As a result of Ms. Talula Burke's phone call to the police, Bender and his father were taken into Chicago to the police precinct. Bender and Jack were always kept separate after the police came into the house. Because Bender was 18, it wasn't legally child abuse, but Bender could still charge his father with battery and assault. However, the precinct was really busy, so in the hour he'd been there, no one had come to talk to him about charges, or even where Jack was. He was just sitting on a bench in the front part of the building. He knew Jack was in the back somewhere. Bender sat next to a dark-skinned prostitute on the bench, and she was looking him up and down. Bender didn't care.

"What are you looking at, skank?" Bender said defiantly. The prostitute flicked her hair and looked the other way.

Bender hadn't gotten injured badly in the fight. Jack hadn't directly harmed him this time. He'd gotten bruised and cut when he fell behind the TV trying to duck, but the wounds would heal like they always did. At least he didn't get it as bad as in the past.

Looking at the clock on the wall, Bender felt his heart leap a little. It was past 5:30. Allison would've wanted him home by now. She was either going to flip, or her pregnancy hormones were going to blow up in his face…again.

Wow. He'd just called Allison's apartment HOME.

Bender sat back in a feeling of satisfaction. Home. Where he belonged and could be happy. With Allison there with him, and with Junior soon enough, Bender realized that he finally was going to be a part of a family. What a surreal feeling! Before last year, Bender wasn't even sure the word 'family' existed beyond the inside of a Hallmark card.

"John Bender?"

Bender looked up at the police officer calling his name. Bender got to his feet and followed the officer at a distance into a small office that was expensively furnished and covered with certificates and pictures with the presidents of various academies or businesses. The office belonged to the Shermer head Sheriff, Leonard C. Skinner. The man looked almost like Dick Vernon, only a bit younger, and a lot less wrinkly or threatening. Nonetheless, Bender didn't like authority figures, so he maintained his ground, even if he wasn't in the precinct for something HE'D done.

Skinner stood up and extended his hand as Bender entered the room. Just as he stepped inside, Bender noticed it began raining rather heavily outside. After a second, Skinner retracted his hand, because Bender sure as hell wasn't going to shake it.

"Please, sit," said Skinner. Bender has already taken a seat opposite Skinner's desk. Skinner turned to the deputy who'd shown Bender in and nodded.

"As you were, Deputy," he commanded. "Please close the door behind you."

After the deputy did so, Skinner turned to Bender. "Why do you look so tense, son? You want me to call for some coffee?"

"No," Bender shook his head.

"Look, son, what you've been through today with your father isn't easy. But you're 18, and we can't charge child abuse anymore. We still can charge battery, assault, and a few other charges if you deal us some information and cooperate with us a bit. I tried to contact your mother, but her…ahem…workplace told me that she'd gone bowling and didn't say where, so we have someone waiting to bring her over once she arrives back at your house," said Skinner. Bender snickered. He must have had a hell of a time calling up Hooters!

"What are you saying?" Bender asked. "You want me to rat out my father?"

"No, no, no!" Skinner said quickly. "We're not going to torture you here and milk you for information, son! We do need to know a few things, though."

"Like what?" Bender crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back in the chair. He may have been nervous being in there, but he wasn't going to show Sergeant Pepper that!

"Like, was this the first time your father has lashed out at you? If he's done this before, how frequently and how severe? Was your mother involved and how so? Little details like that, son."

Bender thought back as far as he could remember. When he was a kid, Jack Bender hadn't beat on him after he'd gotten too drunk. It was usually Roxanne who was Jack's punching-bag back in the early to mid 70s. It really didn't start up between father and son until Bender hit middle school, around puberty and such. Jack must have seen Bender as 'becoming a man' and needed to be treated like one or something like that. Every year, the fits got a little worse.

But did Bender REALLY want to rat out his dad?

Yes, he did. The fact was, Jack Bender regularly beat the shit out of his wife and only child. He deserved to go rot in jail for 10-15 years.

But then again, no he didn't. What was the point? Bender wasn't a snitch no matter who or what was going on. Besides, Jack wasn't his problem anymore. If he ratted out on the last 18 years of his life, it would only complicate the situation, which didn't really NEED to be complicated. What was done was done, right?

"Wanna piece of tootsie roll?" offered Skinner, holding out a jar on his desk. Bender stared blankly into Skinner's eye. Who was intimidating who now? Bender could barely hear the man's voice above the sheets of rain falling on the pavement outside the precinct.

"Look, boy, I feel like I'm pulling teeth when I don't need to be!" said Skinner. "Nothing bad'll happen to you. We can't call child services to come take you away or anything like that. Your father did you wrong, son, and we're here to give him the justice he deserves! Did Jack Bender ever beat you prior to today's incident?"

Bender really didn't know what to say. Luckily, the same deputy who'd taken him into the office knocked on the door.

"Sheriff?" he asked. "There's a lady calling for Mr. Bender."

"Probably Roxanne…" muttered Skinner, nodding. "I'll get it—"

"—the man said the call was for me!" Bender shot up. "I'LL get it," he said, confidently leaving the room. The deputy showed him to the front desk where the phone was. Bender nodded at him to give him some privacy.

"Hello?"

"John! Are you okay? What are you doing at a police station?"

It was Allison.

"Al? I'm sorry, it's complicated—"

"—I called your house looking for you, and some police guy picked up saying you and your father were downtown!" Allison's voice sounded breathless and panicked.

"Settle down, Al, I'm okay. My dad finally got—" Bender paused. Skinner could've been tapping the phone line. He saw it on a crime-drama once. The accused man wouldn't confess, so the sheriff hired one of his friends to call him on a tapped phone line. He didn't want to make the situation even more ensnaring and mangled.

"Got what?" asked Allison.

"I'll explain later. I might be here awhile, so are you okay?"

"Um…how long are you going to be down there?" asked Allison.

"Dunno, why? Are YOU okay?"

"I'm going to the hospital," Allison muttered. Bender nearly dropped the phone. "I thought it was too early, but I think I'm having the baby."

"Jesus…" Bender muttered under his breath. He was really beginning to not believe this day was happening. "Are…are you at home?"

"No, but never mind, John. Just come to the hospital, and FAST!" Allison said.

"I'll be right there, I promise," Bender muttered.

"I love you," Allison said softly moaning. It sounded like a contraction was hitting.

"Same here," Bender said back, hanging up the phone. Bender ran to the coat rack where he'd stowed his trench coat and quickly whipped it on, walking briskly at the door. The deputy looked panicky as he tried to run after Bender.

"You there, John Bender! We're not done here!" the deputy said, waving.

"Yeah we are," Bender nodded back, heading out to halt a taxi to take him to the hospital.

The hospital was on the other side of town from the police precinct, and traffic was always hell in the rain, so when Bender finally flagged down a taxi and got on the road, a half an hour had passed. It'd take awhile to get to the hospital and Allison. Bender was more worried now then he had been the day Allison collapsed in the school cafeteria.

The taxi moved at a snail's pace. Bender leaned over in the Hispanic driver's ear. "Hey, Don Jose, can you speed it up a little?"

"The name is Bernardo, and I cannot, I'm sorry," said the taxi driver. Bender groaned and leaned back in the seat. The taxi was driving so slowly that he could have leapt out right then and ran to the hospital and made it before Bernardo's taxi cab.

A familiar figure caught Bender's eye from out the window. Sporto. Walking all by himself in downtown Chicago with an empty Corona bottle in his hand. And he hadn't been mugged or raped yet? Oh well, might as well drag him to the hospital too. Bender thought that maybe watching the birth of his son might smarten up the dumbass.

"Stop," Bender ordered Bernardo.

"Ai, he says go faster one minute and says 'stop' the next!" Bernardo muttered, but nonetheless pulled over to the curb. Bender leapt out.

"Don't go driving off, cuz I haven't paid you yet!" Bender pointed at the pouting man. Bender waved at Andy. "Sporto!"

"Bender, what the hell do you want?"

Bender ran up to him. "Why are you downtown in this rain?"

"Why do you fucking care? I'm getting a hotel room tonight and flying home tomorrow," he said. "I know I'm not wanted here, so fuck off!"

Bender grabbed Andy by the collar before Andy could walk by. "Don't you DARE talk to me that way," he warned. Andy pulled a wrestling move and got out of Bender's grip, taking off down the sidewalk.

"ALLISON'S IN LABOR!" Bender called after him, making Andy spin on his heel almost automatically. Andy's look had changed from pissed to almost unbelieving.

"What? She's early," Andy muttered.

"No shit, Sherlock. C'mon, I'm heading down there now to meet her," Bender gestured to the cab. Andy walked back up to Bender.

"She won't want me there," he said, disregarding the conversation he'd had with her earlier in the day. He knew she was only saying he could stay because she felt obligated to. She could've gotten along fine without him.

"You go on," Andy said. "She can have the baby, and you can adopt it."

"Huh?" Bender didn't understand.

"Call me in Kenosha, she's got the number. I'll come down and sign any papers I need to, but you can have him," Andy said.

"Sporto, you're drunk," said Bender, pointing to the beer bottle in Andy's hand.

"Nope, I only had one," he said.

"Look, dickweed, you've always been the guy who never gave up. You're such a jackass with an ego the size of Chicago. Why now?" Bender asked. "No, don't answer that. You're chicken shit and you know it. You got rejected because you wanted Allison to crawl back to you and she didn't, and now you're feeling sorry for yourself," Bender accused. "Are you coming? Because dickweed or not, I know she'll want you there with her."

Andy stood his ground and refused to budge. Bender nodded. "Okay, fine. You are a dickweed, and not because you ran away. You're a dickweed because you ran away AGAIN," he said, climbing back into the cab and driving off with Bernardo, leaving Andy in the street.

"It's over," moaned Allison, sighing as a contraction ended. It had been nearly 3 hours since she first felt pains. Liz managed to get her friend Colleen's new car and drive Allison down to the hospital in Chicago. But what surprised Allison more, was that after Liz checked her in, contacted Dr. Wilson for her, and saw her to her room in the maternity ward, she didn't leave. Allison didn't bother asking why. She was too busy getting through the contractions. She was still waiting on Bender to arrive now.

Dr. Wilson had come over quickly when he got the news. He told Allison that premature birth was common with teenage mothers and that it most likely wouldn't bring too many complications. This relieved Allison a bit, at least until another pain hit. There were coming at 7 minutes apart and lasting about 45 seconds each. She was beginning to get a bit irritable.

"Where the hell is he?" Allison groaned. "He said he was in the precinct across town, how long should it take?!"

"Stop, whining, he'll be here!" Liz said rather harshly. Allison shot Liz a look that made Liz sink back in her chair. "More ice chips?" she offered.

Allison leaned back in the bed, shaking her head, looking around her sickeningly-clean white birthing room. This had only been going on for 3 hours. Weren't these times supposed to last days and days sometimes?

"Liz, can I ask you something?"

"I told you already, I'm NOT rubbing your feet!" she said, rolling her eyes. This almost made Allison laugh.

"No, I mean…why did you help me? I thought you hated me," she asked.

"I do, more than freaking ever. Allison, how can I not hate you? You're not afraid to be yourself. You've got friends with more in their heads than air, you've got a guy who'd wipe your ass for you if you couldn't reach. But still, while I may be an empty-headed self-pitying little bitch, I'm not a HEARTLESS empty-headed self-pitying bitch. I wouldn't leave someone in the rain to have a kid without anyone around," Liz said, whipping out a nail file and rubbing away at her nails. Allison nodded.

"That's jealousy, not hatred, Liz," said Allison with a smirk.

Liz sat up straight. "So what?" she asked.

"Nothing," Allison said, rolling her eyes.

Dr. Wilson appeared in the doorway. "Allison? John Bender's here," he said, showing Bender in. He looked wet and out of breath.

"John!" Allison beamed. John ran to Allison's bedside and hugged her.

"Al, how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to have a baby!"

Liz decided to, for once, not make the moment about her, and quietly slipped out the door.