AUTHORS NOTE: Final chapter! Yay. Here's the thing. I sort of am making a third installment, except very differently. It'll totally be its own, brand new story. You won't need to have read the first two, because its like a total restart. Ha, how strange, I know. Thanks for reading This Is Reality & All You Wanted.

Joey put an arm on Craig's shoulder as he watched Callie through the glass, breathing off a monitor.

"Joey, I'm sorry,"

"For what?" he said, confused.

"When I yelled that you weren't my dad, I'm sorry," he cried, tears streaming wildly down his face. With red, splotchy eyes he watched Callie and thought about how everything he ever loved has gotten taken from him. His mom. His dad. His baby. Now Callie, and potentially his other baby.

"Oh, Craig, its okay," Joey said, pulling Craig into a hug. Craig embraced him back, roughly wrapping his arms around Joey's back. Craig didn't cry much. Or hug Joey.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jeremiah, may I please borrow Craig for a moment?" a tall, slender doctor asked, walking silently out of Callie's room.

Joey nodded and released Craig, tapping him on the shoulder. Craig wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeves, trying to compose himself as the doctor led him over to a smaller area. In the distance he saw Joey tend back over to Caitlin and Angela, who were in the waiting room and playing quietly with two of Angie's Barbie's. The doctor set her clipboard against her flat stomach, trying very hard not to sound disappointing.

"Craig,"

Craig shut his eyes. He didn't even like the way this doctor was saying his name. He blinked again, shutting them even harder – but he couldn't help that he was never really the most emotionally stable guy.

"We lost the baby. Our tests indicated a lot of premature complications, and between those defects, we couldn't keep her alive,"

"Her?" Craig's eyes slowly looked up. He knew the gender of his child, his potential child that was lost. But now, he would never know if she was his. That would agonize him for the rest of his life.

"There were just to many things wrong,"

Two of his babies were dead. Or, potentially two. Oh my god.

She folded her lip in, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"And Callie? What's happening?" he said, his large, brown eyes now a stained dark red.

"She hit her head, lost a lot of air, and it also seems like she'd taken a large blow to her front side," the nurse said, very coldly. "Craig," she said sternly, "We're going to need to ask you a few questions about your relationship."

"Why?" he wondered, baffled. The doctor stared at him coldheartedly, studying his body language. Than, it dawned on him.

"You think I did it? You think I drowned her? Are you fucking insane?" Craig screamed frantically, starting to pace away, breathing heavily. The white-coated woman grabbed his arms, pulling him back.

"Mr. Manning, calm done. I understand that you have some violent history but-"

"Violent history!" he screamed, turning around to face her, both stunned and appalled.

"You think I did it, don't you?"

The doctor remained silent, biting her lip.

"Ms. Taylor may be on life support but we're not pointing any fingers yet,"

"What does that mean? Life support?" Craig said weakly.

"It means, we need to keep her here in intensive care. I need to ask you a few questions."

"No, I don't want to, just leave me alone!" he shouted, running back over to Joey in the waiting room.

"Mr. Manning, we need you to talk to a social worker!" the doctor shouted, chasing after him. Steadily walking away from her he knocked a tall, wide tower of empty syringes and bandages over to the ground, rolls of ankle braces spinning down the hallway.

"I'm getting out of here," he said, tears streaming down his face angrily. He couldn't be here anymore, watching Callie in an awkward silence while everyone thought he tried to drown her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Turn around and talk to her Craig, you're not going anywhere," Joey said, restraining him.

"No!" he pushed. "How can you do this to me Joey? How could you!" he shouted.

"If you even remotely care about what it is really going on with her you will turn around and talk to that social worker," Joey explained, staring him down fiercely, trying not to evoke the emotion that he explained a 'violent' history to the nurses.

Craig held in his stomach and sucked it up. He had a point.

"Fine."

Dr. Campbell nodded reassuringly, taking him into a small, attached office, and shutting the door behind her.

"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date, no time talk, no time to waste, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" The long, white-eared bunny sung. Checking his dangling purple clock watch he jumped, his buckteeth shining against the yellow, pasty sun. Folding the collar of his purple polka dot jacket over his head he hopped away, the gold chain in his back pocket dangling bumpily.

"Who are you, wait, come back!" Callie yelled, picking up the train of her white and blue corset Victorian dress. Where did this come from?

"No time to talk, I'm late!" The bunny said, still running in place.

"For what, for what?" Callie asked, a large curl dangling in her vision from her large, over fluffed up-do. Why is my hair so long?

"I'm late, I'm late, pretty one!"

"Wait, I want to come with you!" She said, picking up her dress and shuffling her feet beneath her lace layers.

"Pretty one, let's go! We have twentythree! Twentythree! We need to go pretty one, we're late, we're late, we're late!"
"Where are we going? Where are we going?" Callie shouted, while being pulled by the bunny, rapidly flying down a pink and green brick path. As the bunny pulled her, an orange sky swirled above her and dark, purple trees with talking branches swayed in her face. Her porcelain face, coated with white powder, red lipstick and two red circles shined off the pink and green path as she looked down.

Suddenly, she wasn't on the ground anymore. The bunny was flying with her through the orange sky.

"Twentythree minutes, twentythree minutes…" he kept saying.

Twentythree minutes until what?

"So," a tall, red haired social worker said, flipping a page in her clipboard as she entered the room . "Ms. Callie Windsor-Taylor?"

"Just Taylor, she never took Brooke's husbands name. Just Callie Taylor," he said. She skeptically crossed the 'Windsor' out with a red pen, very coldly, and took a seat in a blue chair opposite of Craig. Bertha. Suits. This woman is bigger than ten of me combined.

"Now, Mr. Manning, you wouldn't happen to know why Ms. Taylor has bruises all over the front side of her body?"

Shit. What do I say? If I say "oh, because Brooke's psycho husband beats my girlfriend?" And did I mention her brother is a crack head drug dealer who runs the biggest dealing in Toronto from his basement and fights with her when she's high? Okay, be smooth. They can't put her in child services. That's definitely not fun. Callie's turning 18 soon anyway. Doesn't that make her her own adult?

"Brooke's not exactly a model mother,"

"Brooke, her mother. It might be a good idea to call her legal guardian right now and include her in this session," the woman said, reaching for the phone.

"No, that woman is not a parent nor anything close!" Craig shouted.

The woman put the receiver down and sighed, placing her hand against the crevasse of her eye. She was a busy lady at the hospital, and she certainly did not have time to play games with a 17-year old.

"Look, her parents are no part in her life, okay? Joey, I mean, Joseph Jeremiah, my guardian, is more her guardian than Brooke,"

"If you're not going to comply than I'll just,"

Think fast.

"Me!"

"Excuse me?"

"You have to talk to me. Callie and I were going to get married, so, I'm the person you need to talk to. After all, she's my fiancée. Its either me, or Joey Jeremiah. Take a pick."

The obese social worker thought to herself for a moment, trying to realize the extent of the situation.

"Are you 18, Craig?"

"In two weeks."

"I'm not supposed to be doing this you know,"

"And I'm not letting that woman take responsibility for her."

"Callie has a lot of complications, Craig. And part of them all point to abuse. Did you ever get angry at Callie, frustrated?"
"Never."

"I see," the woman said.

"Did you ever want to hurt Callie after an argument?"
"Never!" he screamed. "She's the only person in my entire life who I actually care about and you think I would try to drown her?"

"I think that's all I need to know. Thank you Craig." The woman got up from her chair and left the room, talking to Dr. McVeigh in the hallway. Craig peered through the blinds of the office windows from his chair, noticing the social worker whispering and pointing to him. Dr. McVeigh soon reentered, looking a little less suspicious now.

"Mr. Manning, a lot of things are wrong with Ms. Taylor now. There's a lot of other issues with her health right now, so I need to ask you a few questions. If you don't answer them honestly there's a good chance you could make things worse."

Craig nodded.

"Was Callie sexually active?"

Craig's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Was she sexually active?"

"Yes," Craig blushed.

"With more than one partner?"

"Yeah," he said, very quietly.

"Craig, have you ever been tested for Syphilis?"

"Syphilis? What's that?"

"Its an STD, transmitted orally in most cases. She's showing its symptoms, yet diagnosing it requires a blood test, and because of her state we can't do that right now."

"Is it curable?"

"By a simple antibiotic shot, given over intervals of time. I highly suggest you get tested for it before you leave her today, because I assume you were one of these sexual partners."

What? An STD? We don't have STDs. We go to Degrassi.

"Could Callie have been in any compromising situations that could have put the baby in danger? Meaning, exposure to radiation, things like that?"

You want to help Craig, you want to help.

"Mr. Manning, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Her step dad…"

"Yeah?"

"He hit her a lot. Knocked her unconscious more than once,"

"I see. That's very serious. You do understand that I'll have to have Social Services look into that, correct?"

"I know."

"Did she ever consume excessive alcohol, drugs or tobacco related products?"

Silence.

"Look, I know this is difficult to talk about with someone you don't know. And I know you don't want to talk about things like this, but in this situation, we're not here to judge anyone. And I was young to once. Nothing you can say can shock me. In situations like this, we just want to help the situation. I need you to answer."

"Yes,"

"To which?"

"All of the above."

They spun around in the air in a giant teacup, spinning past a large forest.

"We've been waiting,"

"For what?"

"Pretty one!"

"What?"

"We've been waiting for, pretty one,"

"Why?"

"Twenty three, you know! Twenty three!"

"Waiting at twenty three. Nothing for pretty one at twenty three! Everything for pretty one at twenty three! Ha!"

Craig watched the heart monitor, studying the jagged lines on the black screen balancing up and down. Holding Callie's hand he kissed it, trying to ignore the plastic bound around her fingers. In the distance he heard telephones ringing loudly, and saw doctors running down the hallway, their stethoscopes flying bumpily off their necks.

"Hey sweetheart," he said. "I brought something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket for a velvet box. Looking at it sadly, he gently opened it, placing the fragile diamond ring in his tired hand.

"It was my mothers," he said, still talking to her. Sliding the large diamond ring onto her finger he kissed it, lacing his fingers into hers.

"I love you. We're gonna get married when you wake up," he said. Again he looked at all the monitors, waiting for something, anything, to change.

"I love you, too," she mumbled, ever so lightly. Her eyes twitching she gasped for more breath, using all of the little energy she had left.

"Don't talk."

Callie smiled faintly.

"My mom used to tell me when I was little to give this to the girl I love…she was wearing it when she married my real dad. We'll wait until we graduate and have a huge wedding; everyone we know. You'll look so beautiful in that strappy white gown you've always wanted. We'll have hors d'oeuvres, little cheeses and that marble cake you like…" he trailed, yawning and wiping the black bags from underneath his eyes.

"Craig, go home," a nurse said, leaning in the doorway, propping a clipboard against her flat stomach.

"No, I want to stay," he said, watching Callie lye in her bed, breathing slowly and silently. Every now and than her eyes opened weakly, and she would mumble a word or two to Craig. Every time Dr. McVeigh came by he would tell her that she was awake, but she never believed him.

"I know, Craig," the nurse said. "But Callie needs to be alone sometimes, in case something happens. The doctors need to come observe her. You're exhausted – go home."

"But if anything happens you'll…"

"I'll be the first to call you," she said, smiling half-heartedly.

After a few moments of intense realization, Callie mumbled almost inaudibly.

"I love you," she said, though her eyes were closed.

Craig kissed Callie on the head and walked out, struggling to keep his eyes open after the soreness from crying. He put his hand against the window, crying again as he watched the love of his life lye in a hospital bed, her life depending on the functions of twenty different machines. He tilted his head against it, crying. There was nothing Craig could do now. He couldn't save the day. He couldn't make things better. He couldn't burst into the room and punch someone to be her hero. He just wanted Callie back. She would get better, but not right away. And the worst part was, everyone thought he did it. Drowned her. Dr. McVeigh. The social worker. Joey. As his tears splattered down the shiny glass he felt his heartbreak, edging just to be with her. And now, all of a sudden, he was being told to get tested for Syphilis. Everything was spinning. Everything was wrong. All he could now was wait.