Time was a strange thing Dinah realized as she watched a single drop of water start to gather on the edge of the faucet, sitting there for a few seconds before silently falling into the sink. When you wanted it to move fast it would slow down, sometimes even feel like it was going backwards, but when you wanted it to stand still, to give you time to catch your breath and center yourself it would fly by, leaving you hoping for more.
Inhaling deeply, she tightened her grip on the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white as she slowly lifted her head to look in the mirror. Her skin was a pale shade of grey, her eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed and her lips bloodless, as if someone had physically drained all of the life from her body.
"Get a grip Dinah," she whispered to herself, finally letting go of the sink and pushing herself into a standing position.
Ever since she had woken up this morning to find her sheets-stained crimson and the cramping gone she didn't know how to feel, she was torn between feeling relieved that she would not have to go through with perhaps one of the worst decisions she had ever made and devastated for the life that could have been.
"This is what you wanted," she choked out, the words sticking in the back of her throat as guilt threatened to overwhelm her, the feeling that she had caused this with her negative energy weighing heavily on her soul.
"Is it," she wondered, laughing bitterly as she realized that she was just a few seconds away from having a full-on conversation with her own reflection.
"You need to stop this," she told the mirrored image, wondering if everyone would be able to see the guilt as clearly as she could, would Edmund know the minute he saw her that his dream was gone, that it had been thrown in the laundry hamper where it would be washed away.
Or would he only see what he wanted to see and put her unusually subdued appearance down to hormones, morning sickness, side effects from the hormones or a combination of all three.
She knew she should tell him, that he deserved to know what had happened so that he could mourn the loss too, but in a few weeks time they would be going to the clinic for a blood test, a test that would reveal that the IVF had not taken and there was no baby.
He didn't need to know that it was very likely she was pregnant, that her body had not been able to hold onto the tiny, barely there life for more than a week. No, he didn't need to feel this pain, he didn't need to know this loss, at least not yet anyway.
Shaking her head, she tried to clear the ugly thought from her mind and concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other, if she didn't think too far ahead, or allow herself to plan any further than her next action then perhaps she could get through this. Or at least she needed to believe that she could, because right now the other option was too painful to comprehend.
"One thing … one step … one moment …" she breathed, as she looked down at her legs, a small trail of blood taunting her as she felt her stomach lurch.
Unable to take the sight anymore she turned her body around and opened the shower door, standing away from showerhead she turned it on, making sure to put the heat as high as it would go, hoping that it would help wash the constant ache out of her muscles.
In a matter of minutes steam started to fill the room, fogging up the mirror and making it hard to see more than a few inches in front of her face, slipping her arms out of the robe she let it drop to the floor before stepping under the hot, powerful spray, her skin tingling as the water crashed down on her, washing away any last trace of the life that might have been, a life that never will be.
"Dinahmite," Jonathan called out, as he found himself at her door once again, he knew she was inside, he could hear her moving around but for some reason or another she was ignoring him.
Laughing to himself he wondered why he kept doing this when he wasn't getting anything out of it anymore, and probably wouldn't for a long time now that she was playing surrogate for his Uncle Edmund, the man that he held responsible for most of the pain that had been inflicted upon his life.
Yet here he was, standing outside her hotel room, knocking on her door asking her to let him in, he tried to tell himself that it was because she was the hottest thing in this town, that she was exciting and being with her was like starring in his own twisted TV drama, or it was just simply down to the fact that he had nothing better to do, not with Tammy spending all of her time shooting heart eyes at Sandy.
"Yo, Dinahmite," he tried again, knocking a few more times before he finally heard the lock turn, the corner of his lips twisting up into an amused grin as she opened the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded to know, standing almost behind the door so that he couldn't push in.
Leaning forward Jonathan tried to look inside, to see if she was perhaps hiding something or someone. "Shall I go and then come back again, maybe you will be in a better mood," he wondered, feeling like he had lived through this moment a few times already over the last couple of days.
"Sorry," she apologized, realizing she had perhaps been a bit blunt with him, after all it wasn't Jonathan's fault that she was feeling like crap and he was perhaps – other than Edmund – one of the only actual friends she had in Springfield.
He might also be the only person that actually chose to be around her and wasn't compelled to be in her company either because they were linked by DNA or she was maybe carrying their child.
Jonathan shrugged it off. "No worries. We all have our off days … although you seem to have more than most lately," the last part whispered under his breath as she finally allowed him into the room.
"I'm not apologizing again," she breathed, closing the door behind him.
"I didn't ask you to," he retorted.
"Good," Dinah nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs under her.
Watching as she pulled a pillow into her lap and played nervously with one of the corners, he pulled the chair from behind the desk and sat down facing her. "I didn't realize the hormonal stage of pregnancy kicked in this early … maybe Uncle Eddie is double dosing you just to be certain his demon spawn takes."
"Don't," Dinah warned, her voice low and almost threatening.
"Alright, alright, no more jokes about this little arrangement you have," he promised, knowing that he would be getting just as much out of it as her because the last thing he wanted to think about was Dinah carrying Edmund's baby, a little heir or heiress to carry on his or her father's reign of terror.
When she didn't say anything, Jonathan wondered if he had perhaps crossed an invisible line that there was no going back from, which usually he could care less about but there was something about being with Dinah that made him feel a way he liked, a way he had not felt before.
He could be himself with her, he could show her all of the sides that made up who he was, and she didn't judge, she matched him beat for beat when it came to scheming and messed up pasts. She was a hot, sexy, intriguing mess and when he was with her, he felt alive, being in the moment was enough and he had never had that before.
"D," he prompted, the next part of the sentence lost on his lips as he looked up to see silent tears streaming down her face.
He didn't know if it was what he had said that had caused her tears, what he did know though, as he took in the look of pain that washed across her face was that he would do anything he could to never cause her pain again. "Look, what I said about Uncle Eddie, that is my demons ok, I will never be ok with him and what he did but you … well you have this … relationship with him and I'm ok with that … what we have is fun, it's no strings D … "
A small cry of pain escaped her far too pale lips cutting him off mid sentence. "Dinah," he worried, the fact he was using her real name a sure sign that his concern was genuine.
"I'm ok," she lied. "I'm just having a bad day," she then admitted.
"Let's take a ride," Jonathan suggested. "I managed to get my hands on this super cool vintage motorcycle that drives like a dream, there's room for both of us, we could just hit the open road and leave this place behind for a few hours," he suggested, hoping that if they got out of this hotel room them it would bring her out of whatever funk she seemed to be in lately.
Dinah shook her head, her stomach cramping painfully as she practically jumped up from the bed, the pillow dropping to the floor as she ran for the bathroom, leaving behind nothing but a bright red stain on the quilt and a terrified Jonathan.
His first instinct was to follow her, to demand that she tell him what was going on but as he heard the sound of running water mixed with gentle, broken sobs he realized that she was trying to hide her tears from him, that she wasn't ready to reveal just how much she was hurting, at least not yet anyway.
A minute passed. Then 5, and before Jonathan knew it he had been sitting staring at the bathroom door for nearly an hour, with nothing for company but the sound of running water and the million different thoughts that were circling around inside his head.
Throwing caution to the wind he headed towards the bathroom. "D," he called out, his voice softer than she had ever heard it before.
Inside the bathroom Dinah turned towards the door as she heard him call her name, her breaths catching in her throat as she felt the concern in the simple syllable.
"I'm ok," she lied once again.
"There's a stain on the bed that tells a different story," Jonathan replied, realizing that he was probably being harsher than he should but hoping that his words would bring her back to him, that they would let her know that even though he might not have given her any reason to believe it that he was someone that could be trusted to be there for her when she needed him.
After all, he was perhaps the only person in town that was more messed up than she was and if she couldn't take comfort from anything else right now maybe she could get it from that.
For a short while all that came from inside was the continued sound of running water, a sound he was really starting to hate until finally it stopped, only to be followed a few seconds later by the creaking of metal and wood as she opened the door.
"Look, Dinahmite … I get that you might not want to talk, and I will be the first to admit that the cute and cuddly thing is really not my style but … I might be all you have right now … and I'm here," he shrugged, trying to come off as casual rather than let his real concern show through.
Looking over at the bed Dinah swallowed. "It's gone," she whispered, her voice broken.
"Maybe it was never really there to begin with," Jonathan tried, hating the look of guilt he saw in her eyes as she looked over at the bed. He was no medical expert, but he knew enough to know that these things happened and that no one was to blame.
Biting her bottom lip Dinah stepped forward. "No, it was there … this is … not normal, I don't … like this … not usually," she shyly admitted, not wanting to get into the details of her usual menstrual cycle with him.
"I'm sorry," Jonathan apologized, even though deep down he couldn't help but feel that this was for the best, he knew it wasn't his life, and that Dinah could make her own decisions but the idea of her carrying Edmund and Cassie's baby, of giving 9 months of her life and her body to a man that didn't deserve it had been eating away at him.
Watching as she wrapped her arms around herself, he tried not to think about what his feelings meant, about how something that had been fun, free and void of any attachment had led to this, to him being unable to sleep at night worried about the mistake she could be making and how she could never take back what had been done.
"Maybe you should sit down," he suggested as she started to sway slightly on her feet.
"You should go," Dinah countered. "I don't deserve your sympathy, not when …"
"Not when what?" he promoted.
Unable to hold back the pain anymore, Dinah felt her legs give out from under her as a loud, guttural cry trembled from her lips.
Breaking her fall Jonathan gently lowered her to the floor. "It's ok," he soothed, trying to imagine the last time he cared about someone enough to want to hold them, protect them and take all of their troubles away. "It's going to be ok."