Hello all, I'm going to keep it brief because I want to get this up before I go to bed and I've had a super long day so I'm really tired. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. You are the best.

Just to note, Veronica is not undercover, she simply let Logan believe that so he wouldn't worry about her. She is not part of the F.B.I. and I'm fairly certain they do not have jurisdiction in South America.

So, enjoy!


Chapter 12:

"Where were you?" Adrian growled, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her closer to him when she walked through the door.

She struggled to free herself from his grasp, "I was out, calm down." She looked between her arm and him, before using her other hand in an attempt to pry his hand off of her body. The F.B.I. training sessions flashed through her mind: what to do when a suspect has a grasp on you, but he wasn't a suspect, he was her boyfriend.

"Out where?" he demanded, slapping her prying fingers away. "This isn't Beverly Hills or wherever the fuck you're from. It is dangerous here. You can't just go wandering around by yourself." He loosened his grip a bit and took a deep breath before rubbing his hand across his face, "I'm sorry. I was just worried about you."

He let her go and she stepped back, rubbing the bruised spot, anger still flaring in her eyes, "I'm trying to protect you. Not everyone is friendly here, and your Spanish still isn't great. At least take Leja with you."

She didn't say another word and simply walked to the freezer, searching for an ice pack to place on her arm. Coming up short, she settled on a bag of frozen peas instead.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Veronica's eyes fluttered open at the sound. She didn't remember setting an alarm. As her conscious slowly returned to her, she realized that that was not the sound her alarm clock made. Then the pain came, sharp and stabbing, across her body, everywhere all at once.

That was all she needed to remind her. Adrian was angry, angrier than she'd seen him before. He knocked her down, kicked her…then nothing. She struggled to remember anything after that moment.

The blonde looked for any sign around the room to jog her memory of how she arrived. On the plastic chair next to her bed sat her bag. Did she bring herself here?

"You're awake," a nurse said, walking into the room, interrupting her thoughts. She pushed a button on the heart monitor to make the beeping stop. "Do you remember what happened? Do you know your name? Do you know what day it is?"

"Water," Veronica finally said after the nurse's bombardment of questions. The woman nodded and filled a glass with water before bringing it to her.

Veronica reached for the glass and felt a pain shoot through her arm. Glancing down she noticed the extent of her injuries. Letting out an annoyed breath, she checked her other arm for any noticeable injuries before taking the glass from the nurse and bringing it to her lips.

After downing the entire glass, she placed it on the bedside table, "How long have I been out?"

The nurse shrugged, "About two days ago you wandered in here. You were pretty messed up, like you lost a fight. It was touch and go for a while, but we were able to stop the internal bleeding. I should really go get the doctor."

Veronica's hand fell to her stomach at the nurse's mention of internal bleeding and her eyes went wide. "We had to deliver the baby," the nurse supplied, noticing her actions. She reached into the front pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a Polaroid photo.

"It is a boy," she continued handing the photo to her, "I'm going to go and get the doctor. You should think of a name for him."

She held the picture in her good hand, afraid to look at it. It was so early and she hadn't taken care of herself in the best way possible in the time that he did have. He was probably tiny, covered in tubes and wires, fighting to survive… if he wasn't dead already.

Another part of her was curious. Did he have her nose? Or Adrian's eyes? Perhaps her father's chin? Maybe a resemblance to Leja? Poor, poor Leja. How would all of that look rolled together? She wished she had someone there with her.

Her mind immediately went to Logan. He was probably back in Neptune by now, still thinking she was under the watchful eye of the F.B.I. Why didn't she just tell him? Right, because Veronica Mars doesn't need anyone.

Before she could allow her mind to wander too far, the doctor stepped in, bringing her back to the present, "Hello, I'm Dr. Sanchez," he extended his hand out to her before realizing the difficult situation he put them in and settled on saving instead. "If it is all right with you, I would like to discuss your injuries first, and then we can talk about your son. Okay?"

Veronica nodded sending a wave of pain and dizziness through her body, before making a mental note that it was a terrible idea. Her good hand traveled to her head and felt the bandage there. She let out a defeated breath at the realization she would probably never know past the obvious source of Adrian what caused her injuries. Was her head wound the result of her hitting her head on the floor when she passed out or the result of him kicking her in the head?

"Your arm is fractured, most likely from falling on it. We've splinted it and it should be better in a few weeks, provided you limit your use of it. We put seven stitches in the back of your head, which you will need to have removed and you're probably feeling like you have a migraine. That is normal and should wear off soon," Dr. Sanchez flipped through her chart as he continued to address all of her injuries and new limitations until she healed.

Luckily Veronica was able to follow most of his Spanish, but a few words did trip her up. Obviously those warnings would have to be ignored. "Now, about your son," Dr. Sanchez continued, shifting to the other clipboard in his hand, "he has quite the battle ahead of him. His lungs are quite underdeveloped so he will be on a ventilator for the time being and hopefully the medications we have given him will help correct that. We have him on a heart monitor as a precaution as we are still running tests to determine the extent of his underdevelopment. If he does get through this, and that is a big if, he could be looking at suffering from asthma, blindness and possibly hearing loss. It is still too early to tell. Unfortunately, we can't offer him any more than we are already doing at this hospital. We simply aren't prepared to deal with cases like his."

About halfway through his speech, Veronica zoned out. This whole thing seemed surreal: having a son. A very sick son at that. A son that probably wouldn't survive through the week. Perhaps that is what she deserves, for keeping him a secret, to not have him at all.

Her fingers fell to the forgotten Polaroid. With a deep breath, she flipped it over and allowed her eyes to fall on his face for the first time. Though she had never been one for crying, tears streamed down her face at the site of her little boy. "Can I…" she paused, took in a breath and met the doctor's eyes, "Can I see him?"

He ran a hand through his hair as he thought it over. "I guess I don't see any harm in that," he responded, finally before looking into the hallway for a nurse and coming up empty, "I will see what I can do."

Veronica offered a slight nod before returning her eyes to the photo. He was definitely tiny. She wondered if it was solely because he was premature, her early drug use, or if her genes were at play in his size. Would he have been larger if she had taken better care of herself? If she had left Adrian sooner?

His eyes were closed, though she assumed they would be brown, like Adrian's. It was unlikely that her blue eyes would carry through given their pairing. His hair was certainly dark like Adrian's. Would he be a constant reminder of Adrian?

Her thoughts continued to flow as she inspected every inch of the infant presented in the small photograph, as though she needed to commit them to memory. When she tore her eyes away, the doctor had disappeared from the room.

"Why didn't you get rid of them?" Adrian asked, shoving her against the wall by her throat, "That is your job, Nicki."

She looked away and struggled to keep breathing as he gripped her tighter. "Look at me when I am talking to you!" he demanded, slapping her across the face. Out of instinct, she elbowed him in the nose before twisting out of his grasp and running.

Stumbling only for a moment, he grabbed her foot with one hand while holding the other to his nose. She fell to the ground with a loud thunk and still tried to wiggle away. "Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing against him, hoping to loosen his grip.

"You have one job, Nicki. You're supposed to pretend you only speak English and convince them that they have the wrong address. That's it. You failed at such a simple task," he pulled on her foot, bringing her closer to him before twisting her ankle until an audible crack echoed through the empty apartment, "Try to run away again and I will make sure you never run again. Unlike you, I actually have follow through."

Veronica's eyes fluttered open. How much time had passed? Suddenly she longed for a room with a window. Her eyes travelled to the clock on the wall. After a moment she realized the second hand kept flicking back and forth, never actually moving forward in its rotation around the face.

Looking down, she noticed the Polaroid still tucked into her hand. So, this wasn't all just a terrible dream. She flipped it over again and stared at his face. Her son. He was somewhere in this hospital, or so she hoped.

Had Adrian located them yet? Had he taken the baby away from her? She refused to allow her mind to wander down the path of 'what ifs.' Instead she would focus on the what is. She is in a hospital. She is the mother of an innocent little boy. She is in pain.

Sliding her hand over, careful not to injure it further, she reached for the call button. Though, looking around, it was doubtful that it actually functioned, but it was certainly worth a shot. After a few minutes of no response, she tried it again.

Frustrated, Veronica closed her eyes and began a mental assessment of her injuries based on the origin of pain. Her head and her hand were a given as she travelled lower, her abdomen. Legs felt to be in working order, confirmed with a toe wiggling.

Taking one last look towards the door, she let out a breath and removed the blankets that covered her. Slowly, she sat up and pushed her legs over the side of the bed. Pushing through the new discomfort created by moving, she stood up and grasped onto the bed railing with her good hand for support.

Shifting her weight forward a bit, she reached out for the chair her bag was sitting on. With just a few more inches, her fingers came in contact with the chair and she allowed her feet to shuffle forward, inch by agonizing inch. Almost there. The contents of that bag would determine if she brought herself in or if Adrian grew a conscience while she was unconscious and dumped her here himself.

Just a few more steps and she would be able to sink in the chair and rest for a minute. If her bag contained anything from the air vent she would have her answer: she brought herself there. Though, unfortunately, the converse could not be proven definitively.

Suddenly gravity took over and she could feel herself go limp, helpless to prevent herself from falling. Well, maybe the sound will get a nurse's attention…

"No, she's cool with this. We have that kind of relationship," Adrian grinned, looking back over his shoulder at Veronica before giving his full attention back to the model in front of him.

The model smiled and twisted a strand of her hair in her fingers, "That's like really cool. You're like really hot." She leaned in and slipped a hand behind his head, gently pushing him closer for a kiss.

Veronica crossed her arms and stood up, "I hope you're aware that sleeping with him won't actually get you featured in this photo shoot."

The model looked between Adrian and Veronica, "I thought you said she was cool with this. You said this would help my career."

Adrian stood up and grabbed Veronica by the arm, dragging her away from the scene, "What did I tell you about putting your nose where it doesn't belong?" He placed his hand at her throat as he slammed her into the nearest wall. "You know what happens to people like that? They get killed," he warned, lingering for a second before releasing her.

As she walked away, her grabbed her again and spun her around. "Look at me," he ordered and slapped her across the face when she refused, "I own you. Without me, you would be nothing, just rotting in a jail cell. The least you can do is be grateful," he spat before shoving her away from himself.

"Veronica," a female voice called out, "Veronica?"

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked around, realizing that she had yet again passed out. Standing near her bed was the nurse from earlier, behind a wheelchair. "The doctor said I shouldn't wake you but…" she trailed off, inching the wheelchair closer before stepping around it.

Hesitantly, she looked back towards the open door to the room before turning back to Veronica, "Your son, he took a turn for the worse this morning. He's stable now, but I don't know how much longer. I just thought that maybe… maybe you'd like to see him before… well he could…" she looked to her hands and began fidgeting.

The blonde understood exactly what the nurse was getting at: her four month premature baby with a drug problem probably wasn't going to live much longer. She should go and see him while he was still alive. "Have you picked a name?" the nurse asked, after a moment of silence.

"Gabriel, after the angel," Veronica replied, scooting herself closer to the edge of the bed so the nurse could help her into the wheelchair, "Gabriel Alejandro."

The nurse nodded and moved behind the wheelchair, "I will put that on his birth certificate."

"How did you…" Veronica started as she looked around the hospital outside of her room, "How did you know my name?"

"It was on your I.D., in your bag. I didn't mean to snoop, but you came in all alone and I thought maybe if I knew your name it would help you get better," she explained as she pushed her to the nursery.

Veronica leaned over and looked in the incubator next to where the nurse parked her wheelchair. Inside, her tiny baby struggled to keep breathing. "Can I hold him?" she asked, looking between the several doctors and nurses in the room.

They shared glances before a doctor joined them, "I'm Dr. Martinez. I was assigned to your son…"

"Gabriel," she supplied for him, feeling little better about finally giving him a name.

He nodded, "I was assigned to Gabriel's case. Right now he cannot breathe without the assistance of this machine," he pointed behind him and allowed his finger to follow the tube that went into the baby, causing his chest to rise and fall dramatically. "His lungs are quite underdeveloped. This wire is monitoring his heart. Over the past couple of hours we've noticed that it has become…" he looked at her and paused, "irregular" he chose, which she could only assume was due to his decision that her understanding of Spanish was lacking, though he wouldn't be too far off.

Veronica found herself nodding more than she would have liked to. "Can I hold him?" she repeated, cutting off his report of Gabriel's problems.

Dr. Martinez turned around and opened the incubator. Being mindful of the various tubes and wires entering and exiting the child, he lifted him from the bed and placed him into his mother's waiting arms for the first time.

She smiled down at the baby in her arms, well, arm. He wasn't large enough to fill both arms, which worked out just as well, since only one of hers was functional at the moment. It was ironically perfect.

The nurse picked up the old Polaroid camera from the nearby table and held it up to take a picture of their special moment, "so you can remember this moment forever," she noted. She took the photo from the front of the camera and waved it slightly as it developed.

Suddenly the monitors started beeping and the doctor bent over Veronica, removing the baby from her lap. The nurse dropped the picture to the floor as she rushed over to assist the doctor. Several other staff members quickly joined them.

Veronica leaned forward, reaching out with her good hand, and picked up the photo the nurse had dropped. "Someone get her out of here!" Dr. Martinez called from behind her as the beeping continued. Quickly another nurse came over and pulled her out of the room, returning her to her own.

"My name is Carla. I'm sure your son is going to be just fine. Those alarms have been going off all day, and every time he always bounces back," the nurse noted as she stopped in Veronica's room. "Why don't you try to get some rest, you'll need all the energy you can get to heal so you can take care of your little one," Carla continued, helping Veronica from the wheelchair to the hospital bed.

"Can you…" Veronica started as Carla was about to leave, "Can you stay for a minute?" Carla looked around and nodded before pulling the chair with Veronica's bag closer to the bed. "You can just hand that to me," Veronica said, avoiding an awkward situation.

Carla nodded again and handed the bag over. "I've been watching him all morning. He's quite the fighter, that little guy. He must have someone upstairs looking out for him," Carla explained, touching the cross she wore around her neck and looking up. Veronica couldn't help but laugh; someone was certainly right. How about an army of someones?

The pair looked up at the knock on the door. Dr. Martinez sent Carla a look, causing her to quickly stand and exit the room. "Veronica?" he began, walking closer to her, "I'm sorry. We couldn't revive him, his lungs were just too underdeveloped and his heart was under too much stress. We did everything that we could, but your son, Gabriel, didn't make it."


I know, just when you think Veronica's life can't get any worse, her son dies.

Review! Your words keep me going (I wrote all of the first draft for Chapter 16 this week, yeah, you guys are that awesome). I love reading your thoughts and feeling your emotions along with you. Thank you all for keeping me going. Until next week...