A/N: Finally! I got off my lazy butt and started writing the next chapter! I GET A GOLD STAR!

Forgive any mistakes and enjoy the next chapter!

*End Authors Note.*

"Nuh uh."

Sam stared down at the infant in front of him. "No way," he said, looking up at the sky. He wasn't sure if there was a God, but if there was, Sam hoped he would hear him."Seriously?" Sam complained. He was going to be on the disabled list at work, was recently single, and now this? When Sam had wondered if his week could have gotten worse, it was a rhetorical question, not a challenge!

Surrendering with a sigh, Sam picked up the carriage and took the poor kid inside.

Sam picked the baby up from it's carriage and cradled it in his arms-or arm, considering one shot with pain whenever he put pressure on it. "Shh...it's okay, don't cry. Shh..." He soothed, trying to think of something to do.

He searched for anything in the refrigerator he could feed the baby, and decided to heat up some milk and give that to the crying infant.

After heating up the calcium-filled substance, Sam's next battle was to find something similar to a sipping cup or a baby bottle to put it in-and failed to do so.

So he decided the best way to do this was to spoon feed it to her-and surprisingly enough, it worked.

Then came the time to burp her.

Sam awkwardly put the baby over his shoulder and patting it's back gingerly, as if afraid her might hurt the child, which was totally possible, considering how muscular the ex JTF2 was.

It didn't take long for the child to puke all over Sam's back, causing it to stop crying, and also causing Sam to mentally take an oath to never, ever become a parent purposely. He could handle corpses, shooting people without a second thought, explosions, and lots and lots of blood, but couldn't handle puke. That was his one weakness.

After sitting down on the couch and rocking the baby back and forth in Sam's arms, the baby fell asleep, and Sam was grateful. This meant he could finally get some rest. Not to mention a clean shirt, too.

Gently putting the baby back into it's respective carriage, Sam walked into his room and put the carriage carrying the tired baby girl in a chair near Sam's bed. Then he took twenty minutes of his time to change into a clean shirt, tossing the dirty one into a laundry basket.

After checking the clock, which read 4:32 AM, Sam curled up under his blanket and fell asleep, praying for no more interruptions.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Ugh..." Sam moaned, rolling over on his bed to check his alarm clock. Then he remembered he didn't set an alarm, because he didn't have to get up to go to work that morning. What had woken him up?

Oh, yeah. The baby. It came back to him now.

The break-up, the explosion, the hospital, and the baby. Sam wanted to go back to being it only 7:14, but the baby girl had other plans. "WAHHHHH!"

Sam decided that he didn't have a choice but to get up. So he did, making his way over to the crying baby and one-handedly picking her up and holding her. After her crying died down, Sam and the baby made their way into the kitchen to find breakfast for the both of them.

After searching his cabinets and the refrigerator, Sam asked the young girl, "Cheerios sound okay?"

Sitting a his counter holding a bowl of dry cereal in front of the baby girl in his lap, Sam dialed Ed's home phone number, in hopes of talking to Sophie for advice from a mom. Only the voice on the other end wasn't Sophie Lane's. "Hello?" The male voice on the other end asked.

"Hey, Ed. It's Sam," Sam answered, sandwiching the cellphone in between his ear and shoulder while he fixed the baby's position in his lap.

"Hey, Sam. What's up? How's the arm?" Ed's voice greeted.

"Arm is better, but still hurts like heck," Sam admitted. "Is Sophie there?"

"Sophie and Clark are visiting my in-laws," Ed replied. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"I'm in a bit of a situation," Sam admitted, pouring more cereal into the bowl in front of him. "And I need some advice."

"Well, I'm always right here-"

"From a mom."

From the other end, Ed paused. "Have you tried Shelly? Maybe she can help," Ed suggested.

"I'll do that, thanks," Sam said, once again shifting the baby's position.

"No problem, Sam." And with that, Ed ended the call.

After calling Wordy to find out if Shelly could possibly help him, Sam had the number dialed on his phone, but hesitated before he hit the send button.

The number belonged to his parents.

A gruff voice answered from the other end of the line. "Braddock," the man said.

Sam sat up straight, even though he knew his father couldn't see him. "Sir," he said simply.

"Son," The General said, his voice rough. "Have you finally changed your mind about my offer?" He asked.

Avoiding the question but not surprised it was asked, Sam answered, "may I talk to mom, Sir?"

"Ah, still sticking to that wimpy cop job I see? And still avoiding my offer to take you back into the field? Where you belong?"

"Please, Sir, may I speak to mother?"

"Father knows best, son, how come you won't accept my offer?"

"I belong in the SRU," Sam answered, frustrated. "Can I please talk to mom?" Sam begged.

The General let out a sigh of disgust. "Feel free to call back when you've changed your mind, son."

Then he hung up. On his own son.

Angrily, Sam tossed his phone onto the couch and picked up the baby, remembering the hard way that he couldn't use his right arm. Muttering curses under his breath, he went to plan D.

Google.

After getting a list of everything he needed to take care of a baby, he grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket, put the baby in her carriage, and left for wal-mart.

Getting all the pretty ladies should have made Sam happy, but it only made him miss Jules.

While he was checking out the items, a group of girls saw the baby girl and walked over, cooing over the child. "Aww..." they said in unison.

"How old is she?" A pretty girl, about mid-twenties asked Sam, eyes still on the baby girl.

"About six months," Sam guessed, and guessing by the girl's strength and ability to eat the cereal Sam had given her that morning by herself, Sam guessed that six months was at least the minimum.

Smiling, a blonde girl asked the next question. "What's her name?"

Sam struggled to find an answer as he paid the cashier. "Um..." Sam stared down at the baby. "Chloe."

"Aw!" Said the girls in unison.

Finally, Sam had released Chloe from the ladies' cooing and headed home.

And when Sam got home, he took a deep breath and said "uh oh."

A/N: Not much of a cliffie...

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