Author's Note: This is my second Rookies story. Like many fans, I wanted to be Jill Danko when I was ten! :) The Rookies came on Saturday mornings from 10 - 11 a.m. when I was a kid (reruns). My sister and I loved to watch it but often missed the end because our mom always said, "That's enough tv!" Click! Our protests that Jill was being held hostage fell on deaf ears. I bought both the first and second season recently and wish that I could get the third and fourth too. I am, therefore, at a writer's disadvantage - I haven't seen the last two seasons since I was ten and even then I might only have seen the first half of the episode! If I make any errors it is only due to lack of knowledge. Hope that you enjoy, and please review! It is always good to know what other fans think of your stories.

****R****

Mike Danko was finding the entire situation hilarious. He had finally realized that he was going to have to be the one to tell his wife and not the other way around. He watched her from across the room, as she tried to hide yet another yawn. He would have told Terry no when he'd asked if they were coming out tonight. He knew Jill would be too tired, but Terry had asked her, not him. And she was determined to prove to him that she was just fine, and of course ready for a night out with friends. It was all she could do to stay awake, as she stood beside the bar, sipping what appeared to be a club soda. Good girl, he thought. That choice alone proved what he already suspected - she knew - but for whatever reason couldn't admit it. He couldn't help but smile studying her. She looked beautiful dressed in a blue dress that flowed down to her ankles. She was always stunning - even now; even exhausted.

She caught him looking at her and plastered a wide smile across her face. He didn't know why she bothered to try and fool him. They'd been married nearly seven years. She was the blood in his veins and trying to fool him was like trying to lie to herself.

He decided, under the circumstances, to let her off the hook. It was the least he could do seeing how the whole thing was pretty much his fault.

"Hey, Babe, I'm kinda beat. You mind if we get out of here?" He asked as he slid an arm around her waist.

"Sure, honey. I don't mind." She said nonchalantly, but he could see the relief she was trying to hide.

"You sure?" He asked again enjoying himself far too much.

"I'm a little tired myself." She admitted. "That flu really wiped me out."

***R***

Later that night, he watched her thoughtfully as she climbed into bed beside him. He hadn't yet decided if she were deliberately hiding it from him or if she hadn't figured it out. It was hard to believe she didn't know. She snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Too old for late nights, maybe."

"Well, I'm in real trouble then." He laughed. "You aren't even thirty, babe."

"Soon enough." She sighed.

"You sure there's nothing you wanna talk about?" He asked again, sliding his hand along her hip, his hand resting on her stomach. She self-consciously pushed his hand away from her tummy.

"No. There's nothing. Is something bothering you? I'm just really tired. I can't seem to shake that flu. Every time I think I'm well, I feel sick again."

"No. I don't have anything . . .I was just . . ." He looked down at her pale face. She looked so sleepy. "You just go to sleep."

He kissed her and she rolled over onto her side, away from him.

***R***

He waited until she was asleep and then went out onto the patio, a beer in hand. It was barely nine. He wasn't tired in the least. He stood thoughtfully trying to decide when he should talk to her. Now wasn't the best time. This was a shaky time of year for them. Their anniversary was in just two weeks. He looked forward to it with equal amounts of joy and dread. He tried to stay focused on that day when she'd put her hand in his, and agreed to stay by his side until time itself ended, but it was hard to overlook what followed just a few years later. All the good parts of that day seemed to have been swallowed up by the other anniversary it marked.

Three years old. That's how old their baby would be by now. Three. Walking and talking - playing. Did kids talk at three? He wasn't sure. It wasn't something he would know. He sighed and lifting the bottle took a swig of beer.

Jill had assumed that he'd wanted a boy - Michael Danko, Jr. But in truth, when he thought of their lost baby, he imagined a girl in long pigtails with huge brown eyes. Their anniversary had become so difficult - especially that next year. It was hard not to get swept into the past and what might have been. Over time, they'd made a kind of peace with their anniversary - last year was the first time that Jill hadn't spent a minute of it in tears - a small victory. But it still filled him with an uncontrollable rage; that one jackass could leave such a terrible and long-lasting imprint on her; - him, too, he supposed.

He hadn't known about the baby. The first time he had heard of it was to be told that it was forever lost. He hadn't had time to process it, then. He was still reeling from seeing Jill fall to the ground, shot. The first words the doctor had spoken him had left him shaking and crying - so relieved to know that she would live! He felt his legs turn to jelly, and wanted nothing more than to step away from everyone and weep as though he were a small child, but the doctor had kept speaking.

"Then there was the baby." He said to him. "We lost it. I am sorry."

Baby.

Mike had been stunned. He felt as though he'd been hit. Baby? Their baby? She hadn't said a word, but then he remembered that she had started to tell him something as they waited for that table, but she had stopped herself.

Later, seeing her so broken, so hurt - he had focused only on her and proving that their loss wasn't just random - that life had patterns and meaning. He'd been so determined to fix it; to fix her and undo the damage that monster had inflicted. He was driven by his guilt. He'd taken her there. He'd insisted on that damn table. It still ate him up. It haunted her - haunted them both.

He leaned on the railing looking out into the darkness. Even now. Everything was backwards. She was either avoiding what she had to know because her fear was so strong, or she was afraid to say it - afraid of how it would hurt him. He rubbed a hand over his face suddenly so weary. He felt like an old man sometimes.

He tried not to think about what it would mean - right now he was only focused on her, and why she was ignoring the obvious. - she was a nurse for God's sake! If he allowed himself to really truly think about it, he found himself filled with joy and terror. The weight of the responsibility of it all and the unimaginable hope and future was too much to take in right now.

It was hard not to think about how different things would have been. It wasn't just that they would be the parents of a three year old right now, but all the fight and struggle they had gone through to recover from it all would never have happened - would never have had to be. He could remember clearly the first anniversary after Wainz - he had wanted to do something to make it special, but there was no way in hell he could take her to a restaurant. Instead, he had packed a picnic and taken her to a nearby park. But it had been so difficult. Neither one of them could relax. Neither one of them could really enjoy the day - too lost in memories of where they'd been just a year earlier. The whole time she struggled, trying not to be sad; desperately trying to be brave for his sake. And the whole time he struggled with every sound, every person at the park - he'd been hypersensitive to every movement - unreasonably terrified that someone would hurt her.

In the end, they'd gone home after twenty stressful minutes. She had sunk into their sofa, her head down, her shoulders shaking.

"Baby," He'd said sitting beside her. "Hey, honey . . ."

She looked up at him, and he'd been surprised to see her laughing.

"I'm sorry." She said shaking her head at him. "We are just the most pathetic people I know!" She continued to laugh. "You, trying not to flinch at every single sound. Thank goodness you didn't have your gun! And me, trying to act like it's just an ordinary day."

He nodded his head, surprised to find himself laughing too. "We are kind of a sad pair."

"Happy anniversary, Mike." She had said wrapping her arms around his.

He had opened his mouth to say it back to her, and then to kiss her, but instead found himself weeping. It was as if some sort of damn inside him burst at just that moment. He was embarrassed and ashamed that he was crying like a small boy. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her, whispering soft encouragements. He was so ashamed!

"I'm sorry." He said pulling away from her, and hiding his face with his hand. "I don't know why . . . I can't seem to . . ." He tried with all his might, with all his strength to stop the tide of tears that washed over him, but found he was powerless.

"Don't." She said gently. "It's okay, Mike. It's okay."

"I shouldn't be . . .you're the one who . . ." He covered his face, but she pulled him to her again. Her arms were tight around him and he buried his face in her shoulder - both deeply comforted by her, and deeply angry at himself for being so weak.

"It wasn't just me, sweetheart." She said softly. "He hurt us both. You don't have to pretend for my sake."

"I just . . ." He sat back so that he could see her face. "I took you out. It was my . . .I should've just taken whatever table they gave us, but I had to be the big man. And you . . .God, baby! You nearly . . . and I would've. I couldn't . . ." He found words impossible.

"It wasn't your fault!" She said sternly. It was conversation they been having over and over again. "Michael! We both wanted that table. And that isn't why it happened! It was a decision he made. It had nothing to do with us or our choices!"

He had said nothing, simply clung tightly to her, trying so hard to get his tears to subside. It seemed as though he would never stop crying. At least here, in her arms, he was safe. She wouldn't think less of him. At least, she understood it; the searing pain. He thought of how grateful he was that she was still there. It could so easily have gone the other way. He couldn't have managed that. He wanted a hundred years with her - more.

He finally managed to get a grip on his emotions, and sitting back again, looked into her beautiful, kind brown eyes which were filled with tears.

"I'm sorry." He said again. "I know it was his fault, but, Baby, I'm sorry just the same. And I know I don't say . . ." He swallowed hard. "You will be such a good Mama, honey. I know I didn't . . ." He took a deep breath, struggling, remembering the things he'd never said to her; too broken and too fearful of how fragile she was. "They told me you would live and then one second later they told me about the baby. I didn't have time too . . ." His voice was thick. "It was the best anniversary present, honey. I would've been so happy. I would've loved our baby, and I never even told you that."

All in all, it had been a horrible anniversary. He was so happy to have her still with him, and yet they were both still so shattered by it too. They had wept together and he'd been so relieved when the sun had come up the next morning knowing it would be another year before they'd have to face that horrible day again.

That was what their anniversary was like - a yearly reminder. And now, it just didn't seem to be the best time to confront her, and point out what was so ridiculously obvious. She had to know. It worried him. He thought she could tell him anything, but this, she was holding back.

He lifted the beer bottle, surprised to find it was empty. He glanced at the clock inside and couldn't believe he'd been lost in the past so long. He went back inside and nearly walked right past Jill who was sitting on the couch.

"What are you doing up?" He asked surprised.

"I woke up." She said. "And then you were gone so I came out here."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked.

"I did. You didn't hear me."

"I'm sorry." He said kneeling beside her. "You feeling okay?"

"Little queasy." She sighed. "But it is three in the morning. I'm probably just tired."

"Jill," He said gently, running a hand across her face. "Honey, you don't think maybe . . ."

She rose abruptly. "I'm so sleepy. Let's go to bed."

He chuckled softly watching her as she walked away. Her will was like iron! It would be hard to make her face something if she really didn't want too. He remember what Ryker was forever pointing out to him; Jill Danko was just about as stubborn as they come. This was not going to be easy.