A/N: Hola Readers! Haha sorry about the cliff hanger of last chapter. Okay, first off I don't want to offend anyone by the way I referred to Emily's abortion as "killing," this story is in no way meant to paint women who have them in a negative light, even if I don't personally agree with it myself, that's just my personal opinion. So pleaassse don't be upset by that. ALSO this chapter is kind of the same as the last chapter… ANYHOO, onto the next chapter! Ian's POV by the way.

"After an argument, silence may mean acceptance or the continuation of resistance by other means."
-Mason Cooley

Ian Doyle stood in his stone tiled shower, letting the hot water wash away his stress and the rank stench of old alcohol. He knew Emily was still there and he would be damned if he would say the first words. His mind was doing cartwheels and there was a pounding behind his eyes so fierce, he was sure they would fall right out of his skull. Yes, he was still upset about their conversation last night, but the long night of drinking and thinking had shoved the anger out and let the hurt step in. His pride had been hurt more than anything and he took her refusal personally. After all, how else was a man supposed to take it?

Very quietly from around the corner he heard a small voice say his name.

"Yes, Emily?" He said closing his eyes tiredly. He almost wished for a moment he was deaf and blind, because his hangover was so bad. Even her quiet voice was grating on his ears.

"Um, are you ok?" She asked quietly, almost as if she cared. He was slightly still drunk and in his mind a voice said sarcastically, Why would she care? After all you've done to her? You're lucky you're still living… He blinked the voices away, before answering slowly, "I'm fine…" There was a pause, before she spoke again. Almost as if she didn't want to speak at all.

"I—Well, I was wondering, Are… Are you still mad at me? You know about, last night?" She asked. Ian froze, he had no answer to this question. Was he angry? Not necessarily, was he upset? Most definitely. Did he think continuing that particular argument right this moment was a good idea? Absolutely not. While he was still slightly drunk, he knew himself well enough that he was going to be an absolute dick if provoked and he already hated himself as it was for everything he'd already done to her in his life. If this conversation could just wait…

Again she stuttered his name. His silence was disconcerting to her. Her persistence was beginning to irritate him. Stay, calm, Stay rational. Be Polite. The angel on his right shoulder demanded.

"Emily. Stop talking please." He commanded quietly, but firmly.

"Oh, Okay…" She trailed off. He could just pictured her sitting there picking at her fingernails, biting them nervously.

"Listen, Ian… I—I need to tell you something. You know, about the ba-baby thing." She stammered quickly before he could stop her. He stopped cold. This could not be good. He shut the water off and reached for a towel outside the shower.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. Calm. Calm…

"You don't know me as well as you think you do…"

"Meaning…" he said still drying off in the shower.

"Well, you remember telling you about my childhood friend Matthew? From Italy?" She said shakily. Yes, he remembered her telling him about her childhood in Rome one night they were on a date in Tuscany. She had seemed to have a fondness for remembering the friends she'd once had there.

"Yes…" Ian said; he didn't like where this was going. He could hear her voice cracking as she continued.

"Ian, when I was 15, oh, god… Ian, I uh, I got pregnant," she said, starting to cry. Ian's heart stopped for a moment. Thoughts began racing through his head a million miles a minute. He stepped out of the shower, not saying a word, trying to articulate a single thought and putting it into speakable words.

Finally he said, "So you had his baby?" He couldn't believe this. If he hadn't heard it with his own ears he would have never believed it… She couldn't have been, she would have told him. He should have known about it! Had she ever planned on telling him? Probably not, her whole identity was based around secret keeping and lies, especially when it came to him. "Emily if you had a baby where is it?" He asked tersely. She couldn't have just given her only child away, but she was only 15 so maybe… There was no way—

"Ian, I didn't have a baby!" She cried. "I had an abortion! And, Matthew wasn't the father… Matthew took me to have it done, he took me into the doctor, and then he- he walked me into the church on Sunday morning. Ian, I just—I was 15, I couldn't tell my parents, I couldn't tell anyone!" She pleaded, as he stepped around the corner. She obviously feared his reaction towards this news. She knew what he'd done to Chloe when she'd tried to kill herself… and his child.

This explained so much, Ian thought as he crossed his arms, leaning up against the partial wall that separated the toilet from the shower. He looked down at his feet so she couldn't see any facial expression that might be crossing his face. This is why she was so taken with Declan; she was always meant to be a mother even if she never knew it. This also explained why she didn't want to have children, she felt so guilty about this, she couldn't justify herself loving a child of her own. Ian couldn't fathom what it must have been like for her all these years, keeping that secret. Yet, although he felt her pain, he had to suppress the anger that rose at the thought of yet another innocent baby not given a chance…Luckily for Declan, he'd been there at the house when Chloe had tried to kill them both with a bottle of pills. He sighed, he didn't know what to say. He would never condone the death of a child, no matter how small, yet he couldn't afford to drive Emily further away from himself emotionally. He looked at her as she sobbed weakly. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, but he didn't even know where to begin. He stood there, thinking pursing his lips together. She stopped crying after a while, and looked up at him.

"Ian, please, please…say something." She begged. He thought for a moment before he held out his hand.

"Come here, Love." He said quietly, his head ached, and for once in his life he wanted nothing more than to just hold her. He didn't want to speak a word about it, because he would ruin it. He knew he would, so they stood in silence hand in hand before he pulled her into his arms and embraced her. She began sobbing into his bare shoulder, he could feel her tears running down his arm. And for one intimate moment of their life together they stood in silence. Not saying a word. Both coming to terms with acceptance…