Chapter Two: Past and Present

I returned to the firm for a couple of hours that afternoon, keeping my mouth shut about the revelation when it came to my pregnancy. While I sat in my office, typing away correspondence to various other clients who hoped for victory in the courtroom, more than once, I found myself reaching down and just touching my stomach. The notion that I was officially having a child that I could keep sent this rare warmth through me, and even though it would take some getting used to, I found my desire to be a mother was overwhelming.

Even though this child had come at the most complicated time, and under not the best circumstances out there, they were meant to be here. Somehow, I thought that was the case, wasn't it? I mean, despite everything, this baby had clung onto life inside me, and was now proven not to be Lip's child, so that was definitely something in its favor. Life, for me, at least, seemed to be looking up, and although I knew there would be potential challenges that lay ahead—because, let's face it, I hadn't had any good parental role models in my life and would be completely lost when it came to mothering—I knew I had the opportunity to learn all I could in anticipation of my child's birth.

I found that work was a welcome distraction for me, and in the days and weeks that followed, I was surprised that many of my co-workers seemed nicer to me. Rachel, by this time, of course knew about my pregnancy and had passed it onto Cindy, and I was sure that the entire office pool of assistants—including Hugo's assistant, Bernard, and Nicholas's assistant Isidor—knew all about it as well. I knew there was also a rumor going around that it was Nicholas's baby, but Rachel and Cindy were quick to put such a rumor to rest. I wasn't even three months pregnant yet, but I knew that, when the day came and I was huge, I wanted to be treated the same as I'd always been treated, but, somehow, I thought such a thing was impossible.

"You're tired today," Debbie said when I came home from picking up Liam from school. "Long day at the firm?"

I sighed, quickly moving to take off my boots and stockings. "You have no idea," I replied, moving towards the kitchen for an apple. "Get your homework set up, Liam. Remember, it's Friday, so we'll only do a little bit tonight."

"So on top of everything," Debbie said, flashing me a smile as I moved to join her and Franny on the couch. "You feeling okay?"

I rolled my eyes, biting into the apple and holding the paper towel I'd wrapped it in close to my face to ensure no juice spilled onto my blouse. "Yeah," I replied, for the worst of the morning sickness seemed to be gone. I still had a few flare-ups a few times a week, but it was no longer a constant, which was good. "Happy that it's the weekend..."

"Yeah," Debbie replied as Franny moved onto my lap. "So," she said, mulling over her words for a moment before she spoke, "when were you going to tell me?"

"What?" I asked, my mouth full of a section of apple as I moved Franny into a more comfortable position in my lap. "What do you mean?"

Debbie made a face. "Come on, Murph!" she said, growing impatient. "Even I know that you're pregnant, and that's saying something, considering that I'm the only one of us who's even had a baby!"

I stuck my tongue out at her, and we shared a laugh. "Okay, you're right," I replied, wiping some of the excess juice off my mouth and blowing her a kiss. "I'm pregnant. There. Are you happy to know the information now, little sister?"

Debbie grinned. "Yes," she replied. "So, how far along are you?"

"Um," I said, doing some quick math. "It'll be three months in a little less than two weeks. So, not too far along, but far enough along to know who the father is."

"Not Lip?" Debbie asked, quietly enough that Franny wouldn't understand and Liam, nose-deep in his latest book report book, wouldn't hear. "I mean, it's not..."

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "No, I would've had to...you know," I say, and Debbie nods like she understands. "No, it's not Lip's."

"Is it your boss's son?" she asked, her eyebrows moving up and down. "I looked him up—I mean, he's published some articles in the Northwestern University school paper. He's cute—can I have him if he's not the father?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Debs—he's a grown man."

"Is he the father and my future brother-in-law?" she asked.

I shook my head. "That's a 'no' to both," I reply.

Debbie raised her eyebrows. "Jeez, I didn't know you'd been with so many people..."

"Three," I reply. "And the first two were just one timers. Nicholas and I were more active than that, but he used protection, so..."

"So, it was the second guy?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "Lip was your first?"

"First guy," I said, flashing a grin at Debbie.

"But I thought..." Debbie shook her head. "You said you weren't gay!"

I laughed a little then. "I really don't like labels, Debbie," I said, finishing my apple and wrapping up the core.

"But, you've been with a girl?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I was, once."

"Who was she?"

"Jessica Silvers—she and I lived in Seattle together. The cover story was that we were just best friends, but things got complicated when I skipped a few grades. I invited her over when she was a senior in high school and I was a sophomore in college. She told me she was gay and, as time went on, one thing led to another and we sort of started having fun together..."

"What happened?" Debbie asked.

"Dr. Normal, Tina's husband, found us," I replied. "He beat me up and threw her out of the house and we never were alone together after that."

"But I thought you took those self-defense courses," Debbie said.

I sighed. "The problem was, I was afraid of Dr. Normal," I said quietly. "I was too afraid to stand up for myself and, because of that, when the time came to put the moves, as they were, to good use, I just froze up. I couldn't do anything, and well..." I lifted my shirt then, where the buckle of the belt had sliced my left side, leaving a scar about three inches long. "You win some, you lose some, and, sometimes, you've got to wear the battle scars."

"Jesus," Debbie whispered. "What an asshole."

I nodded. "Yeah, he was. But I learned to live with it, until I could make my escape," I replied, lifting Franny off my lap and movies towards the table. "How's it coming?" I asked, taking a look at the spine of Liam's book. "What are you reading?"

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," he replied.

I grinned. "I love that one. How far have you gotten?"

. . .

I was cleaning in the kitchen that night, Liam having finished his dinner and gone to bed, when there was a knock on the front door. Ian was upstairs checking on Liam, and I quickly washed my hands before drying them on the towel and wandering over to the door. I'd since changed out of my work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt; my hormones were so out of control that I was so overheated most of the time, so the fact that my hair was pulled up and back was sort of the norm for times like this.

I opened the front door, plastering a thin line onto my face when I saw Trevor standing on the front porch. I was pleased that he looked equally uncomfortable that it was me standing there, and not Ian or someone else that he could've easily been more comfortable with. "Ian's upstairs making sure Liam's okay," I said, standing back. "Why don't you come in and wait? I'm almost done with washing the dishes and he'll be down soon. I promise not to ruin everything and get in your way," I added, with a touch of sarcasm.

Trevor continued to look uncomfortable. "Uh, okay," he replied.

"Look, Trevor," I said as he came into the house and walked into the living room. "You don't have anything to worry about," I tell him as I shut the door. "It's not like I'm asking you to be my best friend or anything like that," I continue as I wander past him and back into the kitchen to complete my task. "I just want you to be nice to me. I've never not been nice to you... Although I did swear at you a bit that night you came over..."

Trevor sighed. "Look, I had it coming."

I turned around to face him. "Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. I was way out of line. Even if I wanted to say those things—"

"Which is your right," I say.

"Thank you. But, yeah, even if I wanted to say those things, my way in saying them was totally uncalled for. I'm sorry."

I gave a short nod. "Thanks. I'm sorry, too," I replied, turning back to the sink. "And just so you know," I continued, "my life was no walk in the park before I got here. I had plenty of fucked up things happen to me. So, my life was no sunshine and butterflies."

"Like what?" Trevor asked.

I sighed. "An abusive stepfather-figure, my constant need to be perfect, and me hiding my girlfriend from the family," I say, laughing a little and shaking my head.

Trevor breathed in sharply then in shock. "Wait. You had a girlfriend?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I did," I replied, sticking my hands into the soapy water again and fishing out a pot we'd used that night for dinner. "Lasted for almost two years before Dr. Normal—my adopted mother's husband—walked in on me with my face in her crotch and then he pretty much blew a gasket..."

"Jesus," Trevor whispered.

I sighed. "Yeah. Too bad the physical marks never really go away..."

"Wait. He hit you?"

I shrugged, re-applying some soap to the scrub brush and scrubbing the pot harder. "It happened so often after they got married—for minor, childish infractions—but this was a total beating. I'll never look at belts the same way again..."

Trevor sighed. "Man, I'm an ass. I really misjudged you, Murph."

I turned and looked over at Trevor. "It's okay. Know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you care about my brother," I replied. "You're my twin brother's boyfriend, and you and I have to learn to get along. We really do."

Trevor stared at me then, taking me in then and, for a moment, it was as if he was doing so for the first time. "You have a glow about you," he said quietly.

I laughed. "A glow? Me?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Are you pregnant?"

I laughed again, accidentally slopping soap outside the sink and getting water all over the floor in the moment of humor. "Oh, shit!" I cried.

"Here," Trevor said, coming around to the kitchen area itself and grabbing some paper towels. "I guess that was partially my fault," he said, and was laughing now, too. "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that—it was rude."

I shook my head, grabbing more towels and helping him clean up the mess. "No, it's fine. You don't have anything to apologize for. I am pregnant, so it's all good."

"That's great!" Trevor said, grinning at me. "How far along are you?"

"Eleven weeks or so," I reply. "So, almost three months, I guess—it's so new to me, all this math that comes along for a ride. And I'm scheduled to get my first ultrasound on Monday," I said, gathering the mess of paper towels and throwing them into the trash. "I guess I should be excited, and I am, but I'm nervous as hell too. I mean, for years I thought I couldn't have kids, and now..."

"Who's coming with you?" Trevor asked.

I bit my lip. "Ian's coming with me," I replied.

"The father's not involved?"

I shake my head. "No. I got really drunk one night in a bar, and it just sort of happened. I must've liked the guy, though," I say, and laugh it off, hating that I was lying to Trevor, but thinking that the entire situation was far too complicated to get into.

"And you're just keeping a random guy's baby?"

I nodded. "I am. I remember that he was really nice. So, who knows? Maybe this baby will be nice, too," I joked.

Trevor smiled. "Well, I think you can be a good mother. Ian says you did really well with school, and I think you need to be somewhat intelligent to be a good parent."

I gave a short, burst of laughter then at his words. "That's got to be the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Trevor. Thank you."

Trever grinned. "Well, we've all got to be nice sometimes, Murph."

"What's this I hear about being nice?" Ian asked, striding down the stairs. "Hey," he said, and strode up to Trevor, kissing him before turning to me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Oh, we're better than okay, Ian. I told Trevor about Monday."

"Oh, the ultrasound?" Ian asked.

"I think it's great," Trevor said to Ian.

"That my sister's pregnant?" Ian joked.

"Well, yeah, because she seems happy about it," Trevor replied. "But also because you're supporting her. We all need family around when a dynamic is about to be changed."

"We're taking bets," Ian replied.

"Hey!" I cried out, gently smacking Ian on the arm. "You know how tacky that sounds, and I don't want the baby to hear it!" I say, covering my stomach protectively.

"Bets on what?" Trevor asked.

"Ian is extorting people to find out who thinks I'm going to have a boy or a girl," I replied, and rolled my eyes. "Personally, I think it's archaic. I find out at the end of next month anyway, and I'm going to tell people on Christmas, but no, my brother has to be impatient and get people out of their hard-earned money..."

"Stop complaining—you make the biggest salary," Ian said with a grin.

"You're terrible," I replied.

"Girl," Trevor said.

I turned and looked at him. "Don't get fresh with me, Trevor," I said with a smile.

"No, I mean, I think it's a girl," Trevor replied.

"Really?" Ian asked. "Everyone's guessing boy because Debbie had a girl. I guess they're convinced that since one Gallagher sister had a girl, the other one who's knocked up has to be having a boy."

"Well, I think it's a girl," Trevor said, grinning at me before turning back to Ian. "Whoever has a mother that strong-willed deserves to be a girl to learn from the best."

"Trevor, you've successfully replaced Ian as my best friend," I said, crossing my arms and giving Ian a look.

"Hey! Wait!" Ian cried out.

I rolled my eyes. "You had to go against me and guess boy, right after Fiona did, so everyone hopped on the damned bandwagon!" I cried. "Trevor's the only other person who guessed girl here..."

"Nobody else guessed girl?" Trevor asked.

I sighed. "I did. And Frank, but he doesn't fucking count..."

"Got any names yet?" Trevor asked.

I nodded. "A few," I replied. "But I want to wait until I'm actually showing to announce them publicly. Don't want to go all premature on people."

"I may have peeked at your search history," Ian said.

"Which is why Trevor has replaced you as my best friend," I replied without missing a beat as I turned back to the sink. "Now, you boys go out and have your fun, but I expect the both of you to be safe."

"No promises," Trevor replied.

I looked over my shoulder at him and grinned. "Have a good time, then."

"That I can promise," Trevor said, flashing me a grin and pulling Ian towards the front door.

Ian hurried back a moment later to grab his jacket. "Hey..."

"Yeah?" I asked, grabbing the final pot and scrubbing it out.

"So, are you and Trevor okay now?"

I smiled. "I think we've come to an understanding."

Ian grinned. "That's good," he replied, pulling me into a hug. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

I nodded, pulling back. "Go," I said encouragingly. "I promise that Liam and I will be fine. You go out and have a good time."

"Thanks!" Ian called over his shoulder, leaving the house.

. . .

On Monday, Ian and I drove Liam to school and then went straight onto my appointment; the plan was, from there, to drop Ian off at work and then get to work myself. After we made sure that Liam was off at school, I drove Ian and me to the hospital. I found I was drumming my palms upon the steering wheel once again; as we stopped at a traffic light on that cloudy day, I found that I felt so underserving of all this.

"Something on your mind?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "I just..."

"What?"

I bit my lip, focusing on the traffic light to make sure I didn't catch Ian's eye. "I guess I just don't understand how you could be okay with any of this..."

"This being?"

I turned to look at Ian then; the traffic light was taking too long anyhow. "Me having a baby with someone who's clearly still in love with you," I replied.

Ian sighed, leaning back against the seat. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" I demanded, getting startled by a car honking behind me. "Okay, okay, I'm moving, you jackass!" I screamed, facing forward again and stepping on the gas. I pulled through the intersection then, sighing. "Look, Ian, I know you've moved on—with Trevor, and I think he's awesome. But..."

"Murph, really..."

"No, Ian, listen, please," I said, my voice shaking then as I kept right on driving, staring at the road to distract myself. "I feel like you're compensating or something."

"What are you talking about, Murph?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, Ian. But I do know that something between you and Mickey seems unfinished. Why is that?"

Ian shrugged back at me. "I don't know. Probably because both times we said, 'I love you', the other person didn't say it back. I don't fucking know..."

"I'm sorry. What?" I demanded. "You only said it twice?"

Ian sighed. "I said it in passing once—after Mickey's wedding, but I amended it, because, at the time, I was convinced that Mickey didn't want me," he replied. "But, Mick technically said it first, after I kidnapped Yevgeny and got arrested for stealing Lip's identity for the army. It was after Sammi turned me in, and I stayed with Monica for a while. Mick came to find me, and then he said it, but I broke up with him. And then when he busted out of prison, I said I'd go to Mexico with him..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, tempted to pull off to the side of the road. "You said you'd go to fucking Mexico with him and you didn't think to tell me this?!"

"I changed my mind at the border," Ian said, lowering his eyes. "I mean, I realized all of it wasn't me anymore. And that's when I said it, that I loved him, to him, despite the fact that we'd been together for days..."

I sighed, coming to a stop at another traffic light. "Shit," I whispered, looking down at my stomach, still not swollen yet. "Ian, you need to tell me something and tell me it right now before I go fucking ape shit..."

"What do you want to know?"

I turned to look at him then, feeling the tears just lurking behind the backs of my eyes. "If you are not okay with me having this baby, then you need to be straight up with me. I know it's going to be fucking awkward regardless, and I know you said you would be supportive, but I know a part of you still loves Mickey, and I do not want you resenting my child. You have every right to resent me—what I did was fucking unforgivable, and I'll never forgive myself for it—but you need to tell me if my baby is unwelcome in any way."

Ian shook his head. "You're right, about it being awkward, and about a part of me still loving Mickey, Murph. But I will not resent you or your child, who is going to be my niece or nephew, because I love you, and I love this baby already."

I sighed. "Promise."

Ian nods. "I promise."

I sighed, hoping that he was telling the truth. "Okay, then," I said, falling back into the line of traffic as we kept driving towards the hospital.

I wanted to scream at the amount of intake forms we were presented with upon arrival to the hospital, but Ian took the amount in his stride. I stuck my tongue out at him as he sat there beside me, helping me with the familial information I was still learning about, and wondered if I could ever memorize the little details he told me about. Ian said I should mention the prevalence of alcoholism and mental illness—things I already knew and yet was aware of their importance—and was hopeful that my child would pass through unscathed.

"Hopefully, but unlikely," Ian said quietly.

I turned to look at him. "You could lie to me," I replied, slumping back against my chair as I continued filling out the form. "I mean, I want to believe the best for this baby, Ian. It's not like either of us have a medical degree..."

"No, but I do work in the medical field," Ian replied. "Still, I know you will fight tooth and nail to make sure this baby is okay."

"Why the fuck wouldn't I?" I said, then remembered that we were in a doctor's waiting room, and felt my face flush as I hid it behind the clipboard and kept writing. "Sorry. These hormones are just crazy right now..."

"Understandable," Ian said gently. "You're carrying something that's pretty much based on the notion that you're donating part of your life force to it, and will continue to do so until the day you die. It's not something that should be taken lightly."

"Not something for the weak-hearted, that's for sure," I said, filling out the last box on the intake form and setting it aside. "This is getting tiresome," I muttered, reaching into my purse for a hair tie and gathering up my hair, before putting it into a bun on my head. "There. That should alleviate some of the heat..."

"You could always chop it off," Ian suggested.

I laughed aloud then. "Right, and then I'll buy some stilts so we can really look like twins. Think of all the shenanigans we could get into..."

Ian smirked. "Well, have you ever considered cutting your hair?"

I sighed. "No. Not since I was allowed to decide for myself."

Ian's hands clenched around the arms of his chair. "Did Dr. Normal do something?"

"He would chop it off for minor infractions from the time I was six until I was eighteen," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "When he caught me with Jessica, he shaved my head. It took my years to get it this long, and from that day until my graduation from college, I just kept my head down and tried not to make waves..."

"Son of a bitch," Ian whispered. "Sounds like a living hell..."

I shrugged. "Hey, I'm okay now," I said, reaching out and taking one of his hands, which caused his entire body to relax. "It helped me to become the person I am today—the one who had the courage to break free of her chains and to find a new life for herself, with the family she was taken away from, but found again."

Ian smiled a little then. "You're an inspiration, you know that, Murph?" he asked. "I mean, so many people in your shoes—men and women—could've crumbled from the affect that Dr. Normal had on you, but you..."

"I thrived, I guess," I replied, shrugging my shoulders again, as I so often did when people complimented me. "Who knows? Maybe all of this was supposed to happen—our own separate hells before things got better..."

"You factoring the baby into things getting better?"

I smiled. "Well, yeah. I mean, now that it turns out that my childhood doctor was likely feeding me a bunch of bullshit—everyone was under Dr. Normal's thumb, it seemed—I guess now things can keep going the way they are now."

Ian nodded. "And what about Nicholas?"

"What?"

"Does he factor into anything?" he asked. "Do you think he will?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No. Nicholas and I needed something to come to an understanding about where the both of us stood at the firm. Now that that's been achieved..." I shrugged. "I don't think we'll need aggressive treatment anymore."

"Aggressive?" Ian asked.

I looked around, finding that the waiting room was virtually empty, but still didn't want to take any chances. I leaned in closer to him, and whispered, "Let's just say that our trysts may have been a bit...unconventional."

Ian smirked, shaking his head as he attempted to ward off the laughter he so wanted to exude at what I said. "Murph, it's me," he said. "If we're talking about unconventional fucking, then I'm pretty much its poster child. Tell me what you mean."

I bit my lip, leaning in closer to my twin then and said quietly, "Well, we only kissed twice," I replied, and Ian looked confused. "I didn't want him kissing me. He initiated the first half of our kiss, and I did the second half, plus the second kiss. Then, we didn't kiss; I would just come into the office to blow off steam, and he would lie me down on my stomach on the desk and then we would...you know, fuck."

"Did he...?" Ian asked, and raised his eyebrows before looking behind me.

I shake my head. "No. Just...traditional except not facing each other," I replied.

Ian nodded, understanding. "And... Well, you liked it, didn't you?"

I let out a short laugh then. "I kept going back for more. What does that tell you?"

"Either you liked it, or it was Stockholm Syndrome," he replied as a door opened.

"Murphy Gallagher?" the nurse said.

I got to my feet, pulling Ian with me. "That's me," I replied, and we strode forward and towards the door.

"And what is your relation to the patient?" the nurse asked Ian in a pleasant voice as I handed over my intake forms.

"Twin brother," Ian replied.

"Oh. Well, then, by all means, come back with us," she said with a smile.

We were led to a different room than I'd been to on all my hospital visits; this one was pretty much all completely dark, and I was made to lie back on a table as an ultrasound machine was wheeled in shortly thereafter. Ian perched on the other side of the machine, and the nurse asked about my appetite and how I'd been feeling recently before she went to fetch the ultrasound technician, who was due back from another appointment any moment.

"It's too early to know the sex now, right?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I'm only eleven weeks. You need to be at least sixteen to twenty weeks—or about halfway through the pregnancy—to know that."

Ian grinned, perching on the high chair he'd been given. "I still say it's a boy..."

I roll my eyes. "Just because Mickey had Yevgeny with Svetlana doesn't automatically mean he could have a boy with me," I replied.

Ian shrugged. "The Milkovich family only had Mandy as a girl, and we Gallagher's only had Sammi, Fiona, you, and Debbie. So, boys outnumber the girls...on both sides," he said, as I looked as if I wanted to jab him in the ribs. "Hey, come on, Murph," he said as I looked away from him. "You know as well as I do that a healthy baby is all that matters."

I made a mock groan. "And you know as well as I do that, with a mentally ill mother and a criminal father, that this baby really has a winning chance," I muttered.

The ultrasound technician came into the hospital room then, greeting me warmly and seemed pleased to meet Ian as well. "Well, who's to say that there won't be two babies lurking around in there?" she joked, instructing me to roll up my shirt and yank down my skirt ever so slightly to accommodate her. She brought out some towels, tucking them into my clothing to ensure the goo wouldn't stain them, and brought it out of something which resembled a warming pan. "I like to warm it up for my patients," she explained, gathering up the wand and putting a layer of plastic on it for sanitation purposes.

"So, you'll really be able to tell if Murphy's going to be having twins?" Ian asked.

"Yes," the doctor replied. "We can tell between ten weeks and thirteen weeks and six days. So, there should be something for us to see." She keyed in a code onto the system, before putting the warmed goo onto the wand and positioning it onto my abdomen. "Let's see..." She said quietly, and dragged it from one end to the other. "Here, we are," she said, positioning the screen so that Ian and I could see it. "There's Baby Gallagher."

Immediately, my hands flew to my mouth, but they could not completely extinguish the small cry that escaped through my lips. "Oh, my god," I whispered into them.

"Wow! The baby does take after you!" Ian said, grinning as he took in the screen. "Look at the size of that head!"

Immediately, I smacked him. "Hey, the baby still can't hear you for another seven weeks, and won't be able to react until after we find out if it's a he or a she, but come on! It's a Gallagher, and we all deserve some respect."

Ian eyed me then. "You clearly Googled that."

"Hey, I can't help it if my pregnancy books are taking forever to ship," I replied, crossing my arms and pouting at him.

The ultrasound technician laughed. "The kidneys, intestines, brain and liver are already formed and have begun functioning," she said gently. "The baby already has fingernails and toenails, and the bones have begun the hardening process and the genitalia is forming as we speak. The baby can also hiccup," she said proudly.

"Hiccup? Really?" I asked.

The technician nodded. "Well, of course—everyone hiccups. You won't be able to feel it for a while, though—the baby isn't quite big enough for that."

"Sounds like a sequel to that one book, Everybody—"

I slapped a hand over Ian's mouth. "Does the baby look okay?" I asked.

She nodded, zooming in on various locations and pointing out points of interest. "Now, of course, I have to ask—would you two like to hear the heartbeat?"

"Yes," Ian and I said together.

"Okay," she replied, keying in something to the system. "Here we go."

The room was suddenly filled with whooshing noises, and I felt my eyes filling with tears as I made a grab for Ian's hand. We listened for another few moments until our time was up, and the technician went to print out some ultrasound pictures for me. I sat up then, gathering up the towels she had given me and whipped off my midriff before hopping down from the table and re-arranging my clothes. Ian and I walked out of the room then, meeting the technician who handed over my photos and made sure my next appointment was all set in stone before I went out into the parking lot with Ian to drive him to work.

"So, now that you have a vague idea of what your baby looks like, do any name ideas come to mind?" he asked.

I sighed, sticking my key into the ignition and pulling us carefully out of the parking space. "I guess Ian," I replied.

"You guess you came up with some names?" Ian asked.

I laughed as we pulled out of the parking lot. "No, silly," I replied, pulling into the line of traffic and setting a course for his place of work. "I mean the name Ian."

Ian stared at me for a moment, which I didn't catch until we got to our first traffic light. "I thought you said the baby was a girl..."

I shrugged. "You convinced me," I replied with a grin. "I'm team boy now, and I want to name the baby Ian, after my amazing brother who's stood by me in this."

Ian grinned. "I knew I could get you onto our side!"

"This isn't about sides—it's about genetics," I replied, pulling through the intersection. "And what you said is right—the boys outweigh the girls on both sides, Gallagher and Milkovich, so it only makes sense that this baby would be a boy."

Ian laughed. "So, Ian Gallagher II, huh?" he asked.

I laughed. "I guess so," I replied.

"What about a middle name?" Ian wanted to know. "I mean, you wouldn't give him my complete name, would you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. A family name would be nice..."

"Please don't name him Ian Frank Gallagher—anything but that..."

I rolled my eyes. "No, trust me... I was actually thinking of Ian Phillip Gallagher, and I know it'll be seen as controversial due to our past, but nothing about our family is incontrovertible, Ian. I mean, hey, fact is, we're pretty out there..."

"I think it's a great name, Murphy," Ian said, and I turned to look at him with a smile. "I couldn't have picked a better one."

I let out a short laugh then as I reached down and touched my stomach. "Just can't wait for Baby Ian to move, and actually tell us if it's Baby Ian or not..."

"What if it is a girl?" Ian asked as we turned onto his block for work. "What'll you name Baby Ian if she's a girl?"

"Easy," I replied. "Iana Philippa Gallagher."

Ian grinned. "You think of everything."

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just wired that way. I had to be, remember? I didn't have allies until I was twenty-one. And now..." I sighed, pulling up to his work place. "Now I think I can relax it a little."

"Just a little," Ian said with a grin, leaning in to kiss my forehead before he got out of my car, waving to me before he slipped inside his work.