz telling him, in a strange voice, like he's finding it hard to talk: "Good night Zach. I love you." The last thing he feels is something wet on his forehead.

Like a tear.