Title: The Night Before… (Part 2 of 7)

Author: Golden Nutleys

Rating: Pretty much K, maybe K+ for seriousness.

Spoilers: Nothing too specific, but if you haven't been watching or don't know about the goings on this season, I would probably shield your eyes.

Characters: General/All – There will be one chapter for each of the major characters.

Disclaimer: Oh, if wishing made it so…

Reviews: Like manna from heaven!

Summary: There is no clearer measure of hope or despair than the thought of what tomorrow will bring…

A Funeral

12 weeks and 6 days.

Despite all efforts to purge the date from her mind; despite all of the anarchy descending upon her doctors and her hospital; despite nearly empty bottle of Pinot in front of her, she still hadn't forgotten.

Tomorrow was supposed to have been a great day.

Tomorrow she was supposed to have sent out cryptic emails with blurry attachments. She was supposed to have heard whispers beginning to move through the halls accompanied by sideways glances. She was supposed to have endured some House's most sarcastic ridicule, all delivered with a lopsided grin, his true smile.

Tomorrow she was supposed to have been happy.

But instead, it would just be Tuesday and she would be hung over.

Tomorrow she was supposed to have told her family and friends she was pregnant.

She had attempted to lean heavily on her scientific mind during this process. Failures were due to chemical imbalances and missed timings, not inadequate embryos and poor planning. The miscarriage was just another part of the process. She could rattle off all sorts of percentages that showed the loss to be common rather than an anomaly. It was also likely that something had been wrong with the fetus and her body had been doing the right thing. She also stuck to medical terms. It was not a baby, but a fetus, and barely so. At six weeks, it had just made the transition from cellular structure to a more formed being. Its heart had barely even begun to beat.

Which made it even harder for her to reconcile why her heart was still broken.

Maybe it was because no matter what the tests said, she believed that she was the problem. She was too stressed, too rushed, too busy…

Too scared.

While Wilson had tried to reassure her, the doubts which she had planted and House merely echoed, still ran rampant through her mind. And though she knew that there was nothing wrong with being nervous and doubtful when it came to such a life changing instance, maybe her thoughts were more wishes than doubts, more desires than nerves. And maybe Someone had picked up on that.

Maybe the God she found herself talking to much more often these days had tallied up her missing years and moved her to the end of the line for prayers and miracles.

As a child, her paternal grandmother, Mama Mary, had been as Irish and Catholic as anyone Lisa had ever met. And as she grew and began to have questions about everything around her, she often went to church with Mama Mary, not on Sundays or Holy Days, but during the week when, as Mama would say, the "professionals" were there.

One morning, as they left the main church, as Mama stopped to chat with the priest, Lisa saw a group of people, just a few adults and children, leaving the parish's small crypt chapel. A closer look made clear that they were following behind a man carrying the smallest casket Lisa had ever seen. "Ah yes, I must pray for the Archers tonight," Mama Mary said, suddenly over Lisa's shoulder, "So terribly sad." Lisa asked how old the child had been. Mama's response had surprised her: "She was just a few months shy of delivering that baby. Such a little soul to be returned to God. She was so loved already."

They began to walk home in silence, but it was not long before Lisa remarked that at Temple they had learned that a soul was given when a child was born so why was that family suffering so much?

Mama Mary had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, Lisa's hand gripped tightly in her own, eyes cast down at the ground and spoke in a whisper, "That is far too simple an explanation" Lisa responded with a confused glance. Mama raised her eyes to Lisa's with a look of knowledge and sadness that the adolescent had never seen there before. "For each person you meet, you will be able to hear a different reason why and a different way to cope with a child lost too soon. Some will find reason faith, or a lack there of; some will give medical terms; yet others will find a way to detach life and reason and just say it wasn't the right time.

"Lisa," Mama said, taking her young face into her hands, "Do not look for the simple explanations in life. Do not believe in an idea just because you will be able to sleep better. I pray that you will never know the pain of losing a child before you even know them. But if you do, I pray that you remember: Just because of faith, or medical reasoning, or whether the lost child has a soul or not, still does not change this one thing: that creation had meaning to you. And anything, Lisa, anything, that has meaning to just one person no God would say should not mourned. Maybe not for what it was or is, but what it might have been."

Tomorrow she would stay as far away from maternity and pediatrics as possible.

Tomorrow she would spend more time in her office as usual.

Tomorrow she would wear all black.

Tomorrow she would mourn for what might have been.

Tomorrow she would hold the worn Rosary Beads of a long gone woman and hope for what might still be.