20th of October, 1995
Brooklyn is 29, Michael is 37

Brooklyn: Depression is a funny thing.

You think you're happy, but then it brings you down, and you feel helpless.

So helpless that you cry yourself to sleep every night. You avoid the people who care for you the most. You feel alone.

The wind dried the fresh tears that rolled down my cheeks, making me shiver.

I tightened my hoodie around me and held the swing handle in fear I would fall.

If Michael went to his giving tree when he wanted to disappear or be alone, then the hidden Neverland swing set was my place to do just that.

And just like the giving tree, the swings were totally isolated.

I breathed heavily when I felt the pressure in my heart again.

"Brooklyn?" Michael called.

Honestly? My husband was the last person I wanted to be with. And still, all I was dreading for was his loving hugs and kisses.

I haven't seen him all day. He was so busy with work, and Jason, too.

Michael appeared through the tree that surrounded the swing set, the small smile on his perfect face fading when he saw me.

The grief took over everything. My thoughts, my heart, my entire body. It made me numb.

He sighed and took a seat on the swing next to me.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, putting a hand on mine.

Bring back my brother and find a way to stop me from killing our babies.

"Nothing."

"Brooklyn, baby, please. There must be something I can do."

I took my hand away from his touch.

I met his glossy eyes. Seeing him holding back his tears broke me even more. He is crying because of me.

"You can't, Michael. Just... Just let me be alone." I said.

"You know I'm not gonna do that."

I sighed, "Then I'm going."

Of course, as soon as I stood up, he pulled me so I would face him.

"Stop pushing away every time this happens."

"What do you expect me to do, then?" I blinked. "Spend every second with you and see you suffer?"

"Suffer?" Michael raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. Suffer. I know how much you want children. I can't even imagine how hard it is for you to watch baby after baby die, knowing it's all my fault."

He should hate me. He should leave me. Any other man would.

My husband grabbed both of my hands tightly, "But it isn't. You know it isn't. And yes, you should spend every second with me. It's the best way to get through this. This is something we're going through together. This is not about me or you, this is about us."

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

"We will have children. Brooke, listen to me. We will have children, I just know we will. You were just dealing with so much. We couldn't avoid it even if we tried." he continued.

He was right. Chris's passing was too much for me to handle.

My husband pulled me by my waist and sat me on his lap.

I would resist, but I needed his touch.

He cradled me against him, swinging us.

~

25th of October, 1995
Brooklyn is 29, Michael is 37

Brooklyn: These past few days seemed to take forever to pass.

Michael made sure that we spent every single moment with each other. He never left my side.

It seemed to work for a few hours, until Chris came back to my mind and made me break into tears again.

And if that wasn't enough, for the last couple of days I've been having these awful nightmares.

The first one is me bleeding out, with a pile of dead crying babies next to me.

Then I'd wake up all sweaty, panting like there's no tomorrow.
Michael offers his protection by wrapping his arms around me tighter, and I'd fall back asleep.

But then the second nightmare comes. Destiny (or at least how I always imagined her) was begging me to stop killing her. She was clinging onto me, crying, screaming. And Chris watched from a distance with a disappointed look.

So I stopped sleeping. Completely.

I was trying to distract myself from everything (and especially sleep) by reading a book.

Michael sat across from me on the couch, a book in his lap as well.

Jason returned home. We loved having him here, but he needed his mother and she needed him just as much.

The doorbell rang, making me raise my head from the book I wasn't really reading.

"Who could that be?" I asked Michael.

He shrugged, "I don't know. Go open the door."

He tried hiding a mischievous smile as he flipped a page in his book.

I had to roll my eyes before getting up from the comfortable position I was in.

My scream was loud when I opened the door.

Linda laughed and hugged me tightly.

"What are you doing here?!" I said.

"We couldn't make it to the funeral, so we made time to stay for a few days, to be with you." Paul smiled.

I hugged him as well, grateful that they were here.

Michael had a huge grin as he came to stand next to me.

"You knew they were coming?"

"He's the one who invited us." Linda told me.

My husband looked down and bit his bottom lip.

Now taking a better look at Linda, I saw her tired eyes. She looked sick.

Something's wrong with her.

I shook my head to get the thought out of it, since I didn't want want it to be true.

Michael cleared his throat, "You two had a long flight... Maybe we should sit down to eat, I'm sure you're hungry."

"Oh, yes," Paul chuckled, patting his stomach. "I'm starving."

~

"This is Divine." Paul said and stuffed more food into his mouth.

Linda agreed, though her plate was full. She ate absolutely nothing.

"How long are you guys staying for?" I asked.

Paul swallowed, "A few days. Then we have to go back home, Linda has anothe-"

She shut him up by hitting his arm.

He gave her an apologetic look, and quietly continued to eat.

I looked at Michael, who shrugged. Their behavior was strange. I did not like this, at all.

~

Michael: I watched Brooke pace.

"Babe, Linda's fine." I told her.

I was lying, I hated lying to her. I knew Linda wasn't fine. But I also couldn't tell her another person she loves has cancer.

"Did you see her? She is not fine! She doesn't eat, she looks... Horrible."

She went on, telling me all the obvious things anyone could see on Linda.

I sighed and leaned my head against the headboard.

I can't do this anymore. So much sadness all at once. If Joshua, losing Chris, and losing another baby still didn't break her, this definitely will.

"Brooklyn," I said. "I assure you, she's doing just fine. Come to bed, you need your sleep."

My wife looked terrified.
"I can't sleep." she mumbled.

"You have to. You haven't slept all week."

"Mike, you don't get it..."

I offered her a hand, "I promise, you will not have those nightmares."

"You don't know that. I don't know that. It's awful... The same dreams over and over again. It's haunting me." she said with tears in her eyes.

They were bloodshot from her tiredness and all the tears she shed lately.

I got up to take her into my arms. But of course, before I could even reach her she put her arms out to stop me.

"I'm just gonna get some fresh air."

Brooke left the room quickly without another word.

I groaned, going back to bed.

She was falling apart right in front of me and it tore me to pieces to know I couldn't do anything about it.

~

Brooklyn: Linda smiled and held her tea mug a little tighter.

I looked down at the coffee I had in mine, taking a sip.

What I was doing was bad, but I didn't want to sleep. I was so scared of having those nightmares again.

"Linda?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing, is something supposed to be wrong?" she said.

I groaned loudly. She really needed to just tell me.

"Linda, I know you too well. I can see something is wrong. Please." I begged.

She sighed, "Brooke, nothing is wrong. It's been a tough month for you, your judgement isn't the best right now. Get some sleep."

Maybe I was just paranoid from everything that happened. Plus, with the lack of sleep and the amount of caffeine in my blood, it made sense.

"Okay," I gave up. "But there's no way I'm going to sleep. I can't."

"I'm sure Michael won't resist helping you." she mumbled.

Is she suggesting what I think she's suggesting?

I gave her a look, "I lost a baby two weeks ago. You really think sex is what I need right now?"

"Well, I was thinking about cuddling, but that doesn't sound like a bad idea." Linda shrugged.

I widened my eyes. She can't be serious.

"Hey, you suggested it." she winked.

~

Michael: "She's grieving, Michael. Let her do it her way." mother said.

"You don't get it, mother. She's afraid to go to sleep. She thinks she'll have those nightmares again. She's crumbling down and there's nothing I can do about it." I sighed.

"Would you like me to talk to her?" she suggested.

I knew Brooke always saw my mother as the mother she never had. A talk between those two sounded like it would make everything better.

And mother always miraculously cured things.

"Yes, please." I told her.

"Okay. I'll come visit, soon. Goodnight, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, mother."

I put the phone back and rubbed my eyes.

I wanted to cry and scream my frustration out, but I couldn't.

A drink might be useful right now.

Just as I got up there was a knock on the door. I was relieved when I opened it and saw Paul standing there, looking doubtful.

"Have you seen the girls?" he asked.

"No... But I could use a drink." I mumbled.

He nodded in agreement. We went down to the kitchen, surprised that our wives weren't there.

"They're probably outside." he said.

I pulled out a whiskey bottle and two glasses, then poured us some.

I took a seat in the dining room, gulping the liquor down. I just wanted to escape all of this.

I refilled my glass quickly so I could put more inside me.

"Woah there, slow down. You'll be hungover tomorrow if you don't take it slow." Paul chuckled.

"We lost another one, Paul. Another baby. Can you believe it?" I said.

"Oh, my. That's why you asked not to tell her about Linda..." he gasped.

I nodded, "She's absolutely crushed. I can't let it crush her more."

"Does anyone know? From your family?"

"Only my mother. Brooke's been hiding from everyone since Chris's funeral."

"Makes sense. I'll probably do the same when Linda dies." Paul sniffled.

I looked up and saw him cry.

More crying. I couldn't handle seeing people cry anymore.

I sighed deeply, patting his shoulder and pulling him into a hug.

"What did the doctors say?" I questioned.

"She wouldn't go to them. She said she's ready for death and she doesn't want to get better." he cried.

I heard something break. I turned around, seeing Brooklyn. The mug my wife held was shattered all over the floor.

Shit.

She had betrayal written all over her face.

"I knew something was wrong. I just knew it. What does she have?" she said, not looking our way.

Glancing at Paul, I didn't know if to tell her or not.

He gulped and wiped his tears, "Breast cancer. She really doesn't have long."

Brooke broke down to her knees and sobbed.

This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. She's already way too vulnerable for more things to go wrong.

"What's going on in he- Brooke, what is it?" Linda said as she walked in.

"Darling, she knows." Paul informed.

Her mouth slightly opened like she was going to say something, but nothing came out.

I stood up and made my way over to my defeated wife.

She didn't push me away when I took her in my arms. She needed to get some sleep, not matter how much she tried to fight it.

"I'm taking her to bed. Goodnight." I told our friends.

They nodded and I left the dining room.

The shirt I wore was completely soaked from Brooklyn's tears as we reached the bedroom.

I lay her on our bed and she instantly hid her face in the pillows.

~

26th of October, 1995
Brooklyn is 29, Michael is 37

Michael: It was my turn to have a sleepless night.

Brooke was finally sleeping peacefully, which didn't surprised me. She was so tired.

I turned to her, to see her beautiful face stained with the tears she cried earlier.

Poor thing. Her heart must be so broken.

I placed my lips on her forehead. "I love you so much. You're so strong, baby. And I'm sorry for not telling you, again." I whispered against her skin.

I expected her to be mad at me in the morning. At all of us.

~

I didn't remember falling asleep. But I woke up with a huge headache, and Brooklyn was gone, too.

I hurried to freshen up and go downstairs.

Linda and Paul looked worried when they sat impatiently in the living room.

"Morning," I said. "Where's Brooke?"

Paul nodded towards the kitchen, "She's cooking breakfast. And she's... Well, she seems joyful."

I raised my eyebrows at his words. It did not make sense, at all.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Go see for yourself. It's weird, I thought she'd be furious." Linda murmured.

Doubtful, I walked into the kitchen where my wife was indeed making breakfast, whistling a little song.

"Babe?"

She jumped at my call. Her face softened when she saw me, and a huge smile spread across it.

"Hey, Mike. Good morning." she approached me.

Brooke attached her lips to mine into a long kiss.

When we broke apart, she hugged me and continued with her cooking.

She's... Happy? What the hell?

"Brooklyn?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad?"

She chuckled, "Why would I be mad?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. This could only mean two things.

One, she's denying everything that happened.

Two, she's really sad and trying to distract herself.

Either way, this meant bad news.