Hey, everyone! Okay, this was totally Kyra's doing. She got me back into the writing mood and this popped out. I guess you can call this Pre-Ricky/Amy if you squint and turn your head just so.

Hope you like! And as always, please review!

Disclaimer: Ben fans will hate me for this, but if I owned Secret Life, Ben would have...yeah, he would have died a fiery death before the pilot was out.

A Hope For The Future
Oneshot

It was really happening. He was becoming a father at sixteen.

When he'd heard Amy was pregnant, it had seemed so unreal, like those months of watching Amy grow bigger and bigger was only an illusion. But now…twenty-three hours of labor later and suddenly it was real. There was Amy, lying in a bed five feet from him, holding their daughter.

Their daughter.

Her daughter.

His daughter.

Jesus Christ, he was a father. The thought hit him hard, actually propelling him back a step, and his back slammed into the doorway of Amy's hospital room.

He was sixteen. He wasn't ready to be a father. He couldn't be a father. But there it was, seven pounds, eight ounces of proof that he was. He'd helped create that little baby Amy was holding. Tiny, soft, and pink, the same dark curls that were on his own head, sprinkled on this child's, his child's. God, he'd passed on the curls. She was going to hate him.

Amy looked up at him, her eyes tired and her sweat soaked hair tied back. There were still a few stray tear tracks on her cheeks, evidence of the pain she'd gone through for this. She looked every bit as gorgeous as she had that night at band camp. The smile she sent him was small, almost as if she was too tired to try for a full one. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked, her voice hoarse, probably from when she'd screamed at Ben that it wasn't his kid and to "get the fuck out of here".

Had he mentioned women in labor were freaking terrifying?

Amy's mother nudged his arm lightly, giving a short nod towards Amy and the baby. She should have been screaming at him, telling him to leave, that he ruined her daughter's life, but here she was pushing him forward and positioning his arms so Amy could transfer the baby to him.

And suddenly it was so real. He was holding his kid, this innocent little baby that had no idea of the horror of the outside world, had no idea the hell family could induce on their own. Had he ever been that innocent?

Looking down at the dozing baby, all he could feel was an overwhelming urge to protect her. He moved forward a step, lowering himself to the edge of the bed, and looked up at Amy with a disbelieving smile. This was his kid. He was a father.

"She needs a name," Amy whispered.

A name. They'd had months to prepare and not once had he thought of a name. "Hope," he replied, just as soft.

There was a moment of silence, as if Amy was testing the name in her mind before she spoke again. "Hope Ashley Underwood."



Her last name threw him, and he shot his eyes to Amy. She just stared back at him, no hesitation or doubt on her face. She thought he could do this. "Hope Ashley Underwood," he agreed.

He could do this, he could. He could be a father, a good one. He wasn't his father and he never would be. They'd both be there for this little baby. They were her life, her parents.

Hope stirred in his arms, cooing softly as an arm unwrapped itself from the pink blanket. The arm waved for a second and he watched as Amy reached out, catching the tiny fist with a single finger. She blinked, big blue eyes staring up, and turning towards Amy when she let out a soft Hi. He whispered the same greeting to his child, his heart almost beating out of his chest when Hope turned her head, trying to find the source of the sound.

This was really real.

He looked to Amy, returning her smile with one of his own.

Hope cooed beneath them.

Hope Ashley Underwood.

Their little hope for the future.

The End

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