I've been toying with the idea of why Jessica and Frank didn't have any children for a while now—ever since I started watching "Murder, She Wrote", actually. Naturally, it could be due to a number of reasons but today I just felt like writing one of them down. Major angst warning!

As always, I hope you enjoy this story of mine, and be sure to leave me a review if you do! :)

Frank entered the darkened bedroom silently. He could see the shadowed figure of his wife already asleep in their bed. Frank knew her to always sleep on her back; it was unusual that she was on her side now, her back turned to his side of the bed to which he carefully made his way. He lifted the covers, sat, slipped off his slippers and lay down next to the still woman. It had been a tiring, difficult day for the both of them. Frank considered leaning over and giving his wife a gentle kiss on her forehead, but since she was already so soundly—and surprisingly—asleep, he decided against it.

As per usual, Frank turned on his left side, his back turned to his wife, and pulled the covers over his broad shoulder, up to his chin. He closed his eyes and tried very hard to conjure up a blank image of black in his mind's eye instead of the insistent hospital bed. He lay still for a long while it seemed to him. He was not sleepy and it annoyed him, because all he could think of was how much pain his wife had gone through that day.

She had been feeling dizzy all morning, and now when she dropped their plates and her coffee cup in the sink with unnecessary haste and felt an increasing weakness in her limbs, Jessica couldn't help but lean against the cupboard for support and let out a groan of discomfort. Her head was spinning and a slicing pain slashed through her lower abdomen.

"Jessie," Frank's voice came from somewhere behind her. He had probably stood from his seat at the kitchen table, but Jessica couldn't look. She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a sharp hiss, bringing her hand over to her stomach. "Are you all right?"

His words got lost in the incessant buzz in her ears. Jessica felt a growing dampness in her skirt but when she tried to open her eyes to see the reason for it, she realized she did not have the strength for it. Her knees buckled underneath her and the last thing she was aware of were Frank's strong arms wrapping themselves around her collapsing body.

Her eyes fluttered open and she took a moment to study the room she was in. The bright lights were blinding, the hard bed was definitely not hers, but the man sitting at the bedside and holding her hand in his was most certainly her dear husband. Jessica took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts in spite of her terrible headache. "Frank." She surprised herself with her hoarse voice.

Frank's head turned, and Jessica witnessed a redness in his eyes, a glisten of tears on his cheeks. His lips curved into a smile and he reached out a hand to caress her cheek. "How are you feeling, Jessie?" he asked softly.

Jessica considered her answer for a long moment. Her head and back were aching, she felt an uncanny numbness in the lower part of her body, and yet his presence made it all seem easy to bear. "Just tired," she finally said. Her eyes travelled to the white bedclothes and the blue short-sleeved nightgown she was wearing, and she came to the conclusion that she must be in the hospital. "What happened?"

Frank ran his fingers through her hair affectionately. "You weren't feeling so good this morning," he told her carefully. "Do you remember fainting in the kitchen?"

Jessica furrowed her brow in thought and then gave an affirmative hum. "But I'm going to be all right, aren't I?" she asked weakly.

Frank lowered his hand from her face and wrapped it around her hand again. "Yes, you are," he assured her, looking into her eyes and therefore allowing Jessica to see the sorrow that he was trying to hide behind his relief for her well-being.

"But you've been crying," Jessica mentioned feebly, and Frank turned his head away. "Why?"

She had to wait an agonizing two minutes for his reply. Frank leaned forward and pressed her hand to his cheek, cradling it fondly. Jessica was too tired and too bewildered to make up possible reasons for his anguish. And so she waited until he had enough confidence in his voice to speak.

"You are going to be all right," he uttered quietly; and then he said it again, twice, as if trying to convince himself of his words. "But," his voice was barely more than a whisper now, "our baby is not."

Jessica held her breath, slowly and reluctantly letting the news sink in. It all made sense now: the pain, the numbness, the hospital, Frank's tears. Her eyes closed as she felt every inch of her body succumb to an excruciating pang of pain. The first coherent thought that entered her mind was that she had not only lost the little person she had dreamed of for so long and grown to love over the last four months, but she had also failed the man she loved most in the world.

Through the still silence of the night, Frank heard a short, nearly silent sigh. It was followed by a shuddering intake of breath, and then another one. Frank opened his eyes. The thin moonlight allowed him to make out the outlines of the bedpost, the night-stand and the window across the room. His ears caught the distinct sound of quiet, pained sobbing.

Frank listened for a little while, a sharp pain cutting through his chest at the thought of his wife hiding her tears from him. Then he rolled over onto his other side, and placing a hand on her shoulder, gently turned his wife onto her back. Just as he'd suspected, her face was streaked with tears and she turned it away from him.

Frank raised his hand to her cheek, tenderly wiping with his thumb at the latest tear in the corner of her eye. "We're going to get through this, Jessie," he told her softly, with sincere conviction in his tone. "Together." He felt her warm breath against the palm of his hand when she leaned into his touch.

And suddenly she turned fully, sliding her arms around his body and pressing her face against his shoulder. He couldn't cry any more; there were simply no more tears left in him. But he felt she was doing it for the both of them. Frank held her tight until her smaller body stopped shaking and her breathing calmed. They stayed in their close embrace for a while, enjoying the comfort of each other's warm touch.

Eventually, Jessica lay back against her pillow and looked up at Frank with glistening eyes. "I'm s-so sorry, Frank," she whispered, her voice nearly cracking under the weight of the grief in her tone. "I'll try harder. I promise."

Frank shook his head in disbelief. "You think I'm blaming you?" he asked weakly. His eyes travelled from Jessica's sorrowful eyes to her adorable little nose, to her quivering lips. "It was our baby," he said seriously, slowly leaning over his wife. "We are going to try harder. This I promise you." He pressed his lips tenderly to Jessica's, with that brief but meaningful peck wiping away all her reservations and lonesomeness. When Frank came up to look into her eyes again, she nodded her silent agreement. They could get through anything together.

The End