Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Brielle.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Het, Stripping, Exotic Dancing, Domestic Violence, etc.

Chris looked into the backseat of his car. Brielle sat in her car seat, her head tilted to the side, her little body stretched out on the cool leather. Blood frothed on her bluish mouth and for a minute, Chris feared that she had died. But then, her entire body shuddered as she inhaled. It sounded like a horrific wheeze in the abundant silence. Chris had to turn his attention back to the road. He knew that he could have killed her, and, to be honest, he would have killed her.

Chris was afraid. In fact, he had never been so afraid in his life. If he were to overstep his bounds with her, even the tiniest fraction, he could kill her. He could only see it now, the courts cursing him for saying that Adam had been the one to abuse her but Chris had been the one to kill her. Brielle wheezed. Chris cleared his throat and turned up his music. The addictive beat of the bass cut off the horrific wheezes at the stem. The backseat went silent.

He was about a half-hour away from his house – his father was dead, or maybe he wasn't, Chris didn't know and he really didn't care. What he did know was that he had to find somewhere to stay and fast. He wasn't sure how much more abuse Brielle could take. Now, she had started to cough. It was a horrible, gargling sound. When her throes of agony finally made it over the sound of the radio, he turned it louder and rolled the windows down.

Once he finally broke away from the mainstream of traffic, he pulled off of the road and into a gas station. Taking out his card, he swiped it and filled up the tank. And then he wandered inside, grabbing a pack of Camels, two Hershey bars, a bottle of generic-brand Pink Lemonade, and some Salt 'N Vinegar potato chips. He paid for them all and stuffed them into an old plastic bag. He offered a flirtatious smile to the cute little number behind the counter.

"Hello, there, miss." His smile broadened when she batted her long, dark eyelashes at him. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show off her generous cleavage, and he felt his eyes immediately drawn there.

"Well, hello sir. Is there something that I can help you with?" Her tone implied that there was much more that she wanted to help him with, and the undertone of lust was not lost on him.

"Actually, there is. I'm on my way to Vancouver. But it seems that I'm a little lost. Can you help?" Chris asked.

The woman smiled and nodded. "Vancouver? You came from that direction?" A brief nod. "Continue that way for sixteen miles. The altitude is different, that's how you'll know you're going the right way."

"Thank you, ma'am." Chris smiled, bowed his head, and was about to leave, when she stretched out a well-manicured hand and closed it around his shoulder.

After a few minutes, he walked back out to the car. Brielle was now unconscious, her breath back to wheezes. Chris threw his stuff onto the other seat and started the car back up. She roared to life, and without so much as a look into the backseat, he started back out onto the road. Brielle mewled and shifted around, a thin stream of blood trailing out of the corner of her mouth. She wiped at it with the back of her hand, and when she saw it, she started to cry.

"Daddy, I don't feel so good." She whined weakly, but it only came out as a gargle beneath the blood.

"Can't help that, Brie. You'll have to wait until we reach Vancouver to see a doctor." Chris said.

"But I… I don't…" She coughed and red droplets splattered out onto her tiny little hand. She mewled and curled up into herself, wrapping her little arms around her stomach. "There's blood, Daddy."

"I don't care. Just shut the fuck up and let me drive, okay? I have to think." But really, there was absolutely nothing to think about. He knew that she would die and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"I think that I'm gonna be sick." Brielle said.

"If you're gonna be sick, do it out the window. I don't want vomit on my upholstery." Chris said.

Brielle was never sick. She never had a chance to be. Unconsciousness claimed her before she could. If Chris would have taken the time to read over the post-operation papers, he would know that bleeding from the mouth meant that her body could be rejecting the new heart. Or worse, one of the valves had not fully healed and she now had a bleed. All of these could lead to death, not that Chris cared or was wise to any of this.

Her stuffed teddy bear, the one that her Mommy had left for her, was spotted with blood that dripped down from her chin. The pain that she felt was obvious in her tense posture. Nevertheless, she wouldn't release her teddy bear. It was like her one connection to her Mommy, a reminder that he still loved her and would never leave her like this man said that he would. This man was lying. This man was lying. This man was…

"Shit!" Chris slammed on the brakes. Brielle's car seat rattled forward and, because it wasn't properly connected, it rocketed off of the seat and she fell between the front and back seat with a thud.

"Brielle?" Frightened for the first time, able to feel for the first time, Chris turned around and tried to rouse the little girl. Only, this time, she wouldn't open her eyes. "Brielle? C'mon, baby. Open up those pretty little eyes. Brielle?"

When he released her head, it fell forward and stilled. All around was eerily silent and calm.