"All women at one point or another in their lives dream about the day they hold their baby for the first time after giving birth. All women dream about what it will feel like to hold them against their chest and see their little face looking up at them. All women dream about debating with their husband's who the baby looks more like. All women dream about this, but for some women, this dream will be just that, a dream. But there is hope for some of these women. The hope that one day, this dream becomes less of a nightmare and more a reality."

- Unknown.

Have you ever had those times when you cry so hard you can see straight and you begin to hiccup? Have you ever cried so hard that you literally feel like ever last drop of water in your body has been cried out and your body still continues to be racked with sobs? I have only cried like that twice.

The first time was when my pet dog Rover passed away when I was twelve. I never quiet fit in with everyone as a child and I was alone most of the time, but Rover was my best friend – as sad as that may sound. But when he passed away, for the first time in my entire life, I felt truly alone. Sure, I had my parents, but nothing could replace Rover. My mother continued to ask me if I wanted to have another dog, but like I said before, nothing could replace Rover in my heart.

The second and most recent time I had ever cried like that was when I had a miscarriage. Even now, the mere mention of that horrific event brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart break each time. Logan and I were so excited for that baby that it was like we couldn't stop talking about it to everyone and anyone. Sure, our friends got annoyed with the constant chatter about a baby, but that didn't stop us; We were about to be parents for the first time after trying for almost a year for a baby. Everything was perfect; we were married, we were in a great living situation and had enough money to support the baby, all the baby clothes ready, and we were about to go out and buy furniture for the room down the hallway, which would be the baby's. Everything was right and in it's place, until I found blood in my underwear while going clothes shopping with Jo. Before I could even get out of the dressing room, I was down on the ground and the store personnel were flocking to me while Jo frantically dialed Logan's number while one of the workers called 9-1-1. The last thing I remember before blacking out was reaching down and feeling wetness between my legs. I brought my hand up to my face and I saw my fingertips were covered in blood.

"No." I remembered saying before falling into blackness.

And just like that, it was all gone. The baby was gone. All those baby clothes were useless. All the clothes I had bought ahead of time for when I would be getting bigger were now going to be gathering dust in the back of my closet. Our baby, the next step in our almost-perfect relationship was gone; dead. I killed my own child. My body turned from a safe haven for them into a death trap. How could I look at myself in the mirror, knowing it was my fault? Easy, I didn't look in a mirror. I didn't talk to anyone for weeks, I hardly even left Logan and I's room. I would have been worried about my job, but my boss and the producers of the show understood why I wasn't in and gave me extended leave for me and Logan to cope. Even though the actual of losing the baby would never complete disappear, it was like the edge and sting of the loss began to wear off for me. But whenever I glanced down the hallway to see that door to the other room looking right back at me, I have to will myself to keep moving and not to fall apart right there on the ground.

The miscarriage hit Logan hard too. Every time I think about him and the miscarriage, the first thing that pops into my mind is how his face completely crumbled as the doctor told him what had happened. I was sitting in the hospital bed and was crying my own tears of loss because the doctor had just told me the news I already knew; I had lost the baby. I saw Logan's figure appear out of the corner of my eye through the window and when he made eye contact with me, it was like he knew as well. I could tell that he was trying to keep positive as the doctor walked out of my room and shut the door behind him and walked towards my husband. I couldn't hear what the doctor had said, but from what I could read from the doctors lips, he said something along the lines of :

"We're sorry, Mr. Mitchell, but it seems your wife has had a miscarriage. I'm deeply sorry."

I kept my eyes on my husband and when his face collapsed and his bottom lip began to quiver with a sob, I tried my hardest to stay in control and to not just scream from the anguish that was burning deep inside of me. Logan put his hands behind his head and shook his head violently, not wanting to believe the words the doctor said. I didn't need to read his lips, for his voice was loud enough for me to hear his words perfectly. He didn't cry out any wise words or anything offense at my doctor; in fact, he didn't say much at all. But the one word he did say spoke enough volumes.

"Why?" cried out Logan has his voice cracked with emotion.

Just as the doctor walked away from Logan, Kendall and Jo appeared at his side. Kendall soon realized what had happened and put his hand on Logan's shoulder and tried to fight back his own tears (Kendall couldn't help but cry when he saw someone else – especially someone like Logan – crying). Logan quickly turned around and threw his arms around Kendall and began to sob body wracking sobs. I thought that my heart was already shattered, but when I saw Logan completely break down in the arms of his best friend, I realized that my heart was less shattered, and more so punched right out of my chest, leaving in its wake a giant, gaping, painful hole. Kendall looked over Logan's shoulder and looked right at me, then pulled Logan off of him and told him something. Logan nodded and looked over at me. He saw that my face was covered in the tracks of my tears and that my expression were pretty much was identical to his; completely and utterly heartbroken. He walked right into my room and without a second thought, I put my arms out to him and he pulled me into a tight embrace, and we stayed like that for three hours. For three straight hours, we held each other and sobbed.

Three months had passed since that day and time was starting to heal the wounds Logan and I were feeling. Our marriage counselor – who we hired shortly after the miscarriage to help us cope with the loss – told us that with time, the pain of the loss wouldn't be so over bearing and that we could try again whenever we were ready. I wanted to try again, but the truth of the matter was that I didn't know if Logan did. He seemed still in shock of what had happened and it began to worry me. He seemed like he was drifting away from me, and that scared me more than anything. I had already lost my child, and I couldn't fathom losing my husband too.

But one night, I stumbled on something that made all the difference in Logan and I's relationship. It was close to ten-thirty in the evening and I was heading up to bed when I saw the room at the end of the hallway had it's light on. Even though it hurt to look down at that door, I had to see who was in there. I opened the door a crack and saw Logan sitting on the white rocking chair – the only piece of furniture Logan and I had placed into the room – flipping through a stack of photos with a small smile on his face. It was comforting to see him smiling again after going so long without seeing it on his face. I opened the door a little more and walked over to him as I tucked a stray piece of hair out of my face. He turned his face up to look at me and the smile widened.

"Hey, sweetie." he said as he extended his neck to me and placed a kiss on my cheek. Once again, his actions were bringing me comfort.

"Hey," I said as I put my hand on his shoulder, "What are you looking at?" I asked, looking down at the photo stack in his hand.

"Just some photos I found from when I was younger, c'mere and look." he said as he sat down on the floor and patted a spot next to him on the soft carpet. I smiled and sat down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. The room itself wasn't too hard to be in after all. The walls were painted by the family who lived in the house before us a light shade of green on the one wall and light yellow on the two other three walls. The rest of the room was bare besides the one rocking chair in the center of the room and the one floor lamp in one of the corners of the room, giving it a yellow glow to it.

"You were so adorable." I said with a giggle as I looked at the picture that Logan was looking at. He was about six or seven and holding up a frog while standing calf-deep in water while wearing dark green rain boots, red shorts, a white tee shirt and a red baseball cap. The smile on his face made his chubby cheeks more pronounced and his big brown eyes were even bigger back then.

"I remember that day. I caught five frogs that day." boasted my husband with a smile. He went through a few more and stopped at one that made my heart pang against my chest. It was a picture of Logan when he was about thirteen with his mother, who was smiling while holding her son in a hug with her arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind. Sadly, Logan's mother – who's name was Carrie-Ann – passed away when Logan was fourteen from complications that arose from pneumonia. Logan had told me that his mother had just gotten over the flu, so her immune system was low, so when the pneumonia hit, her body was just too weak to stop it. Logan looked a lot like his mother; both of them having big, chocolate brown eyes and the same cheek bones and nose.

"She was so beautiful, Logan." I said as I wrapped her arm around Logan's forearm. Logan smiled and ran his finger of the picture.

"Yeah, she was," he paused for a moment, then said sadly, "I really miss her. She was so smart and knew the answer to everything and any problem I had, she knew how to solve it."

"Like mother like son." said I said with a laugh. Logan laughed as well; the sound of it was something I had missed for so long. Then suddenly, the laughter stop and Logan became serious again.

"But you see, I'm not like my mother." he placed the picture down and stared down at the carpet below him and said in a low voice, "If I was like her, I could've fix what happened."

My heart sunk low in my chest when I realized what Logan was talking about.

"Logan." I said gently, taking his hand in mine. He squeezed my hand appreciatively; he knew I was going through the same pain. After a moment or two of silence, Logan placed the picture of him and his mother down gently, then turned his body so that he was facing me. I looked him in the eyes and saw that he was sad, but I knew that when he had that look on his face, that we were about to enter into a deep, emotional conversation; in short, I was about to get what I had been waiting for for two months.

"You know, after Kendall's Dad died when we were nine, I remember feeling bad for him, you know? He was my best friend and his Dad just died so horribly in that car accident. But I remember thinking during the funeral 'I'm so lucky I still have my Mom and Dad'. I was so convinced that they would be there for me all the time whenever I needed them. I kept thinking, 'It's never gonna happen to me.'. So when she died..." Logan looked away from me and over his shoulder, not wanting me to see him cry over the memories of when his mother passed. I took my hand and placed it on the side of his face, guiding back over until he was looking back at me.

"Logan, it's okay to cry. I'm here for you." I said consolingly, taking his one hand and held it between both of mine. With a shaky sigh, Logan continued, tears brimming in his eyes.

"So when my mom died, I was thrown through a loop. She was never sick. Not a day in my memory was she sick. I was worried when she first got sick with the flu, but she and my Dad told me that it was just a flu and that she would be fine. Then, the pneumonia hit and everything just went into a tailspin so fast that I never saw it coming. I mean, I saw her that morning before I left for school, she was sitting in her bed reading a book on ecology and was watching the news. I knew she looked sick, but she told me that she was still getting over the flu and that there was no reason for me to worry. That winter was really bad, so I just thought that because the weather was really bad, it was going to take her longer to recover. I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her...and..." Logan bit his bottom lip as the tears in his eyes reached the brim. I held on tightly to his hand, letting him know I was still listening and that I was still there for him. He started again, this time a few tears falling down his face, "That was the last time I ever saw her... alive."

"Oh, Logan." I moved and embraced him in a hug. He buried his face in my shoulder and held me so tightly, I thought I was going to die of suffocation. He brought he head back up and cleared his throat, getting ready to continue. I took his hand again and held it tightly.

"The funeral was a blur. The only thing I remember from it is me trying to jump into the grave when they lowered her in there and Carlos catching me and pulling me away from the site. I remember standing in the graveyard and screaming at him and calling him every name in the book as he held me in a hug to try and calm me down. I kept screaming until I ran out of words I guess, then I just started to scream, period. That's when Kendall and James came over to me and were trying to calm me down. I tried to break through them, but they just held me tighter. Then I fell to the ground and just broke down. I was laying in the snow and crying like I was three, but I didn't care. The guys tried to get close to me to pick me up, but nothing worked. Then Mrs. Knight walked over and gave me the biggest hug I've ever gotten. She brought me back over to the grave site and held me close as I buried my face into her shoulder, looking away as they continued to throw the dirt over my mom's casket. Mrs. Diamond soon came over and gave me a hug as well. She was followed by Mrs. Garcia. Then Mr. Garcia joined, then Mr. Diamond, and the guys and Katie filled in there too. Then they moved aside so my Dad could hug me. He was crying too, and he never cried in front of me. Then it was all over."

Logan's face was streaming with tears and his nose getting stuffed up. I took my thumb and brushed the tears away and blinked back my own, but it didn't work too well, since a few slid out on their own. Logan took his free hand and wiped them away with his hand and I leaned into his hand, missing his touch against my face.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that before?" I asked, looking into his eyes for some sort of answer.

"I guess I was just trying to forget the funeral. I didn't want to remember the pain and hurt it made me feel so I just that if I removed it from my memory, it wouldn't hurt anymore. But last night, I had a dream."

"About what?" I asked, getting intrigued just by how my husband said that he had a dream and by the look in his eyes when he did as well.

"I had a dream that I was sitting near the swamp where the frogs I used to catch were, and my mother came to me and was trying to talk to me, but it was like her words were muffled. I couldn't understand a word she was staying, so I kept asking her 'What are you trying to tell me?' and she took my hand, it felt like she really was holding my hand too, and said to me 'He's in a safe place now. He's with me.' And then I woke up."

My jaw dropped when I realized what was going on. The 'he' Logan's mother was telling him about was the baby we had just lost. I put my hand to my face and covered my mouth as tears followed down my face.

"Oh Logie,"

Logan kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me in a comforting hug.

"As selfish as it sounds, I thought that after my Mom died that I wouldn't have to deal with losing another person in my entire life." he said as he rested his head on my shoulder, still holding me in a hug.

"What about your Dad?" I asked, biting my lip afterward.

"My Dad's still alive though. Even though we don't talk anymore, he's still there." explained Logan as he released me from his hug and held my shoulders, looking my in the eyes as he spoke.

"I'm sorry about that too," I said, referring to the blow out fight that happened between Logan and his father last Christmas that caused the riff between father and son.

"Sorry? Camille, you didn't have a thing to do with the fight. You know that."

"I know I don't, but it's not fair to you."

Logan laughed and sat back down on ground on his bottom, his feet spread out with the photo piles in front of him, "Fair... I'm starting to think that things are never going to be fair in my life."

Logan looked so helpless as he sat on the ground and looked down at the pictures of his childhood scattered all around the light gold colored carpet. There was a picture of Logan in his hockey uniform standing in a pose on the ice. Another of the day he got his first pair of glasses in the third grade. There were quiet of few of him with the guys all through their lives, even one of Carlos in a hospital bed after getting his appendix out; All the guys were crowded around the bed while Carlos held up the jar where his appendix was located in the air with pride. And there was one that caught me eye more than the others. It was an ultrasound picture. The last picture of our late child. True, I was only ten weeks along, but you could see that he was already looking like a human. I could even make out his nose and his backbone was visible. My heart began to break, but I sat down next to my husband and leaned over and took the picture in my hands, looking down at it with a small, sad smile. I had gotten rid of my copy of the picture in my anger weeks before, but Logan kept his copy in perfect condition. Logan looked over at the picture and held the other half the picture with his left hand, leaning his body weight on his right hand.

"I didn't think I would lose anyone else again, so when Jo called me that day... I just... I just kept telling myself that nothing was going to happen to you or the baby. It was more like I was trying to convince myself that there was nothing wrong rather than actually knowing nothing was wrong. But then I saw you...and you were crying...and sitting alone in that room..." Logan had to stop talking because the tears he was fighting back were just becoming too much to handle.

"Logan, you don't have to talk about it." I said, letting go of the picture and holding him in a hug.

"No, I have to." said Logan, shaking his head and swallowing back tears.

"Okay." I said quietly, gently rubbing his back. Our counselor told us that we needed to talk more about our emotions about the miscarriage in order for us to heal. I had talked to Logan and he listened to me intently, never interrupting me and held me as I cried, but Logan had yet to tell me his feelings. I was happy that he was finally talking to me about it.

"When I saw how broken you looked, I knew. I just knew that we had lost the baby. But there was that last thread of hope in my mind that maybe everything was going to be alright... But then the doctor told me that you miscarried, and I realized that once again, I lost someone that meant the world to me. I mean sure, I had never meant him or saw him face to face, but that made it hurt even more. I hadn't even seen my son and I already loved him so much."

Logan didn't want to lose control, so he stopped talking, but he had already said enough for me. After just sitting there for a few minutes looking at our son's ultrasound, Logan spoke again.

"Camille?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you." he placed the picture down and gathered me in his arms, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heart beating in time with his. I never wanted to let go, ever.

"I love you too, Logan." I said, kissing the side of his face. He nuzzled his head into my neck, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. We separated and we looked back at the picture again, this time, I spoke.

"I think we should do something for him. You know, do something to keep his memory alive."

"Like a tree planting?" asked Logan. I looked up at him and nodded.

"There's enough space in the backyard for us to plant one." I concluded.

Logan smiled and kissed the top of my head, "I think it's a wonderful idea, sweetie. And, if you want, we can get this a frame and hang it up in the living room or somewhere, just so any kids we have in the future know they had a big brother."

"It's a great idea. I think I have a frame downstairs that this will fit in, c'mon." I said, standing up and helping my husband to his feet. We walked down to the living room and got the empty frame, then together, we placed the picture of our son into the frame. Logan found a nail and his hammer and placed the picture on the wall above the couch, going along with other pictures of Logan and I through the years. After hanging it up, we began to walk back to the room upstairs.

"Hey, Logie?" I asked as we walked up the stairs.

"Hm?" hummed Logan.

"Upstairs, you said future kids..." I said trailing off. Logan smiled a knowing smile and stopped, turning and looking at me, "does that mean you're willing to try again?" I asked, biting my bottom lip. Logan smiled and sighed, then walked over to me and placed a tender kiss on my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tightly against him. When we broke apart, I felt like I was floating on air.

"I'm going to take that as a yes?" I said with a giggle. Logan laughed as well.

"Well, I think he'd want to us to try again." said Logan as he tilted his head towards the room where we had just had the biggest heart-to-heart we had ever had. I smiled kissed his nose, then walked towards our bedroom, feeling the fatigue of a long day finally consume me. I was in our room, but I could still see Logan. He walked down to the room at the end of the hallway and picked up the picture of him and his mother. Then without saying a word, he looked down at the picture and kissed his fingertips, then putting them gently on the picture. He placed it down on the rocking chair, then walked to the door, giving the room one last look before turning off the light.

"Everything okay?" I asked as he walked into our bedroom.

"Not really, but I think it's starting to get a little better."

I knew my husband was right, everything was going to get better in time. It might take us a few days, a few weeks, a few months, or maybe even years, but one day, Logan and I would be able to move on. And one day, we would have that family we always dreamed about.

We just needed to take everyday one step at a time.

Okay, so I've been having some writers block issues with my JamesxOC story, so I figured that writing a oneshot was a perfect fix for my problem :) I hope you guys liked it!

- ForeverInYourArms