"Do you even have a plan?"

I turned and looked at Franny over my shoulder then, after having gone into my dresser and gotten a far more flowy top out, so as my bump, no matter how small it was at this stage, would not show under any circumstances. "Franny, I just took the test five minutes ago," I replied, and rolled my eyes slightly at the calamity of it all. "Please. I'm not even thinking about next week, let alone next month, or next year..."

"Well, try this one on for size," Franny replied, slightly annoyed. "What are you going to do about Northwestern? You've already accepted their acceptance..."

"Oh, for the love of..." I placed my head back into my hands, working my temples with my fingers as I mulled it over. "I don't fucking know. I guess the next plan of action would be to make a doctor's appointment to get the fetus looked at or whatever..."

"An ultrasound," Franny said gently. "You want to get an ultrasound."

"I fucking know what it's called," I replied, picking up my head and shooting Franny a glare. "I may be stupid enough to have drunken, unprotected sex, but I know what some so-called medical professionals are called..."

"If they're giving you an ultrasound, rest-assured they're a professional."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Much appreciated..."

"Maybe make an appointment now..."

I bit my lower lip then, in an effort to cut back another rude retort towards Franny as I made my way over to my bed, where my cell phone was. Picking it up, I called up Dr. Lennox, my mother's doctor, and wasn't surprised to get her front desk. "Hey, Cheryl," I said, addressing her receptionist. "This is Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist."

"Hello, Iana," said Cheryl. "How may I help you today?"

"Look, this call is sensitive in nature, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell my parents about it," I said quietly.

"Of course. Understood," Cheryl replied, her tone still upbeat. "What's going on?"

I sighed, knowing that, once I recalled the story aloud completely, then it would be even more real, but I knew I needed to get through the hurdle sooner rather than later. "I just got back from a trip to New York, after feeling queasy the entire week," I replied. "And no, I don't think it's something I ate," I told her quickly, knowing that that was usually the first question that anyone asked someone under eighteen in that situation. "I got a pregnancy test from my cousin and it seems that I'm pregnant."

"I see," Cheryl said, always remaining professional. "And how far along would you guess that you were?"

"About eight weeks," I replied.

"All right. And you're experiencing morning sickness, I take it?"

"Yeah, when I'm stressed...or smell fish," I replied.

Cheryl giggled lightly from the other end of the phone. "Understood," she told me. "All right. I have an appointment with Dr. Lennox available at eleven o'clock next Tuesday, a week from today, as a matter of fact. Would that work for you?"

"Yeah, thanks," I replied. I wasn't due at work until one that afternoon, and was covering most of the lunch rush, as well as the entire dinner rush, meaning I'd be helping clean up and close down Patsy's that same evening.

"Okay, Iana, I'm putting you down for eleven o'clock on July the nineteenth," she said, and I quickly accessed my phone calendar and put down the information. "As stated, you would prefer this appointment to be confidential, and I've put a note in attachment to the appointment email for Dr. Lennox."

"Thanks so much, Cheryl," I said, feeling more relieved.

"No problem, Iana," she replied. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

I shook my head automatically then, despite being on the phone. "No, thank you, Cheryl. I think we've covered everything."

"Great," she said. "We'll see you next Tuesday at eleven o'clock."

"Thank you, Cheryl," I said. "Have a good one."

"You too, Iana," she replied as I hung up.

"What now?"

I turned and looked at Franny as she questioned me, and I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, really. I mean, my initial plan was to do a load of laundry, put away my clothes, and then crash until tonight. But I'm so fucking wired now that I don't think sleep is necessarily in the cards for me at this point..."

Franny pursed her lips in consideration. "My mom has Ezra for the afternoon. Why don't I take over your laundry, and put it away? You can take a nap or just head out and so whatever for a while. Your call."

I nodded. "I think I'm gonna shower, and then maybe head out for while," I replied. "I mean, if you're sure you don't mind hanging here..."

Franny shook her head. "No, that's cool. You go do your thing. You'll need some time to think about all this."

"You're probably right," I told her, hesitating for a moment before I stepped forward, yanking her into my arms. "And...you'll be there for me, right?"

"Hey, it's okay," Franny said, holding me against her. "You may be my cousin, but you're also my best friend, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're my best friend, too," I said, pulling back before I would let my emotions get the better of me, and plastered a smile on my face. "Thanks."

"No problem," Franny replied.

. . .

As the inked needle worked its way up and down my arm, I sat there in the cushioned, leather chair of the tattoo parlor in New York, which had inexplicably accepted my fake I.D. Franny had told me that the guy supposedly did good work, and although I'd only gone to the tattoo parlor to test out the theory, I hadn't even considered it working. As the artist worked on me, I got the gist of her journey to New York and listened to her life story; her name was Lola Martinez and she came from Arizona, and after studying art and design at Arizona State, she did an internship at New York University, before being accepted into their art program. She had then gotten enough of a following to open her own shop, and I deliberately kept my mouth shut about my age, knowing that she would be in hot water if people found out.

"So, you live in New York?" Lola asked.

I shook my head, taking in her tight leather clothing, dyed blue hair, piercings, and purple lipstick, which went well with her bronzed-cocoa skin. "No. Chicago," I replied. "South Side, born and raised."

"What brings you to New York, then?" she asked. "College tour?"

I smiled at that; I could be upfront on one thing, and that was that I'd just graduated from high school a couple of weeks prior. "No. I got into Northwestern, so I'll be going there."

"First trip alone, then? Let me guess—graduation present?"

I nodded. "Yeah, from my parents."

"You visiting anyone here, or...?"

"My mom's older sister lives here," I told her. "Husband and kids and all that. It's nice to have time with all of them. She's my favorite aunt."

"Ah, big family, then, I take it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," I said with a laugh. "My mother is one of seven, and my biological father is one of six. My mother is also a twin, so there's that, and my mother's twin brother is married to my biological father. Long story," I said to Lola's slightly-raised eyebrows. "And then my adopted father was one of three, but his sister passed away, leaving him with one younger brother, but he lives in LA. And the only sibling of my biological father's that I'm in contact with is his younger sister, who I just recently learned about, and she's living with my uncle, my mother's older brother. So..."

"Seems like you guys like to keep it in the family," Lola replied.

I nodded. "You could say that, yeah."

"You have any siblings?"

"Yeah, I'm the oldest of five," I said. "After me came my twin brothers, then my only sister, and then a little brother. I had to help raise the twins, but that's another story. Let's just say that my family is complicated."

"Preaching to the choir," Lola informed me. "My Catholic parents kicked me out when I was fourteen after I came out. My older brother, Javier, secretly sent me money. Now he and I are roommates," she said.

"What does Javier do?" I ask.

"Doctor," she replied. "Just finished his residency and works at St. Marks. You know it?" she asked me.

"Yeah, my uncle, Jimmy, owns a division of that practice," I replied. "Dr. Jimmy Lishman. I don't know if you've heard of him..."

"Javier was one of his new batch of residents," Lola said with a smile. "Dr. Lishman was so kind and considerate. It's nice to know he has other good members of his family."

"I'm sorry about your parents," I said quietly.

Lola nodded. "It's fine. I'm living my dream, doing something that I love. I don't know if we'll ever be in touch again, but it doesn't matter to me now..." She hesitates for a moment, obviously wanting to change the subject. "What do your parents do?"

"My adopted father is a lawyer, runs a firm with his parents," I reply. "And my mom owns a local diner in South Side. Took it off my aunt's hands before she moved her."

"So, you got into Northwestern," Lola said, continuing on with shaping my tattoo along my left arm expertly. "Have any idea what you want to study?"

"Business management; I want to take over the diner," I replied.

"Well, if I can make my dream happen, Iana, I know you can, too."

I smiled at her. "Thanks," I said. "I'm certainly gonna try."

. . .

After I got out of my shower and dressed, I waved to Franny, who was living room, and slipped out of the house. I had my keys in one hand, locking up the door behind me as I stepped out into the July, mid-afternoon sunshine, and trudged down the porch. I hesitated as I walked out the gate in front of my car, biting my lip, before I circled the vehicle and walked across the street, knowing that, above all things, I needed my father most of all. I stepped onto the opposite sidewalk then and pushed open the other gate, allowing it to swing shut behind me, before climbing the stairs and letting myself inside.

Shutting the door behind me, I automatically walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, the sight of numerous bottles of Old Style greeting me. I reached out to take one then, but my opposite hand smacked my progress and I drew back, wondering how and why my body would react so violently to such a thing. Shaking my head, it was as if I suddenly remembered the pregnancy, and slammed the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I leaned up against the fridge and slipped down it, pushing my back against it and just staring at the ceiling.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?" I muttered to myself, putting my head back into my hands again. "What. The. Actual. Fuck?!"

"Kiddo? That you?"

I raised my eyes then at the sound of the familiar voice, as well as the footsteps on the stairs, and felt my mouth opening automatically when Pops stepped into the kitchen. Shakily, I got to my feet then, while he stood there, open-mouthed, at the state I was in. Unable to keep my emotions in check anymore, I bolted across the kitchen towards him and threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Kid, you okay? What's going on?"

"Dad..." I whispered then, my voice breaking, calling him by the name I'd frequently reserved for my mother's husband, but the emotions running through me were way too high to over-analyse a thing.

"Iana, come on. Talk to me. What's going on here?"

I pulled back from him then, slowly, and wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head. "I majorly fucked up this time..."

"What'd you do?" he asked. "You find out you made a B in one class instead of all A's? You already got accepted into Northwestern, kid. I think it'll be fine..."

I scoffed then, turning away from him. "Jesus. It's not about fucking school or my fucking grades, for Christ's sake..."

"Okay," he replied, looking me over then, and getting a good look at my left arm for the first time, his eyes widening. "What's that?"

"Oh, for the love of... I got inked in New York."

"Christ, Iana. How'd you even...?"

I turned and looked at him, growing slightly impatient. "I fucked the drop-dead-gorgeous tattoo artist," I said. "Her name was Lola, and she was amazing."

Pops dragged his hand through his hair. "Jesus..."

I reached out and shoved his shoulder slightly. "I'm fucking with you. Franny got me a fake I.D. before I left for New York."

Pops rolled his eyes. "How old did you make yourself?"

"Just eighteen," I said, rolling my shoulders, and doing my best to get the tears out of my eyes, knowing that I was so close to a waterworks show, but unknowing how to call it back anymore, due to the day I'd had... "Went to a couple of clubs, too; solo, of course, you know how protective Aunt Fiona can be. Also, I got raging drunk, which, in hindsight, was probably not a good idea..."

"Not a good idea?" Pops asked as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind him. "What the fuck do you mean—?!"

"Iana!" said Uncle Ian, stepped into the kitchen and immediately gravitating towards me, but stopped when he got a good look at my facial expression and body language. "What the fuck's up with you?"

I sighed, lifting up one of my hands and dragging it down my face. "Look, I know I promised you guys and Mom that I'd be careful when it came to my exploits, but it seems I wasn't as careful as I thought..."

Uncle Ian looked shell shocked then, looking me up and down. "Did... Did one of your partners give you something?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Pops's eyes went from me to Uncle Ian and back again, and he paled instantly. "No fucking way did my daughter get an STD!" he shouted then, stepping towards me then and taking ahold of my arms. "Kiddo, please. Tell me that you didn't—!"

"No, I don't have anything like that!" I cried out then, yanking myself away from him. "I have something, but it's not HIV or gonorrhea or chlamydia... Promise."

"Okay," Pops said, visibly relaxing then as he mulled over my words.

Uncle Ian regarded me then, and his lips parted. "Iana... Iana, you're not...?"

"Not what?!" Pops demanded, staring Uncle Ian down then before his allowed his eyes to gravitate back towards me. "No... Iana..."

I sighed then, my shoulders slacking as my eyes filled with tears. "May as well shout it from the rooftops or some shit," I muttered then, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips as I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, "because I'm fucking pregnant."

"Fuck," Pops said then, and I lowered my eyes.

"You okay?" Uncle Ian asked.

I bit my lip, lowering my eyes. "I don't know..."

"You know what you want to do?" Pops wanted to know.

I swallowed then, mulling over the answer in my mind. "Yeah," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't... I don't want it. I got accepted into college, and I have plans in my life, plans that don't revolve around raising kids. I want to get a degree and make something of myself, and that doesn't include being a mom. I'm not cut out to be a mother."

"Is that what you think, kiddo?"

"Mick's right, Iana. We've seen you with Clayton, Fionn, Carla, Charlie, Ezra... You're great with kids..."

"I may be great with them, but that doesn't mean I want them!" I cried out then, locking my eyes with theirs. "Besides, I'm sixteen. Sixteen! I'm still young, and I have, you know, those plans, and I don't want a sack of water on my hip, screaming every two minutes..."

Pops chuckled. "They don't scream every two minutes..."

"Pops, get real," I said, crossing my arms. "Uncle Ian did way more for Yevgeny than you ever did, then Svetlana moved out, then you went to jail, and fled to Mexico, and have you ever even try to track him down? Well, have you?" I demanded then, my voice trembling slightly, as I stared at him.

Pops visibly swallowed then, the emotions written all over his face. "No, Iana. You're the only one of my kids I have in my life..."

"You say it like you've got more than me and Yevgeny..."

"There aren't," Uncle Ian said firmly, although I was unsure if he was saying it for my benefit or for his.

"Whatever," I muttered, leaning against the kitchen island. "I have a doctor's appointment next week to ensure that I'm as far along as I think I am, and then I'll likely have to tell Mom and Dad so that our insurance can get the abortion taken care of..."

Pops sighed, turning and looking at Uncle Ian for a moment, who seemed to get the hidden message, because he turned around and headed back upstairs. Pops reached out then and put an arm around my shoulder, before he guided me into the living room and pulled me down beside him on the couch. Always creatures of habit, my father and I, I found myself automatically shifting downwards on the cushions, and positioning my head upon his shoulder, as I'd often done, since he returned into my life permanently when I was nine.

"You know, you don't have to do what society tells girls to do in your position, Iana," Pops told me, his voice gentle.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't," he said, his voice firmer this time. "Look, Debbie and Franny did it. Plus, your mom was only five years older than you were when she had you. Sure, she had Ian, Fiona, Lip, Debs, and even Liam to help her out, what with Carl at the military academy so much, but she managed to do it."

I sighed. "The difference between me and Mom is the fact that she was lied to by a medical professional, who claimed that she couldn't have children, despite wanting them from the time she was a teenager," I said. "And I know that, if it weren't for you, she wouldn't have..."

Pops sighed then, and I picked up my head, and was immediately on edge when I saw that he wasn't looking at me. "Your mother had a boyfriend before we had our one-night-stand in Mexico," he said quietly.

I blinked. "A boyfriend?" I asked, confused. "I mean, I knew that she hooked up with you, and then dated Josh, before getting with Dad, and then there was Tommy for a while there..." I shuddered as I said his name, the loathing never leaving me. "But I didn't know that there was another boyfriend..."

Pops leaned back against the couch, elongating his neck so that he was now staring at the ceiling, a sigh causing his whole body to experience a tremor. "Yeah, she had another boyfriend. It got to the point that she had to wait several weeks before she could do a DNA test, and if I hadn't been the father..."

"What are you saying?" I whispered then, my voice trembling. "Are you saying that my mother wouldn't have kept me, if...?"

"Iana, it's not that simple," Pops said, looking at me, at last. "It's not that she wouldn't have wanted to keep you. It's that she couldn't have kept you..."

"Couldn't have...?" I weighed those words in my mind then, mulling over why she couldn't have kept me. "Who was it?" I whispered then.

Pops shook his head. "Iana..."

"No, who the fuck was it?!" I demanded then, my voice shaking as tears filled my eyes. "What the fuck happened...?!"

"Before your mom moved to South Side, or back to, she was raised in Seattle," Pops said carefully then, not wanting to upset me further. "She didn't get along with her adopted family, as I'm sure she told you, so when she got the job opportunity out here, at the firm where she met Nicholas, she took the job and came back here. She didn't know who her biological family was, so when she met them, she had no way of knowing..."

"What are you saying right now?" I whispered, shaking my head at him. "I don't... You're not saying that she...?"

Pops dragged both hands over his face. "Before your mom knew who she was, she sang at The Alibi Room for some extra cash before the job at the firm kicked in," he went on. "Kev introduced her to Lip, thinking that he needed to meet a nice girl..."

I shook my head then, my heart beating in my ears as I attempted to wrap my head around what Pops was telling me. "No..."

"They dated for a few weeks," Pops said, almost as if that justified all of this. "I only know about the one time that they...you know," he said, deliberately looking away from me. "The next day, though, Murphy found out who she was. That's why she ran to Mexico; it was because she was scared and angry. We met at a bar, got drunk, and then we hooked up in their restroom. It wasn't romantic or anything; in fact, we were too hammered to even remember what happened. She'll tell you that it comes in flashes, and it's like that for me, too. All I can tell you is that I know for sure that it happened, because you're right here."

I scoffed then, saying nothing as I backed out of the living room, yanking the front door open and running down the porch steps. I ran towards the gate, throwing it open and running into the street, making a beeline for my car, which I promptly unlocked and got inside. Sticking the key into the ignition and pulling the door behind me, I set a direct course for Patsy's, not wanting to wait until Mom got off work to talk to her about this. I drove the ten minutes towards the diner, only stopping when a sign or a light forced me to, and when I finally arrived, I pulled automatically into the alley, nearly upsetting the gigantic trash bins located just beside the employee parking spaces.

I let myself out of my car and walked in the back door of the diner, heading through the employee locker room and down the hallway, past the kitchen, and towards my mother's office. I didn't even bother knocking; instead I turned the doorknob and pushed myself in, my mother immediately getting to her feet, a surprised smile on her face, for she hadn't seen me since she and Dad had driven me to the airport a week before. I knew I needed to talk to her, and as I stood before her, ready to launch into my interrogation session, she got a good look at my arm, and instantly moved to shut her office door behind me.

"Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist, what the fuck is that?!" she demanded, yanking my arm towards her and scrutinizing it.

"It's something I like to call, 'You fucked your brother'," I replied without missing a beat, and my mother immediately flinched, dropping my arm, and going pale. "What?" I demanded then, my voice quiet but forceful. "Don't you have anything to say to that?"

My mother shook her head then, obviously attempting to clear it. "My first question would rightfully be, 'What the fuck are you talking about'?!"

"Pops told me," I replied.

My mother dragged her hand through her red hair. "Christ," she whispered.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, spare me the theatrics!" I shouted then, my voice shaking with fear, not wanting any of this to be true. "He fucking told me, Mom. About you and Uncle Lip. That you guys dated and that you thought that he was my biological father and that, if he was, you would've had an abortion!"

My mother dragged her hands down her face then as she raised her eyes to mine. "Honey, you need to understand that because we're biologically brother and sister..."

"I understand that," I said, crossing my arms. "What I don't understand is why the fuck didn't you bother telling me?"

"I was going to tell you," she said quietly, "when you turned eighteen. I was going to tell you everything you wanted to know, baby. Really, I was..."

"Really?" I said, my tone scathing. "I'm not sure if I buy that."

"Iana..."

"No, Mom, I'm tired of all this," I said, shaking my head. "You told me that shit was going to be different, and I classify 'different' as 'no more lies'."

She bit her lip then as she leaned back against the wall of her office. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see why that would be appealing..."

"Oh, can you?" I said, feeling the hot, angry tears drip down my face, as I struggled to keep my voice in check. "No. No, I'm not sure you do."

"What do you want from me, Iana?" she asked me then, her tone level, as she slowly turned and looked at me. "I'm a mother. I'm a wife. I run a home, own a restaurant. I do lawyer gigs on the side every now and then. I've got five children, including you..."

"I stopped being a kid when I was five, Mom. You know it, and I know it," I said, my voice shaking then, and there was no calling it back. "I had to fucking raise Clayton and Fionn when we were living with Uncle Ian. I never stopped, in case you didn't notice. Parenting is a full-time job, but I still managed to do it, despite my dealings with Principal Monroe. I still managed to make good grades, come here to work at the diner, and make sure that the boys were doing well in school, and with everything else."

She nodded. "I know, honey. And I'm grateful, for everything you've done..."

"You don't know about everything I've done!" I burst out then, my voice hinging somewhere between rage and despair.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" I asked myself, scoffing then. "Well, let me see. After you ditched us, Uncle Ian still had to work the night shifts at work. Liam was in high school, and, as a resident genius, he made it in with the popular crowd, so he'd be out partying a lot. Aunt Fiona was in New York with Uncle Jimmy already; Aunt Debbie was busy with Franny and work. Uncle Carl was raising the ranks at West Point, and Uncle Lip had just gotten promoted to co-manager of the shop, so he was constantly working with Brad. So, who do you think was watching us?"

"Kev and V?" Mom asked.

I sighed. "Sometimes, but they had the girls to consider, plus The Alibi," I said quietly. "They couldn't always be on hand to take care of us whenever. So, I had to step us," I told her. "I learned how to cook without burning the house down; I learned how to change diapers without risk of infection; I learned how to bathe someone other than myself without potential drowning mishaps; I learned how to work a fucking washing machine without flooding the whole goddamn house. I learned the routes to the boys' daycare, dropping them off every morning, and still managed to get myself to school on time. And then, at night, when it was time for the boys to go to bed, they would fucking cry. All night long, pretty much five to six nights a week. And what would I do? I wouldn't tell them to shut up, even though my mind was either screaming that or, 'Go the fuck to sleep'. No; I fucking held them and soothed them, letting them know that shit was going to work itself out eventually. And even though they sometimes wouldn't settle until after three a.m., I would still sit there, in the dark, and keep calm, telling them to do the same. I wouldn't get to bed for hours after that, though; I'd clean the house before Uncle Ian got home, so that he wouldn't have to. Because I knew he had it hard, too; on his days off, he'd take over every task, every little detail. But I did it at least six times a week, and did I ever complain about it? No. Not once. And do you know why I didn't? Because the boys and I were out of options, and I wasn't about to let them down like you let us down."

My mother's dark eyes were filled with pain at my words, but I had no idea if she felt bad for me and the boys, or guilt for her part in it. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't know that it was as bad as all that. I'm truly sorry, Iana..."

I kept my arms crossed around my rigid frame, not wanting her to come closer to me as I leaned against the door of her office, the furthest I could possibly be from her at the moment. "Look, I know you said you were doing right by Dad when you sent him away, hooked up with Tommy, and ditched us." I sighed then, my shoulders deflating automatically. "It's just too bad you didn't get rid of us fast enough..."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?!" she demanded.

"It fucking means that Tommy liked absolute power, apparently, and he didn't discriminate when it came to age," I replied, my tone bitter.

My mother looked enraged then, gripping the edges of her desk, almost as if she was physically restraining herself from lashing out. "I'll fucking kill him..."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. He's locked up anyway. Not like he can get to me now. And, if he so much as comes near me again, I'll be the one doing the killing."

She hesitated for a moment then, and I wondered then if she was attempting to phrase her thoughts in a way which wouldn't be offensive to me. "Look, honey, I get that you're upset about all this, and I understand your reasons, but... Did something happen? In New York?"

I shook my head at her; regardless of what had transpired here today, I was not ready to tell her about the pregnancy. "No," I replied. "Nothing happened in New York."

She nodded, albeit slowly, as she searched my face, and I could see that she knew I was hiding something, but decided not to pressure me into telling her. "Okay, baby," she said, her tone calm for a moment then. "Was there anything else you needed to...?"

"No," I said then, the heat and the rage, formally bubbling just beneath the surface, now burned off by the screaming I'd just done. "Nothing else, Mom."

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll be home in time for dinner. I bought some steaks and pasta, to make steak and mac and cheese, your favorite. Dad will be home, too, and he'll bring the boys, plus Carla and Charlie, as well."

"Where are they?" I asked. "Dad's at the firm, but..."

"Clayton and Fionn had their young architect's meeting, and Carla and Charlie are with Grandma Allie today," she replied.

Again? I thought to myself. "Okay," I said with a slight shrug.

She tried her best to smile. "Debbie is coming over later with Franny and Ezra. And Ian and Mickey will be coming over, too..."

"Even though Pops said what he said to me?" I asked.

"This is about your homecoming, sweetheart, and I know you'll want them there. I heard from Lip that he and Mandy will be joining us, too."

"You like Mandy?" I asked.

She sighed. "I know that she and Fiona didn't really get along, but Mandy and I are becoming fast friends," she replied. "I really do like her. She's great for Lip, and she's one of the few people who understands...well, our past."

"It couldn't have been easy for you," I said quietly.

She shrugged. "Not a lot of things are, honey," she replied.

. . .

After the family get-together, I trudged up the stairs, relieved that my parents seemed perfectly willing to do the household clean up that night. I got into my bedroom then, shutting the door behind me and taking off my tank top and jeans, and stood before the mirror again, placing my hands on my hips and regarding the slight bump. I knew then, as Franny had, that unless you really scrutinized it, it really wasn't that noticeable. I unhooked my bra next, tossing it into my hamper and retrieving a looser tank top from my dresser, pulling it on, and was relieved when it was able to conceal most of the expansion I was now forced to deal with.

I heard a rattling outside my window then and, immediately on my guard, crossed my bedroom then and advanced towards the frame, opening up the curtains and peering outside into the sunset-filled night. "Liam?!" I hissed, throwing open the window and sticking my head out the frame, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled up at me then, climbing up the ladder expertly, and hesitated at the top, a little shrug escaping his shoulders. "Missed you."

I blinked. "You did?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's been a week."

I stammered for a moment, before methodically standing back, and allowing him access into my bedroom. I walked around him then and shut the window and curtains quickly, before turning around to face him. "Missed you, too," I said, not looking at him.

"Hey, what do we have here?" he asked, gently reaching out for my arm, my heart hammering immediately as he traced my skin around the cast, which I'd replaced after my shower earlier on that afternoon. "You get inked up in New York?"

I nodded, not wanting him to stop touching me, despite my face flushing, and my heart pounding a mile a minute. "Yeah," I replied, somehow managing to speak without stammering.

"Surprised you could find someplace willing to do it..."

"I used a fake," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Liam raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"Hey," Liam said, tilting my chin up slightly, so as my eyes locked with his, and I was literal putty in his hands. "Are you okay?"

I nodded; no way in hell I was telling him now. "I... I'm fine," I replied. "I guess you could say I'm just a little overwhelmed with...all this."

He nodded. "It's understandable. You've got college in two months. There's a lot to do and a lot to think about."

Right on the money there, Sherlock, I think to myself. "Yeah, I know," I replied, shaking my head then as I felt more tears escaping my eyes. "There's just so much to deal with and so little time and I'm afraid to leave the boys..."

"Hey, look at me," Liam said, and I looked back up at him. "I'm sure the boys are going to be fine, Iana. And besides, you can't sacrifice your entire life for them. You've given them so much already, and it's time to spread your wings and live."

I nodded. "I know..." I hesitated for a moment then, taking a deep breath as I forced the following words from my lips. "Listen, could you stay with me tonight?"

Liam sighed. "Look, I don't want to upset you..."

"No, not for that," I said, forcing myself to keep looking at him. "Just... I just need you to hold me tonight, please. I... I need you..."

"Iana, I can't," he said then, his expression crestfallen.

I stepped towards him then, taking ahold of his face into my hands. "Liam, look at me," I said, my voice firm. "Yeah, you can," I said, once his eyes had locked onto mine. "I've seen you for who you are, and you're not this bad boy. You're not."

"You don't know what I'm capable of, Iana..."

I shook my head. "And it doesn't matter to me. You don't know what I'm capable of either. And I'm asking you, as my friend, to be my friend right now. I need your friendship now more than ever, so please... Just come over here and hold me..."

Liam's silver eyes are locked onto mine, and they appear to be completely haunted. "I'm not a good guy, Iana..."

I smiled up at him. "And I'm not a good girl, Liam. But I need you." I took him by the hand and pulled him gently towards my bed, before taking off his leather jacket, black business shoes, socks, and black business slacks. I pulled him into bed beside me then, and wrapped my arms around him, just holding him to me, knowing that he needed this as much as I did.

Liam remained stiff in my arms as I reached over and turned off the lamp on my bedside table, illuminating the room in darkness. "Iana..."

In the darkness of my bedroom, I leaned forward and pressed my lips gently to his forehead and, for some strange reason, Liam seemed to automatically relax in my arms. "Sleep," I whispered to him, cradling him in my arms. "Just sleep."

. . .

I make my way to my doctor's appointment the following week on my own, still feeling unsure of the eventual outcome. I give my name to the front desk of Dr. Lennox's section, and take the offered in-take form, sitting in the waiting room and scrawling down the necessary information on the sheet. I bit my lip, looking around; the place hadn't changed much since I was a kid, and I was quite positive my mother sat in this same area at one time or another, when she was pregnant with me. I remembered how she told me how supportive Uncle Ian was of her during that trying time, and I wished I could've been more open with my family, and tell them about all that I was going through...

"Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist?"

I quickly got to my feet, handing over the intake form to the nurse, and answering her questions as we went into an exam room. I saw the ultrasound machine was already set up, and my stomach flip-flopped then. I perched on the exam table, extending my arm so that the doctor could take a vial of my blood, just to make sure I was pregnant. The thick band of rubber was snapped onto my arm, and the nurse sanitized the area before she got the appropriate needle and the vial needed to collect the sample. Once it was taken, she went out into the hallway and put a rush on it to the lab on sight, before she read my intake form and took note of all the symptoms that I was experiencing.

"Dr. Lennox should be back shortly with your results," she said brightly after a couple of minutes before leaving the room.

I leaned back against the exam table, staring up at the ceiling, folding my hands unconsciously over my stomach, before I promptly threw them off and lay them down at my sides. This baby, if there even was a baby, was a fucking alien parasite and nothing more. I wouldn't permit myself to bond with it, because it was a hindrance to all the plans I'd made for myself. I knew that I should've been more careful, or at least checked to see if my birth control pills had been tampered with somehow but it was far too late for that now.

Once the door swung open again, I sat up as Dr. Lennox stepped through, paperwork in her hands, and I knew she had the results of my blood work done, likely performed via a rush order, as my parents were one of her top patients, due to my father's work with the firm. "And how are we today, Iana?"

I sighed. "Wanting answers, I guess, Dr. Lennox..."

She nodded. "Understood," she replied. She regarded the documents in her hands then, and sighed, knowing that I wouldn't like what she had to say. "Well, Iana, the urine test results you took a week ago were accurate. You are indeed pregnant."

I swallowed then, hunching my shoulders slightly at the news. "Okay," I replied.

Dr. Lennox nodded. "If you like, I can give you an ultrasound, so we can see what we're dealing with here."

I nodded. "You're the doctor."

"Okay," she replied. Dr. Lennox dimmed the lights of the room and flipped on the ultrasound machine, instructing me to roll up my shirt while she got the gel out. She warmed it up for a moment whilst getting the wand wrapped up in plastic, before she gently placed it on my stomach, moving it around to get a clear picture. "You're estimation of eight weeks seemed to be spot-on, although you're more likely at nine weeks now," she said, and I just stared at the ceiling, forcing myself not to engage.

"Great," I replied, with no emotion whatsoever.

"Oh, and that little fluttering," Dr. Lennox said, either unaware that I wasn't paying attention or attempting to get me to do so, "is your baby's heartbeat. You won't hear anything for another month or so, but that fluttering, its size, and everything looks great."

"Glad to hear it," I said, in the same tone of voice.

"And there we have it," she said, completing the procedure and promptly taking the wand off my stomach. She handed me a washcloth to get the gel off my skin before she flipped the machine off and turned on the lights. "Now, I'll get you a pamphlet of do's and don'ts, of course. And will you be wanting pictures?"

I shook my head. "I won't be needing any of that," I replied, my tone clipped. "Skip on the vitamins, too; you really don't need to bother."

"Oh," Dr. Lennox said, her tone neutral as she pondered her next words carefully. "I take it then that you will want to terminate the pregnancy?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Best not to get attached, if you know what I mean."

"Of course," she replied. "But, and I'm not trying to talk you out of this, Iana, this decision should not be rushed into. Give it a week or two, and then call me. We'll have a consultation about it, and then we usually schedule the abortion for a week after that. Does that sound all right to you?" she wanted to know.

I nodded, straightening my clothes as I got to my feet. "As soon as I can get back to life as I know it, the better."

Dr. Lennox sighed. "Iana, I want to impress upon you that, no matter what decision you make here, life as you know it will never be the same."

I swallowed then, and shook my head. "Well, it's gonna be for me," I replied, making my way over towards the door. "It's gotta be," I went on, not sure if I was talking to her or to myself as I slipped out the door.