Rating: Teen

Summary: The best way to cope with loss is to remember the life that's still being created.

Notes: Written for older_not_dead promptathon 9: New Beginnings.

Prompt: ?. ?/?. Out of Death; Comes New Life

Warnings: Miscarriage

Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.

Written: 5/2012

When they found out she was pregnant, the doctor's measurements estimated Karen was nearly nine weeks along. Both of them publicly played ignorant outside the obstetrician's office – blindly pretending just like they did with their relationship. Nothing happening, nothing to see here. It took a week to get fully back to normal; even after the debacle of Shawn doing reality TV there was a haze of nights neither would admit were sleepless. The second week it was easier to pretend, Henry spent much of it watching Karen idly sip decaf and fruit juice at her desk as she approved reports. Somehow, at the end of it he managed to coordinate a full day off together to take Karen and Iris out on Cachuma.

He'd never admit it, but watching the little girl lounging in a deck chair with her Disney Princesses rod in one hand and a juice box in the other made Henry just a little reminiscent of the times he'd taken Shawn and Gus out as kids. Granted, they spent most of those trips in the water pretending to drown or in the cabin playing cards while Iris had taken quite naturally to relaxing in the afternoon sun with her floppy hat drawn down over her eyes to sneak a nap, but it was still nice. Karen laid out on the deck in a one-piece and shorts with a book, occasionally stealing glances at them with their lines in the water; it was sort of like a proper family again.

That night, the first night Iris had been put down in Shawn's old bed under the Spencer roof, Karen came to bed with red rings around her eyes and he didn't need to ask. "Karen," he wrapped his arms around shoulders, drawing her closer against him and pressing warm kisses to her face, "we'll be okay." She sniffed hard and rubbed her face against the inside of his shoulder, silently sobbing into his shirt as he stroked over her hair in an attempt to comfort her. "We'll be all right."

She sniffed harder and nodded, several minutes passing as she calmed herself. Then, finally, she let out a soft sigh and looked up at him from her favorite spot – curled against his side. "I know… I guess I just sort of got used to the idea."

He squeezed her even tighter and kissed her forehead, watching her soft expression in the dimly lit room. "I know. But, you know… we're good. I mean, I'm not going anywhere and I'm pretty sure Iris is taking a shine to me…"

"Are you kidding? In the bathroom on the way home all she could talk about was how cool it was that you caught that big fish and let it go when she cried."

"Hey, she named it Nemo. I'm not a heartless bastard."

"Definitely not, which is why I bought you the Captain's Platter at Crab Shack Willy's." She managed a slight smile; "Which I must add, you did a fine job of calling 'ocean chicken'."

He chuckled under his breath; "Hey, Shawn went through that phase back in '86 when their teacher thought it'd be a good idea to take them to a cattle ranch. Couldn't eat steak for a month until I started calling it 'land fish'."

"Have you always been an evil genius?"

"Mmm…" he pretended to consider the question; "…I prefer to call it creative parenting." He could be very creative when he needed to be.

"Yeah, well… whatever you did to Shawn – you know you're not making my daughter a 'psychic', right?" She threatened, only a little serious.

Henry let out a slight laugh, rocking himself until he turned fully on his side to face her – pressing a kiss to her lips. "The world can't handle another kid like Shawn."

She nodded, and then sighed again; "You know, we would have had a beautiful baby, right?"

"Don't think about it, Karen." Another long silence fell between them and Henry drew her head against his shoulder again, rubbing along her shoulders through the thick cotton of her nightshirt. "Things are the way they're meant to be."

"What, hiding at your house because I don't want to go home when my ex-husband's there?"

Henry let his chin rest gently on the top of her head and answered; "No, spending the night where you belong."

"Henry…" she whispered, "you know we can't live together… we can't even let on that we're doing this at the office." The rules of the 'affair'; nobody knows, especially not at work where she could lose her job for fraternizing with a department employee – not to mention disgraced for what the media would certainly turn into some sordid affair between a married woman and some old loser. She'd be crucified if anyone found out.

"I know that. But, soon… I mean, your divorce should be worked out by Christmas and maybe it's time for me to…"

"No," she chided, "the SBPD needs you, Henry. I'm not going to lose the work you do for the department."

Holding his tongue, always sure to be very delicate about that particular continuing argument, Henry nodded against her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You need me, Karen… and I need you. Right here."

"Oh, Henry…" she sighed again, pressing the flat of her palm against his chest. "Just… not right now, okay? I'm not ready."

It was good enough for that night; they both knew eventually Henry was going to retire – and that it would be sooner rather than later. And as far as Henry was concerned, she didn't have to agree with it – it would be final.

The next morning Henry made breakfast and after Karen left for work, watched Dora the Explorer with Iris before dropping her off at school. After a stop at Home Depot and a local nursery, he lugged a young pear tree into the back yard. Planting went easily enough, and when he sat by the freshly planted tree sweaty and dirty from the job, it felt right.

"God doesn't make mistakes," he murmured to himself, taking out his wallet to withdraw a folded black and white image from the first and only ultrasound – the only photograph of a child that never was – and then tucked it deep into the fresh, wet earth where it belonged. "It was the right thing to do."

He spent the rest of the afternoon alone with a bottle of cheap scotch and a John Wayne marathon; by the time Karen texted to let him know that the case had wrapped and she was heading home for the night, it was all he could do to reply; planted pears in the yard for my favorite girls. Come over tomorrow and we can show Iris.