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

Contrary to what some may believe, Randy was not hurt or offended when Adam acted as if he didn't have a clue about what transpired. In fact, if he were totally honest with himself, he wasn't sure about what had transpired. For the first time since the death of Sam, he had felt. But more than that, he had allowed himself to feel. It was a major step in such a short amount of time and, for lack of a better term, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

There wasn't any food in the house – what was there was either rancid or merely just an empty box or container on a shelf. When Randy would ask about this later, Adam would confess that he hadn't been to the store since Brielle had first left. If Brielle died, there was no reason for him to be around anymore. Nobody cared about him that much. Even Jeff had his own life to worry about now… and Randy's heart had broken as the first tears streaked down his face.

So, he took him out for breakfast. They went to the local Denny's and were seated at a table for two by the window. Adam looked around in an embarrassed manner, obviously rather impressed by the caliber of dress (which really wasn't all that fancy, but as he looked down at his hole-ridden sweats, it was better than he owned) and embarrassed about his own. All his money went to Brielle – the club supplied his outfits for him. Randy took his hand.

Adam stared down at it for a minute, unsure of what to make of it. "You know, you didn't have to do this. I don't want you to start to feel like I'm your charity case. I don't need handouts from anyone."

Randy nodded. "Of course you don't. I never once believed that you did." Randy confessed firmly. "I know this may come as a shock to you, but there actually are some nice men in the world."

"They are few and far between." Adam said with a wry smile. "And I have yet to come across one. You learn real fast that people all have their own agendas. Nobody really cares about anyone but themselves."

Randy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you think that?" He asked.

Their coffee arrived and Adam started to fix his haphazardly. "Take JoMo for example."

"John Morrison? As in, Mike Mizanin's fiancée?" Randy asked with a hint of surprise.

Adam nodded. "The same." He tossed his sugar packets onto the table and sipped his coffee. Perfect. "When JoMo started out in the business, he was flat broke. But when he started to strip, the men fell head over heels for him. JoMo soon learned to associate true beauty… and money, unfortunately… with his body.

"Recently, he was a little short on cash. Vince was reluctant to raise his stipend because the club wasn't making all that much money. After all, all of the dancers are out with injuries, and why would you go to a gay strip club that doesn't have any dancers? So JoMo sucked him off. Got himself a bonus of ten-thousand dollars."

The words hung in the air heavily. Adam just brushed the comment off, as if he did not understand the magnitude of what he had just confessed. JoMo, who had been engaged to Mike for three months now and was almost seven months pregnant with their son, had sucked off his boss for money. That wasn't just a male model or a male stripper. That dipped dangerously into the territory of male prostitute and Randy didn't like it at all.

This, of course, made him start to wonder about what kind of sexual favors Adam had done to earn a little extra money for Brielle. As much as he didn't want to admit it, a house that size didn't come cheap. Add in the babysitter, the utility bill, the electrical bill, and the mortgage, and you're looking at about one-hundred thousand dollars monthly. It was sad because the house was so out of shape and sucking Adam's money down the drain, but still…

But then, he shook it off. He tried his best to put himself in Adam's shoes, but it was hard. If it was him in this situation, would he want his potential boyfriend to sit across the table from him and judge him silently? No. Not when he had done everything to keep his child safe and now his child had been brutally taken from the one place she should have been taken care of: the hospital. No, it wasn't fair of him to sit there and judge Adam.

"Okay, so maybe there is some truth to your statement. But I don't think that everyone always has to have some kind of trick up their sleeve. Sometimes, I like to think that people do things from the goodness of their heart."

Adam smiled dryly at him and it didn't reach his eyes. "That's assuming that people have a heart to begin with. I'm not that much older than you, Randy. You still have a lot to learn."

"About what? How untrustworthy people are?" Randy asked.

Adam shook his head. "Life."

Their food arrived then and Adam didn't say another word as he started to eat like a starved man. He must've truly trusted Randy to help him obtain his daughter, because last night, he wouldn't touch the food at all. All night, Randy was constantly haunted by the words that would spill from Adam's mouth about Chris and the rumble of his stomach as he starved himself. And he knew one thing for sure: Adam needed him now, more than ever.

"Well, Mr. Irvine, I have Brielle's test results." The doctor said with a small, macabre smile. "The results of the cat scan were positive. She has no long-term injuries from the tumble with the car seat. She does have a minor concussion, however. She'll need to stay overnight so that we can monitor that.

"However, I'm afraid that I will have to be the bearer of bad news with her chest x-ray. It showed that one of the valves has burst. If she recently had surgery to repair one of the valves, as you said, to much movement and jostling could cause added pressure in the heart, and that constant pressure would mess-up any work done there.

"Brielle will need to have emergency heart surgery. I assure you that our best doctor has been assigned to the case. But I will need you to sign off on it. If she does not receive this operation, it is incredibly likely that she will continue to bleed internally until she dies from it sometime…" the doctor looked at her chart. "Tomorrow."

Chris stared at her wide-eyed, needless to say a little shocked by the doctor's bold declaration about Brielle's death date. "Why would it occur so fast? Why would it be tomorrow?"

The doctor smiled sadly. It seemed to be a smile that all doctor's had in their arsenal. "Brielle is bleeding internally. This means that she is losing blood, but she doesn't have any visible wounds. In a sense, she'll bleed to death."

Chris took the papers from her and signed over Brielle's life immediately. "Of course, of course. Anything that can be done to save her, please. Please, I cannot live without her."

"I assure you that we will do all that we can. I cannot guarantee her survival, because it seems that this has been prolonged into an extensive operation, but this doctor has a ninety-five percent success rate."

Chris was already disinterested in the whole matter. "That's fine by me. Do whatever you need to."

The doctor looked at him oddly, more than a little put off by the way he had just dismissed the whole situation so callously. She had been getting uncomfortable vibes from this man since he had first come in with Brielle, but never before had she felt a need to act on them. And why should she? The father obviously cared for her. Or, at least, he had until this moment. Now, he looked as if he had had a hand in her current situation.

But she didn't act on any of her vibes. Instead, she just walked out of the room to tell the doctor to prep her for surgery as soon as possible. Immediately, Chris turned to Brielle and yanked her back by her hair. Her baby blue eyes slowly fluttered as she looked at him tiredly, barely conscious. Chris shook her back and forth a few times and that initial grogginess left her almost immediately. Now, she was wide awake.

"Your slut of a mother did this to you, kid. Don't look at me like that." Chris said rudely.

Brielle choked back a sob. "I want my Mommy."

Not even bothering to make sure that nobody was around, Chris slapped her across the face, totally neglecting to notice the figure in the far corner of the emergency room. "Did I say that you could talk? No. Shut your mouth and go back to sleep."

Terrified, Brielle did as she was told.