Sam heard the knocks, they were slow and heavy, like a swinging hammer striking a gong.  They were ominous.  At the sight of the police officer walking up the drive Sam [I]knew[/I].  He could have been reporting Brooklyn's whereabouts, that she was safe, that she was in hospital, heck that she'd got wasted and been arrested.  All of them, but Sam [I]knew[/I].  

It felt like aeons as Sam stood and walked to the door - his fate predetermined.  He knew he could neither affect what had happened to his dear sweet love, nor stop himself from walking closer and closer to answer the door.

All of this took place in a few seconds and the knocks really weren't loud but for Sam it felt like a death knell, walking into hell on earth.

Sam answered the door.  The police officer stood there straight before him.  He was tall, older than Sam although his face wore some signs of strain.  Every police officer knew delivering this message was part of the job, wearing the badge, but none of them relished it.

"Mr. Samuel Hanson sir?" he asked.  Sam could only nod, his mouth slightly agape.

"Mr. Hanson, may I come in?" the officer asked gently.

Sam regained his composure a little, "It's Brooklyn isn't it.  She's hurt isn't she?"

"Sir, if I can just come in..."

"Tell me, tell me..." Sam implored.

The officer breathed in, "Mr Hanson, you reported your fiancée Brooklyn Jones missing last night.  We've had a report of a vehicle matching your fiancée's involved in an accident on Mistlea Road." ('[I]oh God, that's the road to Ella's[/I]' thought Sam)

"Please, let me come in sir...  they've retrieved a young woman's body from the car..."

Sam felt his knees immediately buckle and his legs begin to crumble as he felt the loss of all bodily feelings and sanity. "No, no, no!" he wailed angrily as tears streamed down his face, "No!" he cried as he instantly felt the warmth of his son on his shoulder and his paternal instinct kicked in and stopped him falling to the floor.

"Poor baby, poor baby, poor Louie" he cried as he walked around his living room.  "Poor Brooklyn, poor baby. NO!!" he shouted in despair.  He gently placed Louis on his playmat, no matter how messed up this moment was his first instinct was to place his baby, their baby in a place of safety.

He sat on the couch his head between his hands as the tears fell, snot dripping from his nose as whelps of sadness poured from him.  He didn't look up but he could sense his mother in the room.  What did surprise him was a masculine hand on his shoulder as the police officer showed stoic compassion, silent but reassuring.  Sam until the previous night had never interacted with the police but that moment of tenderness challenged all his views he had about the men and women in uniform.

"It might not be her," he heard his mother whisper, rather stupidly in retrospect.

"OF COURSE IT'S FUCKING HER!" he shouted in fury with the kind of temper one can only unleash on those they love dearly.

"I'm sorry Mom, I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." he said as he walked over and hugged her, crying into her shoulder,  "I'm sorry... LYNNIE, LYNNIE, LYNNIE!" 

Sam strode off in a circle and punched in fury the door to the kitchen, then struck his head, pulled his hair before falling onto the floor.  He crawled, whimpering over to the Louis, the babe looking on bemused.  Sam, crawled close to Louis and cuddled him, crying and whimpering.

His life was over.