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

"I don't understand what you want with me, Officer Reeves. I would never lay a hand on that child. I would rather die." Chris assured Ryan. The officer raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Chris sighed as he leaned back in his swivel chair, looking around the interrogation room with bored eyes. It had seemed like a lifetime since he had last seen the inside of one in person, instead of on all those crime dramas that his father insisted on watching. The last time he had been here was when he was hauled in for the 'rape' of Adam Copeland. A few thousand dollars under the table had made those accusations disappear, however.

Chris' calm blue eyes flickered to Ryan, who stirred some sweetener into his coffee. He didn't trust him. The FBI had no reason to suspect that he had done anything to Brielle, which meant that he had to have somebody who worked on the inside for him. His father? No, that man was old, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what Chris could do to him if he found out that he had betrayed him. This only left a handful of people that he had come in contact with.

And then, a sinking realization filled him. The doctor. The damn doctor. He should've known better than to trust her! She had examined Brielle a little too closely, had seen hints of bruises underneath her tiny hospital gown. She must've been Officer Reeves' informant. Chris' hands clenched into fists around the edge of the table and, though he tried his best to remain calm, his façade was cracking. This Officer Reeves already had a foot in the door to victory.

Ryan took a seat across from him and started to sip his coffee lazily. It seemed as if he was in no hurry to start the interrogation. "Well?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Are you gonna ask me something, or are we gonna sit here all day?"

"You want me to ask you something?" Chris nodded. "Okay." Setting his coffee down, he took out a file and opened it. "These are the results of Adam Copeland's rape kit, taken six years ago. Read it over. Tell me what it says."

"It says that he was raped and refused the morning after pill. What does this have to do with me?" Chris asked.

Ryan waved his hand. "Tell me the name of his attacker."

Chris sighed. "I am listed as the attacker."

Ryan took the file out of his hand. "Well, look at that. You are listed as the attacker." He rolled his eyes, flipped to the next page, and pointed to the DNA test. "Now, tell me what that says."

Chris looked it over. It was the DNA test to determine Brielle's biological father. "It says that her parents are Adam Copeland and… Wade Barrett? But… But I don't understand. How is that even possible?"

"You're not her father, Chris." Ryan stated calmly.

"How can I not be her father?" Chris screamed. "Adam told me -,"

"Adam lied to you. He's known from the start that you weren't her father. Wade died shortly after Brielle was conceived. He used to hurt Adam too, so Adam was no stranger to abuse."

"No…"

"You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Brielle Copeland. You have the right to remain silent -,"

"NO!" Chris started to thrash about, but Ryan held him down.

All of a sudden, several medical personnel surrounded him and one injected a sedative into his neck. The effect was almost immediate. Chris fell, face-first, onto the table. His body went lax. Ryan took the handcuffs and handcuffed Chris' hands behind his back, and it took all of the men to carry his body out of the room. He would be moved to medical until he awoke, and then he would be moved to his own personal cell.

Now, Ryan walked out of the room and into the main area, fixed himself another cup of coffee, and then took out his phone. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how much time he had before it would be six o' clock AM back in the states. Finally, just throwing caution to the wind, he called Jay. He needed to tell him about Chris' breakdown and that he was hopeful for a break in the case soon.

Hunter awoke in the middle of the night, his vision blurry as he tried to blink away the last vestiges of sleep. How long had he been out? There was no way to tell. It was incredibly dark in his room and he couldn't see the clock on the wall. A dim light came in from the crack in the door, but it was only marginal and came to a stop just behind the EZ Chair beside his bed. Hunter groaned. Where the hell was he?

And then he remembered. Not in full, of course. He was fairly certain that his mind had blocked out the more gruesome aspects of it to preserve what little sanity he still had left. In the distance, he could hear the rapid fire of a gun. He could see Mark go down, clutching something, it was too dark to see what. There was blood everywhere. And then, there was a blinding pain in his chest. After that, it all went black.

Hunter allowed his eyes to fall closed for a moment. He couldn't help but think about how scared Lilly must be. If only he knew how long he had been out – had it been a few hours, a few days, a few weeks? Worry made his heart ache and an uncomfortable dizziness made it difficult for him to see straight. No, he couldn't let himself become overwhelmed like that. It wasn't safe for his still-delicate health. He needed to relax.

Weakly, he reached out and located the call-button. He pressed it and waited. When the nurse would answer, he would find out the truth. He would find out if Mark was still alive, the fate of his little girl, and the fate of the bastard that had tried to take his everything from him. All he had to do was wait a few more seconds. But even that felt like an eternity, and his eyes were so heavy… when the door burst open, he was already asleep.

Mike brushed JoMo's slick black hair away from his face, a proud smile dancing across his handsome features. John had worked hard and had earned himself a few gray hairs (not that Mike would ever tell him that, God no, did he look like he wanted to die?) and now, they had a beautiful baby boy to show for it. Looking down at the little baby in the incubator, he knew that this was the way that their story was supposed to play out. This was their happily ever after.

With a sigh, JoMo's eyes fluttered. "How is he?"

"He's just fine. Absolutely beautiful, too. He has your eyes and your hair." Mike told him, his voice no louder than a whisper. He wouldn't want to wake the newborn, after all.

Slowly, JoMo turned his head to look at their son, Doan. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" He chuckled weakly, but Mike could see that that made the incision in his stomach hurt. "But he has your nose and your mouth."

Mike calmed him, rubbing soothing circles onto his shoulders. "Relax now, baby. I don't want you to overwork yourself. The doc said that the only way for you to heal is if you take it easy."

"I can't laugh now, is that it?" JoMo asked, one eyebrow raised.

Mike smiled. "No. No laughing allowed."

The baby started to stir, so Mike rolled the incubator back and forth a few times to calm him. The baby blinked in surprise, shocked at the sudden movement, and all sniffling stopped entirely. When Mike stopped, Doan stared at him in complete awe. Mike smiled. He was absolutely beautiful. Never before had he thought that he would have a beautiful little son and a loving fiancé to call his own, but now, the impossible had become possible.

He started to work out dates for when the two of them could be married. He wanted it to be as soon as possible, to make an honest man out of John. But he also knew that John was a stickler for tradition, and would refuse to have the honeymoon before the eight-weeks of no-sex had passed. So, eight weeks from now. A romantic elopement. Or maybe, a few months after, they could have it in a church. It would all depend on where they were by then.

"Hey, JoMo?" Mike asked softly, running his fingers through John's soft hair.

"Yeah, Mike?" John breathed, shifting around carefully to make himself more comfortable.

"Do you want a white wedding? Like… in a church, with all our friends and family, and flowers and a big ol' cake?" Mike asked, smiling at the very idea of it.

John was silent for a moment and Mike feared that he had fallen asleep. But then, finally, he nodded stiffly. "Yeah… I think that I would like that." And then, closing his eyes, he fell asleep.