Chapter Two

"Good afternoon," Doctor Paulson greeted Ryan and Marissa as they were shown into his office by his secretary. "Can I offer you anything to drink before we get started?"

Sitting down, Marissa felt Ryan take her hand in his, giving it a soft, comforting squeeze before he addressed the doctor. "No thank you. If it's alright with you, we'd prefer it if we could just begin right away. The sooner we know the test results, the sooner we can decide our next step."

It had been fifteen months since their fateful, failed attempt to conceive a child. After the night Marissa had turned away from him, she had apologized for her actions, and they had both turned a blind eye to the pain they were feeling and continued to try for a baby, month after month, disappointment after disappointment until the point where they had accepted the fact that they needed help. They were both 33 years old, and if they didn't do something now about their infertility problems, it would become too late someday. Gathering their courage, they had agreed to make an appointment with a fertility specialist to have Marissa tested to make sure she was even capable of having children.

"That's perfectly alright with me," Doctor Paulson agreed, pulling open Marissa's file to, once again, briefly, go over her results. "Well, according to all the tests we ran, Mrs. Atwood, there is no reason why you would not be able to conceive a child and then carry it to full term. Your body, despite your concerns, is in excellent health and shape."

Relieved, she felt her shoulders relax as she turned towards her husband, the painful, scared breath she had been holding inside of her chest released quickly in a rush of reassured smiles and joyful tears. In that moment, the rest of the world, the medical office, the doctor, the fact that they did not have a child yet, disappeared, and, for Marissa, she and Ryan were the only two in the world. Everything was absolutely fine…she was okay, and that meant that they would be okay. They would keep trying, even more so than before, and, eventually, when the timing was right, they would get the baby they wanted so much. Releasing Ryan's hand from her own, she cupped his face between her two soft, smooth palms and leaned in and delicately placed a loving kiss on his lips. For her, that simple embrace meant so much. It stood for their hope for the future, their faith in their marriage, and their devotion to each other. As soon as she felt Ryan return her kiss and place his own hands on her face, she knew he felt the same way.

"Mr. and Mrs. Atwood," the amused doctor attempted to interrupt them, but they never heard his quiet words. Raising his voice, he tried again, but it wasn't until his third attempt to gain their attention that Ryan and Marissa broke apart from their slow, tender embrace, blushing slightly at their ability to lose themselves in each other, to focus their attention, yet again, upon their fertility expert. Setting her folder aside, he smiled at the couple. "Congratulations, Mrs. Atwood."

"Please," she beamed at him, "call me Marissa. What you told me today, what your words have given me….us," she explained her eyes drifting back to her husband as their hands re-entwined, "it's everything we've wanted for years, the best gift we've ever received."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"So then, is that it," Ryan asked, moving to stand up in his chair and pulling Marissa with him. She knew he was eager to go home, perhaps even to put her newly deemed, perfect reproductive capabilities to use.

"Well actually," the doctor began, his words making the smile drop off of Ryan's face and for his body to retake his seat, "as you know, for precautionary reasons, even though Mrs. Atwood said it was unneeded, I insisted that we also test you, Mr. Atwood."

"Yeah," she argued, wanting to dismiss the second manila folder of results the man in front of them was holding, "but we already know that Ryan can have children. Remember, I told you that back in high school his ex-girlfriend lost a baby. If there's nothing wrong with me, then there's nothing wrong at all. It can't be Ryan."

"Actually, even if Mr. Atwood is fine, which we'll know for sure as soon as I read his results in a moment, there are very rare circumstances where both the man and the woman are perfectly capable of having children on their own or with other partners, but together, their sperm and egg are incompatible."

"We're compatible," Ryan responded curtly. The idea that two people who were so in love and had been for so long, who had such amazing chemistry together could be incompatible in bed was obviously just preposterous to him. Marissa couldn't agree more.

"I'm not suggesting that the two of you have this problem," Dr. Paulson reassured them. "Like I said, it's very rare, so before we jump to conclusions, let's just get reading Mr. Atwood's results out of the way."

As he opened the folder, Marissa, despite her earlier display of bravado and faith grew nervous, and as she continued to watch the professional in front of her as he examined the numbers and figures before him, results she could not see, results that could determine the rest of her life and her marriage, her confidence level continued to drop. Needing to reassure Ryan though, she squeezed his hand, lifting it to her lips, and kissing it before dropping it into her lap and caressing their joined hands with her free one. Even if it was just his left hand, she needed to feel him close to her, feel his wedding band brush against her hand as they waited, together, completely silent.

"Well, I…," the doctor began slowly, unwilling to look them in the eyes, "this is never easy, and I don't know what…..how to say it."

With one word, Ryan told him how to proceed. "Plainly."

"It's practically impossible that the baby your ex-girlfriend lost in high school, Mr. Atwood, was yours."

"I don't understand," Marissa asked blankly, confused and scared at the cryptic reply the doctor had just given them despite Ryan's insistence for the cold, hard truth. "What does that mean? Is there something wrong? What?"

Removing his glasses, Dr. Paulson pinched his nose before looking up at the waiting couple. "I'm afraid Ryan's sperm count is extremely low. Now, before you panic or get upset, he's not completely infertile. Your chances to have a child together though are extremely slim."

Swallowing thickly, Ryan questioned, "how did this happen? What did I do?"

"Nothing." Standing up, the doctor rounded his desk and sat on the front of it, attempting to make their conversation seem less formal, less final. "Chances are you were just born like this, that it was a birth defect that went unnoticed or a chromosomal problem. Of course, there are other explanations. It could be a hormonal problem, you could have antibodies that attack your sperm, but because we know you were never a habitual user of drugs nor have you had cancer, this is not something you have done to yourself. If you wish, we can test further and attempt to determine the cause, but that's up to you. No matter what, there's nothing we can do to change it."

"So, what are you saying," Marissa choked out, her mind disbelieving what their specialist was telling them and her heart breaking. "What does this mean for us?"

"Like I said," the doctor began reassuringly, "you can always keep trying. There is still a small chance you'll be able to conceive a child naturally. But, even if you can't, there are other options."

The room was quiet. Turning to look at her husband, Marissa could see blind panic in his eyes and knew he would be unable to think of the future, to get out of the moment when he heard that it was his fault they were having difficulty conceiving a child. If she had been thinking properly, she would have known what the doctor was going to say next, but she, too, was in shock. "Such as what," she queried, curious as to what their next step could be.

"What I would recommend next," the doctor began slowly, moving his eyes back and forth from both Ryan and Marissa every few seconds, "would be to…."

"Wait a minute," Ryan interrupted, snapping his hand away from Marissa's tight clasp and springing to his feet to pace the small length of the office. "So what you're staying here is that my wife is perfectly capable of having a child, and if she were married to someone else, anyone else, she would probably already have a child right now, that it is all my fault that she has cried herself to sleep so many times over the past six years that I have lost track of the count, that she has been doubting herself and her capabilities as a woman all because of me?"

"That's quite harsh, Mr. Atwood," the doctor said avoiding the question.

"But it's the truth, right," Ryan pushed, "and the chances are that the only way she's ever going to be able to have a child of her own naturally is if we get a sperm donor."

"Yes, that is what I would suggest you look into. If you go to a clinic," Dr. Paulson reassured, "it's completely anonymous. You can choose the donor you would like to use, attempt to find one similar to you, Mr. Atwood, and start the procedure as soon as possible. There would be no reason you would not be able to have a baby by this time next year."

"No."

She knew her voice was practically non-existent, a whisper in a room filled with silent shouts and screams of anguish, terror, and doubt, but her throat was too constricted to function properly, too dry to speak up any louder. However, it was loud enough to make Ryan stop in his manic steps and for the doctor to look up at her in surprise.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Atwood," he asked her, looking at Ryan for answers to the many questions moving quickly through his mind before resettling his eyes on Marissa. "It was hard to hear what you said. I thought you said no, but surely I was wrong, because that's your…."

"No," Marissa repeated, her voice adamant and strong the second time she spoke up. "I don't want to carry another man's baby. I refuse to do it. If I can't have our baby," her voice trailed off as she held her hand out blindly for Ryan to take hold of it, "then I guess I was just never meant to have a baby."

Coming to stand next to her chair, Ryan sank down onto his knees, taking her offered hand in his and holding onto it so tightly, she could tell he needed their contact for strength. "Are you sure?"

"How about I give you some brochures and information to read over before you go," the doctor suggested kindly. "You don't want to rule this out without having all the facts."

"I don't need facts, I don't need figures, I don't need time to think this over," Marissa answered, her response meant to reply to both man's queries. "Since the day I first met you all those years ago," she explained to Ryan, "you've been the only man I've ever imagined as the father of my children, and the day we got married I knew that your babies would be the only ones I would ever be able to carry and nurture inside of me. You're not just my husband, you're my partner, my lover, my best friend, my everything." She paused, needing a moment to wipe away the tears forming in her eyes, smiling up at Ryan before she proceeded, "and, because of that, there will be no more talk of sperm donors."

For several minutes, Ryan and Marissa merely stared into each others eyes, their foreheads locked together as one. They never noticed the doctor slip out of the room as quietly as he could, and time went by effortlessly, but it didn't matter. The outside world could wait, for they needed their time together to start healing the wound the test results had ripped into their world that afternoon. Slowly but together, Ryan and Marissa got up out of their sitting positions on the floor and in a chair, respectively, and walked out of the fertility clinic's doors for the last time, Marissa snuggled deeply into the crook of Ryan's arm the entire time.

-+-

They were on their way home when Ryan finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had been between them since Marissa had last spoke in the doctor's office. It had not been a bad silence just a contemplative, pensive one. "What do you think about adoption?"

"Honestly," Marissa asked, nervous to upset the delicate balance they were existing in. She knew what she wanted to say, but she was worried she would say it the wrong way or that he would take her answer and misinterpret it. Ryan simply nodded his head yes in answer. "Well, I'm not sure," she revealed, risking it and looking over at his face. Although he was focused on driving, she could tell he was scared about the conversation they were about to have, too. For some reason that thought made her feel more comfortable, as if, perhaps, they were, once again, on the same wavelength. "I think it's a wonderful thing, taking in a child who is either unwanted or who has lost their parents and raising them as your own, and, even though I know I would be able to love any baby, any child, I just….I don't know. If and when we make that decision, to adopt, it's so final. It's like accepting that there's no hope that we'll be able to have a baby of our own, and, I guess, I just need to hold onto that hope for a little while longer, even if it does tear me apart every month when that hope is torn to shreds. What do you think?"

"I know I've never told you this before," Ryan responded, "and I'm not sure what you'll think of it, but I've always kind of wanted to adopt…someday, kind of repaying the favor the Cohens did for me."

Marissa, despite their circumstances, felt a small smile tug at her lips at the sound of his words. Reaching across the center console, she rested her left hand on his knee, softly rubbing it to show him her support. "I think that's a great idea."

"You do," Ryan asked, glancing over at her quickly before his eyes returned to the road.

"Yeah," she reiterated, "I do. It would be like making a full circle, completing….I don't know, destiny or something."

"I agree, but that doesn't mean I don't want to have a baby with you, but I guess now…."

His words trailed off, but Marissa knew what he had intended to finish that sentence: that I can't have children, now that I've let you down, it's our only option.

Thinking about his silent statement, she remained quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she spoke up. "You know," she pointed out with forced brightness, "we're only 33. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but that's still really young. We have plenty of years ahead of us to make a baby. Women have babies well into their 40's all the time now. If, years down the line, we're still unable to have a baby, then we can start adoption proceedings, but, for now, think of all the fun we can have trying."

Ryan laughed. It was a small, practically unnoticeable chuckle, but, to Marissa, it meant the world. He still had hope. "We've always enjoyed the trying," he agreed, shaking his head at her cuteness. "And we can do other things, too, that we couldn't do if we had kids right now. Go on vacations, drive fancy cars, walk around the house naked."

"And I'm sure the last one on that list is your favorite," she teased him. Sure, they had a lot to talk about, but, for now, they needed this. They needed to just relax, enjoy each others company, and reaffirm their commitment to one another. The serious talks could wait a night; for the next few hours, she just wanted to live in the moment and be thankful for the one thing they would always have: each other. "What do you say to just a quiet evening in though," Marissa suggested, changing the subject. "We could make dinner together, perhaps take a swim, open a bottle of wine, go for a walk together…nothing important or monumental or anything but just us."

"It sounds perfect," Ryan approved as they pulled into their driveway. Turning off the care, he leaned into her and, for a moment, the nearness of their partner's body was enough, but, eventually, they both needed to be closer, so their lips joined together in a sweet, mending, devoted kiss. Slowly, he pulled away and exited the car, rounding it to open her door and offer Marissa his hand to help her out. Arm in arm, they moved into the home they had shared for ten years, completely unprepared for what was to come later that night.

-+-

The sun was just about to set as Ryan and Marissa's phone rang, breaking the soothing mood they had created for themselves. They had both changed when they had gotten home, putting on comfortable clothes. While Ryan was simply in a pair of jeans and a wife beater, Marissa had slipped on one his old, worn, faded t-shirts from college, a favorite thing of hers to wear when she wanted to feel safe and content, and a pair of baggy shorts. Dimming the lights, they had opened a bottle of wine just as she had suggested, filling two glasses and drinking from them leisurely as they prepared dinner together. As always, there was soft music on in the background, a new favorite of Marissa's that her company had just recently signed to their first record deal. With the comforting scent of raising dough and homemade pizza sauce filling the air, Ryan and Marissa flirted back and forth silently, sharing secretive glances and promising embraces as they worked together to prepare their meal, Marissa fit snuggly against Ryan's body as he controlled her hands for her. The uncomplicated evening was exactly what they needed to forget their worries and focus on each other, and one glance at the number flashing on the caller ID screen of their phone told them the call would be anything but relaxing in nature or content.

"Let's just get this over with," Marissa recommended in response to the call they were receiving. "You know as well as I do if we don't answer it, they'll just keep calling back."

"Or leave message after message until we give up and call them back," Ryan added.

The name flashing across the screen read Seth and Summer, now both Cohens, their former best friends and current brother and sister-in-law. Though their connection had remained constant because they were family, they four of them had grown apart as their lives had taken them in different directions. While Ryan and Marissa had remained in California, Seth and Summer had relocated to the east coast for college and then their careers. Afraid of marriage after witnessing her father's three failed attempts, Summer didn't mind it when Seth seemed to be too commitment phobic to propose, and they had only married when they realized she was pregnant. Now, six years later, they had two children, Cal who was five and Nic who was three, a full time nanny, and a silent agreement to make sure they never had another child. Two children, they said, were two too many, leaving them with less time to read comics, go shopping, play video games, have a day at the spa, ride their skateboard, or lay out at the beach. Although they loved their children, they were themselves too much like children to be good parents. However, their grandparents adored them.

"Coop, you there," Summer's loud, anxious voice demanded as soon as Ryan switched the speaker phone on.

"Yeah, I am," Marissa responded with a sigh that would be undetectable over a phone line stretching thousands of miles but obvious to her husband. "I'm here with Ryan. We're making dinner together."

"Oh yeah, that's nice," their brunette caller dismissed, not even attempting to greet Ryan or acknowledge Marissa's statement. "Anyway, I needed someone to talk to. You'll never guess what's happened. It's terrible."

"The boys are alright, aren't they," Ryan interjected, joining the conversation.

"What," Summer asked dumbly, confused by his question at first. "Oh yeah, they're fine, off with Elizabeth," the nanny, "at the movies or somewhere, I'm not really sure. I just told her I needed some time alone and to keep the boys occupied all evening until I would be asleep."

"Well, if the boys are fine, is it Seth, you, work? What's wrong," Marissa pushed. She was relieved her nephews were healthy and safe but still alarmed by her sister-in-law's frantic phone call.

"I'm pregnant," Summer wailed, completely oblivious to the sound of dropping dishes and a choked sob coming from her former best friends. "Seth and I are furious! The worst part is that I'll be six months pregnant by Chrismukkah, and it will be hell to fly across the country with both boys when I'm big, fat, and miserable."

"You're coming," Marissa questioned in disbelief, "but it's not healthy for the baby if you fly that late in your pregnancy. Doctor's don't recommend it."

"How do you know that," Summer countered, "it's not like you've ever been pregnant, and, besides, I'll be fine. We'll be in first class, as always, and it'll be no different from the other numerous times I've taken flights when pregnant. But it's sweet of you to worry about me. Thanks, Coop."

Marissa turned towards Ryan and saw that he was pale and holding onto the counter for support. Although she didn't want to say anything more to Summer, she knew it was up to her to finish the conversation and get her off of the phone. Before she could ask another question though, Summer just kept talking.

"Can you believe that all it took was for one drunken night of forgetfulness, and now, here I am, pregnant, again, for the third time in six years? What did I ever do to deserve this? I mean, I didn't take my pill one night, and we just happen to get pregnant. I should have just had a hysterectomy when Nic was born. That would have prevented this little mistake from happening. Despite everything though, Cohen's all pumped and proud of himself. He's going around calling himself 'Shooter' for his aim and accuracy in knocking me up, the stupid ass!"

Marissa went to reach for Ryan, but he was quicker than she was and threw the pan he had been holding in his hand down before running out of the room.

"What the hell was that," Summer asked, the loud noise of metal against tile breaking her from her self-involved ramble.

Bluntly, Marissa told her, "I have to go."

"But wait," Summer protested, "I have more to tell you,…" but she was cut off as Marissa simply unplugged the phone line from the wall and ran out of the room to follow Ryan, their dinner laying forgotten and spilled all over the floor.

Following the sound of Ryan's strangled sobs coming from their backyard, Marissa found herself confronted with a sight that scared her beyond words. She wasn't scared for herself, no matter how angry or hurt Ryan was, he'd never put her in danger; she was scared for him.

Though they rarely visited, Ryan had built a swing set for Cal and Nic the summer before when the young family had come home to Southern California for a few weeks. He genuinely loved his nephews, and, while they were there, Ryan and Marissa had invited the boys down to stay with them in San Diego every weekend while their parents remained in Newport with the other adults. The boys had loved the surprise Ryan had built for them, and they had agreed to keep it for the next time they visited or in hopes that their own children would someday play on it. But, as Marissa made her way into their back yard, Ryan was doing his best to destroy it with a metal baseball bat, beating and breaking it at a furious speed, his hands clenched desperately to the handle of the bat, his eyes closed against the world and the pain it kept bringing him, his mind void of any thought except those of escape from the nightmare he was currently living.

Striding confidently across the yard, Marissa approached Ryan silently. She knew he wouldn't hear her even if she did try to say something. Reaching out her hand, she placed it firmly on the small of her husband's back, the bat that had been so fiercely gripped in his hands falling immediately to the ground as his eyes opened and his gaze turned to land on her. "Oh, Ryan," she breathed out soothingly, falling into his body as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, their connection the only thing holding him together.

Marissa knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better, to take the pain and self-doubt away that one phone call from their sister-in-law had caused, but she could do something to take his mind off of their issues and reassure him that, no matter what, she loved him. Despite how forcefully Ryan had been holding her, as soon as she loosened her grip on him, he let her go; he never held her too firmly or for too long. Taking his hand in hers, they silently made their way inside, and she led him through their family room and the hallway that took them into the foyer and the stairs that would lead them up to their bedroom. Quickly and determinedly she pulled him after her all the way up their winding staircase and down the hall until they reached their bedroom door which was open. As soon as they standing beside their bed, she turned around and went straight back into his arms, snaking her own down to unbutton his shirt as she joined their lips together in a frantic, severe, bruising kiss.

Before she could even comprehend how, their clothes had been shed and she was lowering him down onto their bed as she climbed on top of him. As he entered her, her lips leaned down to his neck and whispered feverishly, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and, even though he didn't say anything in return, it was not necessary. There had been numerous times in their past when he had to remind her of his devotion to her; this time, it was her turn to do the same for him. She welcomed the idea that her touch could make him feel better, that her embrace could ease his pain, and, as they exploded together in ecstasy, their eyes locked, both a deep soulful color of blue, Marissa knew that in that moment, he had forgotten about the fact that it would take a miracle for them to have a baby on their own, that it was his fault they were having fertility problems, and that his adopted brother was about to have his third unplanned and unwanted child, and, she knew, at least for that night, they would be alright.