Thank you to those that reviewed! And that compliment about my grammar, which while not mediocre, isn't the best, but I like to think I improve a little each day! Please continue to review! And this is the next to last chapter!

An alarm rose among the stunned guests starting with Walter who roared, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY NINTH GRADE?" He hadn't been listening to the entire thing, just when Kat first confessed to sleeping with someone in the ninth grade.

Patrick held Kat, frowning. Her drunken speech hadn't sunk in. He was more concerned about getting her into a hospital. The worried man decided to leave now, as the attention was on Walter, who everyone was trying to calm down. No one noticed their timely disappearance until a good hour later. Then a panic arose, wondering where Kat was.

She was lying in Patrick's bed. The hospital had laughed at Patrick and told him to just let Kat sleep it off. Patrick had everything ready for her and once when he sat down, looking at her, everything she said sunk in.

Gave to homeless

Fell for this boy

The fairy tale I once imagined

My son

My son

My son

"Oh Kat," Patrick sighed, "What have you done?"

"Joaquin," She mumbled, stirring. He handed her some aspirin and water. Kat moaned as the full force of the hangover came. Her blurry eyes focused on Patrick and she couldn't help saying, "Joaquin," again. Patrick made her eat the pill and sip the water, ignoring her pleas for Joaquin.

Everything seemed a bit too clearer and Kat knew that everyone now knew about her son. Her Joaquin.

"Do they know about him?" She asked, knowing there was no point in asking him

Patrick nodded, "Kat, is Joaquin-"

"No," She shook her head, "I had a paternity test taken when he was born," She whispered, sipping some more water, "The real father's gay, but I have this feeling that there's something wrong,"

"Do you want to call him?" Patrick asked kindly, holding out the house phone, "Don't worry about the charge,"

She dialed the number and this time, someone answered. Kat sighed. It was a male, but she didn't recognize the voice,"

"Sam please?" She asked, "Sam or Joaquin,"

"I take it Joaquin is the little boy?" The man asked

"Yes," She was scared, "I'd like to talk to him or his father,"

"Who is this and what is your relationship with these two?" The man asked in a kindly voice

"Katarina Stratford, I'm Joaquin's mother," She said softly, "Sam's gay, don't worry. Now, may I please-"

"Where are you, Katarina?" He asked

"Seattle," She was worried even more now, "What's wrong?"

"About three hours ago, an ambulance brought in two males. One was three foot six, black hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and 68 lbs,"

"That's my son," Kat said, shakily

"The other was six foot three, black hair, tan skin, green eyes, and 170 lbs," He continued,

"That's Sam, yes," She sighed, "Please, what do you mean by ambulance," Patrick looked up alarmed.

"They were taken to St. Vincent's, where I currently am," He explained, "A car accident to be exact,"

"Are they okay?" She asked, a little afraid of the reply

"Sam has been declared brain dead, but we are giving him three more hours to wake up, if he doesn't, we have to declare him dead for good,"

"And Joaquin?" She asked, knowing it couldn't be good, because they save worst for last

"Joaquin had been bleeding profusely in several areas and was rushed to surgery. However, three minutes into the operation-"

Kat hung up and threw the phone across the room, mad. She started trying to punch what she could, her pillow, her blankets, but Patrick wouldn't let her. Patrick enveloped her in a hug and Kat screamed over and over,

"I hate you!"

They stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon and most of the night. Around three AM, Kat stopped and started to cry. Small tears at first, to fat drops of snot and damp Kleenexes. Around midmorning the next day, she had stopped crying and was telling Patrick random facts about Joaquin and Sam.

"He loves Godzilla. Especially if we all wake up at like five in the morning and it's cold. Sam turns on the fire, I make some cups of microwavable hot chocolate and he puts in the original versions. He hates the remakes,"

"His teachers say that he terrorizes some of the little girls. Sam likes to tell him that girls have cooties,"

"Sam only slept with me because he was trying to figure out if he was gay or not,"

"Sam said that when I was in labor with Joaquin, I thought he was you,"

"His real name is Quentin Joaquin. Only Quentin was a little sophisticated for this tiny little red wrinkly think and Joaquin seemed to fit him better,"

"He smiles all the time,"

"He has Bianca's puppy eyes,"

"I love him,"

"I would've died for him,"

"It's not fair,"

Patrick didn't let go of her. Not even once for a bathroom break or something. He nodded, just letting her get all her rage out. He knew how hard it was for a mother to lose a son. After all, his mother had lost David, his perfect twelve year old brother and he, at ten years old, found himself moving with his mother from his native Australia to alien Seattle. Not to mention her and his grandpa's suffering since David's death.