Damn plot bunny... Just a short one-shot. I still don't own the show and English still isn't my mother tongue. I do still apologize for any and all spelling and grammar errors.
Anyways, enjoy!

AU: 2016

She could hear her children laughing in the distance. Despite being half asleep, Penelope Morgan still noticed the sound of the door to her and her husband's bedroom bursting open and the sound of laughter dying in their children's throats. Penelope took a deep breath and tried to force her eyes to open, but they weren't cooperating. Something didn't feel right, something felt very, very wrong.

One shaky hand reached over to try to wake Derek up. He wasn't there. Her children were yelling for him and his voice came closer, and closer, and...
A gasp.
Nothing.

The sound of footsteps coming closer, and closer. Warm hands on her shoulders, shaking her lightly.
Penelope frowned, she tried and tried but couldn't wake up. She could hear voices, she could hear crying. She could hear Derek. She could feel the sun shining through the window and on her. She could feel the wet sheets underneath her. She could feel Derek.

She felt blankets being lifted off of her. Another gasp.

She could hear Lily crying, she could hear Michael's attempt to comfort his little sister while he himself was also panicking.
She could hear Derek talking on the phone. He sounded panicked. Derek Morgan never sounded panicked.

She could feel helplessness; it was hanging in the room like a heavy cloud. She could feel... pain, nausea. Pain. She could hear sirens in the distance. She could see darkness.

There was a light. A bright light. White walls. White sheets. White everything.

Everything and nothing. Pain, a dull pain in her lower abdomen. Dryness in her throat. Voices in the distance. Derek's voice. She could hear what he was saying despite wishing with all her might that she couldn't. He had told her to never stop talking to him, now she wished he would stop talking to whoever else was in the room. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to hear anything. She could feel a tear rolling down her cheek and she prayed she could wipe it away.

Maybe then she could pretend none of this had happened. And if she pretended hard enough, maybe it truly hadn't. And she wouldn't be in this white room, listening to Derek and... whoever. She wouldn't have pain in her lower abdomen and her throat wouldn't be dry. And she wouldn't have heard those three little words.

''I'm so sorry.''

Yes, you're sorry. But it won't change what has happened. It won't undo what has been done. And still, you say your three little words and then you continue on as if nothing ever happened. You'll go home, have supper with your wife, ask your children how their day was. See? Nothing ever happened. You. Lucky. Son. Of. A. B*.

But for them? Nothing will ever truly be the same. Sure, one day, hopefully soon, they will smile again. They will 'move on'. The Morgans will try, again.

''Sometimes it just happens. Nobody knows why. Maybe it was stress or her age, we just don't know for sure. But in a couple of months, after she has recovered, you can try again.''

There was a bright light, and white everything. One moment. The next it was gone. All gone. Somebody must've flicked the light switch. Maybe they had just decided that she had had enough, that Penelope Morgan had had enough.
It wasn't something that came natural to her: to gravitate towards darkness as opposed to lightness. But in that moment, darkness and nothingness were the only things she wanted.

Wanted, and needed.

There were flashes. Very, very bright flashed. Not particularly welcome at that moment. She could see their first kiss, their wedding, Michael being born, Lily being born. A third positive pregnancy test. Just eight weeks ago. They hadn't planned this one, y'know. After Lily they were done.

Not to say that it wasn't welcome anyway. They had gotten used to the idea quickly, had made plans. They had skimmed through baby-name books.

Penelope had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. There was some blood, nothing too alarming she had learned from her previous pregnancies. And when she was done she had gone back to bed, an uneasy feeling settling deep inside her. She had blamed it on being paranoid, on worrying too much.
If only she could go back, if only she could change what had happened. She could've, she would've-

Penelope shot up. Sitting up on the bed she reached over and flicked on the light on the nightstand. She let out a shaky breath. She wasn't home. Everything was not okay. It wasn't all just a dream. It wasn't just a nightmare and she still couldn't do anything.

There wasn't so much pain as there was emptiness. Dried tears stained her cheeks. She slowly leaned back, resting against the pillows. Silence. That was all there was. No noises, no pain, no baby.

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