Chapter 8:

The Thanksgiving That Never Was

David sat on the couch, absently swirling the last bit of beer in his bottle while the rain kept drumming steadily against the windows. The warmth from the fireplace did little to chase away the chill that hung in the air between him and Maddie. The remnants of their poker game were still on the small table—a scattered deck of cards and a few loose poker chips—but the lighthearted competition from earlier felt like a distant memory. It was Thanksgiving, but it certainly didn't feel like it.

David glanced at Maddie sitting beside him. Her eyes fixed on the flickering flames. She looked tired, even in the soft golden light. It had been a long day. But he could tell that her mind was somewhere miles away despite her body being right next to him. Clearing his throat, he decided that anything was better than that silence.

"So, uh... got any… I mean, did you actually—did you have any plans for Thanksgiving? You know—turkey, stuffing, awkward family conversations..."

Maddie blinked, caught off guard. She stiffened, her jaw tightening as she turned away from him. She was quiet for a long time, retreating behind her walls and letting that invisible fog settle between them. Again.

"I—" Maddie started; her voice strained. She took a shaky breath, her eyebrows slightly raising. "No. Not really. No plans. I didn't… I didn't plan anything. Just..." Just another day in numbness; was all she wanted to respond. She glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact, while David stared at her, waiting for some miraculous follow-up that wasn't coming. Wanting to say something, anything, but he knew Maddie. When to push and when to wait. So he stayed quiet, letting the silence stretch between them, waiting for her to find the words she needed.

Her voice, when it came, was low and trembling.

"Thanksgiving… It would have been his first, you know?" Maddie blinked rapidly; her eyes glistening as she kept them fixed on the fire.

David's heart clenched in his chest at her words. He had known it was coming. Of course, he had. But hearing her say it out loud—it hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn't need to ask who "he" was.

Their son. Junior. The child they had lost before they ever really had him.

"You must have been pretty mad at me, huh?" asked Maddie, barely a whisper. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead.

The air grew heavier, weighed down by the grief that neither of them could fully express. David stared down at the table, his fingers clenching around the neck of the beer bottle until his knuckles turned white. His mind raced, replaying memories, thoughts, moments he had tried so hard to keep buried.

"Well," David finally managed, drawing in a deep breath, "having a needle jabbed into my arm to draw blood for an emergency transfusion to save my unconscious partner and her unborn baby… not exactly the ideal way to find out I'm going to be a dad." His voice was rough, blunt, and his gaze stayed fixed on the beer bottle in front of him. "They took blood samples to make sure we were a match—in more ways than one." The meaning of it hitting like a bombshell.

Maddie closed her eyes, swallowing hard. The silence between them seemed to be sucking all the air in the room.

"Did you know, Maddie?"

He turned his head towards her, piercing her with his eyes. He was not letting her off the hook this time. Oh no, he wasn't.

Maddie drew in a breath, her lower lip trembling slightly as she released it slowly. The fireplace was suddenly not that interesting anymore. She darted her eyes to her lap.

"I… suspected it," she admitted.

David tightened his jaw, still looking at her, but said nothing. Let her do the talking this time.

"Sam… He…" Maddie was unsure how to continue. "Part of the disclaimer he had to sign off before joining the aerospace program went through possible, potential side effects that his job could have on his health. Some minor, some potentially life-impacting. He…"

David continued listening, wanting to understand.

"Sterility was one of them." Maddie found herself surprisingly calm and relieved as the words came out. "But he knew he had already checked that box long before joining them. We both did. That's why he didn't mind."

David was stunned at the revelation.

"He didn't mind...?" He blinked for a few seconds, trying to process it. "Did... you mind?"

She let a wistful sigh out.

"We were young and free when we hit it off. I was never the motherly type; I mean look at me. Jetting all over, keeping the liberated Ice Queen image very much en vogue. So, I guess that… No, I did not. For a while, anyway." She stopped, her voice a bit shaky. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Until I did."

David lowered his gaze, not knowing what to say.

"I had imagined today... to be so different." Maddie's voice cracked, barely audible.

David looked up at her, his throat tightening. She wasn't crying—not yet—but she was close. So close.

"Today was supposed to be a happy day," she whispered, her voice shaking as she finally let out the words she'd been holding in. "We were supposed to be happy, David."

David felt his heart breaking all over again. He had always prided himself on being the one who could fix things with a joke, a smile, a bit of charm. But this was beyond fixing. Nothing could take away the pain that had wrapped itself around them. His mouth opened, looking helpless in the face of Maddie's grief, wanting to say something. Instead, he looked away, his eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall.

And then, the words spilled out, raspy, unplanned, raw, painful.

"I saw him."

Maddie's head snapped up, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto his.

"What?"

David swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her gaze. Locked away, he had never told her this. Unsure if it would ever be the right time to say it. But now, with the weight of their shared grief pressing down on them, it felt like the only thing he could do.

"Junior."

Maddie's face went pale, her lips parting.

"The hospital," he said quietly, "They… they let me see him. Hold him." His voice hoarse and low. "Before... before they took him away."

She stared at him in complete shock. She hadn't known. She hadn't known that David had held their son. Seen him. Met him. Said goodbye. Her hands trembled, and she brought them to her mouth, unable to find any words. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally slipped down her cheeks, and she choked on a sob. Maddie's breath hitched, and she shook her head as if trying to comprehend what he was saying. "David…"

"You were still sedated. You didn't know. But they… they brought him to me. Just for a few minutes," his voice breaking as the memory rushed back in vivid detail. "He was—he was perfect, Maddie," he huffed out sadly. "Just… this tiny, perfect little boy. His hair, his little fingers, they were so delicate, curled just so. He looked peaceful, like he was just sleeping. I could almost picture him smiling, as if he wanted to stay just a little longer."

Maddie covered her face with her hands, whimpering now, her entire body trembling with the force of it. David's heart shattered at the sight of her pain, but he knew he had to keep going. He had to tell her.

"So I held him," David said, his voice barely above a broken whisper. "Only for a minute or so. And I told him—told him that we loved him." The words were caught in his throat, his voice wavering. "That his mom and dad loved him very, very much. And that we would see him again someday."

Maddie's sobs grew louder, her hands shaking as she struggled to catch her breath. She gasped, the weight of everything overwhelming her as she tried to process what David had just told her. The image of their son—of the life they had lost—crashed over her, and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't hold it back any longer.

David wrapped his arms around her tightly and let her fall against him, wailing, her body wracked with grief. Clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. David held her close, so helpless, his cheek pressing against the top of her head. The storm outside raged on, and inside the cabin, all that existed was sorrow.

Maddie's sobs gradually quieted, her breath still shaky as she held onto David, not wanting to let go. David's arms were strong and steady around her, grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed. She had spent so long trying to keep it together, trying to push through the pain... but now she was feeling the relief of surrender.

David pulled back just enough to look down at her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her tear-streaked face, his thumb gently wiping away the moisture on her cheek. The vulnerability between them was palpable, raw, and neither of them knew what to say.

"Maddie," David whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I should've told you sooner."

Maddie shook her head, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. "You… you were there. You held him. I… I didn't even get that."

David closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't known what else to do at the time. He had been lost, just like her. But now, standing here, holding her, he realized how much they had both been carrying—alone.

They didn't need to be alone anymore. "I know. I know. I should've told you", he repeated, his voice cracking. "I didn't want to… I didn't want to make it worse for you."

Maddie let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The revelation had shattered her, but also the realization of what it had done to David. She hadn't been there, and he had carried that weight alone. The weight of his stillborn son who had never had the chance to cry, to laugh, to live. She could see it now, how he had buried it all deep beneath the swagger, the jokes, the easy-going smile. David had always been the one to lighten the mood, but now… now there was no hiding. His pain was laid bare, and she could see it for the first time. It wasn't fair. Life had never been fair to him. Losing his mom when he was just a little boy, snapped out of childhood too soon. And now, life had cruelly taken away fatherhood from him too. Again. And here he was, sitting next to her. Stripped of all his usual bravado, the cocky confidence. She wanted to say something, but there were no words for this. She swallowed, her throat tight with emotion, the silence stretching on.

And then it happened.

David's shoulders sagged, his head bowing forward as a low, shaky breath escaped him. His other hand came up to cover his face, and Maddie could hear the quiet, broken sound that slipped out—a sound she had never heard from him before. A sob.

For a moment, she froze. David Addison didn't cry. David Addison didn't crumble. He made jokes, he grinned, he blazed through life like nothing could touch him. Yet here he was, fragmenting like brittle right before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. David let out another quiet sob, his body shaking with the effort to keep it in. But it was too much.

"Oh, David…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Maddie swallowed hard, her hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. She had never been good at this, at knowing what to do when things fell apart. So she simply whispered softly.

"C'mere."

David hesitated for a moment, as if he didn't trust himself to accept the comfort she was offering. But then, slowly, he turned toward her, his face still half-covered by his hand. Without thinking, she reached up and gently took his face in her hands, pulling him toward her. David resisted for a second, his body tense, but then he slowly slid down towards her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as the tears finally came. He sobbed quietly; the sound muffled against the crook of her neck. She rested her chin on top of his head. Holding him, her fingers gently stroking his scalp. "C'mere." Her own voice too tight with emotion to speak.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Tapering off into uneven breaths, David's sobs began to quiet, his body stilling in her arms. But he didn't pull away. He stayed there, resting against her, gasps coming in slow as he tried to compose himself. Maddie closed her eyes, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. They stood like that, allowing themselves to be vulnerable—together.

The rain had stopped long ago and the cabin was now cloaked in darkness, save for the faint light of the moon filtering through the thin curtains.

Maddie and David laid quietly on the bed. An unspoken agreement that tonight, neither wanted to face the solitude of their own space. Neither had suggested it; neither had questioned it. She was lying on her side, her arm tucked under her head, silently staring at David. Her face was soft, but her eyes were clouded with something she couldn't shake. David lay opposite her, mirroring her posture, his eyes steady and filled with a quiet ache.

Unable to bear the stillness any longer, her voice broke through barely above a whisper.

"You will be a father, one day. I know that," she said, her words soft but heavy with meaning. "A great dad. The best dad." Her eyes, full of sadness, bore into him as she spoke, "And a child somewhere is going to be the luckiest kid in the world to have you."

David felt the sting of her words in his chest. His throat tightened, and he struggled to find a response, his mind swimming with emotions he couldn't quite express. Instead, he just looked at her, his gaze filled with pain and longing.

"Maddie…" David's voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in his throat. "You'll be an amazing mom too." But even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were hollow. "You will." They both knew it.

Maddie's lips trembled. She held his gaze for a long moment before giving him a faint, sad smile. It was a smile full of affection, full of the memories they shared and the deep, unspoken connection they had always had. She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"That ship has sailed," her words hitting like the final toll of a bell despite the faint smile on her face. Maddie opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. And she chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy moment with humour—her last, desperate defense. "I mean, look at me, David. I'm such a mess." Her voice cracked, eyes rolling as she huffed out a breath. "I can't even boil an egg. Or pull myself together. Me, looking after a baby. Can you imagine!"

David could hear the pain beneath the nervous laughter, the way she was trying to protect herself, to put up the walls she had spent so long constructing. But it didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Maddie…" David said quietly, his voice full of sadness. "Don't say that... When the time comes, when you're ready... You will be happy again."

Maddie's eyes flickered away from his, her breath catching in her throat. She lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket beneath her, trying to steady herself.

"Happiness doesn't become me, David." Her voice was now almost a whisper, and when she finally looked back up at him, her eyes were full of deep, aching vulnerability. "Not ever."

David's jaw clenched, knowing where this was coming from. The fatal accident, the heartbreak Maddie had endured—it was a part of her life David had never been privy to, and it hit him harder than he expected when he found out. His mind tried to picture the day everything had changed for her—the day of the plane crash. John's death. The day Maddie Hayes was meant to get married, only to end up arranging his funeral. The woman she had been before that day, and the one she had become afterward. He knew too well what it was like to carry that kind of grief, to feel like happiness was always just out of reach. But hearing her say it, hearing the defeat in her voice, made it all the more painful.

Maddie, sensing the weight of the moment pressing down too hard, quickly forced herself to snap out of it. She blinked rapidly, sniffling, and forced a small, forced chuckle.

"I am probably too old now, anyway."

She rolled her eyes and blinked again, trying to lighten the mood, but the crack in her voice gave her away. David didn't smile. He didn't respond to her attempt to brush it off. He just looked at her, his gaze steady and full something else—something deeper. Maddie's breath hitched, breaking eye contact. "Good night, David," she whispered, her voice shaky as she quickly turned over in bed, giving him her back.

David, lying on his side, stared at the back of Maddie's head for a long time. Wanting to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, to tell her that it wasn't too late for happiness. That they were both owed that much. But something held him back. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the knowledge that he couldn't fix this—couldn't fix them.

The soft sound of the rustling leaves outside only emphasized how still it was inside. Neither of them spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.

A gentle swish disturbed the stillness. Maddie didn't move, but she could hear it—the soft sound of paws padding across the quilt, the rustling of the fabric as the kitten settled between them. It was searching for warmth, nudging here and there before finally curling up in the small gap between them. Maddie felt its warmth near her back, its tiny body pressing into the space between her and David. She knew he could feel it too. The kitten's soft purring filled the room gradually. A steady, soothing rhythm. It was the only thing breaking the silence and it brought a kind of comfort neither of them could have provided for each other. They lay there, inches apart, both aware of the small creature between them, both listening to the gentle hum as it lulled them into a fragile sense of calm.