A/N: I wanted to do something with alternate universes running side by side, so this happened a few weeks ago. Putting it up now because I'm bored, it's Saturday and I'm ignoring an album release that should be happening tomorrow.

[xxxxxx]

Your name is Nina Evans and your husband is holding your son.

Your name is Nina Evans and your husband is holding your son.

It's almost like a dream come true, seeing this child. Beautiful, with his eyes wide open for you to see, fingers slightly curled as if they were going to hold something (or someone). But your baby boy isn't breathing. He's beautiful and he's so... yours, but he's not breathing.

He's beautiful. He's got your husband's hair and the ginger jokes started pretty much the minute you got to hold him again. They got considerably less interesting when everyone noticed he had your eyes, though. Much better topic.

You killed him.

You're so thankful he's safe.

You keep looking at him as if you're waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to move and look at you and cry, because it looks so unreasonable. They've told you that this baby is dead, that there's no chance he'll wake because he's been dead for two whole weeks (how did you not notice?).

His eyes are half open and there are a string of sounds making their way out of his supposedly weak lungs. You think the doctors screwed up, since he's quite possibly the loudest baby you've ever seen. And you havetwobrothers, goddamn it. (Technically four and a sister, if you count your cousins.)

Dillon looks more troubled than you've ever seen him, even more than the time he got locked in with rotting bodies for a month, on his first mission with the squad. He's looking down at your son with nothing but confusion and an inability to express whatever he's feeling at the moment, searching for answers in expressionless eyes. If the baby was truly awake, you'd joke that he was truly like his father.

You slowly realize that Dillon's expecting you to make that joke still, despite the fact that he's dead. "His name's Jack. Like we decided." You nod and he looks disappointed before he does himself. "Jack Evans. Our boy." He bites his lip, trying to hide the fact that he's just as close to tears as you are.

"Jack." Dillon nods, rolling the name you've suggested around in his head. "I like it."

"We'll go with Jonathan to satisfy your crazy formal fu-family members?" He smiles as you try to correct yourself, shaking his head.

"Sounds nice. Jonathan Evans. Welcome." He toys with one of your son's fingers and the resulting smile's enough to melt your heart.

They take your son from your husband, who stares at his empty hands like someone's taken the world from him. You pull him over, still unable to form words, and he pulls a chair up beside you, hand still tightly gripping yours. "We'll make it."

Neither of you can believe that promise.

"You can take him home now! Good luck!" The nurse hands you a still babbling Jack, wrapped tightly in the weirdest shade of blue you've ever seen on a blanket.

You're cradling an unresponsive baby as you leave the hospital, still walking a little awkwardly, and your husband's arm is heavy around your waist, holding you to the earth. Neither of you have anything to say as he unlocks the door to your little house on the edge of your parents' property, and you sink into your chair, holding the baby like nothing could tear you away from him.

"Hey, baby boy." He coos, recognizing you, and you look to Dillon, who's equally satisfied. "My boys are the cutest." You lean up for a kiss and he gets the signal, his hand joining yours under Jack's head while he pecks your lips, resting his head against yours for a few seconds until your son clamors for attention again. "Just like you." He rolls his eyes and helps you out of bed.

They have words for a woman who's lost a husband, for a child that's lost their parents, but why is there no word for a woman who's lost her child?

Jack hums in his sleep, mouth opening and closing like a little fish, and you pet his head. "He's beautiful..."

Dillon murmurs his assent and kisses your neck until you slap him.

You lay him to rest in the backyard, with a little headstone that displays his proper date of death, and you're sobbing as you're reminded by an unfeeling piece of stone that you've killed your baby. Dillon senses it and pulls you closer. "You know it's not your fault."

You don't have the heart to fight him right now and he feels that too, reaching down to squeeze your hand. Your arms should be full of a crying baby right now, a crying baby who won't be consoled no matter what. You should be yelling over the fact that he's still crying despite your best efforts, not staring at a slight rise in the ground that holds him better than you ever could.

Your friends are fussing over Jack more than you do, and between Kalli and Nora, you have a feeling Jack's going to end up crying pretty soon. Little Alex's watching Jack like he's going to chew him up and spit him out, but that might just be because of his little siblings. Violent, the lot of them.

Karina and Alex are laughing as your son grabs tight onto a finger the moment it's offered, claiming that he's definitely got his father's coordination. Blaine and Lily disagree, pointing out that Dillon was pretty much hopeless for the first few years of his life. You agree. But he's grown up since then, and Blaine whistles as you stand on the tips of your toes to get a kiss in. Jack immediately starts screaming, which sends everyone into a fit of laughter.

A few days short of four years later, there's another baby.

Twelve weeks in and you killed her. They'd just told you that you were having a baby girl and Dillon was much more excited than you over that prospect. "She'll be beautiful, like you." You held tightly to his arm and followed all of the doctor's rules and recommendations to avoid it happening again.

You woke up with the bed soaked with blood and the wet feeling that could only mean one thing. You curse your high pain tolerance and cradle the sweet baby in your hands. She's just started growing little nails and her face is just starting to form. She's just as gone as her brother and you cry because she could have been saved. She could be alive inside you if it weren't for the fact that you kill everything you touch.

Dillon's not home.

There were a few scares with Ari, but she came to you healthy and loud, just like her brother, and Jack spent the whole day she was born standing on the tips of his toes to see the new baby. He was adorable and the baby responded to him in a way that she didn't to either of you and your worries about them not getting along evaporated the minute he made her smile.

You bury the baby (the two of you named her Ariana, since that's the name you'd liked best) out back with her brother. You suddenly realize it's her brother's birthday and let out a sound that's half choking, half sobbing. Dillon holds you and tells you it'll be better soon, that the two of you made it past Jack, but you both know he's lying.

Ari's even louder during the night than Jack and wakes you up at two, three, four, four-thirty with alarming regularity. Dillon eventually begins getting out of bed before you do, holding and rocking her before she can even start crying. He feeds her like a pro and you smile as Jack climbs into bed with the three of you, rubbing his tired eyes as he offers some reason or the other to come join you.

You've got the three people you love most right here. Awfully convenient.

The two of you fight that evening and you tell Dillon to get the fuck out of the house, that you don't want to stay married to a man whose children you've stolen and murdered. He stares at you like he has something to say, but his mouth moves without any words coming out. You push him out the door and tell him not to come back for awhile, that you'll call and that you're sorry.

From what you hear from Blaine, he gets himself drunk as fuck without them, something he finds worthy to complain a little about, and comes home to you, breath still stinking of alcohol. You cry into his shoulder and he rubs your back, comforting you like always.

You've done nothing for him, you realize. Absolutely nothing and that sends you into another round of tears. You don't think you'll ever stop crying.

Dillon laughs when Alex makes a joke about the two of you trying again and you shake your head, rolling your eyes as you say that Jack and Ari are more than enough trouble for the two of you.

The two of them come running in on cue and Ari rushes straight to her father, climbing his pant leg until he lifts her up onto his shoulders, just like she likes. Jack grabs your hand and looks around like the world's going to spring at him and attack at any second.

You can't believe these two came out of you, that you and Dillon made these amazing (and slightly strange) little people. It's truly a miracle, you muse. Truly a miracle.

Both of your siblings' and friends' children grow up around you, learning to walk and talk and ride bikes. Your children are forever frozen in infancy, never to experience any of the things the other children are taking for granted.

Jack will never worry over his first day of school. Would he be like Dillon, stacking pencils and books nervously for a week before? Or would he be like you, scoping out hiding places where he could avoid the morning?

Ariana won't ever be able to chase the deer like you and Dillon did as children, won't ever be able to fall in love or talk to you about girls or boys or whoever caught her attention.

You slowly realize that you're asking too many questions about two people who will never answer, so you focus on the children in front of you, who want and need your attention.

It's the only way you can remotely feel like a mother.

All the kids flock to you and Dillon, especially when they have problems, because for some reason, they've determined that the two of you are most likely to listen. Alex comes to you for tips on how to get Nora's attention and Sam comes in for hugs and reassurance after Lily dies, sharing secrets that he hasn't divulged to anyone else. Kate talks to you about boys and paints nails and does all the stereotypically girly things you hated as a kid but don't mind now.

Toby, Dick and Jeffy take to your husband and Toby names himself Ari's protector, which she groans about before deciding she likes the idea of a playmate.

Nora giggles when you make jokes about her marrying Alex someday and you're permanently chasing Kalli down to get Jack free. It's nice, to feel this wanted and needed. You don't want any of them to grow up.

You hold all of these children as close as you can, pretending that they're your own.

Your babies are lying under lumps of dirt, cold and broken and probably nothing but bones anymore.

Jeffy's always been one for sensing emotional need and he crawls onto your lap, petting your shoulder as he tries to say something in his little boy words that'll help you smile. You find the way he calls you "Mommy Nina" funny and painful at the same time, but you bear with it, knowing he's putting in so much effort for you.

You just wish it was your own son leaning against you right now, telling you stories about his classmates and how he "totally swallowed bunch of sand".

You wish both of them had a chance. Is that so bad?

You're forced to let the two of them go, as they grow up, and it's hard to do. Ari's got Jeffy whipped and everyone finds it hilarious and Jack and Kalli are just as involved, although everyone else but them can see it. It's hard, but you love them so much even if you're losing them to their own lives.

Jack still curls up with you and watches silly movies on your designated Date Night every few weeks, and Ari still lets Dillon take care of her sometimes.

You love your babies so much. You always will.

Everyone grows up and you and Dillon are left to fend for yourselves again. Your friends start slowly dropping away, since everyone's getting old. You only hang onto each other tighter, swearing right and left that neither of you will leave the other.

You die on a battlefield, leagues from your husband's warm body, begging for his forgiveness. He's the only one who's been faithful, always stayed. You just hope you haven't killed him too.

Your name is Nina Evans and your children will always have your love.

Your name is Nina Evans and you can't wait to meet your children.