A/N: This chapter is dedicated to you Corinne. You know why. xx

o~O~o
Chapter 24
Jesse's POV
o~O~o

"Beca?"

I'd never seen a room look so peaceful, so still and so serene. I hated that the noise of me entering the room might wake her up. I slipped my backpack off of my shoulder and quietly set it down by the chair in the corner. I wondered if I could catch a half an hour nap before she woke up. I wanted to be ready to help and run out for coffee, tea, bagels or anything else she wanted.

I needed to do my part, however late I was to this particular party. I heard movement in the room next door and the soft wailing of a newborn a few doors down, crying out at the shock of being forced to enter the world.

I inwardly smiled to myself. I was so looking forward to holding my baby in my arms and I was hoping Beca would wake me up with the news that I could take her home soon. Thinking everything through as I sat in the rocking chair near the foot of her bed, I wondered whether I should book a hotel room for that night so we could both relax before going back home tomorrow. I really didn't fancy the long drive home, although I was glad I'd brought the car since flying might not be an option.

I looked over at her, lying so quietly, so still. She had an IV attached to the back of her hand and I was mesmerized temporarily as I watched the slow drip, drip, drip as the solution filtered into her veins. I was so glad she'd had the sense to get to the hospital where she could get the care she needed. I knew she already loved the baby more than life itself and it gave me comfort to know she was willing to do anything, despite her hating hospitals, to keep our child alive.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the memory of the day that Beca told me that I was going to be a dad washed over me, filling me with the same rush of emotion... pure joy. The thought of whether we were doing the right thing never even entered my head.

"Wow! Just... wow." I breathed out evenly as I lifted my eyes to meet Beca's. Wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead, I blinked a couple of times before locking eyes with her; the truthful reality sunk in quicker than cold butter on a hot baked potato. "Are you sure?"

"I haven't been to the doctor yet but I'm pretty sure." Beca said, nodding gently to confirm her own suspicions.

"So, I'm really gonna be a dad?" I asked, my eyes brimming with unspent tears.

"Yeah." Beca replied, unable to get a clear read on my emotions.

"Beca...?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna be a dad!" I said, my voice rising steadily as the news began to sink in. I reached for Beca's hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her tightly towards me.

I didn't deserve to be this happy. I was sincerely looking forward to giving my fiancee a huge hug when she woke up. I yawned a couple of times and tucked my head onto my shoulder for a quick nap… that wasn't meant to be.

Something woke me just a couple of minutes later. I thought Beca might have started to wake up but she hadn't moved, she hadn't turned nor had she acknowledged my presence in the room. I didn't mind, hoping, with any luck at all, that if I had disturbed her, she would go back off to sleep.

I needed to use the restroom, and as I stood, feeling pretty groggy, I kicked my backpack over. Knowing I was going to trip over it a dozen more times before the day was over, I thought it was best to put my backpack in the cabinet out of the way. As I walked over towards the cabinet at the foot of Beca's bed, I could hear her singing softly. It sounded like she was singing in her sleep; it was so gentle and soft so I stood for a moment, before slowly making my way towards her again.

"Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)"
By: The Dixie Chicks

"Dragon tales and the "water is wide"
Pirate's sail and lost boys fly
Fish bite moonbeams every night
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

The rocket racer's all tuckered out
Superman's in pajamas on the couch
Goodnight moon, will find the mouse
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams

God bless Mommy and matchbox cars
God bless Daddy and thanks for the stars
God hears "Amen," wherever we are
And I love you

Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings

Godspeed
Godspeed
Godspeed
Sweet dreams"

o~O~o

I leaned over her, preparing myself to give her a kiss, to say good morning. Instead, I felt everything within me, inside my core, flushing red hot with adrenaline and icy cold from shocked surprise. I had no idea what was going on or what was happening right now. I thought Beca was asleep, and instead she was lying stock still in bed, holding something so very, very small.

There, nestled in the crook of Beca left arm was a very tiny, very beautiful baby boy wrapped in a little blue and white blanket with puppies on it. It took me a full thirty seconds for everything I was seeing to register before I realized that what she was holding so very tenderly was, in fact, my son.

My emotions were all over the map. I didn't know if I was excited. Or if I was scared. Perhaps I was angry. I stood for a few more seconds, gulping through the emotions. I suddenly felt everything but happiness. Most of all I was pissed that I hadn't made it in time to see the baby being born. I was so disappointed that I'd let Beca down and I was angry that she had to go through everything alone.

Then it dawned on me… like a bullet through my brain, that they were both lying too still for everything to be all right. She hadn't even turned her head to look at me and there was no way on Earth that the baby was ok. I started doing the math in my head… Beca was only about twenty weeks and five days along, just slightly more than halfway through her pregnancy. I'd read the books and I knew that there was no way that a baby born at less than twenty five weeks had any real chance of survival.

'What the fuck am I looking at here?' I asked myself.

As I looked around, there wasn't a crib in the room. There were no wires or tubes on our premature son, he wasn't in an incubator or receiving any sort of assistance. Looking at the baby again, I realized… that his tiny chest wasn't moving. Our baby… our son was already gone.

Gone, before I had gotten the chance to meet him.

Bile rose in my throat. Thick chunks of fear made me cough and gag. This wasn't right. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. I was supposed to teach him to ride a bike, play football, climb a tree. My role was to nurture, to provide for, to protect, not stand by and watch as his perfect little soul transported itself up to Heaven.

Had he taken a breath? Had he made a sound? Had he moved at all? Had he known his mother before he passed? Had Beca been left alone by choice? Had she made everyone else leave? Why wasn't I doing anything?

I just stood there, paralyzed, not really knowing what else to do. Beca looked so tiny and broken lying in the giant hospital bed, her eyes firmly closed and the only part of her moving was her chest, heaving with each breath as she obviously struggled to maintain her rhythm. I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms and tell her that everything would be ok, but in my heart I knew that was lie. Everything was different now and I wasn't sure that it would ever go back to the way it was.

Realizing I had been standing there far too long to be acceptable, I stepped right up to the bed and laid my hand on her side, hoping to stir her. I rubbed my hand over her hip and waist and swallowed down the lump in my throat that was threatening to choke me. I didn't have time to think about me right now, this had to be about her.

"Beca… I'm here." I said, not knowing what to say. Everything was just going to seem so stupid right now.

She didn't acknowledge me.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I tried to get here quicker but the traffic was..." I hated the way it sounded like I was making excuses.

Still nothing.

"Did you get my voicemail?" I pleaded, hoping she had so she knew I was trying my best to get to her as soon as possible. She opened her eyes but didn't look at me, just stared at the beautiful little person on the bed next to her.

"Beca… are you listening?" I tried a different tactic, starting to feel a little angry myself. She had chosen to go away from home when she was twenty weeks pregnant. I told her my concerns but she went anyway, completely dismissing my feelings about the matter. This was all her fault!

'Swallow it Swanson.' I told myself. 'Now is not the time for blame. Find out what happened and protect your fiancee. Man the fuck up you asshole!'

"Baby, can you hear me?" I felt the tears begin to sting the corner of my eyes and I willed them not to fall. I took my hand off of her hip and walked around to the other side of the bed. I tried so hard not to look at the baby again; doing so might have me fall apart right there and then.

I crouched down and looked directly into Beca's eyes. She wasn't looking at me, I didn't seem to register even in her peripheral vision. She blinked slowly and I noticed immediately that the sparkle in her eyes was gone. Her usually pale skin was almost white and the dark circles under her eyes made my heart ache even more. I had to get through to her. I was here for her and she didn't have to go through this alone. I knew she'd shut down before, the last time I'd let her down, and all I could hope was that she didn't blame me right now.

"Beca… please."

Nothing. She said nothing. Not a word. I reached out my hand again, desperate to do something, anything to get her to react. I stroked her foot, the only part I could reach from where I was squatting. She recoiled her foot and I took the hint.

"Baby, talk to me. Don't shut me out. Please. I love you."

A short gasp sounded from her and my eyes met with hers for the first time, although I do think she actually looked through me rather than at me. She began to cry and then I really didn't know what to do.

Her body was wracked with sobs and sniffles, and quite honestly, I felt worse than I did before. I've never seen her this way, of course, she's never lost a baby before either.

But neither had I. And I needed her right now. I wanted to hold my son. I had to have some answers for the ache in my chest that was beginning to really hurt. I stood up, hoping she would react as I pushed a few strands of hair away from her face. My heart broke as I watched her jaw clench in reaction to me touching her.

I looked down at the tiny body on the bed and my arms ached to hold him, to tell him how sorry I am for all that has happened and more importantly, to let him know, somehow, that his daddy loved him.

"Can I-" I started to ask Beca as I tried to touch the baby, wanting to peel the blanket away so I could get a better look at his face. Without a word, she pushed my hand away, never taking her eyes off of the baby. As I looked on, watching the two most important people in my life, I could feel my heart breaking into millions of pieces.

At this point, other than pushing my hand away, Beca still hadn't properly acknowledged my presence in the room. She never took her eyes off the baby. He was laid on the bed, safely in the crook of her arm and she gently stroked his tiny little face.

I leaned down and kissed Beca's forehead and cheeks, her cheeks tasted salty from the tears that stained her face. Slowly backing away, I took the chair next to the bed and for the first time since I arrived, I really took in the sight of my son. He was no bigger than the size of my hand and his skin was so thin and delicate. I'd never know the color of his eyes or know if he'd inherited my curly hair or Beca's strong waves. His tiny mouth was formed a little 'O' and I could see he'd inherited my chin. To me, he was absolutely perfect.

I'm alone and left with my thoughts, wondering what happened.

Beca wouldn't talk, no matter how hard I tried, she just wouldn't speak so I sat in silence, watching… waiting… hoping… praying for a miracle, for someone to shake my shoulder and wake me from this horrible dream I was so sure I'd fallen into. I needed someone to talk to and thought about calling Casey. Then it dawned on me, I needed to call Anne and Will. It was no longer a matter of if I should call them but when. I needed more information before I could do that though and figured I'd go in search of a nurse soon.

As I sat there not knowing what else to do, I began to feel so helpless. Moments later I heard a light tap on the door and the creak of the door opening. A nurse with a very sweet, solemn face came into view, I was about to speak when she saw me.

"Oh! Hello… I'm Ginger." She said quietly, beckoning me over before closing the door behind her. I stood and walked towards the chair I first sat in, where I ridiculously thought I was going to nap until I realized my son had been born.

"Hello, I'm Beca's fia… I'm the baby's fath… I'm too late. I just… I drove and I'm too ... " Dropping my head in my hands as I fell into the chair. I just couldn't manage to finish a single thought or sentence. My son was gone and my fiancee wasn't speaking to me. It was simply too much.

"Are you Jesse?" Ginger asked softly as she slowly approached Beca's bedside to check on her. She turned back to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. Never before had I been so grateful for human contact.

Looking up into her apologetic eyes, I finally found my voice. "Yes, I am."

"It's a pleasure to meet you though I wish it were under different circumstances." Ginger admitted. "Beca spoke of you very fondly last night. We spent some time talking."

"Umm… can I ask you some questions?" I asked, the threat of tears present again.

"Sure. I'll do my best to answer them." Ginger said, keeping an eye on Beca as we spoke.

"What happened? Beca is unable to tell me and I need to know. I have to call her parents and they'll demand details."

"Beca's placenta ruptured." Ginger explained.

"What does that mean?"

"A placental abruption occurs when the placenta partially or completely separates from the uterus. It can deprive the baby of oxygen and nutrients, and cause severe bleeding that can be dangerous to both the mother and the baby. It also increases the risk that the baby will have growth problems, can be born prematurely, or be stillborn. I know it's a lot to take in and I'll be happy to talk you through it as many times as you need me to."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." Glancing over at Beca and the baby, I asked. "Was he... stillborn?"

"No, he was born alive at 2:47 this morning."

"How long has he been gone?"

"He passed around 2:51am. He was alive for less than five minutes."

"How long has Beca been like this?"

Ginger took a deep breath. "Since the baby passed. We did everything we could, he just came too early. I'm so sorry."

"Was Beca alone when the baby passed?"

"No, I've been with her since she arrived. I just stepped out to fill in some paperwork."

"Thank you." I said and blindly reached out my hand to grasp hers.

"Have you held him yet?"

"No. I tried but..." I trailed off. I didn't want to upset Beca, she'd been through an emotional trauma that I couldn't possibly comprehend.

Ginger nodded, then walked over to check Beca's vitals and wrote a few things in her chart. "Beca, sweetie, Jesse is here. Can he hold the baby?"

Beca nodded her head and closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her face as Ginger lifted the baby's body from the bed, tucked the blanket around him to keep him safe and then she carefully placed him in my arms for the first time. He was so tiny, such a new and wanted little life yet, it was cut short and as his father, there was absolutely nothing I could do to bring him back.

"Jesse, just thought you should know, Beca hasn't had anything for the pain in hours. She delivered the baby naturally, refusing all medications once we realized that we couldn't stop her labor."

"That sounds like her. She can be pretty stubborn."

"She handled it beautifully, although very distressed, she understood there was nothing we could do to stop it. She did everything we told her to do to prevent this from happening and we had a team standing by to take him to the NICU, just in case, but while he took a strong breath when he came out, he was struggling. The decision was made to let him go and Beca held him the whole time."

"Did she... was I... did she ask... umm..."

"Did she ask for you?" Ginger asked the question that I couldn't find the words to ask.

"Yeah."

"She did. She knew you were trying to get here. We tried to call you but the line was busy and then there wasn't time, things started happening very quickly. She has refused to speak to anyone and while I have encouraged her to make some calls, she has rejected the idea."

"I'll do that. I'll make the calls." I said, the guilt flushing over me at the thought that I had probably been on the phone with Pepper when Beca tried to call me.

"It may not seem like it yet, but you'll both get through this. In time."

"I'll do what I need to for Beca. You have my word on that."

"She's a very special girl."

"Yes ma'am. She really is. She's my life." I said, my voice faltering at the end.

I couldn't believe we were talking about Beca like she was the one that was no longer with us. She was lying right there in the bed, sobbing, soaked from her own tears and we were talking about her like she's wasn't there.

Before excusing herself from the room, Ginger turned and said, "If either of you need anything, please hit the call button. I'll be right outside at the nurses station."

"Thank you… for everything."

As the door clicked shut, I looked down at my baby boy and my flood gates fell open. I couldn't believe that this beautiful little life was given to us then taken away so soon.

This is what pure torture felt like.

o~O~o
Beca's POV
o~O~o

In my life, I've been known to handle just about anything thrown my way with confidence, ease and unflappable understanding. Sawyer had been known to call me at 4:30 in the morning with crazy ideas and then expect me to have coffee and donuts ready for a 7am team meeting where we would discuss all the pros and cons of his cockamamie idea.

Any time that Luke needed me to unBritishify his terribly proper ass, I was there. I was there even when he didn't need me. Ok, maybe that wasn't always completely true. This last year, I've been a shitty friend more than I've been a good one. But I know deep down that he would say that it's okay as long as he gets his shitty friend year another time. And I'll handle it when the time comes.

Although it took a while, I managed to get over the disappointment that Jesse caused when he went off the rails. I questioned my intentions when it came to our relationship, especially after finding out that he was partying it up while I was busting my ass at work. Our break-up, while extremely difficult on both of us, was probably the best thing that could have ever happened. After finding Jesse on the street, he agreed to get clean and sober. With my help, he's done just that. He's been doing well and holding up his end of the deal as far as his rehabilitation. He got a job and has gladly gone to work everyday with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. And if he goes off the rails again, I'll handle it.

I'm used to working crazy hours without any time off, let alone a real vacation. I spend all day at the office, then come home and cook homemade meals from scratch because I like it and I find it therapeutic. I can survive on little sleep for weeks on end without any real downtime. I can deal with my parents overprotectiveness and my mother's disapproval of my choice of men and laundry detergent. I can handle life.

But I can't handle this.

Two days ago, I was watching a show on the Las Vegas Strip, protecting my dinner from being eaten by Amy and fending off her grabby hands from wanting to see how big my boobs had gotten since becoming pregnant. I was on a high, having watched Emily perform like a pro and finding a decent selection of new acts to talk offer contracts to.

While I missed Jesse, I was enjoying some time away from the everyday grind. Amy and I had eaten more than we should have, tried on dresses for the wedding and walked for what seemed like miles. The weather was perfect and even though I was tired, I wouldn't have changed any of it. I hadn't overdone it or messed around, I avoided all the foods Dr. Kaiser told me to even though I was craving soft cheese. I hadn't lifted anything too heavy though I had spent a good deal of time on my feet. I showered in water that was just right, slept with my feet raised and took my vitamins.

But now… now, I'm just a crying, sobbing, tear stained mess that seems to have lost the ability to speak, put together a coherent thought or seemingly function without help. And my life and everything around me all changed within a matter of moments. How can a life that seemed so perfect on paper be turned on it's head so quickly? How does life go from idyllic and envied with the promise of all things wonderful to broken and shattered in the blink of an eye? My son was a surprise but he was so wanted and so loved. I'm tired and I feel lost, lonely and most of all empty. Just twenty four hours ago my son was safely ensconced in my womb and happily kicking around without a care in the world; neither of us knowing what tomorrow would bring.

My chest hurts, my heart aches and no amount of pain meds can help me. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure that this is something I'll ever get over and right now, I wish it were me who was dead. I've known people who have lost children before and they seemed to function ok so why have I fallen apart so badly? I can't even bring myself to say anything out loud. It's like my brain stopped sending the signals to my mouth to make it move, and that's definitely not a problem I've ever had before. I usually have a problem with thinking something and having those thoughts immediately fall out of my mouth. Somehow, somewhere I seem to have found my missing filter.

As I lay here watching Jesse with our tiny, lifeless son, I'm forced to wonder if things would have ended differently had he been here. If only I had been able to hold on for another few weeks he would have had a chance. Had getting on the plane caused this? I'd packed light so I didn't have to manage heavy luggage and used the luggage carts at the hotel to prevent over straining myself. Amy had carried all the shopping bags and insisted on walking a step ahead to keep anyone on the crowded street from walking into me. I'd eaten well, drank plenty of water and slept as much as I could, although granted a couple of extra hours wouldn't have hurt. I'd called Dr. Kaiser as soon as I could and I had taken her advice. I'd followed Dr. Jackson's instructions and let Ginger look after me. I'd done everything right.

I'd rested, tried to relax and laid the way I was told to. So, why, just half an hour after Ginger had left the room after she'd told me about her family, had a searing pain torn through me causing me to scream in agony? Why, upon rushing into my room did Ginger find me in blood soaked sheets, writhing in agony and sweating with the pain? Why didn't the powerful concoction of tocolytics and magnesium sulphate work? I heard Ginger and Dr. Jackson talking about it possibly being too early for the baby to cope with it but I was distracted by the powerful contractions rippling through me at the time. Why? Everything was supposed to be okay! Why could they not stop my labor? I'd heard them say that they were really surprised at the speed of my labor and delivery. Why could they not save my little boy? Why did this have to happen? Why? I didn't want to have to push the little guy out but my body took over and forced me to. I didn't want to feel so fucking alone. I'm not a bad person. I didn't deserve this. Jesse didn't deserve this. My parents didn't deserve this. Oh my God... my parents.

I want to tell Jesse to call them. To tell them the news that I am not ready to share. My mother, although mortified at first, had, according to my father, been buying baby clothes and gifts and putting them away for weeks. How can I possibly break the news to them that the dream is over. Jesse needs to call Aubrey because even though I haven't spoken to her in weeks, she needs to know. He also has to call Amy before she hears it from someone else. And of course, he has to call Luke.

Hot tears fall from my eyes as I think about my baby's Godfather. Luke would never have let my baby down, he would have treated him like a son, a friend and an extension of me. He would have taken him for the night if Jesse and I had to be somewhere. He would have been there for every birthday, every Christmas, every Easter and every school play and piano recital. And that had been taken away from Luke as well. Luke was the second person to know that I was pregnant. He was the one who told me that I had to give Jesse a chance to prove he was capable of being a father. And Luke was right, Jesse had stepped up. Until he took his damn time getting to me.

Luke wouldn't have taken seven hours to get to me. He'd have found a quicker way and been by my side as nature forced me to have my boy earlier than I should have. He'd have prevented this early labor and not let my son come into this world until it was time. He'd have held my hand and talked me through all my fears. He'd have known what to do. He'd have said the right thing or if words failed him, he'd have climbed on the bed regardless of whether I'd batted his hands away and held me tight and close until I felt better. He wouldn't have stood there like a dick, blinking in shock and surprise. He'd have been a man in this situation.

But in my heart and in my soul, I know this wasn't Jesse's fault and I was just overwhelmed and overcome with more emotion than I'd ever felt before. He had told me not to fly to Vegas but I told him I'd be fine. Lie number one. He warned me that I was doing a little too much but I told him I could handle it and even hinted that Sawyer had all but forced me to go. Lie number two. The truth was that if I'd explained my fears to my boss, he'd never have made me get on that plane. This was all on me, this was all my fault, I didn't do a good enough job of keeping the little guy safe for another few weeks. I murdered my son. His blood was on my hands and my hands alone.

I'd heard Jesse come into my hospital room, softly calling my name like he knew I'd be pissed he was late. It wasn't his fault, I knew there had to be a valid reason and he would be beyond remorseful when he knew what had happened but I was being stubborn for my own selfish reasons. I heard him moving around before the chair squeaked and I knew he'd sat down. He hadn't seen the baby lying on the bed next to me. I hadn't called out to him but he didn't approach me either. I know he was tired from the journey but really? Luke would have known to wake me if he knew I'd been waiting for him, so why didn't Jesse?

I wasn't sure if my son's soul was still in the room and if it was, I was going to make damn sure he knew I loved him before he made the trip up to Heaven. I decided to sing to him; it was all I felt capable of doing in that moment. It was my first and final job as his mother. The song that popped into my head was a perfect choice as far as I was concerned. It couldn't have been better if I'd written it myself. I woke Jesse without meaning to and that's when he realized that the worst scenario had happened. The look on his face was pure shock, horror, bewilderment, fear and then pain. A whole range of emotions in just three seconds.

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't manage his pain as well as my own and I don't know if that's guilt on my part. Every one of my nerve endings was on fire, my stomach was still raw and painful, my heart was in pieces and my soul was destroyed. I knew he was feeling the same. I knew what this baby meant to him. He was supposed to have been Jesse's new beginning and a fresh start, to prove to himself, me, my family and friends that he'd changed, grown up and was worthy of being a father and husband. And now his chance had been ripped from him. And I felt so sorry for him.

He tried to take the baby from me at one point but I pushed his hands away. Holding the baby was hard for me and I thought if he didn't touch him, then his mind might convince him that it didn't happen. I regretted it though, as soon as he whimpered when I rejected his unspoken plea. I wanted to take it back but all I could do was cry.

I had plans for my life with the little guy who already bore a strong resemblance to his father. I wanted to get him interested in music, to teach him to cook, to do laundry so that one day he'd make a girlfriend or wife happy when he didn't act like a caveman. I wanted to teach him how to work hard, give to charity and work with people who didn't have the lavish homelife he would have had, to appreciate everything but take nothing for granted. I'd imagined buying him a small piano to learn on and to put on little concerts at Christmas to please his grandparents. I imagined long walks to the park, afternoons playing in the pool and watching Jesse build him a treehouse in the back yard like the one I'd shared with Luke. I'd imagined everything for him but I hadn't ever imagined this.

I rarely failed at anything in life. I didn't really make many mistakes. I was genuinely a good judge of character and it wasn't in my nature to let people down.

But my most important role ever had come to an end because of something I did wrong.

It was only when Ginger came into the room and talked to me that I could finally move my head and let her take the baby from my arms and to allow Jesse a chance to hold his son. I couldn't watch my baby leave me; I hadn't ever been apart from him, so I closed my eyes and pretended he was still there.

I could hear them talking about me, like I wasn't in the room but Jesse needed and deserved answers to his questions. He would need to make some calls. He needed to organize our trip home. He needed to sort us out some time off of work. He needed to be my voice for now and to be able to make decisions for me as I am incapable. I want to call out to him but I have lost my words.

But first and the most important task of all was spending time with his son. And I knew that. I understood that. I loved him unconditionally for that. I respected him for that.

I want more than anything to be held.

But I don't know how to ask.