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

Randy was late coming home that night. Even so, he was incredibly surprised to find the house entirely dark and everything locked up for the night. It was almost as if Adam wasn't expecting him to come home that night. Confused, and more than a little disheartened, Randy entered the house and toed his shoes off by the door (a habit that he had picked up from Adam), tossing his coat over the back of one of the dining room chairs. Carefully, he made his way through the living room, trying not to turn on too many lights. It took so long to put the kids to bed, and that was a nearly impossible feat once they'd already woken once.

Once Randy safely arrived in the bedroom he shared with his fiancé, he took off the rest of his clothes and slipped into bed behind the pretty blond. Just as he was beginning to settle down, easing an arm around the blond's midsection and burying his face in the soft curve of Adam's neck, he felt a slight tremble from the body beneath him. Blinking in surprise, Randy slowly pulled back, propping himself on his elbow and peering at his beautiful fiancé. As cars drove by, their lights poked in through the divisions of the blinds, illuminating fresh tear tracts on Adam's face. Randy felt his heart clench. Why was his beauty crying?

"Adam?" Gently, Randy placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Adam? What's the matter? Please, baby, talk to me. Did someone hurt you? Are you sick?" All of his questions fell on deaf ears, however, and only seemed to make Adam cry harder. "Adam? Please... talk to me."

Adam choked back a sob, throwing out a shaky, "Don't you have some cheap blond you'd rather be fucking?"

"Excuse me?" Randy blinked stupidly, looking as if he had been struck across the face. "The only blond that I've been fucking is you, and you're certainly not cheap."

"You really want to believe I'm that stupid, don't you?" Adam yanked his shoulder out from beneath Randy's hand, desperately wiping the tears from his swollen, red-rimmed eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at him at the party! And I saw his name and number on the counter two days later! Coincidence? I think not."

Randy looked somewhere between shocked and hurt. "You cannot honestly think that I would hurt you like that, Addy. I love you. I don't take those words lightly." Randy implored. "What happened between Seth and I... it was business. Nothing more, nothing less."

Adam looked like he was about to vomit. "You... You hired him for sex?"

Randy choked on the air. "What? No - never. I would never do anything like that!" He sincerely hadn't expected such a deep conversation at such a late hour, and wasn't ready for it in the least. "I hired him to fulfill a job - a modeling job. As a surprise for you!"

"Leave." Adam said simply, pointing toward the door.

"What?" If possible, Randy's eyes bulged even wider. He was so confused right now...

"Leave! I want you to get the fuck out!"

All of a sudden, Adam was out of bed. He was grabbing various items off of the bed, like pillows and sheets and blankets, and throwing them in the general direction of the door. All the while, the tears continued to pour down his face, coming faster and hotter as Randy tried to deny what it was that he had 'supposedly' done. But when he saw that his words would get him nowhere, except a one-way ticket to the dog-house, he grabbed the rest of his things and hurried out the door. It wasn't too long afterward that he heard the door slam closed behind him. It looked like he'd be spending the night in the guest room, alone...

The Next Day

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir... it looks like a tractor-trailer ran over your face. Have you been getting enough sleep recently?" AJ, Randy's petite, sometimes annoying, occasionally helpful, and always insightful secretary, offered.

"Oh, yes, because nobody minds when you tell them they look like absolute shit." Randy slowly slid a hand over his face, groaning as his head throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine. "Do you have the damn files that I asked for an hour ago?"

AJ, trembling a little, handed him the manila folder. "I'm sorry, sir. Is there anything else that you'll be needing... sir?"

Randy sighed. "You don't have to be scared of me. I'm sorry that I yelled. Just... It was a long night. But today will be better. Right?"

"Of course." She started to unload her arms, placing his mug of coffee in it's usual spot. "Oh, and the coffee place was out of vanilla chai tea... so I got blueberry instead. I hope that's okay." From the look on Randy's face, it was clearly not okay. "I messed up again, didn't I?"

"No, no... of course not." He took the coffee and tossed it into the trashcan. "Anything else you'd like to tell me about today?"

"Well, your six o' clock cancelled, and your other meetings have been moved to tomorrow. However, the board has requested your presence at a meeting scheduled for five-fifteen. I've called your driver and told him that you'll be working late, and not to expect you until at least nine."

"I hope you realize that that was a rhetorical question." Randy muttered softly.

AJ took that as her cue to leave. Randy opened the manila folder that AJ had brought him, only to discover that AJ had brought him the wrong folder. With a sigh, he tossed it aside. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he'd been in a shitty mood ever since he'd fought with Adam the night before. He hadn't meant to take it out on AJ, but ever since Adam had kicked him out of the bedroom, nothing had been going right. Between Alannah waking up with the stomach flu and puking on his only pair of clean pants and Brielle deciding to draw on his new white dress shirt in permanent marker, life had taken a major turn for the worse.

That morning, before leaving for work, he had considered attempting to talk to Adam again. He'd found Adam standing in the kitchen, gnawing on an unlit cigarette as he fixed Alannah some soup to help settle her stomach. It was an old habit that he'd broken while living with Randy - but, apparently, old habits died hard. Randy was just thankful that it wasn't lit; that wasn't healthy for the baby. Randy had stuck around just long enough for Adam to turn around and shoot him a lethal glare, and had taken that as his cue to leave. At several points throughout the day, he thought about calling Adam... but he knew that the call would most likely be ignored.

Randy was so confused. One minute, everything was fine with the world. The next, he was being kicked out of his bed by an irate fiancé who was convinced that he was being cheated on. It didn't make any sense! Sure, he could receive that connotation from looking at the sticky-note Randy had left on the counter - but that was only there because Seth had called last-minute to give Randy all of his contact information. Like Randy had said, it was all a matter of business. And not the kind of business that Adam was thinking of, either. It was good, legal business, which would eventually play to Adam's benefit. To be this adamant against it... it just didn't make sense.

Finally, just as he had gathered the courage to call Adam, the door burst open and a familiar blond forced his way inside. "Mr. Orton? Thank heavens! I have to talk to you immediately. Something has happened, and -,"

Here, AJ cut him off. She hovered in the doorway, breathless. "I'm so sorry, sir. I told him that you were busy, but he wouldn't listen."

Randy raised a hand to quiet her, before turning back to the strange man. "Well, what is it that's so important that you had to bother me in the middle of work?"

"This." With a slightly trembling hand, he handed over a DVD. On the front, in clear black letters, were the words 'Security Footage'. "I'm not sure if you remember me, Mr. Orton, but my name is Jason Reso. I was your fiancé's attorney in the custody battle over one Brielle Copeland. And this... this changes everything."

Randy felt his heart constrict in his chest. What could possibly go wrong now? Adam deserved happiness, not the suffering that he was enduring day-in and day-out. "AJ, be sure to shut the door behind you on your way out." Taking that as her cue to leave, she ducked out of the room. "Now, what is that?" Randy asked.

"Security footage from the prison where Chris Jericho was sentenced to forty-two years to life." Jay answered matter-of-factly. "He was found dead this morning."

Randy's breath caught in his throat as, with a shaky hand, he eased the DVD into the CD port on his laptop and waited for it to load. Within seconds, he was faced with the drab gray of the prison. The occasional speck of orange could be seen, and Randy could only assume that these were the various inmates. Suddenly, the camera angle changed. Now, looking at a specific row of cells, both men watched as Chris slowly advanced toward the bars. He looked incredibly haggard and worn, the prison garb dangling off of his scrawny body. A dark haired man, in what looked to be a guard's uniform, made his way toward Chris' cell. There was a loud, sharp snapping noise.

Chris fell to the ground, grasping his neck as it bled. "He wasn't found dead." Randy murmured beneath his breath. "He was murdered."

"Yes." Jay nodded in agreement. "The question is, by who?"

As if to answer his question, the mysterious man turned around just enough to catch a split-second glance at his face. But that was all that Randy needed. Slamming his finger down on the space bar, he paused it on the slightly murky photo of the killer. "Is that..."

Adam and Brielle stood in the kitchen, busily preparing for that night's dinner. Brielle had been bugging him all day for yet another of his infamous cooking lessons - where no cooking was actually accomplished, but instead, a gigantic mess was made - and now, she was helping him make dough for the pizza. Her hands were caked in a sticky mixture of yeast and flour, and her hair looked even whiter than usual. Attempting to 'lead by example', he showed her how to crack an egg yet again. But, in the end, it simply ended up in her hair, like all of the others... he was almost thankful when he heard a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" The six-year-old proudly proclaimed. She didn't even clean off her hands before she took off, leaving streaks of flour on the hardwood floor. Standing up on her tippy-toes, she unlocked the door and swung it open. And upon seeing who it was on the other side of the door, her face split into a wide grin, "Daddy!"

Wade Barrett stood across from his six-year-old daughter, his steaming pistol tucked into the back of his jeans.