I might be going to London and work for four weeks. It's a slight possibility. If I don't update by this weekend saying something else- I will be gone until the beginning of June. That means no more updates until then. Luckily, time flies by. (this is still a huge maybe)

Something woke her up, and her eyes fluttered open to meet complete darkness. One moment, two moments, she had no idea where she was or why she had woken up. The pain etched into her soul wasn't there then. For a short second she realized where she was, and the pain of it consumed her mind until something so much stronger took place in her stomach. There was the pain she had been waiting for, and a strange sort of relief washed over her mixing with a pain she couldn't control.

A gasp escaped from her lips as her body curled into a fetal position, her arms hugging her stomach.

In the darkness she lost her, she was sure it was a girl, and didn't even feel a twinge of extra sadness. Maybe because her heart was aching too much already. Her thighs, pajama pants and sheets turned crimson by the sticky liquid.

This was when she should've yelled something, told them that it was over now, that they did not need to worry about this anymore. But outside of her body everything was silent, not disturbed by the chaos wrecking inside of her body.

It felt wrong to be happy. It was a misplaced feeling, but she couldn't help it. There would be no child of his living in this world; she would not take care of a child he created. Gone was the thing that had been growing in her stomach without her wanting it, gone was the child he forced upon her. No physical evidence would be left of him; he would only be a memory that could fade with time. This pain was a savior for her, how horrible it may sound.

The moonlight broke through the window, it was still early in the morning, but soon John would wake up. He would check up on her and he would see the blood that stained the sheets. It would pain him more than it pained her, since he knew how she would've reacted to this all those years ago, but now she could not tell him that she was a different person now. That this was good.

The door creaked open, she did not really know how much time that had passed, maybe twenty minutes, and there he stood. Maybe he could smell it in the air, or maybe he understood by the way she was lying curled up on the bed, gasping quietly still. He ran up to her, yelling at Dana that he was taking Cameron to the hospital, yelling that something was wrong with the baby. She wanted to tell him that there was no baby anymore, that it was all over now; there was nothing they could do. He picked her up, didn't even care about her blood soaked pajamas, only put a blanket on top of her, like it would do any difference, like she would care if she got a little cold.

He had driven to the hospital has quickly as he could, swearing at the traffic lights, never looking at her stoic frame. All that mattered then was the baby. It seemed her body was just something he took along for the ride, baby and her made a package, but not anymore.

It had been a while since she had been there, the ER, but nothing had changed. Only some new people, but most of them she recognized. She watched them numbly as they passed around the ER with faked calm written on their faces.

"Please, someone, my sister, " he pleaded to a woman at the admission desk, "she's pregnant and now she's bleeding."

"Come along here, sir, and we'll have a look at her," the woman urged, standing up and at the same time motioning for a doctor to come.

They rushed her to a trauma room, closed off from the rest of the ER. There she had saved lives once, lost lives, and now they were going to try to save a life that was already lost.

"How far along is she?"

"Uh, " John ran a hand across his face, forcing himself to think what the doctor had said at the last appointment, "Eighteen or nineteen weeks."

"Ok, is she on any medication that we need to know about?"

"No, she takes that prenatal thing. I don't know what it's called…"

"It's ok, we're going to take care of your sister and we will try to save the fetus, but we can't make any promises," a doctor called from beside Cameron.

"What is her name?" A nurse asked, holding a form in front of her.

"Allison, her name is Allison Cameron." For a moment they stopped and looked at each other and looked down at the woman on the bed who was staring stubbornly straight in front of herself. Could it really be her, they wondered, she looked so different.

(

"I love you," she whispered desperately into his ears, but he was still as tense as before. Silent anger at something she couldn't understand. It didn't matter how many times she said it, he still just stood there, looking at the food she had made for the two of them.

"Don't talk," he finally said, his anger biting into his words like poison.

"But-," he turned towards her and looked down at her, a wildness appeared in his eyes, one she hadn't seen before, and she bit her tongue, hoping that maybe if she was quiet his anger would die.

"Listen to me!" She shrank away, bowing her head in shame at something she couldn't understand. Why was he hurting her this way? It hurt so much when he yelled at her. She just wanted him to be happy. "You don't talk around me. You have no right to talk. If you can't love me with your body, don't try to fool me with your words!" For a moment she thought he was crazy, that he had completely lost his mind, but then she realized what had been going on for all these months. His body was what kept her around, not the few words he uttered here and there, not his appearance, scarred and ugly. It was something that could not be explained, and now she needed to convince him of her love towards him.

So, to comply with his wishes, she nodded and wrapped her arms around him, he wouldn't hear her voice again, if that was what he wanted. She was sure that she was physically hurting him by merely talking.

)

Suddenly, he was there, tall, beautiful, grey and blue. Blue eyes criticized her, as she opened her eyes after a welcomed sleep, and she wasn't sure if he was mad at her, or if she was simply an unfinished puzzle to him again. Her body felt sore and as she moved, she remembered the events of that morning, and once again she felt relief.

"You lost your baby," she looked at him. He wasn't apologizing like the rest were, he was only stating the facts. She reached out and touched him, put her hands on his sleeves, then ran her hand down to touch his hand. There he was, he was real. This was no imagination, nothing her mind had made up to comfort her. He was real, and he was looking at her with furrowed eyebrows, watching her hand as it curled around his hand.

He squeezed her hand, and she looked up and into his eyes. There she saw everything, she saw into his mind as a vulnerability so fragile settled on his face. His soul was bared in front of her, and he let it hang out there, letting her see the scars of time, the loneliness he had chosen to live in.

He put on hand on her shoulder, a gesture so unexpected of him that she found herself stunned, even her mind silent.

"It's ok to cry," he promised, his voice soft, not raw as it usually was, no underlying motive, only the two of them and her tears to cry. He squeezed her shoulder and then her hand, too. He would be there if she fell. Here, she could fall and someone would catch her. There was no possibility to fall any further now, someone would catch her. He was there to catch her.

One tear finally fell from her eye, falling down on the white pillow underneath her head, and then another. And there they stood, an awkward pose for an outsider, but an intimate for them.

Don't leave me, she asked him as she held on tighter, clinging onto him as she grabbed the arm holding her shoulder.

"I won't," he whispered, his voice barely carrying and she gasped, letting more tears falling freely, because now she knew for a fact that someone finally could understand her. For first time in ages she wanted someone to wrap their arms around her, and it was his, to lean her head against his chest and hear his heart beating under his shirt against his ribcage, to find that his heart wasn't as broken as she thought. He wanted to hold her too, to hear her breathing and find that she would be alright, to find her pulse, to look her in the eyes and find her there again. He wouldn't mind getting lost in those eyes if she was still in there.

It was something that stopped both of them though, as his hands held on to her tightly, and she felt herself falling into his delicate care. There was a boundary not to be stepped on, she was crying and he was worried, something that was alien to them now. When he was younger he worried. He worried about World War III, he worried that he wouldn't live up to his father's expectations, and he worried until he couldn't feel anything else other than that sour feeling in the bottom of his stomach.

(

She kissed him as he passed her, and he embraced her wordlessly and for the first time, she could feel comfort in the silence.

)