Trigger Warning: mentions of rape and references to abortion

"Okay, are you ready?" Dr. Virani asked, sitting in the stool in front of Amy who was now drier and warmer despite currently being dressed in a thin fabric shift. The positive side of living in the apartment above her own clinic, Dr. Virani explained, was easy access to her washer and dryer. And good coffee. So while doing Amy's check-up and ultrasound, her clothes were upstairs getting dry. Small towns were weird.

At the doctor's prompting, Amy explained her morning sickness woes, deciding to leave out the issues with anxiety and panic attacks. The two sessions she spent with a therapist before bailing on them pretty much told her what she needed to know about the reason behind those – not that Amy hadn't figured that out on her own. Virani sympathized and offered some remedies to help ease the discomfort. Other than that there was no other reason Amy could come up with for wanting to reschedule. She was speaking with a doctor after all; any fake ailment she tried to give would be investigated.

"Sure," Amy answered after a beat, shifting back on the table and planting her feet in the stirrups at the doctor's request. Her knees pressed tightly closed as she watched the doctor gather her tools and start up the ultrasound machine. Her breathing became heavier at the memory of the last time she was positioned like this. Her body was bruised, broken, and half frozen; her nails torn apart and caked with blood and grime. DNA was swabbed from beneath them. A nurse held her trembling hand and stroked her wet, muddy hair while the doctor made her open her shaking legs to collect more DNA and make notes for the rape kit.

Amy stared up at the lights as she had then, willing herself to relax and breath slowly. Her hands balled her gown into her fists as she took in ragged breaths.

"Amy?" She jerked at a hand on her bare leg, glancing down her body at the masked doctor who was studying her with concern. "Are you all right?" God she wished people would stop asking her that.

"Fine." Amy swallowed, making every effort to pull herself back to the here and now.

"Can you open your legs for me?" Dr. Virani asked gently, though her gaze remained assessing.

Blinking toward the ceiling again, Amy pried her knees apart to give the doctor access to her. She inhaled sharply as something entered her, spreading her open, trapping the air in her lungs. She was so focused on not watching what the doctor was doing she didn't see the crease of her brow when she noticed the scars. Tricia didn't comment at first, sliding the scope further in and turning her eyes to the screen. Then she darted a glance at Amy. Quickly, she finished her prenatal check before retracting the scope and letting Amy close her legs.

Sitting back, Tricia pulled the mask down under her chin. "Amy, can I ask you something?" Her voice was soft, careful. She didn't want to upset Amy but it would help her do her job if she knew the truth.

Amy's stomach clenched at the doctor's tone and already her eyes began to burn with the threat of tears because she knew what was coming next. And she didn't want to have to answer.

Without waiting for Amy's response, Tricia went ahead and asked anyway. "Were you raped?"

Amy's mouth clamped shut to swallow the sob that desperately wanted to escape. Tears forced their way out the corners of her eyes as she continued to stare up at the ceiling, refusing to meet Dr. Virani's pained expression.

"Amy? Please answer me. It's important I know."

Unable to hold it anymore, Amy's breath came out ragged and wet. But when she spoke her words were bitter, almost angry. "What do you think?"

"I think the scars in your vaginal canal don't lie. They look to be from tearing due to forced penetration." Amy flinched at the graphic description that jarred a memory.

"Then there's your answer."

More like a non-answer, but Tricia took it. She knew what sexual assault looked like when she saw it. She might be a small town doctor now, but her residency and earlier half of her career was spent in the city where she dealt with it more than she cared to admit. And the scars Amy had weren't very old. In fact, they looked just barely healed. If Amy was just over ten weeks pregnant then… Tricia's heart broke for the young woman on her table.

"Okay," she said quietly, not pressing the matter. It would be easier if Amy just confirmed it, but Tricia knew better than to try and pressure her right now, especially if it was still so fresh. She only hoped Amy was able to get the immediate care she needed following the incident. Obviously, some precautions were missed, or ineffective at least, but it was important for Amy to know there were still resources available to her. Hudson might be a small town, but they looked out for their own, no matter where they came from.

Tricia took a breath. "Do you still want to go ahead with the ultrasound? We can postpone if you want." Now that she understood Amy's situation, the hesitation from earlier made more sense.

Amy remained quiet, still trying to maintain control as painful memories of that night, and the days following, invaded her mind with no mercy. She wasn't having the same severe reaction she did with Ty, which was odd since this doctor's office was more triggering than anything she experienced so far. Maybe it was because of her negative previous experiences being alone with him, or the fact that he was a man. Tricia was a woman doctor, all of the things that should make Amy feel more relaxed in her presence.

"No," Amy voice came out raspy. She cleared her throat. "Go ahead," she clarified.

Tricia nodded and pulled the tube of gel from the machine. Slowly, she lifted Amy's shift to expose her small bump. To anyone who didn't know, it looked like she just ate a big lunch.

Amy's abs tightened at the cold sensation of the gel on her skin. Dr. Virani placed the wand in the goo swirling it around and adjusting some things on the screen. When she was satisfied with the picture she turned the monitor so Amy could see. But Amy couldn't bring herself to look. She fixed her stare on the wand's movement.

"I-" she choked. "Turn it back. Please."

With a sad look, Tricia pulled the monitor back to face her. Amy's reaction worried her a lot. She went on with her examination, checking the fetus' vitals and measurements. "Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" She asked after a time.

Amy's lip trembled. She was barely holding together. Part of her wanted to jump off the table and bolt out the door, but another part of her wanted to experience that moment of joy and awe other mothers did. Normal mothers. Mothers who wanted their babies and planned for months for their arrival. Amy suddenly felt guilty for the thought. She did want her baby. She did. She just wished it came a different way.

With tears blurring her vision, Amy nodded.

The sound that came through the speaker near her head shattered her. She was not prepared for the fast whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the heart beating inside her. Her hands flew up to cover her face as she burst into sobs, drowning out the noise.

Quickly, Tricia flicked it off. "Sh-shh, Amy. It's okay." The doctor set the wand aside and went to Amy's side. She placed a steadying hand on her head, the other rubbing her arm soothingly.

"It's not." Amy's words sounded garbled through her tears. "I'm not sure I can do this. And I hate myself for thinking it."

The agonized confession struck a chord in Tricia, but she focused on maintaining a professional, yet sympathetic demeanor. "There's nothing wrong with being scared. You have every right to be afraid, especially after what happened to you. But, you know you don't have to do this. You have options, Amy."

The mere hint of suggestion splintered Amy's soul. "No!" She gasped, taking a few deep breaths before sliding her hands away from her face and saying again with more conviction. "No. No, I won't do that. I made a promise."

"If you're struggling this much to heal from the attack, maybe it would be for the best. For you. For your psychological health."

"I said 'no'!" Amy snapped, shooting a red-eyed, tear-stained glare at the doctor. "I'm not doing it." Her hand lowered to rest protectively at the top of her belly. She was pretty sure that would wreak havoc on her psychological health.

Tricia conceded. "Okay. Then, there is always adoption." When Amy didn't snap again, she went on. "There are a lot of couples out there that can't have children and are on extensive waiting lists to adopt babies – many of which that come from your same situation."

"You mean give my baby to total strangers?" That thought also frightened her. How would she know they were being taken care of? What if the parents ended up being like her father – gamblers and drug addicts. Alcoholics. Child molesters. Sex traffickers. She couldn't bear not knowing what became of her child.

"They don't have to be strangers," Tricia explained. "You can pick them out yourself, meet them, learn about them, get to know them. And if you want you can request an open adoption so you can get photos and records of their life, even be an active part of it."

Amy settled back with this fresh perspective running through her brain. She was aware of the option to adopt, but always viewed it as handing her child off to a nurse as soon as they took their first breath and never seeing them again.

"You don't have to make the decision now," Tricia said when Amy didn't respond. "I can send you home with some material and websites to browse. Take the time you need to think it over. Just know that if you're planning to stay in Hudson, and at Heartland, you'll have a pretty great support group - no matter what you choose." She offered Amy a reassuring smile before leaving her to clean the lube from her belly while she ran upstairs to retrieve her clothes from the dryer.

Strangely, Ty was sitting in the waiting room when Amy emerged. He flipped the magazine he was reading closed and stood up, regarding her carefully. Her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying, but she looked quickly away upon seeing him to the receptionist.

"Oh, Amy." Dr. Virani emerged from the back with a yellow legal-size envelope she handed to Amy, along with a business card that she'd scrawled her personal number on the back of. "If you ever have questions or just want to talk, about anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

Amy nodded, accepting the items. "Thank you," her voice was still a bit hoarse, but sincere. The 'thank you' referred to more than the business card.

Ty hovered by the door, unsure if he was supposed to ask how it went. Amy saved him from having to choose.

"I thought you were gonna meet me at the truck," she said when they stepped back out in the drizzle.

"I wasn't sure how long you were gonna be so I figured I'd check out their reading material." No need to mention his Kit encounter or the fact he didn't want to leave himself exposed in case she decided she had something more she wanted to say after all in the form of a closed fist.

What he didn't anticipate was her still being in town and witnessing him walk out of the clinic with Amy as she left the pharmacy across the street. Kit's arms fell to her sides as she watched with a hurt frown while they climbed in Ty's truck and drove off together. Liar.