The room was dim, barely illuminated by the soft night light filtering through the window. The silence was deep, broken only by your breathing as you approached Scaramouche, who was sleeping in the chair in front of the crib. His face, usually so strong and determined, now looked peaceful.

You approached gently, avoiding making noise. You watched his hand inside the crib, delicately caressing the plastic doll that took the place of his lost baby. A lump formed in your throat when you saw the empty crib, except for that substitute who could not fill the emptiness you both felt.

You stood behind her and placed a soft kiss on her head. Scaramouche stirred slightly, slowly waking up. Her eyes flickered as she got her bearings, and upon seeing you, she gave a weak smile.

"She was taking care of the baby.." she murmured, her voice charged with a love that broke her heart.