They had a marriage that could've lasted - however it never, but over a year from when they could've last called themselves a couple can an unplanned pregnancy help them pull their marriage back on track.
Okay, giving it a shot, purely because I feel Dylan would be hilarious with a child - yet at the same time be totally great.
Thanks to Megan who actually sat and listened to my rambles about where this was going.
AU; set anytime post Next of Kin part 2 S26E16
All I ever wanted, All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm
- Depeche Mode
Waking up in her estranged husband's bed was not part of the plan when she agreed to a drink the night before; she was more than certain that there were more than just Dylan with her in the pub. Which begged the question: precisely how did she end up going home with him?
She shuffled further from Dylan's side, as she stretched and made to untangle herself from the sheets and get out of bed, and head for the shower that she had not used in quite sometime but still found her feet to unconsciously carry her there. It was under the warmth of the spraying water that her thoughts drifted to the situation that she was currently in; that being how she came to be standing under her estranged husband's shower, hearing the dog bark which would soon wake Dylan. She hoped because she wasn't entirely certain if Dervla liked her or not, and she wasn't in the right state of mind to test that particular theory.
She vaguely heard the radio click on and begin to play as she stepped out the shower, wrapping a towel around herself, as she padded back down the hallway towards the bedroom she had left twenty or so minutes earlier.
"Morning." She was frozen at the door of the bedroom, her wet hair freezing her back, as she looked into the unreadable face of her husband. She grabbed her own nightgown from the chair it had always been left on, for as long as she could remember, but chose not to think about why it was still there.
"Oh." Somehow she managed to open her month and form a word. A word that was simply repeated back to her, with a slight question about it. God, she really hated alcohol, really she did. She was not entirely sure why she was so stunned that he was there, after all it was in fact where he lived.
Their marriage never truly ended; it sort of evaporated, as she flew out of the country and into Afghanistan. That was roughly about a year ago, and as she sat on the edge of the bed they once shared looking at her husband, she realised that in this moment it was as if it had never even happened. When she left she felt they had to get away from each other, take a break, give each other some space and try to save their marriage.
"Are we going to talk about this?" She pulled at a thread on the quilt absentmindedly as she spoke, before indicating both Dylan and herself.
He shifted closer her and dropped the volume of his voice. "Are we? Do we really have to?"
"I'd rather not actually." Keeping her eyes focused on the quilt and not her husband she mustered up a response.
He moved and spoke without turning as he reached the doorway: "Okay, great, breakfast?"
"Um, yeah, okay." Pausing slightly as if to process what he was asking her before she spoke, she tried to put the domesticity of the situation to the back of her mind before she allowed herself to read too much into. Far too much; much more than he would have ever intended.
Slightly stunned, she got up and followed him through to the kitchen, watching from the door way as he let Dervla outside, before turning round to face her as if questioning whether or not she was going to step in further into the kitchen.
"Why did you pick Holby?" His question was so out of the blue it shocked her; in fact it shouldn't have because she'd been expecting it weeks ago.
"I didn't pick Holby." It was abrupt, that she knew but she was finding it difficult to be anything else, at this particular moment; besides it was true.
"Please don't tell me you're going to start all this fate stuff." He turned his back to her and flicked the switch on the kettle, sighing as he did so, waiting on her response.
"No, I'm going to start all this coincidence stuff. I was told where to go, Dylan."
"Oh." He spoke softly, so softly that she couldn't help but feel he had rather wanted her to say that she had followed him, but then he continued speaking with an air of such nonchalance despite saying a singular word: "Right." One word which made her feel that she would live to regret the previous night.
"What's on your mind?" She blinked furiously, trying to establish when he had gained the ability to read her so well that he could tell when something was on her mind - that, however, was a feat of Holmesian Deduction. Initially struggling to form words she soon found the moment she opened her mouth to speak, what was on her mind formed itself into fluent, coherent sentences.
"Do you know how much it hurt me when you dismissed me as a technicality? As if you could just sign me out of your life without a second thought - which you could actually - but it didn't make it hurt any less." She felt tears and a lumping forming in her throat and had to look away from him, leaving him standing staring at her in a dumbfounded sort of way; looking unsure about whether or not it was in fact safe to speak. But she continued before he could get any words out: "You know, I get things addressed to 'Mrs Keogh' and they make me want to cry and throw things just as much as they make me feel happiness that I've not felt since packed your stuff and left, or I left, or something."
Truth be told, she had absolutely no idea who left who, she announced she was going to Afghanistan in a weeks time and two days later, his stuff was gone and so was he. She tried to think nothing of it, at first, but then all Afghanistan gave her was constant time to realise she just wanted to know where he had gone.
"Maybe it was because an Army medic was never going to make the perfect GP's wife, but, my dear husband did you honestly think that you were going to make the perfect GP. It was never exciting enough for you; you like the mystery and the moment you got something even slightly more than a flu you had to refer it on, and do you know frankly Dylan, I am surprised you lasted so long!" Any desire to cry at how hurt she felt subsided as the anger of the situation overtook her and she began to reveal how she felt. He had sat down across from her, pushing coffee across the table to her, waiting on her trying to explain what was going through her head.
"I'm not actually sure what you treat as the mistake, Dylan, me or getting married at all. Neither was a mistake to me. Just so you know. I mean I don't even regret it and logically I should - but I don't. I just wanted a normal life, with a loving husband, a couple of children, happiness, you know? But you were the man that I fell in love with. I should've known it wouldn't last because really I was never a traditional kind of girl…" She broke of suddenly when he moved around the table, closer to her, taking her wrist and not actually acknowledging he was doing anything different thus allowing her continuing speaking.
They'd never done this before, despite the marriage, just be so abundantly honest with one another - well she'd never been so honest with him; he probably never would be so honest with her, but she wasn't even sure that she minded.
Closing her eyes briefly before continuing: "But I never dreamt that my marriage would be over before I was even twenty seven, and I thought I'd have a child and or at the very least the belief that I'd still be able to. Everything about this situation just makes me feel like I've failed in everything." He cut her off then, which she was grateful for because she wasn't entirely sure what she'd even think up to say next.
"It was always about the children wasn't it?" He asked despite knowing the answer, he knew much she craved her own child. In a way he had been looking forward to that joy as well; he'd just never been so vocal about it, he'd agreed none the less.
"It was always about the lack of children, the hopeful three minutes every few months just to get another negative result, feeling so awful about myself because I was failing you; I couldn't even give you a child. I didn't want to look at you for days let alone speak to you, because it must've been me, because you're perfect - at least to me."
When sobs punctured her final four words, he swept her into his arms wrapping them protectively around her as she cried into his shoulder, it wasn't a position which was uncommon to them, he'd held her after the result of every negative pregnancy test in much the same way.
It was in moments like these he recalled her as the girl from the broken home, who desperately just want to make her own secure and watch it thrive. She was an intelligent woman, nobody could fault that, but even her intelligence couldn't tell her that her complete desire for a family would be her downfall; it would be the lack of that which would finally break her.
well, we'll see where it goes..
until next time, Anny. X.