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Author's Chapter Notes:

No summary for this one - read and see for yourself. And just remember, if it's not in the tags, it won't happen. How's that for cryptic ;)

Here's the story: I'm a lawyer, so the law stuff all works (now I just need a pregnant man to get fired and I'll litigate the suit myself!) As for the "medical" stuff - all I can say is try not to judge me too harshly. Go with that whole suspended-disbelief thing.

God, I can't wait for the deluge of comments I'm going to get on this puppy! Bring 'em on :D

"All I can say is that I hope I'll be the first person you call when they summarily fire your ass."

Brian smirked at Mel. "Just can't wait to see me get kicked in the balls, can you? Don't get too excited; I may make someone with full-spectrum bipolar disorder who's off his meds look calm and reasonable by comparison, but you will not see me cry. I'll gouge out my eyes with a serrated grapefruit spoon first. So if that's what you're hoping for, you're going to be sorely fucking disappointed."

Mel shook her head and waved her hands in a no-no-no gesture. "That's not it," she said. "I'm saying I want you to call me because I want to litigate your case - in fact I'm dying to do so. It'll the pinnacle, crowning-glory of my law career. I'll even do it pro bono - hell, I'll even pay you!"

Brian regarded her with a raised eyebrow, and Justin watched the smirk inch into a pleased smile. Brian and Mel couldn't stand each other, but they nonetheless seemed to respect each other. Brian recognized and approved of her toughness and the way she relished a professional challenge, and she seemed to feel the same way about him, although, if asked, Mel would probably call Brian's toughness "arrogance, inherited male privilege and the inbred bull-headed intransigence of the Irish." She'd be right, of course. Even Brian, himself, would agree but only with the caveat that the arrogance part be acknowledged to be hard-won and well-earned. Arrogance isn't an innately bad thing, Brian liked to say. It's only an insult when it's not based on real achievement. Undeserving arrogance is inexcusable, and the advertising world is full of undeserved arrogance. Fucking pisses me off. It's a cheap trick like trying to pass off sour grape juice as Merlot.

It was a late Saturday afternoon at the Lesbian Abode. Brian and Justin had just returned from taking Gus swimming and then to watch the trucks and tractors do their truck-tractory- thing at the site of what would soon be a new police headquarters. It was boring as shit, but it seemed to make Gus's day - there was all sorts of shrieking and pointing and arm waving. One of the construction guys even let Gus sit on Justin's lap in the driver's seat of an enormous bulldozer. Gus nearly swooned with bliss and shrieked "DADDY! LOOK AT ME, DADDY!" while Brian took pictures.

"Jesus Christ," Brian said later over tea and cookies. "My kid really is going to be straight, isn't he?"

"You never know. I am sure there are lots of gay men who liked to play with trucks in the sandbox when they were children," Lindsay said, pretending to look appalled when Brian grabbed five cookies of the plate. "I mean, gay men, like lesbians, aren't all the same. Emmett liked to play with Easy-Bake ovens. I bet you didn't, yet both of you are gay."

Justin looked at Brian. "What toys did you play with when you were a kid?" he asked.

Brian shrugged. "I liked to build shit, you know; I liked Legos and Lincoln logs and model trains and airplanes and stuff like that."

"See," Lindsay said. "That's a traditionally ‘boyish' thing to do. What about you, Justin?"

Justin blushed. Brian was going to make fun of him. "I don't remember," he said.

"Sure you do," Mel said. "You're just worried Brian will be an asshole if you say it. Don't worry; I'll slap him in the head Deb-style even if he merely smirks."

Justin laughed, but he was still blushing. Oh well. He took a deep breath. "I liked to play house," he said. "First I had an actual dollhouse . . ."

"Jesus, your dad must've loved that," Mel said, and Lindsay elbowed her. "Sorry, sweetie. Go ahead."

". . . but after I met Daph we played house in the shed her parents had turned into a playhouse. We'd ‘can' rotting vegetables and ‘cook' and clean." He laughed. "We even had two kids . . . well, obviously not real kids; they were a couple of Daph's dolls."

"Oh. My. God," Brian said with a look of horror on his face. "You were play-acting ‘Straight People!' No wonder you're so messed up! That explains everything."

"Brian," Lindsay exclaimed. "That's mean. Justin opened up and told us something he obviously feels embarrassed about in hindsight, and you make fun of him! You really are horrible sometimes."

Brian shrugged with exasperation. "I can't help it," he said. "I've always wondered where Justin picked up his ‘Hearth and Home' fetish, and now I know." He shivered with distaste.

Mel looked pensive for a moment. "It is kind of sad, isn't it?" she said. "Kids are indoctrinated at should a young with stereotypical gender roles. It's not exactly easy being a lesbian when you're a kid, but tomboys aren't judged as harshly as ‘sissies' are. Girls can be boyish, but boys who do anything even remotely ‘feminine' in nature are taunted and bullied."

Brian sighed and dropped his head back against the couch so he was looking at the ceiling. Everyone thought he was sick of the conversation and wanted to discuss something else, but then he raised his head again with another deep sigh.

"I was one of those bullies," he said. "I hated ‘sissies.' I would've made Emmett's life hell if we'd been in grade school together."

Everyone regarded him with surprised expressions except Mel.

"I'm not surprised to hear that you were a self-hating gay boy," she said. "You said Justin's desire to play house explained everything about him; well your being prejudiced against ‘sissy-boys' explains a whole hell of a lot about you, Mr. Uber-Manly Uber Man. It also explains your rampant misogyny . . ."

"Okay, okay," Lindsay interjected. "Let's move on. Brian, how did Gus do at the pool? Did he finally put his face in the water?"

"Wait!" Justin said. "Actually, I don't want to talk about something else. I think this conversation's really important since Brian and I are about to become fulltime parents." He turned to Brian. "What'll happen if the twins are ‘sissy-boys' or ‘girly-girls'?"

Lindsay and Mel visibly braced themselves, but Brian merely cocked his head and thought . . . for a surprisingly long time.

"I think," he said slowly, "that it'll be a challenge for me if the twins, no matter their gender, are too ‘girly.'"

"Why would it be such a challenge," Lindsay asked. "You love and respect me, and I'm very much a girly-girl. Do you think it was Mel who decorated this place?" She made a gesture that encompassed the whole room.

Brian looked at her for a long time. Justin would've given anything to know what he was thinking.

"But you're less of a girly-girl than a WASP . . ."

Everyone cracked up.

"No, I'm serious," Brian said. "You dress and decorate the way you do more because of your socio-economic background than your gender. I mean, Jesus, look at you! You're a freak! You're a pearl-wearing, dyke for Christ sake."

Lindsay laughed. "Whatever that means," she said.

"Yeah, Brian," Mel said. "Don't go getting too deep on us; you might sprain something."

He stuck out his tongue at her. It was adorable.

"Listen," he said after everybody'd stopped giggling and snickering. "I don't give a shit if the twins like Easy-Bake ovens or model airplanes or tractors or pearls or whatever the fuck. They'll be mine, and I'll love them no matter what. So there. The cookies are gone. Go get me some more cookies, Mrs. Cleaver," he said with a nod in Justin's direction.

Justin wanted so much to go over and hug Brian, but he knew that if he did, he'd ruin the moment. Lindsay, however, cupped his cheek and turned his head for a chaste, but lingering, kiss.

"You're going to be a great dad," she said with tears in her eyes.

Brian scowled, but he didn't pull away. "You don't know that," he said.

"Yeah, I do," she replied. "I know because you already are one, daddy."

Justin went to kitchen and was quickly joined by Mel, leaving Brian and Lindsay alone for one of their Peter-and-Wendy Moments. Justin was smiling happily to himself. Mel wasn't.

"Going out for a smoke," she muttered. "Feel free to continue the Brian Kinney Love Fest without me."

 

"So," Justin said on their way home. "You're going to tell the people at work that you're pregnant?" He'd been surprised but impressed at Brian's announcement, and he'd noticed Mel was too. Maybe it'd washed away the bitterness she'd felt earlier. Justin hoped so.

"Yup," Brian replied. "Every fucking one of them, and I'm also going to tell ‘em they can blow me if they've got a problem with it. Hopefully I'll get my cock sucked all afternoon."

"But you think you're going to get fired or suspended or demoted or something?"

"I don't think, I know."

Justin frowned. "Then why tell them? Just say you need to take a medical leave of absence or something. They've probably already guessed that something is up. Why not tell them you have liver cancer or something and it's making your abdomen swell."

"Because," Brian replied. "I don't have liver cancer. I'm pregnant."

"I admire you so much, Brian. You know I do, but maybe you don't need to go this far this time."

"I have ‘to go this far this time' because I want to keep my fucking job, and I want them to give me paid maternity leave."

"But how'll that happen if you get fired?"

"Because I will threaten them with the biggest motherfucking law suit of all time that will make news all over the fucking world and make them look like total douchebags. Vance is an asshole, but he's not an idiot. He'll settle in a nanosecond."

"And you've got Mel on your side."

"She's a fucking cunty-bitch, but I'm willing to bet she's one of the best lawyers in town."

Justin turned to look at Brian's profile and wasn't surprised to see that Brian was grinning his head off like a kid in a candy shop with money burning holes in his pockets.

 

Justin was very surprised on Monday morning when Brian got up at his usual time, showered and shaved leisurely, dressed meticulously and sat down at the island to eat a full breakfast. Justin would've sworn that Brian would be up at the crack of dawn stressing over his partners' meeting at ten. In fact, Justin had been very worried about the possibility of heart palpations again.

"I can come with you," Justin said for the thousandth time. "I'll just sit in the lobby or the Jeep or something, so I can be right there if you need me."

Brian picked up his briefcase and checked it to be sure he had everything. "I won't need you," he said. "But what I do need is for you to stop hovering. You're bugging the shit out of me. Do something useful; it'll take your mind off things and before you know it, I'll be home with a boxful of shit from my office that I'd been asked to clear out. We'll celebrate with a fuck, then I'll call Mel and we'll meet her at the diner where I will eat any fucking thing on the menu that I fucking feel like eating while plotting legal mayhem with relish and glee. Later, Sunshine."

But ‘finding something useful to do' was far easier said than done. Justin managed to distract himself by surfing the web until the time of the meeting arrived. After that, he just paced and dashed back and forth from the bathroom due to nervous bowels. Brian had seemed so serene, but then again, Brian was a consummate actor. He could be totally freaking out inside, and no one would know it.

Next week would be the end of the second trimester. The babies were the size of rutabagas! Brian was getting truly big, and it was easy now to feel the baby's movements just by resting a hand lightly on Brian's belly - an act everybody wanted to do all the time, much to Brian's annoyance. It especially irritated him when someone would feel a kick and shrieked with delight.

I'm going to start needing ear plugs, he groused. I can't tell what's worse - getting kicked in both kidneys simultaneously or having Honeycutt lose his shit when he feels it.

There'd been a gradually increasing number of minor problems, but even though they were "minor" they seemed to be happening three of more times a week. Dr. Bernstein was staying calm, but every time they went to see him because something seemed wrong, he started sweating profusely and a large vein in his temple developed a tic.

So far Brian had had five bouts of extreme vomiting even though his morning sickness had tapered off after the first trimester. He'd also had brief but weird vision issues like blurring and seeing double. He'd never had migraines before, but now he sometimes did, and they totally incapacitated him - he couldn't bear light or sound or even the sight or smell of food. He'd actually lost weight because of it! He'd also claimed to feel feverish and occasionally came down with a case of the chills despite fact it being an exceptionally warm late summer. Fortunately, none of the problems occurred at the same time, but nonetheless it scared the living shit out of them both that they were happening at all. In fact, it'd finally scared them enough that they'd decided they'd switch to the care of a OB/GYN as soon as the whole work situation was dealt with. Brian was not crazy about it; for some reason it made him feel "girly" and "weak," and he was adamant about hiring a male OB/GYN, claiming a female doctor would be "prejudiced" against him, and for some unknown reason want to kill either the babies or him or all three of them. It was patently irrational, but Justin had long ago discovered that roiling hormones and reason were apparently incompatible with each other. They'd found a couple doctors who seemed promising, and it was Justin's job to sound them out with hypothetical questions.

It was coming up to two o'clock and Justin was starting to lose his mind when Brian walked through the door carrying a box and whistling merrily. He dropped the box on the table, held his arms wide, and said with a grin, "Ready to fuck your partner who's no longer a partner?"

The fuck was a good one. Brian let Justin rim him for longer than usual (rimming Brian was his favorite bedroom activity) before mounting him and having his wicked way. Brian was full of sounds which drove Justin wild, and he was able to come twice. Afterward they took a shower and blew each other. There was something about Brian on his knees with his lusciously swollen belly resting on his thighs, rapturously sucking Justin's cock that made Justin absolutely crazy with lust. Then after the shower, Brian walked fully, gloriously naked to the desk where he dialed the number for Mel's firm on the landline.

"The eagle has landed," he said. "Meet you at the diner in half an hour."

 

Unsurprisingly, Mel had already drafted a complaint. After they'd ordered (which Brian insisted they do before getting embroiled in a legal discussion), she explained what they were claiming.

"It basically comes down to the fact that both federal and state law prohibits employers from firing employees because they're pregnant. Nowhere in either statute does the legal definition state that the pregnant employee must be female to fall under the statutes' protection. Pregnancy is a genderless condition. Now, of course, your employer will claim that the statutes were obviously intended to only cover pregnant women because men don't get pregnant. That's bull shit. The law says what it says, and it says one can't discriminate to the detriment a pregnant person. Period. Not only that, but regardless of the gender of the person who is pregnant, the condition of pregnancy is exactly the same. In other words, gender is totally and utterly irrelevant. Plus, add to that the fact that your pregnancy is very high risk, and in my opinion, your employer risks being sued for damages if something goes wrong and can be traced back to the stress of being fired, and I'm going to make it abundantly clear that we'll be pursuing that very costly option if need be. They're going to settle, Brian. The only real question for you is what you want the remedy to be. My guess is you'll be given your employment and title back. The question will be if you actually want to return to work or not. I'm sure you could browbeat them into starting your paid maternity leave now, if you think you should stop working, but you'll also probably have the option to continue working until that point of time at which you or the babies' health will be in jeopardy. That'll be your call . . ."

"I'm going to keep working . . ."

"He's going to go on leave . . ."

Brian and Justin had spoken at exactly the same instant. Brian turned to Justin with an irate expression.

"You will not tell me when to stop working," he said. "That is my fucking call!"

"Bull shit!" Justin replied just as angrily. "They're my babies too, and I have a right to insure their safety."

"What would not be safe is me freaking out because I'm fucking bored as shit!"

"I'd rather have you bored as shit than stressing over deadlines!"

"Boys, boys," Mel said, holding up her hands. "This is something you to need to discuss at length and without me having to put up with it. All I need to know, Brian, is whether you want me to go ahead and file the complaint?"

"I do," Brian said. "Today if possible."

"All I need is your signature and I'll drop it off with the court clerk in less than a half an hour. I'll also file a motion for injunction so the court will have to take up your case immediately. If the court decides to block the enforcement of your termination, then you'll be back in the saddle by the end of the day tomorrow. Also, if the court does grant an injunction, it'll be more or less clear that we'll win your case."

She pushed the documents across the table, and Brian signed them. Then he and Mel snickered with evil glee. Justin wished he could join them, but Brian had scared the crap out of him by saying he wanted to keep working. As far as Justin was concerned it was insane and fucking irresponsible!

 

As luck (bad in Justin's opinion, but good in Brian's) would have it, the judge granted his motion for injunction which meant he was back at work on Wednesday morning.

"Put that in your pipe and smoke it, you assholes," Brian said when Mel called him with the news.

As for dealing with the actual fact of Brian's pregnancy, more of his colleagues and employees were curious than revolted, but the only person he let touch his belly was Cynthia, who, Brian reported to Justin, burst into joyous tears and very unprofessionally kissed him on the mouth.

"I've always suspected she'd wanted to do that," he preened. "To be honest with you, if I was straight, she'd be the woman I'd marry. And for God's sake, never ever mention that to Linds!"

Justin vowed that he wouldn't. He shuddered at the mere thought.

 

By the following Wednesday, the firm dropped its opposition to Brian's suit. Mel was very disappointed. She'd wanted to get the case into court "just for the fun of it." But Justin was relieved. The less shit on Brian's plate the better.

 

Everything went back to what passed as normal in the Taylor-Kinney household. Brian went to work at the agency. Justin went to work at the diner and worked on Rage with Michael (who'd flat out refused to make Rage pregnant). The twins tangoed and kick-boxed. People bought shit (which, amazingly, all complied with The Rules), and Justin even got Brian to were his snuggle baby carrier with the sandbag in it when they were home alone at the loft.

"I swear to God," Brian told him. "If I ever find out that anyone knows about this, I will exile you from my ass for all eternity. You will be banned summarily and without recourse to an appeal."

But Justin didn't need his arm twisted. Brian looked genuinely ridiculous, and Justin didn't want anyone teasing him.

All was fine and good . . . too fine and good, in fact. Justin was constantly glancing up at the sky in a look-out for the still-as-of-yet undropped shoe. Unfortunately, he didn't have long to wait.

One morning, while reaming out the people in the art department, Brian collapsed with an unstoppable nosebleed. He was rushed to the hospital, and this time - thank fuck - he was seen by an OB/GYN doctor (who turned out to be a woman but in the condition he was in, Brian wouldn't have given a shit if she was a tentacle-waving alien from outer space).

By the time they were told that one of the twin's heartbeat was faint and irregular, Brian was already intuitively aware that something very serious was wrong. He yelled and caused unholy hell until Justin was allowed to be in the room with him. He almost wished he hadn't been because what he encountered almost broke him right then and there.

They'd strapped Brian to the bed, but he was still struggling to escape. There was blood everywhere, and Brian was growing hoarse from screaming obscenities at people. The instant Justin entered, Brian looked at him with desperate pleading in his eyes, and Justin ran over to kiss his lips not giving a shit if he got blood all over his face - in fact he preferred there to be some. If Brian was going to be covered in blood, then he was too.

"One of them is dying!" Brian yelled at him, tears streaming down his temples and his voice cracking. "I fucking know it! Jesus, Justin! Do something! You have to do something!"

"But what?!" Justin asked. "What the fuck can I do?"

"They're not fucking listening to me," Brian said. "They need to open me up now! They say they're waiting, which is fucking BULLSHIT! If they wait, the baby will die, and they'll have to cut me open anyway to remove it. If they have to open me up one way or another, then why can't they do that NOW? They won't fucking listen to me, Justin! Make them fucking listen!!"

Justin looked around frantically. They were alone. Where the fucking fuck was everyone?! Justin was just about to run out into the hall and start screaming at the top of his lungs when the OB/GYN returned with two other doctors who looked like they might be surgeons. As soon as Brian saw them, he started making the hoarse inarticulate sounds of a feral animal in pain. Justin wanted to cover his ears, but he ordered himself not to. He had to have some fucking balls!

"Okay, okay," the OB/GYN said to Brian. "Calm down. Moving around like that is not going to help things. I've got the ultrasound equipment here. We're going to take a look to see what's going on." She turned to Justin. "How far along is he?"

"Exactly 28 weeks," Justin said, but his voice was shaking and she didn't understand him. She asked him to repeat himself.

"Twenty-eight weeks - exactly to the day," he said, commanding himself to speak calmly and clearly.

She nodded and then turned back to Brian who'd stopped struggling but was crying in shuddering sobs. Justin actually groaned out loud. It felt like an insult to nature that he wasn't allowed to wrap his arms around Brian and try to soothe him.

"Okay, Brian," she said. "I'm going to release you, but you must stay still. Do you understand me?"

Brian took a deep breath and then nodded. Ironically, as soon as he was released, he settled down. Justin swallowed back tears at the thought that Brian, of all people, had been restrained like a lunatic simply because he was terrified for the babies. Maybe it'd been necessary, but it broke Justin's heart.

"It's alright," he said in a serene voice that surprised the hell out of him.

Brian turned to look at him and held his eyes without blinking. Justin couldn't tell if the calm he found in Brian's gaze was heartening . . . or fucking scary as hell.

Brian held still as the gel was slathered on his belly. To Justin's deep dismay, he saw that the usual screen hadn't been set up. The OB/GYN and the technicians could see what was going on, but he and Brian couldn't. He expected Brian to go wild again, but he didn't. Instead he lay very still.

Justin felt a wave of panic. He had no idea why, but he felt it in his gut, in his very bones.

"Tell me what you see," Brian said to the OB/GYN.

"It's not clear yet," she replied. "I will tell you exactly what I see when I can understand it. You must understand, Brian, that you don't have a uterus. Your pregnancy is completely novel to me. I need to take the time to be sure of what I'm looking at. Ah, there we go. I see them both now . . ."

"Are they both moving?" Brian asked. He sounded like he was asking Deb about the daily special.

The OB/GYN did not answer him.

Justin was almost sick. The answer was obvious. Then it happened.

Suddenly Brian was moving. No one had expected it and they were caught off guard. The OB/GYN stepped backwards with a startled cry. Everything seemed to me moving in slow motion, which meant that Brian's grab for the scalpel on the surgeon's table seemed to take minutes instead of seconds, as did Brian's subsequent move in which he placed the blade against his belly and sliced himself open . . .

. . . and then suddenly time slammed back into itself. Everyone was moving at the same time; a tray full of instruments crashed to the floor. Someone was screaming, but whom? Doctors and nurses don't scream. Brian wasn't screaming, and then Justin realized it was him, but even though he realized it, he couldn't stop.

"STOP!" he kept screaming at Brian. "I don't care if we lose one of them - I don't care if we lose both of them - YOU CAN'T FUCKING DIE ON ME!!"

And then there were hands grabbing him, dragging him backwards toward the door. He struggled and stumbled to his knees and one of the hands actually grabbed him by the hair. He kept fighting and screaming Brian's name at the top of his lungs all the way out into the hall. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, this wasn't happening!

"Mr. Taylor," a voice said matter-of-factly. "If you do not calm down we will have you escorted out of the hospital."

Justin's screaming and struggling subsided into sobs. He crumpled to the floor and stayed there with his cheek pressed against the blessed cold of the smooth tile.

 

When his mom arrived, he couldn't speak, let alone stand up from his chair and let her hold him. She sat down beside him and took his limp hand. They sat in silence as beyond the window, the sunny afternoon turned into a beautiful Indian summer evening. Justin sat staring straight ahead. Was this how Brian had felt while he'd waited to find out if Justin would live after the bashing? If it was, then Justin appreciated for the first time what it must've been like . . . how it must've felt. When Brian was well again, Justin was going to tell him that he understood now, and then he'd kiss Brian's temple right where he, Justin, had been hit. They'd shared so many experiences - this excruciating hell of not-knowing was now another.

It must've been around nine o'clock when the OB/GYN came to find him. He looked at her face for any hint of the news she was about to tell him, and that's when saw the weary relief in her eyes.

"Oh thank you, God," his mother said as she slipped from her chair on to her knees, clasped her hands and held them against her chest. She was shaking with sobs. Justin put his hand on her shoulder as he looked up at the doctor.

"Congratulations, Mr. Taylor," she said. There were tears in her eyes. "You are the father of a baby girl."

Justin didn't even pause to take in her words. "Brian," he croaked. "Please tell me."

The doctor sat down beside him and turned so she was looking directly at his face.

"Brian is in critical but stable condition," she said. "I have every confidence that he's going to be fine."

Justin's head dropped, and he let himself cry. Brian was going to be alright. That was all that mattered. Brian was going to be alright . . .

. . . and then he recalled the doctor's first words. "A baby girl," he said. "What about . . .?"

"We were able to leave her twin inside Brian, and like him, we expect she'll be fine. The twins were actually in two separate compartments. We were able to remove the twin that was in distress without impacting the other." She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm reluctant to tell you this," she said. "But I was going to advise against surgery until we knew if the fetus was going to live or die. I didn't want Brian to undergo surgery if possible if he didn't need to. But he took matters into his own hands. Once he'd made a cut, we had to proceed from there. Justin, I must tell you. The infant girl was saved, but she is very small and premature. We have her in intensive care, and are doing everything we can for her, but she's not breathing on her own. I hate bringing bad news along with good news, but I fear her odds of survival are not good. But that said, she would've died if we'd waited much longer. Brian not only gave her life, he saved it as well. He's quite extraordinary."

Both Justin and his mom laughed.

"He is indeed," Justin's mom said through her tears.

"Can . . . would it be possible for us to see her . . . I mean the baby?" Justin asked.

"Of course," the doctor replied. "A nursing assistant will take you to her. Right now, I'm going to return to Brian and make sure everything is stable."

"When can I see him?" Justin asked. If he was completely honest with himself, he wanted to see Brian more than his new daughter.

"I think that should wait until tomorrow," the doctor said. "Regardless, he's not awake at the moment, so he wouldn't be much of a conversationalist." She smiled but then grew serious again. "Also, I think I should be there when he's told about the baby girl. He's going to be very upset, and right now he needs to remain as calm as possible for the other twin."

Justin nodded and stood up. He could hardly feel his hand when he reached out to help his mom to her feet.

"You're coming with me?" he said.

"Oh Justin, sweetheart," she said tearfully. "How could you even think for a moment I wouldn't? Come on, let's go see your baby girl."

She took his hand and they followed the nurse to the neonatal intensive care unit dedicated solely to prematurely born infants. They washed their hands and put on masks. As they entered the room where his daughter was, he did his best not to look at any of the other infants in their incubator-crib things. They were all so small, and they looked so fragile!

Finally, they stopped in front of one of the cribs with a incubator that said "Taylor-Kinney" on it. Before Justin's eyes could focus on the infant, his mom gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. When Justin looked at his daughter, he immediately understood her reaction.

The poor little thing was tiny!

"She weighs exactly two pounds," the nursing assistant said.

"What are her chances?" he asked.

"Around sixty percent," she replied. "A lot will depend on how soon she can breathe on her own. Do you want to touch her?"

Justin swallowed the lump that'd lodged itself in his throat. He shook his head.

"Honey," his mom said, but he held up his hand.

He couldn't explain exactly what he was thinking - in fact, he wasn't even sure he was thinking at all. He'd woken up that morning never imagining in a million years that he'd be a father twelve hours later. He couldn't even get his head around it! It simply didn't feel real. All he really wanted was to see Brian - to hold his hand and talk to him. The little thing in the crib was just so . . . he couldn't relate to it and even felt the most bizarre, discomforting feeling that he was angry at it. It was totally and utterly irrational, but part of his mind blamed the little creature for almost killing the man he loved. He didn't feel love or protectiveness; instead he felt just . . . weird. Really really weird. Which in turn made him sick with guilt. And what if the little thing was going to die? Why would he want to start to connect with it if it was just going to be taken away? Brian would be shattered; Justin had to stay clear-headed and strong to help him through his pain.

"Can I touch her?" his mom asked.

"Of course," the nurse replied. "You just can't hold her yet."

His mom nodded, and the nurse opened the incubator. He watched his mom reach down with a shaking hand and tenderly touch the little creature's forehead. For the first time, he noticed it had dark brown hair, and then it opened its tiny blue eyes . . .

He covered his face and started to cry.

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