This is a (short) piece of writing based around the prompt "I lost the baby". It's hopefully something which is helping me to get out of the writing rut I've been in!

I've received some lovely, amazing ideas which I'm definitely going to write in the future, however a fair few of them are ones that I'd need to write multichapters for. At the moment, I can only commit to oneshots, so if you have any oneshot ideas, please share them!

Day One:

"Connie," Sam says sharply, in the tone which he has to know infuriates her. "We have to talk about this. You can't just shut me out of this baby's life."

She turns on her heel, eyes ablaze with fire and fury and disbelief at the fact that Sam Strachan thinks that he can squirm his way back into her family just because he's happened to find out that she's pregnant. Well, she thinks, actually that's not true. She knew the moment that she found out that that stupid cupboard tryst had resulted in a baby that he'd be back.

"You said that we could be a family," Connie says slowly, fighting for control with every single word. It wouldn't do to lose her rag at him, not this time. "You promised."

He nods slowly. "And I meant it," he almost pleads, causing Connie to snort. "We can be a family, Connie. The four of us."

"And then you disappeared without a trace in the middle of the night, told Grace that it was my idea, and tried to dismiss my legal challenge as illegal," she continues, folding her arms. "Interesting idea of a family, Sam."

"I made a mistake." He's definitely pleading now. "I'm sorry, Connie. Truly."

"It's fine," she says simply, taking a step back. A half-smile forms on her lips as he starts to look relieved; he should know, by now, that she can hold a grudge. "You made it clear you don't want to be part of our family, Sam. So watch as I walk away."

Day Seven:

"Mum," Grace says calmly, trying to be the voice of reason between her parents. "You can't seriously tell Daddy that he can't see the baby. That isn't fair."

Biting down yet another wave of nausea, Connie rolls her eyes and grabs a bottle of water. "And why's that, sweetheart?"

"Because you're the one who told him to take me back to America!" Grace reminds her. "It isn't his fault."

"Oh yes, I forgot about that little lie," Connie murmurs, her tone acerbic. She had sworn to herself that she'd keep this secret as long as she could – but pregnancy, morning sickness, and Sam Strachan's complete and utter inability to leave her alone has her crabbier than usual.

Grace frowns. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Connie takes a seat. "You don't actually think that I wanted you to leave, do you?" Connie asks slowly. "Gracie, it tore me apart. And I can't let your Dad do that to this baby. To me. Again."

"You're lying," Grace replies, stubborn in the Beauchamp way. Unable to see her father as anything but a saint.

"Yeah, sure, I'm lying," Connie snaps back, standing up and covering her mouth. Can she hold the vomit down long enough to get to the bathroom? Unlikely. "Think what you want, Grace. I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Day Twenty:

"Is this a joke?" Connie half-shouts at Sam, on her landing hallway, waving a stapled bundle of papers. "You're suing for full custody of a child that hasn't been born yet?"

Sam shrugs. "It's worked."

Connie frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I only did it so that you'd talk to me," Sam explains, though there's a steely undertone to his voice. "But I'm serious, Connie. I want to be part of this baby's life. Just like I want you to be part of Grace's."

Tears swim in Connie's eyes before she can stop them, and she knows that he sees them. This pregnancy has made her more emotional than she's ever been before and she hates that he can see this more vulnerable side of her. She needs to be strong, she needs to fight.

"I should already be part of Grace's," she murmurs. "But you took that from me. Like you try and take everything."

"Connie, please." Sam grabs her wrist, and only then does she realise that she feels woozy. Too woozy. "I want us to be a family – all of us. Surely you still want that?"

She's too woozy to reply, but she starts to mumble something about getting her wrist back when she falls.

Falls.

Falls.

Until she stops, at the bottom of the stairs, a pool of blood forming around her head.

Day Twenty One:

"I lost the baby," she mutters as Sam sits by her bedside. "You can stop pretending to be a family now, Sam."

"I was never pretending. These three weeks have been the best hope I've had in a long time, Connie. I want to be a family."

"I was pretending."

(She wasn't.)