It had been a week, and Dan decided it was time to start acting human again. But it was as though he was just a shell of a being; he couldn't cook, clean, or work. When people called to ask how he was doing, he couldn't remember what he was saying.

Diana's mother was constantly calling and asking if they needed anything, but he knew better than to say yes. She despised him, believing that Dan had led her daughter astray. How wrong she is, he used to say to himself, when he had been in better days. Now, he simply didn't want the hawk-like woman anywhere near him or his wife.

If Dan seemed inhuman, it was nothing to his wife. She lay in their bed all day, and had still not changed out of her blue nightgown that she had worn that night. The night their lives had changed..

He forced himself to brew a proper cup of tea, and brought it into the tiny bedroom. "Di?" he asked. "Love? I made some tea."

"No, Dan."

"Please, Di, just sit up and talk to me... I'm worried about you." What he wanted to say was 'I need you,' or 'I can't face this alone,' but it came off much more patronizing.

Diana sat up quickly, her eyes burning with rage. "Well- maybe that's the problem, Dan- you're always worried about me. Maybe if you'd have been worried a bit more about him, our son, something could have been done-"

He put up a hand, unable to listen to more. She couldn't have hurt him more if she'd stabbed him. "Don't blame me, Di- you know that's not true, you know I did everything I could- you know if I could go back and change it, or put myself in his place, I would. He is-" Dan winced. "Was- my son. Di, you know I loved him-" But he couldn't continue. Tears flowed from his eyes when he thought of his perfect, angel haired boy just learning to talk, stuttering out a few words in the cloudy, garbled way of a toddler. He stuck out his lip when he couldn't remember what to say, and would shake his fists when he was frustrated.

"Dan- I don't think you understand-"

"Diana, I understand. Believe me," he was angry now- how could she believe she was the only one who was hurting? How selfish could she be? "I'm hurting, too."

She just shook her head. Words flew into his head, angry retorts that he could have thrown at her, but then he got a better look at her- hair unwashed, her eyes so puffy that her face was almost unrecognizable. She'd lost weight in just a week, and frankly looked quite sick. How could he fight back when she was like this? Diana was always passionate, but now she was different, broken. Shame washed through his being when he thought of how he was just about to try and break her more.

"Diana, I love you," he said, kissing her forehead. "Do you want me to run a bath for you?" She shook her head again. Should he make her clean herself up? No, no. She's too upset, let her rest, he told himself. Some, like Diana's mother, might have said that this was not the right way to get her back to normal, but, well- to hell with Diana's mother. Diana was hurting, and so was he. Neither of them could stand to fight- he feared they might never recover from the emotional wreckage they were already in- hurtful words would do nothing but harm.

So he just stood up and turned to leave the room.

Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe this was your fault- maybe you didn't care enough. Well, if that was true, he'd never make that mistake again. He was damned sure that he cared about nothing in the world more than that woman and their son. Something evil had taken him away from them- but Dan would not lose Di.

Di, I'll take care of you, he promised. I'll take care of you no matter what, because I can't lose anyone else.

When he turned his back and left the room, Diana hated him for it. Why hadn't he made her get up and wash herself? Couldn't he see she was not strong enough to do it on her own?

But why was he strong enough to offer her help already? Dan had always been a caretaker, she knew, and someone who she could always count on to be there when she called for him. But after something so disastrous as this, how could he bounce back so quickly? Did he not care?

Was she the only one mourning their son?

"Gabe," she whispered to no one. "Gabriel- I miss you, my love. I will forever love you, my son. Forever. I promise."

Uttering his name aloud gave her comfort- it made him seem more alive. Discovering this was like a surprise- a gift. "Gabriel," she said again. "Gabe... Gabe, Gabe, Gabe...."

He was alive, she knew. He was an angel, looking after her, and she would find him again, and this time she would never let him go.

"Gabriel," she said. "My darling boy..."

"Di? What's that?" Dan's voice came from the living room, and she instantly shut her mouth. Somehow, she didn't think her new therapy method would appeal to him.

"Nothing," she called back. But once more, before she succumbed again to sleep, she whispered his name.

When the sound left her lips, she felt something press into her hand- something small and warm, a feeling she knew so well.

Little Gabe had grabbed her hand, from somewhere, and she knew he was trying to tell her something.

We'll see each other again, Mom, she heard. Not just in the confused speech of an eighteen-month-old, but she heard Gabe at three, at eight, at thirteen, and as a man.

"Yes, my love- we will."

Soon, Mom, she heard.

"Soon."