We really need to do something for this room, Robin thought to herself as she stood in the doorway of what had once been her spare room to do with what she wanted and defaulted as the nursery. Even though Patrick had said he wanted to move out of the apartment, there was still a bit of time on the lease and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that kind of commitment yet. Yes, she could hear Elizabeth laughing now. Shouldn't you have been worrying about tying yourself down before you got knocked up? Elizabeth would say.

The room itself was even barer than Patrick's office with not a stick of furniture in it. It didn't just advertise stark-white walls, it screamed it. A two-piece window was tucked into the far left corner and, though it was pretty enough (sure didn't expect it to be white too), the only lock on it appeared to be nothing more than a metal ring and hook. Any idiot with a pencil in his pocket could open it. Even well above the ground, the lock bothered her and she vowed to have it perfectly secure before the baby was ever in this room, before she was in the hospital bed delivering, hell before the week was out even. The only variety in the cubbyhole was the royal blue carpet. A stroke of luck? Maybe. She would definitely keep the carpet the way it was.

What all did the room need? A dresser to keep his clothes in, of course, and the crib. They would need to pick up a rocking chair for those nights when he would need lulling to sleep and the window would fall into whatever scheme the wall was transformed into. A changing table. Teething rings and baby bottles. Toys, she thought suddenly. He would need a lot of toys. A lot of shiny, beautiful toys. And a lamp placed near the rocking chair when it came time to read him stories (that is, if she ever ran out of the ones about Grandpa Robert.) She and Elizabeth were going to have to go shopping for baby clothes. She had gotten a yellow nightgown with green turtles splayed across the front to bring him home in, but other than that, she was going to have to tap into her friend's knowledge on the subject. It wasn't like this little guy was going to come to her at six as Morgan had.

Robin stepped out of the room quietly, her mind buzzing with activity as it accepted and vetoed hundreds of decisions in the time it took to walk downstairs and get herself a glass of orange juice. Patrick and Morgan were barbequing ribs on the balcony, talking quietly. From here, she could hear them laughing. It was a sight that did all sorts of things to her subconscious. On the one hand, her heart was squeezing so tight in her chest she almost looked down to see if someone had a hold of it…and then realized someone did. Her boys. She wished she was out there with them. Ever since they got home, she had felt like she was constantly on the outside only ever able to look in from time to time, never allowed to join in. It was her own fault too, because Patrick had gotten over himself almost immediately and did what he could to make her feel included. The problem was her. She didn't know how to adjust into this cookie cutter family. It was why she had run. When she gave up her bakery, it was as if the earth had shifted beneath her feet and she was no longer in control of anything. The doctor told her what she could eat, the exercise tapes told her how hard she could work, and the unfinished nursery reminded her that time was running out. He was going to be here soon and she was no more ready for him now than she had been when she had found she was pregnant with him.

She drank the juice slowly, giving herself another reason to stare at them. It was amazing she could keep this down with the way the baby had been attacking her body lately. He didn't like vegetables so she had cut down drastically to keep from having to devote the remainder of her pregnancy hugging a toilet. He was a big believer in chocolate. She had gone from shop to shop in Paris to find just the right kind. He loved just about any kind of meat, but didn't trust hot dogs. She didn't blame him. She never wanted to know what they were made of, because then she would never eat them again. Her stomach growled as the smell of ribs filled the apartment. "Hungry, little man?" She cooed to her stomach, rubbing it softly and smiling.

Patrick met her eyes through the glass patio doors and smiled. They stared at each other for another few seconds before something caused her eyes to divert south. It was only because her hands were still settled against her stomach that she was able to feel it. Just a light movement, but it was there. "Oh!" She squealed, her mouth widening in appreciative awe. He had moved around when she slept, enough to rouse her, but he had never danced before.

Apparently, Patrick had misunderstood the squeal of delight for one of pain because he came inside with Morgan in tow. "Is everything okay?" The words were barely out of his mouth when she grabbed his left wrist and placed his hand over her lower abdomen. For a moment, nothing happened. Morgan looked from one adult to the other, thinking they had lost their minds. Then, his little foot kicked excitedly against his daddy's hand and Patrick's jaw dropped.

"What? Didn't you know there was a baby in there Patrick?" Morgan teased, still confused.

"Morgan, give me your hand." Robin prompted, already reaching for it.

"Why?" Morgan was wary. The two people he counted on had tipped over the edge.

"Just give me your hand." Robin said again, and he let her direct his tiny palm to a spot just to the right of where she and Patrick's hands were. "Feel that?"

"No." Morgan shook his head. When he did feel something move beneath his hand, his eyes widened. "Is that my brother?"

Robin laughed through sudden tears. "Yes, baby. That's your brother. He's strong, isn't he?" She glanced up and noticed that Patrick's eyes had never left hers. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah." He whispered and then cleared his voice. "It's amazing. Has he done this before?"

"Only when I try to sleep. He's never moved around like this." Robin explained.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No." Robin giggled. Her stomach growled again. "Are the ribs ready yet?"

*****

Heat. It was the only sensation Lulu's over-exhausted body recognized. It was far too hot to be comfortable. She made a move to kick off the offending covers, only to feel a sharp pain shoot up her leg as her knee made contact with something hard and plastic. Rubbing her hand across her eyes, she tried to focus on what the hell she had just hit before the dazzling sunlight bouncing off the crystal teardrop she had hung on her rearview mirror.

"What the hell?" she muttered to no one in particular as she tried to sit up and nearly strangled herself with her seatbelt in the process. Blinking several times to try to clear the fog that had decided to take root in her brain, Lulu twisted to try to place exactly where she was. The dirty floorboards covered with discarded mail and overdue notices from the library. Her overflowing purse thrown haphazardly on the passenger seat. She was definitely in her car, but where was she? And how did she get there?

Undoing the seat belt, Lulu opened her door and took a cautious step outside. The trees didn't offer any clues to her whereabouts. Almost directly above her, the sun filled the sky. Since she wore a watch, the sun's position allowed her to guess it was probably about noon. Somewhere in her car, she supposed her cell phone was waiting to confirm her guess. Her beloved, classic Oldsmobile was stopped awkwardly, half on the road and half off, the trunk sticking out dangerously close to the curve she had obviously slid around before coming to a stop. Glancing up and down the street, she tried to look for a sign, a landmark, anything really to help her place where exactly in town she was. If she was even in town. Sighing she slid down the side of her car. What the hell had happened last night?

The last thing she could remember was leaving to find a party. Parties were always a good place to find someone who at least knew how to get hold of some Meth. It hadn't been the plan to go out, but when her stash had run out, there were no other options. Life was too overwhelming without it. The memories, the feelings, the terror, they would all combine and knock her to the floor and keep her there. Meth wasn't a drug, it was her lifeline.

Had she even made it to the party? Was she stuck on some back road that led to a god-awful off campus frat party house, the very kind she had promised her parents she would never go near? Well if that was where she was going, it was probably the least of the promises to her family she had broken.

Previews:

Smiling sweetly, Dara stood up and approached the witness stand. When Elizabeth had told her what she had learned the night before, it had cemented her belief in karma. Diane Miller was going to learn what it felt like to see a bomb go off in the middle of your carefully orchestrated plan.