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.

Adam awoke to the blinding white and overwhelming scent of sterility that could only accompany one thing: the hospital. The actual trauma – of which, he remembered very little – had resulted in remarkably little pain. His shoulder was heavily bound, but he was not unable to move it. And moving it, though slightly difficult, resulted in a moderately uncomfortable pressure. But, perhaps most remarkable of all was the lack of blood on the bandages. While he couldn't remember much of the trauma, he assumed, with the amount of bandages, there should be some blood…

However, he did feel an unbearable sense of emptiness… one that was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and frightening. Carefully moving his stiff body about, he was able to place his uninjured hand on-top of his surprisingly flat belly. That's when it all came flooding back. Sitting in the chair in the living room, suffering through a bullet wound with a smile – only for Brielle, always for Brielle, watching Randy take a bullet to the neck, and then the brutal, burning cramps. Even as he tried to deny it, it could only mean one thing. He'd lost the baby. He'd suffered a miscarriage.

It was at that time that the door to his room opened and the doctor entered inside. She was a younger woman, who appeared a bit rough-around-the-edges. "Hello, Mr. Copeland. My name is Dr. Kocianski."

But Adam was in no mood for formalities. "What happened to my baby?"

"Take a deep breath, Mr. Copeland." The doctor said, smiling. "I have a lot to explain. You were out for two and a half days, after all. There's a lot that you need to know about – your baby included."

Adam appeased her, sucking in a deep breath that was mostly for show. His pulse was racing and it reflected on the heart monitor. "I need to know…" He paused, wetting his lips and contemplating how to continue. "I need to know."

The doctor patted his hand reassuringly. "And you will know. Now, you were brought in via ambulance three days ago. Two others arrived in subsequent ambulances – a girl, six years of age, and a man, thirty-three years of age."

"Oh God, Brielle!" He was on the verge of a panic attack by this point. "What did that monster do to her?"

"Absolutely nothing. She was brought to the hospital simply because she was covered in blood… blood that was later identified as yours, Mr. Copeland. Your little angel is in perfect health, down with the other kids in the pediatric ward."

"Oh, thank God…" The relief was palpable as Adam's shoulders sagged and he released a heavy breath.

"The man, however, had injuries that were life-threatening. He was immediately rushed into surgery, where it was discovered that he had lost about two pints of blood. But the surgery was successful… he is in recovery now."

Bits and pieces of the shooting were coming back. Adam remembered Randy storming in, metaphorical guns blazing. He had been so angry, not that he could really be blamed for it, but how did he know? He had been miles away when Wade had stormed into the house, ready to kill both Adam and Brielle. There was a piece that he was missing, and he had a sinking feeling that it was the most crucial piece of all. Amidst the blackness of swirling memories just out of his reach, he could see blood… horribly red, crimson blood… and the sound of a gun firing in the distance.

"And now… I believe that you wanted to know about your baby?" Dr. Kocianski asked, one blonde eyebrow raised.

"Yes." Adam answered a little too quickly, barely allowing her a chance to finish what it was she was saying. "I just… I can't feel it…" As if to prove his point, he placed a hand on his too-flat belly, "I… I miscarried, didn't I?"

Dr. Kocianski offered a small, sympathetic smile. "Yes… and no."

Well… Adam certainly hadn't been expecting that answer. "W-What?"

Pulling up his chart, the doctor read off, "When the patient arrived, he was showing signs of a miscarriage. An emergency C-section was performed at 23 weeks."

Swallowing hard, Adam asked the one question he dreaded the answer to, "At 23 weeks… what is the chance of survival?"

"Admittedly, not fantastic." She said. "However, there have been miracle cases at as early as 21 and 1/2 weeks. I wouldn't be discouraged. He's healthy and doing well in the NICU."

"It's a… It's a boy?" Adam asked, feeling his heart lift a little at the news. He'd only been a few weeks from finding out.

"Yes. Congratulations." Replacing his chart at the foot of the bed, she added, "Try to sleep, okay? I'll be in in a little while to check on you."

But Adam was too absorbed with the news of the son that he had almost lost to really care that she had left. He'd been so absorbed within himself that he hadn't told Randy about the baby… hadn't even thought about possible names. It felt so wrong for his infant son to be in that NICU all by his lonesome, with no other name other than 'Baby Boy Copeland'. Even Brielle, in her disastrous birth, had had a name on her little baby bed. It bothered him in a way that he couldn't quite explain, and the fact that he couldn't talk to Randy about it made it even worse.

There was a moment's pause, before Adam reached out and took hold of the phone. Placing it in the crook of his neck, he dialed a number he knew by heart. After three rings, there was an answer, "Hello?"

"Hey, Momma." Adam said, feeling tears burn hot tracts down his cheeks. "I, uh… I could really… I really…" He wiped the tears from his eyes, "I had a miscarriage."

Jay sat in the police station, feeling utterly disgusting in his blood-stained clothes. He'd been directly behind Randy when the taller man had taken a bullet to the neck, and thus, had suffered the immediate effects of the blow. He'd seen Randy fall… and, just like Randy had told him to do, he'd done absolutely nothing. Randy had been very explicit in what it was that he wanted Jay to do – call the cops, and then follow him inside the house; if anything were to happen to him, he was to stand there and watch – and Jay had followed his instructions to a tee:

"I know that he's gonna try and shoot Brielle – and that's not going to happen." Randy said firmly, hesitating just outside the house. He could hear the fight raging inside, and knew that there was no time to waste. "I'll go in, guns blazing. Make him shoot me. At the very least, the more important of the two of us will survive."

"Mr. Reso?" The receptionist poked her head out the door, causing Jay to jump. "Lieutenant Layfield is ready for you." Jay sucked in a deep breath, rising to his feet. Now, it was time for the moment of truth.