Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Reid and General Mattingly entered the room to find Dr. Dallas gone and Connie taking yet another set of vital signs. "Your BP is down now Dr. Kimura. That analgesic should be taking effect as well. Is there anything else you need?"

"No Connie, thank you," Linda said, barely above a whisper.

"Connie," the general said softly. "Why don't we leave these two alone for a while?" Connie nodded and followed the older man who looked back at the couple, sympathy radiating from his eyes.

Reid stood there silently after the door had closed behind the pair, not sure what to say. Finally he approached the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm kind of numb at the moment. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Am I supposed to be happy that the bleeding wasn't hemorrhaging from the Ebola? I mean, I guess I'm glad about that but how can I be when it meant I lost a baby?" Tears started to track down her cheeks. "I didn't try to get pregnant, honest. I was on the pill but I guess nothing's a sure thing. I didn't even know I wanted a baby until Mitch convinced me I was losing one. Then I knew…then I knew I wanted this little being that was a part of you and suddenly it was gone and I don't know what I'm supposed to think or feel. I should feel relieved that there was another reason for the bleeding but right now I just feel," the tears came harder, "empty."

Reid sat on the chair beside the bed and took her hand in his gloved ones. The long fingers seemed to devour her tiny hand as her tears continued to flow. He didn't know what to say. Should he tell her everything would be okay? Would it? Would anything ever be the same again? He didn't realize he was crying too until he felt the dampness ooze underneath his mask and touch his lips. Because of the isolation precautions, he couldn't reach up and wipe them away.

"Are you still in pain?" he croaked through his tears.

"No, at least not the physical kind if that's what you mean." She saw the tears leaking under his mask. "I'm sorry you had to be here for that," she said.

"I'm not," he sniffed as his nose began to run under his mask. "I always want to be there for you. I wish I could have done something." He was the baby's father. He should have been able to do something. Fathers were supposed to…

"There's nothing you could have done." She broke into his reverie. "Lydia Dallas said there was nothing anyone could have done. I should have known. I mean, what idiot doesn't know she's pregnant? Maybe I could have…"

"General Mattingly said you might not have known. The implantation bleeding disguised the signs and Dr. Dallas is probably right, you couldn't have done anything," Reid argued.

"Then why do I feel like…?"

"Someone's sucker punched you in the gut and is off somewhere laughing hysterically," he sniffed again.

She only nodded as she closed her eyes, the tears pouring down her face, and began to sob. Reid moved to sit on the side of the bed and took her in his arms. "Why," she said into his shoulder. "Why did this have to happen to us? You're the genius; what's the answer?"

"If I knew why things like this happen, I wouldn't have spent four months looking for answers in a dilaudid bottle. We'll never know why. Garcia always says things happen for a reason but right now, I can't think of what that reason is." He sniffed again. "I read a book once by a rabbi who'd lost his son. He said we have to rise beyond why it happened and deal with what to do now that it has happened."

"I don't want to deal with what to do now that it's happened. I'm stuck in this room for twenty-four hours a day. The only time I see anyone is when they have to come in here and all I see is their eyes and what I see there is mostly pity. I'm mad, I'm scared, I'm lonely and now I just feel…I feel…broken."

Reid reached behind his ear and loosened the elasticized loop that held his mask in place. He released it and removed the mask. Linda marveled for a moment at the sight of him. He reached up to remove the covering on his head. "No," her hand stopped him. She gestured to the mask, "Put it back on."

"I'm sorry for ranting on about myself." She put her head down. "I haven't even asked you how you feel."

"I feel so many things all at once. It's hard to explain. Like you, I'm relieved that the bleeding didn't have anything to do with the Ebola but then one moment I find out you're pregnant and the next you're not. That should cancel things out and we're back to where we were before, right, only it doesn't work that way. Because now we know that that baby was there even if we didn't realize it and my heart," he pounded on his chest with his fist, "is breaking that it's gone."

There was a tap on the door. Linda grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and dabbed at her eyes that were becoming red and swollen. She smoothed her hair as much as possible. "Come in," she said.

The door opened and Lydia Dallas walked in. "Hi Linda, I hope I'm not intruding but you said you wanted to know."

"Yes, I do, I…I need to know," Linda said.

"Know what?" Reid asked.

"Linda wanted to know the sex of the baby she was carrying. The tissue's been taken down to the lab and the embryo's been examined…"

"I never thought to say anything," Linda interjected. "Would you rather not know?" she asked Reid.

Reid thought for a moment. He hadn't thought about knowing. He thought of "it" as a baby they had lost but it wasn't like someone he'd ever had plans for but once Dr. Dallas told them the sex, the baby would be real. It would be his son or daughter and he'd always wonder what he or she might have been.

"If you'd rather not know," the doctor said, "I can come back tomorrow and tell Linda in private. Not everyone wants to know."

"No," Reid said, "I want to know. If I don't I'll always wonder."

Lydia nodded. Linda reached out for Reid's gloved hand and squeezed it. "The embryo was a female," the major said. She watched as both Linda and Reid closed their eyes, as if imagining a striking little girl with long black hair, lovely expressive brown eyes that were a window to her soul and beautifully sculptured hands. She watched the tears seep out from beneath their lashes, silent messengers of the couple's pain and anguish. She turned without a sound while maintaining the stiff military bearing she'd learned many years ago and left the room. The door shut silently behind her.