AN: the bitch is back!

*throws confetti*

hi! sorry for the over a year long wait; i'd completely lost interest in this fic. originally i'd started this intending to basically rewrite every episode so i could just read the show with some minor changes than have to trudge through the behemoth every time i got hit with a nostalgia fix. now, however, ive completely scrapped my original plans and created this absolute beauty. if you've read my other authors notes before this one you'll know that i'm just now using the source material as a jumping off board and general outline. if you haven't read them before or are a returning reader i highly suggest you pop on back and read through them as ive made some changes to the canon and such.

k bye.

Chapter 4: a humorous deity

Amy couldn't really say why, but she'd sorta assumed that when she accepted that she wanted to have her kid, that everything would shift; that everything would be different. But it didn't. Well- not really anyways. Not in the right ways, at any rate.

Yes, now she can see how different her future is going to be with a permanent plus one and that brings up endless loose ends on endless threads. Yes, now she has to deal with her situation. She has to get prenatal care and all that crap. She has baby books to gorge on. She has to tell her paren- her mom. She's gonna have an actual child- yadda yadda yadda, all that crap.

She certainly didn't expect her parent's shaky marriage to implode before she could even drop a bomb of her own onto it.

Is it bad that she's glad? That's bad right?

It's not that Amy's happy or anything that her parents' relationship is up in flames; more like she's relieved someone has finally remembered fire extinguishers exist. The separation had been a long time coming, is all. She'd love nothing more than for her mom and dad to work things out and get back to that healthy, loving relationship she could sigh and dream about having one day herself.

But that relationship never existed.

For as long as she can remember it had always been snide comments covered by sunny, taunting, smiles and undermining actions; all followed by a periodic grace period of tenuous peace. Then the not-so-hushed fights and purposefully doing anything to piss the other off would come rolling right on back in. The final straw that broke her camels-back view was catching her father cheating the year before.

It hadn't been anything gratuitous or anything. Just an accidentally overheard phone call. That was all. A few 'babys' and a 'you know how much I love it when you do that' and a couple 'god I miss that sexy little mouth' and her already chipping image of her parents relationship crumbled to dust. They'd never talked about it. There was no big snotty cry fest. She'd just walked in the second he hung up and he'd known. They never said a word about it.

She's been counting the seconds to a divorce since then.

Amy had mourned then. Cried and cried her little heart out, refused to talk to him for weeks and studiously ignored her mothers suspicious looks. Ashley was far quicker on the uptake than anyone gave her credit for. She sussed out that their father had done something reprehensible after only a few days; Amy honestly had no clue if Ashley knew or not the specifics of his crime. But, she had always been a 'daddy's girl' so to speak, so only treated him to accusing glares and hostile silences with a few snarky barbs thrown into the mix for a month or two.

After a few months, Amy had to finally accept that it was only a matter of time before the relationship dissolved anyway; it had just happened to be her father's adultery that pulled the linchpin. That he'd started yet another affair (or just continued the previous one, Amy didn't care much either way) and had been caught by her mom this time wasn't all that surprising. He'd been 'working late' and 'at business conventions' a fair bit lately.

This isn't all to say that her dad didn't love her or something, god no. She knew he loved her and Ashley and maybe even their mom. That wasn't even a question. It was just that her parents weren't healthy together anymore –maybe they never were.

She was just grateful something was changing there. The unsteady limbo of will they or won't they was grating.

That it happened mere days before she was going to clue them in on her 'carry on' for the next few months was just god laughing in her face.

So, now, instead of her entire life shifting and spinning and changing just because she was bringing a baby into it; now it's spiraling twice as fast with her parents splitting up. Yes, they were –as far as she could tell– probably good changes, but that didn't make them any less humongous or terrifying.

Suffice it to say, she's been having a shit week. One that's not even close to over yet. Now she has to figure out a time to catch her mom in between despondently watching old Turner Classic movies while eating cheerios from the box and angrily stress cleaning the entire house to tell her that her eldest teenager is also cooking a bun in the oven. Just, you know– not the one in the kitchen.

From the sound of dishes clattering and cupboards slamming, she'd wager a guess that now is probably not a great time.

Grimacing to herself, Amy turned to her reflection. She caught herself trying to see if any bump was visible before checking herself; it didn't matter much even if she did show. She was pregnant. Anyone at school trying to suss that out would have confirmation soon enough anyway, and it wasn't like her mom had enough room on her plate to suddenly question if her daughter was pregnant. Amy'd almost welcome that at this point, she had absolutely no idea how to go about starting that conversation.

And besides, her shirt and jeans are both just bordering on baggy; you couldn't quite tell anything was different.

Letting out a sigh, Amy bit the bullet and grabbed her messenger bag, carefully making her way to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before school. Ashley was already there at the counter eating a banana, pushing some nondescript food around her plate whenever their mom turned in her direction. She slipped Amy another banana when Anne moved to the sink, viciously scrubbing an already clean pan. When she went to try what she was pretty sure were small breakfast sausages on her own plate, her younger sister's hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist before she could; shaking her head with wide eyes.

"They're scrambled eggs," Ashley murmured near silently.

Amy's own eyes stared incredulously back at her then darted down to the –apparently– eggs on the plate and up to her mother muttering furiously under her breath. From the few no good and bastard 's that floated over to the sisters, it was clear their father was still the subject of her ire. As he had been since he'd been caught last week.

Amy cleared her throat. Anne snapped her head over to look at them, her hair resembling a cat with its tail all spiked up, and ceased her muttering; a strained but still loving expression taking over her face.

"Yes, Ames?"

"Uh, it's getting kinda late so, um, me and Ashley are just gonna head to school now," Ashley –thank god– took that as the cue it was and scarfed down the last of her fruit, throwing her bag onto her shoulder and bolted towards the side door with Amy hot on her heels.

"Thanks for breakfast, Mom, it was great," Ashley called behind her as she all but ripped the door open and started out when–

"You know, why don't I drive you girls to school today?"

The two sagged with defeat. So close yet so far. With a defeated sigh, they pulled up twin smiles and turned back to their mom's hopeful and pleased face. The sisters nodded.

Amy gazed at her car (a bit bitterly, if she were honest with herself) as the family SUV pulled out of the driveway; her mother gabbering on about how 'I never see you two anymore, never spend time with you girls. We should do this more often, bond-' while Amy internally bemoaned the loss of her precious old as dirt clunker and the inevitability that she'd have to do this all again after school.

Ashley seemed to reach the same conclusion in the back as they both slumped down into their seats and braced for a long drive.

After a supremely awkward meeting with the new counselor to shift her schedule around a bit and the worlds most uncomfortable drive to school, Amy's threshold for 'fucks to give' was exceedingly low. Ricky popping up from the ether next to her locker –after she had to go the long way to avoid the gossiping wonder twins– was definitely not a welcome surprise.

Amy groaned and leaned into her locker.

"Oh, joy. Exactly what today was missing," she grumbled under her breath.

Ricky smiled back sarcastically.

"The feeling is mutual."

Amy rolled her eyes and started searching for her notebook for next period. God her locker was a wreck lately.

"We need to talk," he continued when it became apparent she wasn't going to respond.

"Do we though?" Amy asked, doubt riddling her tone.

"Kinda, yeah," Ricky said with an incredulous edge to his voice. "Look, just," he threw a shifty look around them and leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "Are you still, you know– pregnant or whatever."

Amy rolled her eyes again, on a hunt for her calculator and really only half listening to him.

"Or whatever," she replied airily.

"Amy," he said shortly, apparently beginning to lose his patience with her. She only wished he would go all the way and get lost.

She hissed when her compass stabbed her in the finger, once again. Another reason to hate geometry class. It seemed to break Ricky's composure, though.

"Oh for the love of– here," he nudged her out of the way and shoved her calculator in her hands after only a few seconds of looking. She resisted the urge to pout.

Stupid locker.

Amy closed her locker and reluctantly turned her attention onto him.

"What were you yammering on about?"

She derived far too much pleasure from the way the vein his forehead throbbed and how dearly he looked like he wished to throttle her.

Ricky let a terse breath out from between clenched teeth.

"The baby?"

"Oh, that," she said flippantly, only doing it now for the gratification she got when his eye twitched, "Why would we need to talk about that?"

"Why woul- I don't know; maybe because it's my kid you're gonna be popping out?" Ricky responded, a bite to his words.

Amy's glee at his annoyance drained like that; her previous wretched mood swinging right back in. A scowl overtook her face. She scoffed and sent him a glare, all but stomping away from him as the warning bell rang.

Dick.

Amy was positive, 100% sure, that some god or deity or somethingwas using her for entertainment. She could practically hear a distant cackle if she focused hard enough. She bet their name was Brenda.

That was the only logical excuse for a disembodied hand to shoot out and haul her into the empty band room. There was a definitive cackle in her periphery when Ricky's shining (immensely irked) face greeted her.

"Oh, come on! Jesus Ricky, what do you want now?"

"You never answered my question."

Amy narrowly resisted the urge to shake him.

"Are you- Yes, I am still pregnant. Unfortunately, your kid is stickin' around," she replied bitingly. Apparently he was only half the idiot she thought he was and picked up on her tone.

Ricky sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face, looking for all the world like he'd spontaneously aged 20 years. Amy crossed her fingers that his back would give out soon.

"I'm sorry, okay- it was a poor choice of words," his slightly put upon tone, like she was the unreasonable one here, negated the sentiment.

Dick.

"Really? Cause I was thinking I could just pop them right out. Maybe name em Ricky jr?" The air even tasted mocking. Ricky shot her an unimpressed look that shifted into confusion.

"It's a boy?"

Amy sorely wanted to hit him.

"I would very much like to hit you."

Ricky scowled at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know, alright? It's not like I'm well versed in this crap," Amy got a thrill of joy from how uncomfortable he looked right then, "Geez, who pissed in your cheerios." And just like that it was gone.

Amy decided to let that one go. She counted it as her selfcare for the day.

"Why do you keep pulling me aside to talk about this?" Ricky opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off, over these little back and forths, and cut to the chase, "Are you saying you would like to be involved?"

His mouth shut with a clink. Well if he didn't look uncomfortable before…

Amy's eyebrow rose as she stared at him, "Hmm? Have been trying to say that you plan on being a part of this? Of this baby's life?," Ricky's eyes flicked away and back to her, "That you're all in for the crying and the diapers and sleepless nights? The terrible twos and tantrums? The next eighteen years and beyond? How about sooner than that; you're in for the next six months? You plan on being there when our son or daughter is born?"

Ricky said nothing, his eyes fully averted now.

Amy shoved the small pang of hurt into a box in the back of her mind. Apparently some part (a very, very small part) of her was struck a bit dumb that he didn't refute her statement. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and shifted towards the door.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "That's what I thought."

He didn't say anything as she left and she didn't expect him to. At least they were clear where they stood now. He was a cowardly son of a bitch and she was a soon-to-be single mother. That was perfectly fine; exactly what she went into this expecting, even. Things would go right back to how they used to be between them and she would never have to deal with him again.

The final bell mercifully rang and Amy made a b-line to her locker, not feeling guilty in the least as she blew past an approaching Grace Bowman. Today was not the fucking day.

She groaned in dismay. It had (purposefully, mercifully– take your pick) slipped her mind that she would have to endure a repeat performance of this morning before she could crash in her bed. Wonderful. Her day started with walking on eggshells around her losing-her-shit mother, a teeth pulling-esque meeting to quit marching band and fast track her sophomore year a bit, a Ricky encounter, two pop quizzes in two separate classes, another Ricky encounter, and the scrutinizing murmurs of her classmates haunting her every step all day long. What a perfect cap to her lovely day.

There was definitely a canned laugh track echoing behind her.

Damn Brenda.

The only upturn in her day was a simple and concise 'wanna vent and scream in a field?' text from Adrian. Sometimes, Amy wonders if it's not possible Adrian had spyware implanted in her brain when she wasn't looking. Either way, it was definitely the best coping mechanism she'd heard of yet.