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

"Well, Brie, since you're the first one out of bed this morning, you get your choice of what you want for breakfast." Judy told the small child with a smile, before opening the cabinets above the sink.

Brielle looked at her grandmother in confusion. "What's a choice?" She asked softly.

Judy turned to her suddenly, just as confused as the little girl. "A choice? Well… it's like you have two options, and you can pick which one you want." She did her best to explain.

Brielle's face scrunched up cutely. "I don't think that I've ever had a 'choice' before."

Judy didn't mean to pry, but she needed to know more. "How come?"

"Well, Mommy doesn't have a lot of money. He works hard, but most of it goes to Miss Beth so she'll watch me while he works. The rest he puts toward food for me. I eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly." Brielle confessed.

"Do you like peanut butter and jelly?" Judy asked, thinking about snacks and lunches.

Brielle made a face. "Not really."

"Why eat it if you don't like it, then?" Judy continued, searching around for a pan to make breakfast in.

Brielle shrugged. "Because Mommy always looks so happy when he sees me eat, and I don't really see him eat a lot, so I think he spends all his money on me. I don't wanna make him feel bad."

"I'm sure that he'd understand, sweetheart." But Judy didn't push the matter further. She didn't want to stick her nose were it wasn't welcome. "How about some blueberry pancakes. Do you like blueberries?"

Brielle's eyes lit up like Judy had just offered her all the candy in the world. It was probably the equivalent, at least for her. "Yes! Oh, pretty please?" Judy nodded and smiled, if only to watch Brielle get so excited.

Judy tried to lighten the mood of the conversation by asking Brielle if she wanted to help make breakfast. Brielle was more than happy to oblige. It was obvious that the little girl was a novice in the kitchen, but what she lacked in knowledge, she made up for with her eagerness to learn. She wanted Judy to tell her the names of all of the instruments – from the mixing bowl to the whisk – and explain what they did. So Judy did.

It might have taken them a bit longer than it really should have to finish with breakfast, and the pancakes might have looked a little lopsided, but it was the bonding experience that they were left with that really mattered. Judy felt that much closer to Brielle after hearing the little girl speak about her experiences with Adam, and through her, she felt closer to Adam as well. Her heart ached for her little boy, just imagining the hell that he had to live through.

When asked where Adam worked or if she could explain what he did, Brielle just shrugged and said that he was a dancer. She didn't know where he danced or 'how' he danced, only that he was a dancer and he worked off of tips. That was why it had been so difficult for him to pay for her operation. But he also had no money (or time) to finish his education, so, essentially, he was stuck right where he was and where he would always be.

After the pancakes were finished, Judy sent Brielle in to wake up Randy and Adam. From the loud crash and the subsequent screaming, followed by a six-year-olds manic chuckles, Judy could tell that she enjoyed her task. Judy set the table, making sure that Randy and Adam would sit next to each other. She could tell that that boy was good for her son. And if he was good for Adam, then he was good for her too.

"Is it morning already?" Adam complained, rubbing at his eyes as Brielle led him out of the bedroom, hand-in-hand.

"Well, actually, I'm pretty sure that it stopped being 'morning' a half-hour ago, son." Judy flashed him a smile. "But you two needed your sleep. You were up late last night." Judy winked.

Adam flushed, looking about ready to go crawl under a rock and die. Randy followed him out of the bedroom, oblivious to the conversation. "I smell pancakes." Of course, he was only focused on the food.

"Of course you do. That's what's for breakfast… well, brunch anyhow. Brielle helped me make them."

Brielle smiled. "And I know what a whisk is now, Mommy!" She exclaimed proudly.

"Good, sweetie." Adam ruffled her fluffy blonde hair. "Maybe when you're a little older you can start to bake stuff. I was never really good at baking."

Judy smirked. "You remember the night you almost burned the house down?"

Adam's flush darkened and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Very well, ma'am."

A comfortable silence fell over them then. Finally, Judy broke it. "Well, this food isn't just going to disappear on its own. And I won't have you wasting it after Brielle worked so hard on it."

Adam and Randy shared a look, before they took their respective seats at the table. "No, ma'am. Of course not."

The pancakes were a little crispy, but not too bad for a first attempt. Adam and Randy ate their fill, even going back for seconds and later, even thirds. Brielle smiled. She had never seen Adam eat so much food before. Well, if she were to be totally honest (and Mommy always told her that it was never right to lie), she had never really seen him eat anything. He would always subtly push his dinner onto her plate so she could have more.

Brielle only barely finished one plate of pancakes, but then, Judy had also given her a bowl full of the leftover blueberries. She happily munched away at the contents, scooping them into her mouth with her tiny hands. By the end, her face was a mess. It was really rather adorable. Judy, who was sitting next to her, carefully wet a napkin and dabbed at her purple-stained cheeks. She squirmed as the cold, wet material touched her face.

Once breakfast was finished, Judy turned to her son. "Do you want to help me clear the table, Adam? I think that there are some things that we need to talk about." Her tone was serious, almost solemn.

Adam nodded, understanding immediately. "Of course, Ma. Randy, would you mind watching Brielle for a little while? I'm sure there are still some old books of mine in my bedroom that you could read to her…"

"Books?" Brielle piped up, suddenly interested.

"Sure." Randy chuckled, watching as Brielle tried to grab her bowl of blueberries and slide of the chair simultaneously. "C'mon, sweetie. What do you want to read?"

"Bye, Mommy!" Brielle waved, before she followed Randy out.

"Bye, sweetie." Adam called back, waving until she disappeared. And then, he turned to his mother.

Randy sat at the foot of the bed, the six-year-old curled in his arms. It felt so odd, having a child in his arms that wasn't his daughter. But really, at six, she wasn't that much bigger than Alannah. It was probably the heart condition. And, after all this, he couldn't really say that he didn't feel a connection to this little girl. She was something unique, something different, and he was… proud of that connection.

The ring box felt heavy in his pocket, and Brielle's little head was resting right above it. Once, it had been Sam's ring. Randy had told Adam a lot about his former wife, but there was one thing that he never mentioned. He and Sam had been going through troubled times before the accident and she had filed for divorce. She had noticed his fondness of men and, instead of filing for dual custody, she wanted sole custody.

He still had the ring, and when the time was right, he planned to make it Adam's. Not that it was smart to speak ill of the dead, but maybe Sam had never been the intended recipient of the ring in the first place. Maybe, from the start, he was supposed to give that ring to Adam. Maybe their meeting at the club had been fated long ago, and all of this should have been history by now. Or maybe life was happening exactly on track.

The soft snores of the baby in his lap told him that the book had finally lulled her to sleep. Carefully, he closed the book and set it aside, murmuring the words that he hoped to hear at the end of his own story. It was the same phrase that had become almost cliché, but not to him, never to him, and not to someone like Brielle. No, it was the phrase that she dreamed of every night. It was the phrase that had saved her life.

"And they all lived happily ever after."