AN: Just trying to get back into the habit of writing and using a couple of old journal notes for support. Hope you'll enjoy. / *edited for typos

Disclaimer: I don't own Della, Perry or Paul, they just live in my heart and make it dance every now and then. Timeline: mid 1960s

Losses and Gains

When Perry Mason arrived at LAX, the first thing he did was check his watch. "Noon," he mumbled to himself, set the time back from GMT to PST, stifled a yawn and grabbed his suitcase while rushing to the exit. On the plane he'd had an ongoing debate with himself about where he wanted to go first after landing. Home to shower and shave or to the office right away? "Downtown," he finally instructed the driver of the cab he had managed to hail within a short few minutes. "Brent building. Do you know where that is?"

"I do," the driver signaled him by tipping his hat and set the fare meter to start their trip. "But I hope you aren't in a hurry. Traffic's a real headache around this time."

"I know," the attorney released a grumpy sigh. It was good to be home and yet, if there was one thing he hadn't missed, it was L.A.'s busy streets. "Just be as quick as you can, will you?"

"Important appointment?" The driver looked in the rear-view mirror at his jet-lagged passenger.

"Very," Perry Mason agreed, tried to hide another yawn and smiled instead. "The sooner I get there, the better." When he arrived at his office building a good hour later, he paid the cab driver a big tip for taking a couple of shortcuts along the way, grabbed his luggage and greeted the doorman with a tap on his shoulder as he welcomed him home with a genuine "Good to see you back, Mr. Mason". Once inside he denied himself to rush to the elevator and refrained from asking Bernie, the lift boy, to speed things up. He had been away for a little over a month, had spent twelve hours on a plane and another hour in heavy traffic, to say he was impatient to get to his office was putting it mildly. But although his patience was wearing thin, he was trying to keep up appearances. When he finally got to the eighth floor, he wished Bernie a good day, stepped off the elevator and allowed his feet to skip a couple of steps, nearly stumbled and finally reached the door that read Perry Mason, attorney-at-law. Upon entering, he took in the familiar scent of Gertie's perfume, coffee, chocolates, ink and paper. With a smile on his lips, he wanted to greet Gertrude Lade and ask her not to announce his arrival, but to his disappointment, the reception area was deserted. "Lunch time," he reminded himself and rushed right through to the adjoining office where he expected to find his secretary typing up the Telex messages he had sent through to her shortly before his departure from London. But her desk was empty, too. No sign of her whatsoever, no purse tucked away on one of her shelves, no coat hanging on her hatstand by the secret backdoor to his office. No coffee mug, no stains from it either and no fresh flowers in her favorite vase. "Della," Perry called her name, then opened the door to his own office in anticipation of finding her there, comfortably working at his desk, curled up on the couch perhaps or having a sandwich while enjoying the view from his office window. But his head of office wasn't there, only Paul Drake slouching in his favorite chair. "Hi, Paul," the attorney greeted his friend with a muted smile, unwilling to hide his surprise of seeing him there. "Where's Della," he asked in a tone of subtle irritation, put down his suitcase and threw his hat towards Sir William Blackstone where it landed, crooked but safely nonetheless. When his friend didn't answer right away, Perry turned around to see if he had missed her presence somehow, if her cardigan was resting on his chair or her shoes were lying somewhere toppled over on the floor or if water was running in his private bathroom. "Where's Della," he asked again, his voice unable to hide his growing level of exhaustion and concern. "Paul?"

The detective looked up at him, took a deep breath before he answered, his voice saddened and low. "The doll's in the hospital." His face was sleep-deprived and pale. "I'm here to take you to her right away."

Glaring at his friend with eyes that conveyed deep disquiet while his overall demeanor was courtroom calm, Perry simply nodded. "Let's go," he commanded as he rushed out the backdoor. Shooting out of his chair, Paul followed suit and shouted that his convertible was already waiting for them downstairs.

"How was your trip," the private eye asked a couple of minutes later as he navigated his car through L.A.'s heavy traffic like a pro.

"Never mind that," Perry brushed him off. "What's wrong with Della?" His concern was fully visible now in the deep lines on his face and the little tremor of his hands. "What happened?"

"She better tell you herself," Paul returned as calmly as he could and watched his friend almost choking on annoyance or anxiety, he wasn't sure. When they reached the hospital a little while later, Perry practically jumped out of the car before Paul even had a chance to come to a full stop. "Where is she?"

"Bertie was taking care of her when I left," the detective shouted after his friend as he hurried away. Then he parked the car and remained in his seat. He simply didn't know what to do next.

Meanwhile, Perry Mason, not a trace of fatigue left in his bones from his transcontinental journey, reached the emergency room in only a few long strides. Mustering up enough composure to find the information he needed without intimidating any nurses with his faltering restraint, the lawyer finally found her in a hospital room all by herself. Her face looked peaceful in her slumber, her breathing was steady. Upon seeing her, he took in a deep breath of relief, the ordeal she had been through still visible on her beautiful face through the carved in furrow between her eyes.

"I didn't expect you back until next week," the secretary whispered, her little smile honest but dimmed.

Happy to find her awake, Perry sat down on the side of her bed and cupped her hand with his. "What's wrong, Della," he asked straight on, his voice soft yet brittle when he continued. "Why does my attempt to surprise you with an early flight back from London end with me finding you in a hospital bed here in Los Angeles?"

Della looked at him with so much sorrow in her eyes, her shy attempt to cover it up with another smile failed completely. Instead, tears began flowing down her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm so glad you're home."

"What's going on, Della, please," Perry was begging her now. "You're scaring me." His hand was caressing hers in an attempt to soothe her and seek strength from her in return. Unable to answer, she simply wept, leaving Perry by her side feeling helpless and on edge. Just as he was trying to gather her in his arms, a voice sounded through the open door, clearing its throat. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Turning around, Perry Mason recognized Robert Henderson, emergency physician and old friend of Paul's and his. Unwilling to let go of Della, Perry asked quietly if it could wait, but the doctor insisted and so he got up with apparent reluctance.

"I understand you are her emergency contact," Robert started neutrally as he ushered the attorney out of Della's room and into a quiet office at the other end of the long hospital corridor.

"Yes," Perry Mason stated truthfully, his mind clearly preoccupied with Della's condition. "What happened, why is she here, Bertie?"

"I don't know how to sugarcoat it, so I'll just say it: your secretary was with child," the doctor answered calmly, but not without judgment. "Approximately four months in."

"What?" Perry looked for a chair to sit, his eyes wide, his face completely drained from color.

"A couple of weeks ago she came to see me and asked for something against menopausal aches and mood swings," Robert Henderson continued to explain. "It was quite a shock to her when I told her that she was expecting."

"Naturally," Perry uttered.

"I didn't ask her about the father, only if she had consented to be with him or if, perhaps,..." Dr. Henderson stopped when he heard Perry's sharp intake of breath.

"Why didn't I know about this?" The attorney jumped out of the chair he had only just sank into and started walking up and down through the tiny room, a thousand questions on his mind.

"You had just left for Europe and she wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone on some long distance call," Bertie reasoned, then shrugged unwittingly. "I think she was afraid you would let her go?"

"That was only a few weeks ago," Perry finally stopped pacing the room and sat again, burying his face in his hands to allow the news to sink in.

"Yes," Robert nodded. "And I asked her to consider termination or to give you notice and take it easy, but she didn't listen."

"Was she at risk?" Perry's forehead was deeply crumpled, his voice gruff with displeasure and worry.

"At her age, there's always a risk," the doctor returned as factually as possible. "For both the mother and the child."

"So she had a miscarriage?" Perry swallowed hard, the question clearly causing him pain.

"Yes," Robert Henderson confirmed flatly.

"Why?" The attorney had a hard time accepting what Della had been through without him by her side. The pregnancy itself didn't surprise him, the ache its loss evoked in him however threw him off balance completely.

"We don't know yet but she must've experienced labor pains when Paul brought her in. She had him pretty scared." The doctor looked at his old friend with the semblance of compassion. "He hasn't given you the details yet?"

Perry shook his head, his face pained and grim.

"I hear he carried her in to the emergency room," Robert started unemotionally. "She was half conscious, had lost a lot of blood."

"When was that," the attorney asked, his voice unusually weak.

"Around 6am," Bertie replied. "I received the call to come in shortly thereafter. When I arrived, the child had already been lost. She knew before I was even able to deliver the news. She hasn't spoken a word since, only to you."

Shooting up from his chair, Perry Mason headed towards the window in a few long strides and stood. His shoulders sunken in, his posture comparable to a recently beaten child, he remained by the window for a long time, brooding in silence. When he finally spoke, the pain was evident in his voice. "We've loved each other so long but we never engaged in a fully intimate relationship. Can you believe that?" Perry took a deep, ragged breath. "Only in recent years has that changed."

Robert Henderson glared at his friend in disbelief. "It was your child," he remarked and briefly closed his eyes. "Of course."

"I asked her to marry me, not for the first time. But she insisted that the times are different now, that we could be together without the constraints of a marriage." He buried his hands inside his pockets, then whispered to himself, "She insisted on it with a laugh and said she was probably too advanced in age to get pregnant anyway, so we weren't always careful." Perry paused. "She's only in her early 40s. What was I thinking?" Another sharp intake of breath, then he turned around, his eyes pensive and darkened. "Will she be able to conceive again?"

"Very likely," the doctor nodded uncomfortably at the sight of Perry Mason so clearly tormented by the suffering of his longtime companion. "But chances are it won't last. And considering her reaction to the loss of this child, I'm not sure how she'll handle another, physically and emotionally."

"A vasectomy then," the attorney stated rather than asked.

"Slow down a minute, will you," Robert tried to calm his agitated friend. "That's a pretty impactful decision. Irreversible, if you understand what I'm saying."

"I never wanted to have children," Perry interrupted him quickly. "Della's the only one I could've imagined having a child with and if that puts her at risk, then the decision is an easy one."

"It's not a small procedure," Robert Henderson reasoned. "And not without risks – for you."

"How soon can you fit me into your schedule," the attorney insisted.

"Don't you think your, erm, partner would like to have a say in this?"

"I'll argue my case with Della, don't worry about that," Perry Mason reassured him gruffly. "When can I take her home?"

"Not before we've run all the necessary tests," the doctor shook his head. "But you are welcome to stay with her for a while here at the hospital. I had a private room arranged for her."

"Thank you," Perry gave him a half-hearted smile.

"I've always known your feelings for her went beyond the affection of an employer for his girl Friday, but I'm not sure what to make of the relationship you two have decided to lead. It's none of my business, I guess, but..." Robert addressed his friend with a shrug.

"Della's her very own woman," Perry answered sincerely, his eyes pensive and wide. It had to suffice.

"Sounds exhausting to me but if it works for you, my friend," Bertie patted his shoulder before he passed him to open the door and see him out. "I still can't believe that I didn't connect the dots." He watched his old friend smiling ruefully to himself for a moment, then added, "Please tell Della I'm sorry if I offended her in any way. I don't think I was very understanding."

"I'd rather you told her that yourself, because as much as she is able to look after own needs, she clearly needed your support as her doctor, even if you disapproved of her situation," the attorney responded seriously, then walked away in a solemn mood. When Perry approached his lover's room a few moments later, he saw Paul Drake emerging from it with a saddened look on his face. Halting his step, Perry watched his friend for a moment, then met his gaze without a smile. "What gives," he asked as he closed the gap between them and took his friend to the side, unwilling to have someone else overhear their conversation.

"They gave her a sedative," the detective answered meekly, his broad shoulders sunken in. "She's drifting in and out of sleep, having nightmares it seems."

"Tell me what happened," Perry asked barely above a whisper.

"Around 4am I received a phone call," Paul started quietly. "It took me a moment to recognize it was her. All she did was say my name asking me to come over. She was clearly in pain, but she dropped the receiver sooner than I could ask what was going on. I rushed to her apartment as fast as I could, found the door unlocked and only her bedroom lit. So I went in to find her and saw blood on her sheets and some on the carpet as well. I called out for her and finally found her in the bathroom, cowering on the rim of the bathtub." Paul tried to inhale deeply but failed, his voice breaking away as he forced himself to bring his friend up to speed. "She tried to stay calm, but I could see panic creeping up inside of her. The bleeding just wouldn't stop. And when I asked her what had happened, she started to cry and broke the news to me about your child. That's when I wrapped her in her bathrobe, gathered her up into my arms and brought her to the emergency room." Fighting with tears, he went on under his breath. "It's his child, she kept repeating over and over. He doesn't even know about it yet." Paul stopped, allowing a tear to run down his face. "That's when I tried to reach you through my car phone but you were already on your plane home."

"That's why you were waiting for me at the office," Perry glared at the wall in front of him, still digesting his friend's honest words.

"I checked with the airline and when they gave me a rough estimate of your arrival, a week before your scheduled return, I figured you were trying to surprise the doll," Paul explained quietly.

"I missed her," Perry admitted more to himself than to his friend.

"I always knew you two are carrying a torch for each other," Paul replied honestly, then put one of his hands on Perry's shoulders in a supportive gesture. "I didn't realize it got serious however. I'm sorry for your loss," he finally added.

"Thank you, Paul," the attorney nodded, then continued sadly, "You came very close to becoming a godfather."

"And you a father," Paul reassured his friend he understood his pain. "Takes a while to let that one sink in, doesn't it?" Allowing silence to envelop them briefly, the detective finally cleared his throat and continued quasi cheerfully, "Now go back in there. I'm sure she'll sleep better knowing you are there. God knows she's been asking for you non-stop in her sleep."

When Perry Mason re-entered his lover's hospital room, he found a nurse sitting by her bed looking concerned. "Are you that Perry she keeps asking for," the young woman asked full of hope, then sighed with relief when she found him whispering a quiet "Yes, I am".

"Then I'll leave her in your care," the young nurse smiled. "Doctor Henderson said I could. Just please alert us if anything raises your concern. She's stable now, but we'll have to see how she'll get through the night."

"Rest assured, I'll call you if only her breathing changes," the attorney gave the nurse a little smile, then walked over to the other side of the bed to help Della rest more peacefully. "I'm here now, Del," he whispered softly as he brushed the back of his fingers over her face in a tender caress. "And I'm here to stay."

The young nurse blushed at the level of intimacy displayed before her eyes, then excused herself not without releasing a quietly adoring sigh.

"Breaking young women's hearts while I'm incapacitated, chief," Della queried as she opened her eyes to his with a dimly lit smile.

"You should get some rest," Perry sat on her bed and cupped her face now with his hand.

"I cannot sleep," Della croaked, tears dwelling back up in her eyes, reminding him of Robert's words about her emotional state.

"Then tell me what you need," the attorney whispered, found her hand to kiss and hold as if she could dissolve if he let go of it.

"You in this bed holding me tight," she whispered back, triggering one of his dimple smiles.

"Then move on over," Perry released her hand, swallowed his grief and stepped out of his shoes. "How does the lady want to be held? From behind or facing me to chance a kiss?"

"A kiss would help," Della's smile broadened without yet reaching her eyes. "And your chest half exposed so I can draw circles on it to arrange my thoughts."

"And what kinds of thoughts are those," the attorney asked quietly as he hung his jacket over a nearby chair and began to unbutton his dress shirt to comply with her wish.

"Thoughts about what this means to you and me," Della whispered and hid away in his arms the moment he came to rest right next to her, providing her with warmth and love.

"Why didn't you tell me you were expecting," Perry brushed his lips over her curly head. "We were talking on the phone every day."

"I wanted to see your face upon hearing the news," Della reasoned. "I wasn't sure how you'd react to it."

"I've asked you to marry me, darling," Perry smiled sadly now. "That always included the chance for us to have a family."

"I'm sorry that I didn't make it happen for you then." An apology or confession, the attorney wasn't quite sure, but it scarred his heart.

"We can try again if that's what you want," he offered tenderly, his hands caressing her arms down to her waist. "But I'm not lying to you, Della. You are more important to me than any son or daughter you could give me. What I want is you by my side, not a child to raise without its mother." He lifted her chin now with his fingers, just enough to steal a loving kiss before he added, "If the tests they are running right now confirm Bertie's fear that another pregnancy will result in another miscarriage, I'll make sure not to put you through any of this again."

"Contraception isn't 100% effective," Della argued before fishing for another kiss, deeper now, lingering.

"I know," Perry smiled as he felt her wiggling closer to him, seeking more of his embrace.

"So what's the plan," she asked as her lips brushed over his neck, her hand caressing his jawline and cheek. "Do you want us to go back to just necking and me providing you release every now and then?"

"That's not an option, baby," Perry shook his head and suppressed a moan. "I'm not going to hold off on making love with you anymore. But I'm not going to put you through another scare like this either." He was gentle in interrupting her seductive trail and nudged her gently to meet his gaze. "I've already inquired about a vasectomy." Stopping her from protesting, he continued softly, "Unless you get a clean bill of health and tell me that a kid is what you want from me above all else. Then I'll put any effort into providing you that service."

"As my husband, I suppose," Della challenged him with a smile that finally reached her eyes.

"You've got that one right," Perry nodded. "That's the bargain."

"Hmm," Della tilted her head and invited her lover to another kiss. "Is my wish to give you a child a prerequisite for us getting married now?"

Chuckling, Perry broke their kiss and looked at the woman in his arms glaring at him with an almost innocent smile washing over her lips. "Why else would you say yes to me now after I've asked you how many times… Six?"

"Five," Della corrected him sweetly and brought her fingers to his breast to twirl his chest hair with full intent to distract him and ease her pain. "But it looks like six could be your lucky number, because I've grown tired of being looked at like a moth-eaten floozy through all of this."

"When I must rush to the hospital, I prefer asking for my wife, too, you know," He grinned. "And not for my secretary gone lover."

"Can't I be both," Della held his gaze, so full of love.

"Anything you want, darling, don't you know?" He hummed against her lips, then kissed her deeply. "Whatever you decide, as long as you're with me, that's what counts to me."