I remembered the days that lead up to my hospitalization, and recalled how dark they all truly were as time went on. It was after I'd heard the conversation with Ian and Fiona, and before my final heart-to-heart with Ian that my twin had asked Trevor to sit with me. Trevor seemed all for lending a sympathetic ear, and now that we truly seemed on the same page, he seemed all too prepared to spend some time with me. I just lay on the bed mostly, staring at the ceiling, and giving noises or one-worded responses to his questions or thoughts.

"Why do you think you're like this?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Can't say."

"Hey, that's more than one word—guess this is improving," he said.

"Eh," I replied.

"Okay...back to the one-word response. It's okay—we can still work with that," he went on, not one to give up so easily. "Come on, Murphy. I know this isn't just something you can scream, 'Snap out of it!' at, but, come on. Know that we're here to support you."

"Ian's worried about the baby," I say, my mind screaming at myself for saying so. It had been an unspoken discussion between Ian and I not to reveal the circumstances of my becoming pregnant. Of course, Trevor knew the abridged version, and that, we'd somehow agreed, was where it should remain.

"Well, sure, since this is how you've been acting," Trevor replied. "Fuck, even I'm worried about the baby..."

I found my hands moving instinctively to my stomach. "Fiona says that she knows how Ian feels about the baby, and that he wants me to have it..."

"Well, Ian knows how much being a mother means to you," Trevor said. "He's being supportive, of course, because he's your brother."

I sighed, not taking my hands off my midriff. "Fiona knows I wanted a biological link to myself for as long as I can remember, but I think I chose the wrong person to sleep with..."

"You mean generally?" Trevor asked, and I looked over at him, my eyes not quite focusing upon him, although I could clearly make out his outline. "Look, I know you know I know about Lip, but that wasn't your fault, Murph. It wasn't."

I shrugged. "Not Lip."

"Your boss's son?"

"No, I mean the baby's father," I replied. "I made a mistake," I went on, the tears coming out of my eyes before I could stop them, although my voice remained emotionless. "I take one too many drinks and—boom!—I'm pregnant a few weeks later..."

"You said you went down to Mexico after realizing that Lip was your brother, and all the Gallagher's your biological family..." Trevor said.

"Yeah," I said softly. "And landed into a big bath of mistake..."

Trevor gave a stiff nod. "Was... Was he a stranger? The baby's father?"

I sighed. "I hadn't met him face-to-face, but he wasn't a stranger...not to me."

"Who's the father, Murphy?" Trevor asked, and I could tell by the tone of his voice that there was no room for a wrong answer.

I found his face in the room again, knowing that I appeared as dead-eyed and as emotionless as they came. "I think you already know the answer to that, Trevor."

"Jesus Christ, you've fucking done it now—how's Ian supposed to cope with all this, or didn't you even consider him?" Trevor whispered, dragging his hands through his hair before getting to his feet and walking towards the door. He hesitates for a moment before turning around on the threshold and just staring at me for a moment. "Why the fuck do you have to run out and just ruin every goddamn thing in this life, Murphy?!" he whispers before leaving my room and slamming the door behind him.

. . .

"Who else would like to share?" Dr. Greene asked as we all sat there, on my third day in the hospital, waiting for someone else to break to ice upon themselves. "Why don't you say something, Murphy?" she asked then, leaning forward and looking at me. "You've hardly said anything these last couple of days. Why don't you share something?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Anything is fine," she replied. "How you're feeling, to what you do in your personal life, to your hobbies. Anything is acceptable here, Murphy. It's a safe space."

I sighed. "Okay," I replied. "Well, I moved here in July from Seattle, where I was raised. I was born here in South Side, but I was adopted when I was three months old..."

"That's a wonderful start, Murphy. You don't need to be shy," Dr. Greene said gently. "You can keep going, if you like."

"My adoptive mother was neglectful as time went on, and my adoptive father walked out when I was five," I continued, lowering my eyes. "She met someone else, my adoptive stepfather, shortly after the divorce, and then they got married. They had three sons in quick succession, and I was forgotten about..."

"Do you think you have abandonment issues, Murphy?"

"Who the fuck doesn't?!" I fired back, meeting Dr. Greene's gaze in a moment of pure defiance, not wanting to be vulnerable with her, or anyone.

Dr. Greene leaned forward. "Murphy, I know you're hurting right now, but part of our code of conduct is respect towards employees," she replied. "I know you didn't truly mean anything by your remark just now, and I'll give you some leeway, but remember to keep your behavior in check, all right?"

I nodded.

"Okay, then," she said quietly, sitting back in her chair. "You can continue, if you wish, or you can pass the torch."

I sighed. "I don't know why I'm here..."

"Your biological family, who you just linked up with, has a history of mental illness, do they not?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. My biological mother was bipolar, and my twin brother is bipolar. I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and paranoia when I was an adolescent, so I didn't escape it entirely, unfortunately..."

"What do you think was the catalyst for all this?" Dr. Greene asked.

I found I'd kept in the same position—leaning back against the chair, as far away from others as possible, with my arms crossed, which a lot of us deemed to be an effective barrier. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"What do you think caused your downward spiral?"

I sighed. "My biological father attacked me," I replied. "I provoked him into it, mostly, but it was after he grabbed me and looked like he was going to do it..." I shrugged.

"What happened?"

I turned at the voice; it came from a woman of Asian descent, who sat a few people away from me, her dark eyes wide with fear. "When he attacked me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

I sighed. "He broke my jaw," I replied, opening my mouth slightly to reveal the gears and wires holding it in place. "That's why I sound like this," I said, motioning around my throat, almost as if I was attempting to excuse the low quality of my voice. "The impact of his fist caused me to fall backwards, and I hit my head. I had a minor head wound, but it caused me to black out... I woke up in the hospital," I said, hunching my shoulders, feeling vulnerable, but not wanting to show it in an outward way.

"Have you ever woken up in the hospital before?" Dr. Greene asked.

I shook my head. "No. Dr. Normal was always careful."

"Who's Dr. Normal?"

I felt myself hunching inwards then, bringing my knees up against my chest, as my tears finally blinded my vision. "My adopted stepfather," I replied.

. . .

"Murphy, you can't be serious."

My mind suddenly flashed back to the present, with Ian driving the two of us home. "I'm being totally and completely serious right now, Ian," I replied, my voice steady as I stared out through the windshield as we drove past The Alibi Room, just a few streets away from the house. "I don't want you to resent me, or this baby..."

Ian sighed, remaining silent until we reached our street, whereupon he pulled into my customary spot, close to the gate. He turned towards me then and, gently, reached out and moved me so that I was looking at him. "Murph, we've been over this," he told me firmly. "I'm not going to resent either of you."

I sighed. "When I was in my dark period last week..."

"Yeah?"

I shook my head, moving down to grab my bag as I shoved open the passenger door of my car. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Murph?" Ian said, getting out of my car and slamming his own door before running after me. "I need to know if something's bothering you..."

I turned and looked at him then, biting my lip to prevent the tears from falling. "No, Ian. I won't say it. I don't want..."

"What don't you want, Murph?" he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You're my sister—my fucking twin. You can tell me anything."

I shake my head. "Not this. I can't tell you this..."

"Murph, did something happen in the hospital?"

I shook my head again. "It's got nothing to do with the goddamn hospital, Ian. Can you just forget it and give it a rest?!"

"No, because clearly something's bothering you," he said, obviously growing desperate. "I want you to be okay, Murph. I know the people on the inside were stressing communication and emotions and feelings. Tell me what you're feeling, Murph. Please."

"Why?" I demanded, pulling away from him as my tears began to spill again. "So that you'll make your boyfriend sit with me to interrogate me, and then he'll fucking accuse me of not considering you and ruining everything?!" I cried out, suddenly realizing that I'd said it, and saw Ian's shocked expression before I put my head into my hands. "Fuck," I whispered.

"Trevor said this?" Ian said, obviously attempting to contain his temper.

I gave a stiff nod. "Yes."

"Shit," Ian whispered.

I looked up, staring at him through my veil of tears. "It was my fault," I whispered. "My brain wasn't functioning correctly. If anything, I'm to blame for this, Ian. I'm the fucking catalyst that fucked everything up..."

"Your fault? How the fuck could it be your fault?"

I shook my head before I walked past him, grabbing my keys and making my way back to my car with a heavy heart. "It doesn't matter, does it? I fucking wreck things, Ian. I shouldn't have told you who I was—I should've just stayed disappeared..."

Ian caught up to me quickly then, grabbing me by the arm. "Stop it, Murphy. Just tell me what happened, please."

"He figured out that Mickey was the father," I whispered brokenly.

"Did you tell him?"

"No," I replied, and shut my eyes, hating myself for automatically lying to Ian and knowing that I had to come clean. "Yes. Indirectly."

Ian sighed. "You don't ruin everything, Murphy."

I turned around, looking up at him and shrugging my shoulders. "I ruin some shit, then, Ian. I mean, if I hadn't come here..."

"If you hadn't come here, then the Gallagher family wouldn't be complete," Ian told me in a firm voice, placing his hands on my shoulders. "And besides, you're only human. Given our family history, it's unexpected that you should be in control all the time."

I sighed, placing my forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have said anything to Trevor..."

Ian pulled me in for a hug. "You weren't in control," he told me softly. "You were suffering from a breakdown, Murph. We can't expect you to be perfect then."

"I'm hardly perfect, Ian," I said, pulling back with a smirk. "When I found out who you all were—who I was—I ran across the boarder and slept with a stranger, your first love." I shook my head, and inadvertently placed a hand upon my stomach. "No matter how much I love this baby, Ian, I think it would be better not to get attached..."

"What are you saying?"

I sighed. "I'm saying that the baby should have the best of everything life has to offer—and that includes the best mother—and maybe that person isn't me."

"That person is you," Ian said firmly. "I know it's frightening, but hey, you never knew what you were getting into when you moved here, or searched for all of us. You handled both of those in your stride, Murphy, and I know you can handle the baby, too."

"But it could hurt you," I said, my tone bordering on desperate. "I don't want to hurt you, Ian—not like this, not again."

Ian shook his head. "I was in shock," he replied, his hands returning to my shoulders to steady me, "when you told me, I was in shock. But, after I realized that half of this baby was going to be you, it didn't matter who the father was."

"Ian..."

He smiled. "All that matters is that it's a happy baby," he told me gently. "And it will be happy, because it's a Gallagher."

I smiled back at him. "You really mean that?"

"I do," he replied. "This baby is half you, half Mickey, but just because it's got Mickey's DNA, it doesn't mean that it's going to be like him."

I laughed. "Mickey and I are equally fucked up, Ian."

"That may be so, but you're fucked up in two totally different ways—we all are," Ian informed me in a patient manner. "The fact remains that it's unlikely that Mickey's just going to show up and come knocking on either on of our doors, Murphy. We just gotta know that."

"I don't want him knocking on my door, Ian—not for me," I said quietly. "If his name gets cleared and he wants to see the baby, that's a different story."

"But until then?"

"Until then, I hope he gets his shit together," I replied. "Because, the fact remains that you're not completely over him."

Ian pulls a face and looks away. "Let's not talk about that, Murph."

I sighed, wanting to remind him about the importance of communication, but also knew that boundaries existed for a reason. "If that's what you want," I reply.

Ian sighs, reaching down and picking up my bag. "Come on," he says, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me back through the gate. "I'm surprised that nobody's come outside to greet us..."

"What?" I asked.

Ian grinned, opening the front door and stepping inside, where I saw Fiona, Debbie, Franny, Liam, and Lip all gathered in the living room. Ian smirked down at me and I gently elbowed him in the ribs before he released me and gently shoved me forward and into the fray. He watched for a moment, as I was led from hug to hug—some more awkward than others—as he placed my duffel bag on the stairs.

"You okay?" Fiona asked, holding me the longest out of all my siblings.

I nodded, feeling secure for a moment before pulling back. The house was warm inside that day, and when I moved to take off my jacket, each one of my siblings—save for Ian—drew back dramatically at my appearance. "What?" I asked, playing dumb.

"You popped!" Fiona cried out, grinning at me. "I just came to see you a few days ago... What the hell happened?!"

I laughed then, placing a protective hand on my expanding stomach. "You know how pregnancy works," I said, shaking my head. "The belly tends to expand, as I'm sure Debbie remembers," I say, grinning at my younger sister.

Debbie rolls her eyes. "How come you still look good pregnant?"

I shrug my shoulders, ignoring Lip then, who is coughing loudly then and has permitted his face to turn red to his ears. "No idea. Fucked up genes, probably. I think there's a rule that says only one daughter in a family can look good pregnant..."

"Hey!" Debbie cries out, shoving my arm.

"Of course, I'll never really know," I say quietly. "I should've been here, when you had Franny, and I'm sorry I couldn't be, Debs."

Debbie shook her head. "Not your fault, Murph. I know that."

"What did the doctors all say?" Fiona asked.

I sighed. "They said that I was responding to the treatment—which is good, because I'm feeling more like me," I said with a smile, a smile that I meant.

Fiona nodded. "You look like you again, Murph. We..." Her voice broke then as she dashed the tears from her dark brown eyes. "...we thought we'd lost you there for a minute."

I shook my head then, pulling her back into my arms. "I'm not going anywhere, Fiona. I ran away physically once, and emotionally once, and it's not going to happen again. This baby and I are not going anywhere."

Fiona breathed a sigh of relief then as I moved to let her go. "Promise?"

I nodded. "I promise. Dr. Greene explained that everyone needs to get out of their heads for a while, but explained ways that are safe to do it. Which means, conceivably, I can go wherever I want, provided that I let you know what's going on."

Fiona nodded. "That's right, because that's what families do, Murph—we communicate with each other, to the point where it gets annoying. If it's a choice between you annoying us and avoiding telling us what's going on, please annoy us."

"We're here to help," Debbie said, moving Franny from one hip to the other. "Really, Murph—day or night."

"I'll help!" Liam said, and I reached down and cupped his cheek.

"Any way we can, if you want," Lip said from where he was, in between Fiona and Debbie. "We can handle it."

"We can all handle it," Ian said, coming up behind me and placing his arm back around my shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

I leaned back into the gesture. "I can't tell you how good this all feels..."

"What? Being out of the psych ward?" Ian joked.

I found myself laughing back at that. "Well, yeah, admittedly," I said, giving him a look at what would normally be considered insensitive. "But, mostly, being surrounded by family, in our own home." I shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I never thought I'd have any of this..."

"No one ever does," Lip puts in, and I find my eyes locking with his, and Ian's sudden grip on my shoulder to keep my in check takes me back to reality.

. . .

I was pleased that the firm was willing to take me back part-time on the first of December on a trial basis, which I was not upset about. I found that re-adjusting to antidepressants, as well as my pregnancy, were more exhausting than I ever thought, and so half-days proved much better for me on the whole. I would arrive at ten-thirty and stay until three, whereupon I would pick Liam up from school and, on alternating days, head to the market to shop for dinner.

"I never got a chance to thank you," I said, when I finally got some one-on-one time with Allie in the middle of my first week back. "For getting me the solo room at the hospital. You didn't need to do that."

She smiled. "When Ian called and gave us the abridged version, Hugo and I knew that we had to help one of our best employees."

I sighed. "If there's any work you need me to make up..."

Allie held up her hand. "Once the treatment starts to work in its entirety, then we'll see about you taking on more work," she said gently.

I smiled. "Very well, then."

"We were so sorry to hear about what happened with your father," Allie said gently. "How's your healing going?"

I shrugged. "Can't complain. I got the wires taken out of my jaw on the night I was admitted to the hospital," I say with a slight smirk.

"When are the elastics due to come out?"

"Another three weeks, unfortunately. I can't tell you how many smoothies I have to drink a week to stay on top of projected weight gain for the pregnancy."

"I'm sure," Allie said, her eyes lowering automatically to my stomach. "And I also see, in your absence, that you've popped."

I laughed then and nodded. "Yeah—my sister said the same thing after I got home," I said, "and Rachel and Cindy were all over me as soon as I got to the office."

"Are you experiencing anything along the typical symptoms?" Allie asked. "Swelling, joint or muscle pain, cravings, mood swings?"

I laughed again. "Plenty," I replied. "The mood swings can get back, especially because I live with my brothers. But Ian's understanding—the whole twin thing. And he helps keep Liam out of the fray..."

"I'll bet you're getting excited," she put in.

I smiled, automatically stroking my stomach and feeling borderline pathetic, but let those thoughts immediately die. "I am," I replied. "I guess when you're given something or an opportunity you never thought would happen for you..." I shrug. "You tend to think along the lines of happiness and excitement."

"Are you going to find out what the sex of the baby is?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm scheduled to find out the day before the elastics come out."

Allie smiled. "Well, it's a wonderful experience, Murphy. I know you'll enjoy it."

. . .

I had just put a meatloaf in the oven that Friday night when there was an unexpected knock at the front door. I checked to make sure that Liam was still upstairs and immediately got out a baseball bat before making my way over. When I saw it was Trevor on the other side, I steeled myself for another negative interaction as I opened the door. We stood in silence for a moment, a layer of awkwardness passing between us due to our last interaction, but, as always, I wanted to be the person on top, so I broke the silence.

"Ian's working a double tonight," I said flatly to him, wondering if our friendship was truly over, given recent circumstances. "He won't be home until nine."

He nodded. "I know."

I sighed, hating the fact that I couldn't give him a perfectly exasperated expression, given the fact that my jaw was still slightly incapacitated. "Look, I don't know what you want here right now, Trevor, but your boyfriend isn't home."

He sighed. "Ian told me what I said to you, when you were...you know."

I gave a short nod then, lowering my eyes to my hands, which were still wrapped around a good portion of the wooden bat. "I'm sure he did."

"Why'd you have to tell him?"

I raised my eyes to his, giving him a look as if he'd answered that two plus two equaled five and attempted to ascertain the meaning behind his words. "Because he's my fucking brother, and he would've figured it out anyway," I reply.

"That's not an answer."

"Okay," I said, growing more annoyed. "Because I fucking covered for you the last time you said something insulting to me."

Trevor made a face. "You covered for me?"

"You're goddamn right I did," I reply, and he looked shocked at my ferocity. "I covered for you because, whether I like it or not, whether Ian likes it or not, you're good for him. You're a law-abiding citizen who doesn't fucking cheat on him, which were the main faults of his last two relationships. I went out on a fucking limb for you, Trevor, whether you knew it or not, so your comment—telling me that I ruin everything—when I was at my lowest point..." I sighed, the anger going out of me, when I realized that none of this was worth it. "It was so uncool, man," I said, shaking my head at him.

Trevor nodded. "I know that."

"Do you?" I asked. "Do you know that? Because I don't know what the fuck to believe anymore, to be honest with you..."

"Look, Murphy, I'll say it before and I'll say it again—I misjudged you."

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. And I'm not proud of this," I say, my hand swooping onto my stomach again, a gesture not unnoticed by Trevor. "Yes, I was told I couldn't have children. Yes, I wanted children for as long as I can remember. Yes, I did something stupid with someone I shouldn't have. Yes, I immediately regretted it when my senses came back. And yes, I wish I wasn't pregnant with Mickey Milkovich's baby, but you couldn't have known, Trevor, you couldn't have known the agony I felt, in those days leading up to the DNA test, when I thought that my brother could've been the father..."

Trevor shook his head. "No, you're right."

"That's right—I am right," I said, my voice trembling. "In this one instance, I'm right. You're right in saying that I ruin things, but I don't ruin everything, Trevor. I don't."

He sighed. "You're right. That was out of line. I'm sorry."

"It was... It was out of line, Trevor," I said, my voice shaking then. "But this is something you need to work out with Ian."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm not going to be a damn referee with you two," I replied. "I'm saying I'm done with this, done with all of it."

He sighed. "I guess I deserve that..."

"I'm forgiving you," I say, and he raises his eyes to mine.

"What?"

"I'm forgiving you—despite my better judgement, you're forgiven. It's going to take some time to heal completely, Trevor, but I'm forgiving you. Again."

Trevor sighed. "Thanks, but..."

"But what?"

His eyes met mine again. "It's not your forgiveness I need, Murphy. I'm grateful, really, but the only person who I need to ask forgiveness for is Ian."

I nodded. "I respect that."

"I really care about him, Murphy," he said.

I nodded again. "I know."

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, Trevor. I can't answer that."

He sighed. "I understand... Well, I guess I'll go meet him at work—see if I can't work up an apology on the way."

"You sure?" I ask him. "You could wait here..."

"Nah," he said with a smile. "I'll head out. It's all good."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, smiling back. "See you soon, then."

"Fingers crossed," he said, grinning at me as he walked back out into the night.

I smiled, watching him go, shutting the door behind me.

I returned to the kitchen then, briefly checking the meatloaf before I began peeling potatoes and preparing them for dinner. After I got them in presentable order, I place them in a pot to boil and call Liam down to check over his homework. As I am waiting for him to come, checking the meatloaf and the progress of the potatoes, I find there is some jarring pain inside my abdomen, which comes in waves. Thinking it is just gas—or something equally unimportant—I decide to ignore it as Liam comes down, doing my best not to grimace and freak him out.

Once Liam's homework is checked over, I find that the potatoes are ready to be seasoned and mashed, and that the meatloaf is nearly ready to come out of the oven. The pain intensifies, slowly but surely, over time, and although I work hard to ignore it, it is becoming more and more difficult to do so. I sent Liam into the living room to watch T.V., not wanting him to see the state I am in. I take out the potato masher from the drawer, hoping that it will distract me from the pain that continues to rip through me, and yet it doesn't.

I move to take the meatloaf out of the oven, but my bending over to do so causes a cry to escape my lips and, when I look over my shoulder at Liam, I shake my head at him. "Everything's all right, sweetie," I tell him, plastering a smile on my face. I set the meatloaf on the stove, fumbling to get my phone out of my pocket, and calling Ian. "Please pick up," I whisper into his phone, my voice pleading. "Goddammit," I whisper to myself when I get his voicemail. Thinking quickly, I pull up Fiona's number, my fingers crossed, as I listen to the rings.

"Hey, Murphy!" she trills into the phone.

"Hey, Fi," I reply, feeling myself breaking out in a sweat, and my knees starting to tremble. "I need you..."

"Me? Couldn't get ahold of Ian?" she jokes.

"He's working a double tonight—guess he's busy," I say, gripping onto the side of the counter, afraid to look down. "I've been having these weird pains..."

"What pains?" Fiona asks, immediately at attention. "Is it the baby?"

I shrugged, swearing under my breath, as I remember that Fiona cannot see me. "Maybe, I don't know," I reply. "I have a law degree, Fi, not a medical one..."

"Okay, okay," Fiona said. "I'm on my way over now..."

"I'll call Lip to watch Liam," I say, trying hard to breathe. "Come soon," I whisper.

"I'm hurrying, Murph," she assures me.

"Thank you," I reply, cutting the call and calling Lip.

He answers on the second ring. "Hey, Murph. What's up?"

"Get here now!" I hiss into the phone, hoping that Liam is plenty focused on his cartoons to give a damn about me. "Please!"

"Murph?" he asks. "What's up?"

I feel myself breathing heavily of my own accord, trying to entertain the sense of normalcy, and failing dramatically. "There's something wrong with the baby, Lip..."

"Shit," he whispered into the phone. "Okay. I'm on my way."

"Fiona's coming to take me to the hospital, so you need to... Ow!" I scream then, and Liam looks over, and I manage a smile. "I'm fine," I mouth to him. "I need you to watch Liam while she takes me in..."

"Sure, anything," Lip replied. "Murph..."

"Yeah?"

"Everything's going to be fine," he assures me.

I nodded, despite the fact that he cannot see me. "I hope so," I whisper, lowering the phone and ending the call.

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I manage to shuffle over it, grimacing in pain the entire way, and Fiona bursts in before I can get there.

"Murph!" she cries out, looking me over. "Are you okay?" she demands, reaching out to me and inspecting me. "Your pants are black..."

I give her a funny look. "Yeah. So?"

"What if you're bleeding?" she whispered.

My eyes widen as I feel my face contorting into a look of horror then as Fiona shepherds me off to the bathroom. "Go inside and have a look," she says. "I'll be right out here."

I nodded, dashing the tears from my eyes as I move inside, and feel relieved when she shuts the door behind me. I unbutton my slacks, pulling them down, and find that I let out a scream when I see that my legs are caked in blood, and find that it is a miracle that I've somehow managed not to track it everywhere in the house.

"Fiona!" I scream.

Fiona shoves open the door then, her eyes widening in horror. "Okay," she whispers. She dives into her purse, getting me a pad, and holds up her hand. "I'll get you some clothes from upstairs," she tells me, running up there as I shove the door closed again.

"Murph!" comes a shout from the living room then. "Hey, Liam. Where's Murphy?"

"Bathroom," comes Liam's reply.

Lip charges up to the door then, banging on it. "Murph! Are you okay?"

"No," I say brokenly through the door.

Fiona comes running downstairs then, swears at Lip and shoves him out of the way before ducking back into the bathroom. "Give me those," she says, and I hand her my bloodied clothes before making quick work of changing. "Let's get you to the hospital," she says, pushing me out of the bathroom and throwing my clothes into the washing machine.

"Murph?" Lip asks as we walk towards the front door.

"We have to go," Fiona urges, putting on my coat and fishing my car keys out of my pocket. "I know this is scary, but we have to hurry..."

"Murph, everything's going to be okay..." Lip said.

I shook my head, stumbling towards the front door. "I'm not so sure," I whisper, following Fiona out into the night and getting into the passenger seat of my car.

Fiona takes the direct way to the hospital, somehow managing to dodge traffic, and still gets us there in one piece. When we arrive, she hauls me out of the car expertly, and pulls me in through the emergency entrance and right up to reception.

"Hi, my name is Fiona Gallagher," she says brusquely, obviously trying to keep her cool. "This is my little sister, Murphy Gallagher. Murphy is pregnant, and she's experiencing heavy bleeding and we need a doctor, okay?"

"Gallagher?" a nurse says from behind the receptionist as I feel faint then. "Interesting. We had an Ian Gallagher in here..."

"He's an EMT," Fiona said, sounding annoyed. "Makes sense."

"No, not as an EMT—as a patient," she said, giving Fiona an odd look.

"A patient?" I whisper, gripping my stomach and attempting to still hold myself upright. "Ian's our brother... He's...my twin..."

"The young man was in a terrible car accident just an hour ago. He's in surgery now, and we're hoping that he's going to be all right—head trauma, you know..."

"Fiona!" I scream then, and I feel something attempting to come out of me. "No, no, no..."

"Murphy, what's wrong?!" she demands, before looking around. "Can someone get my sister a fucking wheelchair?!" she demands as my knees weaken then. "Murphy!" she yells, trying to hold me up on her own as an orderly arrives, with a wheelchair for me. "Come on, stay with me," she says, her tone desperate as she gently smacks my face, as the wheelchair moves, and my eyes roll back into my head. "What the hell is wrong with her?!" she demands.

"Is your sister pregnant?" the orderly asks.

"Yes, she's about eighteen weeks..." Fiona replies.

"I'm sorry," the orderly says then, and I can somehow sense that we are in a hospital room then, as I am lifted up onto a bed then, and I feel the thing attempting to escape even faster now. "We are going to do everything we can, Miss Gallagher, to help your sister..."

"What about her baby?!" Fiona demands, her voice slightly garbled. "My sister wants her baby, sir! Can't you save the baby?!"

"Our first priority is to the mother, at this stage of pregnancy," the orderly replied, his voice filled with regret, and I felt hot tears coming out of my eyes.

"She can hear you," Fiona says, her voice continuing to fade in and out. "She can fucking hear you! Why are you being so insensitive?!"

"Miss Gallagher, I'm sorry," says a new voice then—presumably a doctor—as it sounds so authoritative. "But, I'm afraid, if you cannot remain calm, we'll ask you to leave."

"Don't," Fiona said, and I felt her hand in mine then. "It's going to be okay—it's all going to be okay," Fiona said, as I slipped further and further away from her, the blanket of darkness far too tempting to pass up completely. "It'll be okay, Murph," she whispers to me, her hands soft on my face as she brushes my tears away. "Murphy. Just hold on. Murphy? Murphy!" Fiona screams in anguish then as I am pulled in far too deep to respond, and far too deep to know what the future holds.

TO BE CONTINUED