Last Chances, Heart Breaker.
Brendon/Spencer (one-sided, unconfirmed), Brendon/Jon (if you squint, one sided), Pete/Patrick.
7,600 words.

This one is crazy. I hated myself for it, I loved myself for it, and I wanted to cry over it. It's the first thing I'ver written since December or January, and I like it, a little.



Autumn;


When he wakes up, everything is dark. After a few minutes, things start coming into view, blurry. He can hear a rapid rush as air moves in ragged, heavy breaths into his lungs. As his senses slowly return, he can feel that he’s laying half on concrete, and half on something hard, yet unsteady. He can smell garbage, mixed with the left-over scent of stale alcohol and cigarettes. Then, suddenly, everything hurts.

He almost cries out, but his throat is dry, and produces no sound. He curls in on himself, but that doesn’t help, just makes the pain worse. Blackness swirls in front of his eyes again, but he takes a few deep breaths, and manages to stumble to his feet. He still has his cell phone, wallet, and money. Grabbing a cab crosses his mind, but at this hour, it would be faster to walk.

His legs almost give out on him when he starts walking, but he balances against a wall, and doesn’t go down. He ends up limping most of the way. He wasn’t far to begin with – didn’t stray far from home on Friday nights, not with an early morning shift for Saturday. But tonight, home seems to be taking a long time to get to.

His brother once told him, “If you’re looking for a savior, you’re not going to find one. Someone should never expect to be saved. A hero isn’t really a hero, they’re just someone who knows wrong from right, and is in the right place at the right time. A hero will never take credit for anything they do, even if it’s saving your life.”

Brendon isn’t sure he believes in people being in the right place at the right time, but maybe the wrong place at the wrong time makes sense.

He lives in a pretty good neighborhood. His neighbors are nice, his apartment is free of bugs and rats, and he has a nice job that isn’t too far from home. He can check the mail in the lobby without having to lock his door and he can let his cat run around in the hallway while he unloads groceries. On warm nights, he can leave his windows open without worrying about anyone breaking in, and he can play loud music without having anyone complain.

One thing his building doesn’t have is a security guard. At this moment in time, Brendon isn’t sure if this is a good thing or not. He’s pretty sure that is there was a guard, he’d probably end up at the hospital, and that’s the last place he wants to be. He can feel a bit of blood sliding down his face, starting at his temple. He makes it to the elevator, leans against the railing on the inside when it lurches into motion.

He hides his face in his hands and breathes for a few seconds, and can feel the dried tracks of tears. He scrubs his eyes with his fists, and when the elevator stops at his floor, he hopes that everyone is asleep. The hallway is, thankfully, empty, and he manages to get his key into the lock without shaking too badly. Once inside, he drops his keys on the kitchen counter, slips out of his hoodie and pushes it deep into the garbage can, then collapses onto his bed, falling asleep when the pain turns into fatigue.



-



Brendon is five minutes late to work for the first time in his life. He’d stood under the warm water in the shower for ten extra minutes, and then had to take his time getting dressed so as to not set off any more pain flares. He’d then proceeded to trash his entire outfit from the night before and take the garbage to the dumpster before leaving.

Butcher calls out, “Urie, you’d better have a reason – ” but stops when Brendon rounds the corner into the kitchen. The Butcher might have had a name at one point in his life, but Brendon has never heard it. Even the deed to the restraunt has “THE BUTCHER” printed neatly across it. Everyone calls him that, even Bob, who has worked in the diner since before Butcher inherited it from his father.

Brendon has a bruise on his face, all the way from his jaw to his temple, and he’s running a fever. He doesn’t feel sick, so he’d just blamed it on stress and decided not to call in for a sick day. He’s still limping, holding himself carefully, and had opted for a pair of loose jeans this morning.

While Butcher stares, dumbfounded, Vicky walks over and says, “What the hell happened to you?” She gently places a hand on the side of his face that isn’t bruised, and inspects the damage. She murmurs, “You have a fever, why didn’t you just stay in bed this morning?” She looks over at Butcher and demands, “Well, send him home already!”

Brendon looks at his hands, picks nervously at his nails, and says, “I’m fine, I just. Really, I’m fine.”

Butcher walks over to them and says, “Just take the day off, okay? And if you feel up to coming in tomorrow, let me know.”

It’s actually killing Brendon to stand there. Everything aches, dull, but still there under his skin. He thinks back to the blood in the shower, caked onto his skin, and how long it had taken to scrub off. How long he’d scrubbed after, just to feel clean. He nods stiffly and lets Vicky walk him to the door, just because he knows she’ll feel better if she does.

He doesn’t hurry home; it’s less painful if he walks slowly. But with the thoughts of bed and warmth and safety swirling around in his mind, he has to force himself to keep a steady pace.

In the hallway outside his apartment, while he’s pulling his keys from his pocket, the door to his right opens, and one of his neighbors walks out. Jon is two years older than Brendon, has a cat named Dylan, carries around a camera at all times, and always smells like coffee. They don’t talk much, other than the occasional ‘hello’s as they pass each other in the hall.

“Wow,” Jon says, snapping the door shut behind himself, a habit of keeping Dylan inside. “What happened to you? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He doesn’t even touch Brendon, but is still able to accurately say, “You have a fever.”

Brendon shrugs, “I’m fine. It’s no big deal, really.”

Jon follows Brendon into his apartment uninvited. “You should lie down,” Jon says. “Do you have any extra blankets?”

Brendon nods towards the linen closet, suddenly freezing inside his jacket, and Jon detours to the kitchen while Brendon heads to the bedroom and burrows into the comfort of his bed. He listens to Jon send a pot crashing to the floor in the kitchen, and a few seconds later, Jon appears with two extra blankets and a wet cloth. He folds the cloth carefully and sets it to Brendon’s forehead, then spreads the blankets over the comforter.

“Now,” Jon says, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Brendon breaks their eye contact. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jon says softly. He pulls a chair up to the side of the bed, and Brendon falls asleep listening to Jon talk to his cat.



-



Two weeks later, he’s at work when his stomach bottoms out and he has to rush to the bathroom to empty its contents into the toilet. When he gets back to the kitchen five minutes later, he’s looking pretty green. Butcher corners him and asks, “Hey, hey, you’re not sick, are you?” Someone from the health board is coming for their monthly test tomorrow, and Butcher has been telling everyone to leave their germs at home; they don’t need any sick customers.

“I’m not, I’m not, I swear.” Brendon says. He even manages to give Butcher a mostly-real smile. He’d been feeling much better, and his bruise was almost completely gone. You could only see it now if you look for it. Vicky still inspected it every day, and kept telling him to put shea butter on it every night before bed. He wasn’t quite sure what shea butter was, or where he could get it, so he just ignored that bit of advice.

“You never did tell us what happened,” Butcher says. “Are you sure this isn’t related? You had a fever for three days – ” The bell rings, signaling that an order is ready, and Butcher is forced to let Brendon go so that the customers don’t have to wait.



-



When Brendon doesn’t get any better, Jon starts to worry.

“You can’t hide it from the guys at the diner, and you can’t hide it from me.” Jon hands Brendon the last bag of his groceries, and then goes into Brendon’s kitchen and starts putting things away.

“Would you stop that already?” Brendon snaps, but there’s no venom behind it. He’s started lying awake at night, wondering if Jon looks at him as a friend, or if maybe Jon just takes pity on him and is looking for some good karma.

“What, worrying, or putting your groceries away?” Brendon always comes to the conclusion that Jon would never use someone like that.

“Both!” Brendon throws his arms up, exasperated. Even that exhausts him, so he stays quiet for a while and helps Jon finish unloading.



-



Five weeks after waking up in that dark alley, Brendon sill worries. He doesn’t go out after dark, and won’t work the graveyard shift at the diner without someone he trusts. (Not that he doesn’t trust any of the people he works with, it’s just that he’d prefer working with Vicky or Butcher or Joe, their bus boy who is pretty much always stoned, rather than with Nate or Bob.

“I have a friend who’s a doctor,” Jon says over popcorn and 7-Up, during a commercial of a Star Wars marathon. “He’s a neurologist, so he can’t see you unless you have, like, crazy head pains, but he recommended someone to me, and I called for you.”

Brendon nearly drops his popcorn when he turns to glare at Jon. “I don’t need to see a doctor! I feel fine! Jon, really, I promise that if I start to feel shitty, I’ll let you take me to a doctor, okay? But I feel fine right now!”

Jon shrugs. “Too bad the doctor’s office has one of those ‘if you cancel your appointment you pay $50’ rules.”

Brendon’s pretty sure Jon’s making it up, but he doesn’t argue. Star Wars is back on.



-



Brendon sees a man named Dr. Hancock. A nurse makes him pee in a cup before she places them in a room to wait. Another nurse comes in and takes blood (“Oh my god, Jon, you’re just gonna let her suck all that out? Holy shit, that’s like, a gallon.” “Brendon, it’s one vial.”)

The doctor comes in after almost fifteen minutes. He sits down on a round stool that has wheels, and he swings himself back and forth a little in small, jerky movements until he gets Brendon’s file open. “I’m Dr. Hancock, it’s nice to meet you.” He rolls the stool over to the table where Brendon is sitting and shakes his hand. His smile is kind, and he looks to be older, maybe in his early 50’s. It makes the nervousness settle some in Brendon’s stomach.

“So you’re having vomiting, and that’s all? No stomach pains, fever, headaches, fatigue?” He taps his pen quietly against the file.

“Well, uhm,” Brendon looks down at his hands, fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I get tired really easily, but I’ve been working late, so. It’s probably just – uhm, just stress.” Dr. Hancock scribbles something down onto the file and before he can say anything, there’s a knock on the door.

A nurse pokes her head in and says, “Uhm, Doctor, can I speak to you out here for a moment? I’m really sorry, but it’s about Mr. Urie’s test results.”

Dr. Hancock nods easily and gives Brendon an apologetic look before slipping outside. Once the door is shut, there’s a pause, and then they can hear the nurse say, “I called for a retest, thinking one of the techs screwed something up.” Her voice is muffled through the door.

“Why did they even do that test? It’s not normal procedure.”

“I don’t know; like I said, I thought one of the techs screwed up. Obviously the did, just. Not in the right way.”

Brendon suddenly wonders if he has an STD, or some kind of fatal disease. Maybe he was bitten by a bug carrying some kind of crazy illness; maybe he has Malaria. His stomach suddenly drops, and he feels nauseous. He looks over at Jon, but Jon’s already staring at him. Jon knows.

The door opens and Dr. Hancock comes back inside. He hands Jon a lab report and says to Brendon, “We’re giving you a list of doctors that will be able to help you out better than I could.” He gives Brendon a folded piece of paper. He leaves at that, looking pale.

They take a cab home and Jon pays. When they get up to Brendon’s apartment, he asks Jon, “What can you make out of that?” Jon read the lab report the whole way home. It’s a lot of abbreviations and numbers, and Jon can’t really make anything out of it. He bites his lip and shrugs, and Brendon sighs.

But as Brendon steps through his front door, Jon says, “Wait, Bren?” Brendon looks back at him. “You have an abnormally high level of Human Growth Hormone.”

“What does that mean?”

Jon looks Brendon in the eye and says, “It means you’re pregnant.”



-



“What happened?” Jon hisses. He’s got Brendon cornered.

“It was – nothing! Nothing happened, okay?” Brendon tries to squirm away, but Jon just tightens his grip on Brendon’s arm.

“No – when you came home a month ago looking like you’d been through a meat grinder, what happened?”

Brendon is quiet for a long time. He picks at a loose thread on his jeans, sniffles, wipes his eyes on his sleeve. In his mind, he can still feel the concrete underneath his back, can still smell the garbage, the stale cigarettes, the alcohol. He can still feel the waves of pain racking his body. He can still feel the blood sliding warm and sticky down his face.

He says, “Jon.”

“No,” Jon snaps. “No, what happened?”

“I was raped, okay?” Brendon snaps. He curls in on himself instinctively, and Jon sits himself down on the coffee table. Brendon isn’t sure if it’s because his legs aren’t going to hold him up anymore, or if it’s because he needs to think about what to do next.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon whispers. His grip just comforting now, no longer forceful. “Why didn’t you tell someone? Anyone. You could’ve told anyone. Why did you hold it in?”

Brendon doesn’t answer. Jon’s pretty sure he would’ve done the same thing.

The list of doctors that Dr. Hancock gave Brendon lies open on the floor. It reads ‘OB/GYN’ across the top.



-



It takes Brendon a few days to decide what to do. He calls in sick to work, and Butcher doesn’t complain. There are five names on the list and Brendon can’t just pick one. What if the one he picks is a jerk, or is only in this field for the money? What if they don’t want to take care of him, or they don’t want the challenge? He eventually picks a name off the list because he likes how it sounds.

“Spencer Smith V, M.D.” He reads to Jon.

“I’ve heard that name before,” Jon says. “I think he’s pretty young – has only been out of school for four or five years, only worked at the hospital for about three.”

Brendon isn’t sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but he doesn’t change his mind.



-



Brendon makes his appointment for a day that Jon doesn’t have to work. They take the bus, since it would be cheaper than a cab. “You have to tell him everything,” Jon says as they get off at the hospital. “And I mean everything. There could be complications – well, more than there already are.”

“I know, I know,” Brendon says. He looks a little green from the early hour.

They sit in the waiting room for almost half an hour. A little girl, about three years old, is sitting with her very pregnant mother across the room from them, and she keeps glancing from Brendon to her mother and whispering. Her mother, who is engrossed in an issue of Parenting, just keeps shrugging. It makes Brendon feel better when she doesn’t look up at him.

A nurse with the name Pete Wentz III, M.D. calls Brendon’s name. When he and Jon stand, Pete doesn’t even blink. He leads them back to a room, takes some blood, and says, “Dr. Smith will be with you shortly.” He smiles and Brendon can see a tattoo peeking out from under his long sleeves. For some reason, it’s calming.

A few minutes later a man a lot younger than Brendon expected walks in. He wonders if this is another nurse, but then the man says, “Hi, I’m Dr. Smith, but you can call me Spencer.” He shakes Brendon’s hand.

When Brendon doesn’t say anything, Jon rolls his eyes and says, “This is Brendon.”

Spencer nods and smiles. He sits down on a rolling stool, just like Dr. Hancock had used a week earlier. “So, what’s going on here? It’s pretty unusual for me to see someone who isn’t a pregnant woman.”

“Well,” Brendon says, looking anywhere but Spencer or Jon. “Apparently, I’m pregnant.”

To say that Spencer looked shocked would be an understatement. “I’m going to assume you’re not kidding.”

Jon looks at Brendon. “Go on, you’ve got to tell him everything.” Brendon looks vaguely horrified, as if he’d expected that part to be a joke. “Brendon – ”

“I’m not allowed to talk about anything you tell me outside of this office,” Spencer says. It doesn’t make Brendon feel any better, but it does make him feel better to know that Spencer takes his job seriously.

Brendon says, “Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “About a month ago – ”

He tells Spencer everything.



-



Ryan Ross is a psychiatrist. He works mostly with teenagers and the occasional single parent who’s having a hard time. He gets a phone call at his office on a slow day. Spencer says through the phone, “We’re meeting for coffee. Today, 3:00.” Spencer never initiates, so Ryan knows better than to turn the invitation down.

“I’m missing an appointment at the hair salon for this,” Ryan says in way of greeting. He sets his briefcase down on the floor next to the table. Spencer already has his coffee. A waitress quickly comes over and brings Ryan his usual order.

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, then sets his cup down on the table. “A man came into my office today,” He says.

Ryan waits a few beats, and when Spencer doesn’t continue, he prompts, “What, with his pregnant teenage daughter?”

Spencer shakes his head and Ryan cocks an eyebrow. “No,” Spencer says slowly. “He was the one pregnant.” Ryan drops his cup. The waitress hurries over to clean up the mess, but Ryan waves her off. He ignores her when she asks if he’d like another cup. “Apparently he was raped a month back, and he never told anyone. He started with a fever and then morning sickness. His neighbor made him go to the doctor, and one of the new techs accidentally did a pregnancy test. It was positive.”

“And they sent him to you?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, they gave him a list of all the doctors in my building. But, for some reason, he chose me. The least experienced, youngest doctor in town.”

“What are they doing about it?” Ryan asks. He pulls a bottle of water from his bag.

“I suggested that he get it aborted. He said no.”

“He’s going to try and keep it?” Ryan looks appalled.

“I told him that his body might not make it through the pregnancy, but he refused to listen. He said he wouldn’t kill a child for his mistake.”

“Does he blame himself?” Ryan asks quietly after a moment of silence.

Spencer shrugs. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk any more after that. It seems like he does, though. Or, at the very least, he blames himself for not seeing a doctor sooner.”

They finish their coffee in relative silence.



-



Winter;


“I heard my baby’s heartbeat today!” Brendon says when he goes into work for the late shift. Vicky makes a noise somewhere between a squeal and a dying animal, and runs over to hug him.

“That’s great!” She says, grinning.

It was sort of inevitable that everyone would find out. Jon accidentally told Mikey when he was picking up a book for Brendon, and Mikey told his brother, who told Frank when he was at the post office, who told Vicky when he went into the diner for lunch. Vicky then told the rest of the diner, and basically everyone in town knew once Nate and Joe knew.

“I also had Mikey order me some more books; they should be in next week.”

“Tell us more about the baby!” Vicky says. She, luckily, doesn’t have a table to tend to. It’s been a pretty slow day.

“Well,” Brendon starts, a grin spreading over his face. “It has a fully formed nose, and its elbows and eyes are formed, too. And it has toes and fingerprints! And I should be done with morning sickness.”

“Finally,” Butcher says, but he’s smiling. They all like hearing Brendon talk about the baby as he always looks happier than he ever has been.

The bell on the door rings, signaling a customer. Butcher says, “Okay, everyone get to work.”



-



Jon climbs over his balcony onto Brendon’s, and sits down next to Brendon. One hand goes to Brendon’s stomach, fingers splayed to feel the baby, and the other goes to the bowl of dry cheerios in Brendon’s lap. “You won’t be able to feel it for a few more weeks,” Brendon says as Jon shoves a handful of cheerios into his mouth.

“Can you feel it?” Jon asks.

Brendon shakes his head. He looks sad, maybe, but it’s hard for Jon to tell in the light.

To get Brendon mind off of it, Jon asks, “When will you be able to tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

“Not for another two months,” Brendon says. This time, he looks excited; Jon’s sure of it.

“Are you going to find out?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon admits. “I sort of want to know, so I can buy clothes and stuff, but then I sometimes think I want it to be a surprise.” Jon nods; he understands. One of his brothers has a baby, and his wife felt the same way when she was pregnant. They ended up waiting to find out. “I think I want to find out, though,” Brendon says, looking over at Jon and smiling brightly. “So I can think of some names and stuff.”

Jon leans against Brendon and they continue to watch the cars racing through the street below them.

“Are you scared?” Jon asks quietly.

“What?” Brendon tilts his head in Jon’s direction, but doesn’t look directly at him. “What for?”

“Everything.” Jon pulls his hand back from Brendon’s stomach. “About the baby, about what happened.”

After a few minutes of silence, Brendon says, “Yes. And no. Sort of. I’m worried about giving the baby a good life. I don’t have a lot of extra money. I can’t buy it all the toys it wants and I can’t buy it clothes just because they’re adorable. I’ll have to buy what we need, and just that.” The way Brendon says ‘we’ like the baby’s already here makes Jon smile. “But I can make it happy. I can teach it how to play guitar and piano, and I can show it all the good places to buy music.”

“And about what happened?” Jon asks.

“I worry that it’s going to happen again,” Brendon sighs. “But I’m more alert now. I know better than to walk by a dark alley outside of a club at night. Not that I’ll be near any bars or clubs any time soon.” His smile is a little bitter, a little sweet.

“Do you hate it?”

Brendon puts a hand to his stomach and says, “No.”



-



Brendon drops a tray in the middle of his shift. Butcher and Vicky both come running. “I felt it move!” Brendon says, looking slightly pale. Butcher rolls his eyes, but Vicky gives him a bright smile before hurrying back to the table she was attending. After a few seconds, Brendon seems to realize that he just dropped a tray of food. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry! Really, I didn’t mean to – ”

“It’s fine,” Butcher says, a hand on his shoulder. “Just go let Bob know what you need to have cooked again.”

Brendon nods, and hurries off to the grill to find Bob.

Butcher leans against the wall for a few seconds, smiling and shaking his head, before heading off to get a mop.



-



Jon is leaving for the New Year to see his family. Brendon didn’t even think about it. He worked Christmas Eve and after that, everything was a blur. It was work, doctor’s appointments, and sleep. “When is your next appointment? I want to be back for that.” Jon is in the middle of packing his suitcase. Dylan is glaring at them from on top of the television.

“Really, I’m fine, Jon. I can go to the doctor by myself.” Jon doesn’t look convinced. Brendon sighs. “It’s on the third. But I can handle it, really! You should spend time with your family.”

“I’ll be tired of them by then.” Jon smiles. “Honestly, a week with my Mom and niece is more than enough for me.” Brendon’s smile is weak, but it’s there. “Anyway, what are they gonna do at that appointment?”

“I think they’ll do an ultrasound,” Brendon says, sounding a little excited. “I don’t know if they can sex it yet, but some of the books say it’s possible.”

Jon’s hand shifts to Brendon’s belly. He says, “I better be the first one you tell when you find out.” Brendon laughs.



-



Spencer’s desk is littered with papers, notes, and open books. When it comes to being organized, Spencer isn’t that great. He used to be, back when he started at this office, but after two weeks it just became easier to leave things lying around. He could still find thing, so it wasn’t a big deal. Underneath all the papers and books, there’s a desk calendar. He doesn’t usually write appointments on it, since they have computers for that, but next to today’s date, the words “Brendon’s 17 Week Appointment” are written in bright, red letters.

He picks up a file out of a basket outside a room. Written across the top is “Urie, Brendon B.” A smile spreads easily across his face. He opens the door and Brendon is inside, sitting on the table, swinging his feet. When he sees Spencer, a grin breaks across his face.

“How are you doing?” Spencer asks. He sits down in an extra chair instead of the stool.

“Good,” Brendon says, still smiling. “What are we doing today? Do I get an ultrasound.”

Spencer nods. “We might be able to tell you the sex, even, if we’re lucky. If you want to know, of course.”

“I do!” Brendon stops swinging his legs. “I couldn’t decide at first, but I think I’m ready to know.”

“Okay, well I’ll go ahead and send you down to the ultrasound lab. When you’re done, you’ll come back here and we’ll talk about the results, and plan out our next appointments.”

The ultrasound lab is clear across the hospital. It doesn’t make sense to Brendon, because if someone was 8 months pregnant and was going to get an ultrasound, all this walking would be exhausting. People keep glancing at him, at his stomach, and he feels oddly protective about it, his hands flitting down to rest on the little bump poking at the front of his shirt.

He talks to someone at a desk, and two minutes later, a girl with curly blonde hair comes out to meet him. She says, “Hi, I’m Greta. Are you ready for your ultrasound?”

Brendon nods enthusiastically and follows her into a small, dark room.

Greta seems to be the only person on this side of the hospital that isn’t confused by his state. When he gives her a questioning look, almost as if she could tell what he was thinking, she says, “Pete has a hard time keeping his mouth shut.”

Pete is actually really nice; Brendon learned this very quickly. He has a ton of tattoos, is basically in love with one of the doctors (Patrick Stump, a neurologist that Brendon has seen once as he was leaving his 8 week appointment) and really, really likes music. He bought Brendon a milkshake while he waited before his 12 week appointment, when Spencer was busy delivering a baby.

(“Pete started going to nursing school a few months after he met Patrick. Turns out, he has a way with kids. He works most nights at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. He really seems to like taking care of the really tiny babies. And as for he and Patrick, they’re pretty much in love with each other, but they’re both too shy to do anything about it.” Spencer had told him. Brendon couldn’t understand why Spencer would call Pete ‘shy’. Pete never shut up and would talk to anyone who would listen. Brendon finally understood a few weeks later – someone brought up Patrick’s name, and Pete blushed and left the room.)

Greta squirts a glob of blue stuff onto Brendon’s skin and presses the wand to his stomach. She moves it around a bit before turning the screen for Brendon to see and says, “Here’s your baby.”

Brendon’s breath gets caught in his throat.

Greta is silent for a few minutes, taking pictures. She finally asks, “Do you want to know the sex?”

Brendon nods.

Greta smiles. “Well, it looks like you have a girl. It could of course be a boy, and just positioned so that I can’t tell, but I’m fairly certain it’s not. Congratulations.” She keeps smiling, soft and warm, the entire time. When she wipes the gel off of Brendon’s skin, she says, “You can head back to Dr. Smith now. He’ll have the print-outs for you.” Brendon leans forward and hugs her.

It takes him ten minutes to get back across the hospital. He reaches for his cell phone in his pocket three times, but has to remind himself that he’s in a hospital and really shouldn’t use his phone. Pete puts him back in a room, and after only a few minutes, Spencer appears with an envelope and a smile. Once he has the envelope, he hugs Spencer, too.

“Your next appointment will be at 20 weeks. By then, we’ll need to start talking about how you’ll deliver. Obviously, it won’t be a normal birth. It’ll have to be done by C-Section. I can do normal C-Sections, but yours won’t be normal, that much is clear. It will end up being just this side of a major surgery, which I’m not qualified for. I’m sorry.”

“So, you won’t be there?” Brendon asks. He looks disappointed and maybe a little worried.

“No, I’m sorry.” Brendon nods. “You can talk to Hayley at the desk up front. She’ll schedule your next appointment.”

Once Brendon is gone, Spencer leans against the wall and stays there for a long time.



-



“I can’t believe my flight was late,” Jon gripes. Brendon’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he unpacks his suitcase.

“I’ll show you the pictures; it was really cool! I got to see a hand and a foot, too. It was awesome.” Brendon hasn’t stopped smiling since Jon got home.

Jon adds, “And you’re having a girl.”

Brendon nods. “Yeah! Just wait until I tell everyone.”

Jon says, “All you have to do is tell one of the guys at the diner, and then the whole town will know.” Brendon shrugs in agreement.



-



Spring;


By March, Brendon’s spare bedroom is transformed completely into a nursery with the help of Jon. The walls are painted a light shade of orange with pink trimming around the doors and windows. The crib is put together, but Brendon still hasn’t picked out a set for it. There’s also a diaper table and a matching dresser.

“I think we did pretty good,” Jon says, stretching.

“Thanks, Jon,” Brendon says, a hand resting on his belly. “Really. Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal.” Jon hands Brendon a bottle of water, smiling. “I had fun. Now I can’t wait `til she’s born so I can see her using all her stuff.”

Brendon still needs a million packs of diapers and sheets and blankets, but they’re doing pretty well.



-



“This is the second time you’ve called me for coffee in the last six months,” Ryan says. “This must be important, because in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve never been one to initiate before.”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’re busy, so stop complaining.”

Ryan gets his coffee and takes a tentative sip. “Anyway, what’s going on?”

“Remember the guy who came into my office a few months ago, and he’s actually pregnant?” Spencer asks after a few minutes.

“Of course,” Ryan says. “Every time we talk, you say something about him.”

“Do not,” Spencer says stubbornly. Ryan gives him a petulant look. “He’s having a girl.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Ryan says. Spencer nods his agreement. “But, that’s not why you called me here, is it?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Every day, I check to see when his next appointment is. Even if I know it’s not for two weeks, I still check, just to see if he’s rescheduled for a closer date.” Ryan gives him a questioning look, and Spencer waves it off. “My point is, I go home at night, and instead of leaving work at work like I should, I take his case home with me. He’s all I think about.”

“And what are you concluding?” Ryan asks.

Spencer sighs. “That I’m maybe, possibly, head over heels in love with him.”



-



“I’m huge,” Brendon says sadly.

“You’re really not,” Mikey says, bagging Brendon’s books. “Have you thought of any names yet?” One of Brendon’s books is full of baby names, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“I like the name Savannah,” Brendon admits. “But I still want to look at all the names I can, in case there’s one I like better and just haven’t thought of.”

“How far along are you now?”

Hand on his stomach, Brendon says, “Twenty-six weeks. I’ve started playing music for her. She moves around a lot for some songs, and stays really still for others. I’m starting to see patterns.” The smile on Brendon’s face makes Mikey wonder if everyone can be that happy.



-



Brendon gets a week off work and decides to take a road trip. “You don’t think I’m letting you go by yourself, do you?” Jon asks, following Brendon to his car with his own suitcase.

“Jon, wait, you have to work. You can’t just – ”

“I have some extra vacation time. It’s fine, really. I’d love to go with you – if you don’t mind.”

Brendon shakes his head. “No, it’ll be fun. I’m glad.” He smiles, but it’s cut off when his hand flies down to rest on his stomach.

Jon nearly drops his bag. “What’s wrong? Did something hurt?”

“No, it’s fine,” Brendon laughs. “She’s just kicking. I think she’s excited. Baby’s first road trip and all.”



-



They don’t have any set destination, just plan on driving for two days, then turning around and driving back. Jon insists on driving, especially since the baby keeps kicking, and Brendon keeps laughing, or gasping and leaning against the window, or talking to the baby while his eyes aren’t on the road.

“What would you do without me?” Jon asks, jokingly.

“Hmm,” Brendon says, looking over at him. “I’d probably end up being bored all the time.” Jon rolls his eyes, signals to get over into the next lane. “Oh, Jon! Jon, look!” Brendon points to a billboard. “Take the next exit, there’s a baby store!”

Jon does as he’s told, and they end up leaving with three bags of baby things. A set of sheets and blankets for the crib (covered in cute flowers, bees, and grasshoppers), three stuffed animals (a plush, light brown bear, a foot-tall yellow giraffe, and an orange cat) and a ton of clothes. Jon ends up carrying most of it because Brendon is holding the bear to his stomach and talking softly to the baby.



-



“I want to make snow angels,” Brendon says, a few minutes after the baby gets the hiccups for the first time. He’s resting in front of the pool at their hotel. There aren’t any other people around, so he’d happily ripped off his shirt and had been ready to jump in for a swim when Jon yelled, “30 minutes after eating!”

“It’s May,” Jon points out.

“Yeah, well,” Brendon shrugs. “After the baby is born, I’m going to make some kickass snow angels.”

Jon reaches over a lays his hand on Brendon’s belly. The baby kicks against his hand. Jon doesn’t move away.



-



“I wonder what color her eyes will be,” Brendon says as he points up at the sky. “Bunny,” He adds.

“Hmm, yeah, I see,” Jon says. “I bet they’ll be brown, like yours.” Jon looks over at Brendon and smiles.

Brendon smiles back, but ultimately ends up squirming around. “Ugh, it’s not even comfortable to lay like this,” He complains. They’re on their backs on the roof of the building, pointing out cloud shapes to each other while discussing the one constant in their lives – the baby.

“She’s pretty feisty, yeah?” Jon grins.

Brendon hums his agreement. “They did another ultrasound last week; it’s definitely a girl.”

“I’m glad,” Jon laughs. “If it ended up being a boy, he’d be having a serious identity crisis.”



-



Brendon goes in for the night shift, and the minute he opens the kitchen door, everyone yells, “Surprise!”

Vicky bounces on her feet, grinning. It takes Brendon a few seconds to recover from the shock, but once he does, his grin matches hers. “It’s a baby shower,” Vicky supplies. “Everyone got you something. None of it is really big or amazing, but it’s the best we could do.”

The room is decorated with pink ribbons and banners proclaiming, “IT’S A GIRL!” There’s a pink teddy bear sitting on top of a stack of presents.

Brendon mutters, “Stupid hormones,” as an excuse for his tears, then goes around the room and hugs everyone.

He ends up getting a ton of diapers, which he definitely needed, a little swing that attaches to a door frame (“For when the baby’s older.”), some bottles, and a set of rubber ducks. Not to mention the ten different stuffed animals sitting around the room and the matching outfits sitting with most of them.

“I love you guys,” Brendon says, and hugs each of them again.



-



Summer;


“Holy shit,” Brendon half-yells. He drops a plate of pancakes and everyone comes running.

“Oh my god,” Butcher says, “You’re totally dying, aren’t you? Shit, shit, Vicky, go call an ambulance. Brendon, if you die, you’re fired.”

Brendon laughs quietly. “I’m fine, I just – I think I need to go to the hospital.” He almost doubles over in pain again and adds, “Quickly.”


They get him to the hospital in record time. Jon meets them there. “I called Dr. Smith – ”

“Spencer,” Brendon interjects breathlessly.

“ – and he said he’ll be here as soon as possible.”

“He shouldn’t – he has patients. He can’t help me,” Brendon says. A nurse gets him on a gurney.

“Mr. Urie, the surgeon on call is Dr. Crahs. He’s already been informed of your condition and is scrubbing in now. We’ll have that baby out of you soon.” The nurse has a calming smile. He calls over another nurse and, together, they wheel Brendon towards the elevator.

“Wait!” They all turn to see Spencer rushing towards them. “Wait, hey, can I have a second? Just – five seconds, I know this is urgent, I’ll hurry, I promise.”

The nurses look at each other and the first says, “You have five seconds, Dr. Smith. If we don’t get this baby out – ”

“I know,” Spencer says breathlessly.

“Her name is going to be Leah,” Brendon breaks in, looking at Spencer with bright eyes.

Spencer pauses to smile, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was going to say. The nurse looks at her watch and says, “Okay, I’m sorry, we have to go.” They start pushing Brendon into the elevator.

Just before the elevator door closes, Spencer yells, “Brendon Urie, I’m in love with you!”

There’s just enough time for Spencer to see the look of shock on Brendon’s face, but nothing else.



-



Spencer has patients to see and a lady giving birth that he has to attend to, so he can’t sit in the waiting room with Brendon’s friends no matter how much he wants to. Before he leaves, Jon gives him a look that Spencer can’t read, but it doesn’t feel like a friendly one. He ends up nearly running into Pete when he gets back to his office.

“Brendon Urie’s giving birth, isn’t he?” Pete asks quietly. All Spencer can do is nod. “I’ll head over there as soon as I can, so I can help with the baby when she comes.”

Spencer gives Pete a thankful look, but Pete’s gone before Spencer can say anything.

Brendon is in surgery for twenty-two hours. Leah is born three hours after they start. It takes almost an hour just to cut off the blood-flow from her body to Brendon’s. She’s healthy, twenty inches long, and seven pounds. She cries and cries and cries until Pete wraps her in a blanket and holds her to his chest. He takes a picture of her with his cell phone and sends it to Spencer.

The rest of the surgery is complicated – delivering the placenta without causing hemorrhaging. The placenta had connected to the blood-flow from one of his kidneys and one of his lungs. The connection with the lung stops bleeding easily, but the kidney connection causes problems. Just when they think they have everything under control, nineteen hours in, they cut a small blood vessel that ends up being another main connection.

It bleeds for over an hour, non-stop, no matter what they do.

Brendon dies on the table at 1:33 a.m. on June 4th.



-



“She still needs a middle name,” Pete says when Spencer comes to the Nursery, his eyes rimmed red from exhaustion. He’s holding her, bundled in a pile of pink and white blankets. She has her hand fisted in his shirt, eyes closed, sleeping quietly.

Spencer thinks for a few minutes, then says, “Paige,” and, “Can I hold her?”

Pete carefully hands her over. She blinks up at them for a few seconds, then closes her eyes and goes back to sleep. While Spencer stares down at her, whispers stories to her, Pete goes to add her middle name to her birth certificate. When he comes back, he says, “She doesn’t have any other family. Grandparents died two years ago in a car crash, and there are no uncles or aunts. No great-aunts or anything fucked up like that.”

Spencer says, “Get me the phone number to Child Services?”



-



Spencer never thought that his spare bedroom would be turned into a nursery. Never in a million years would he have imagined it. But the orange and pink walls and the crib and the stuffed animals all look right at home. Little Leah looks right at home.

Jon had helped him set up the nursery, since he’d helped Brendon. He’d sat on the floor with Leah when she came home, looking between her and Spencer. He’d said, “It’s like he went away for the weekend and got lost coming back.” He’d stayed long enough to give Leah a bottle and to play with Spencer’s dog for a few minutes. “I keep expecting him to come back any minute, saying, ‘There’s my baby, isn’t she perfect?’”

Leah starts to cry and Spencer goes to pull her out of the bassinet. “Shh,” he whispers as he cradles her in his arms. She quiets down immediately and stares up at him, blinking. She looks just like Brendon and it makes Spencer want to cry. He didn’t know Brendon well when he was alive, but knows he’ll learn everything through this child. This child who will be the biggest part of his life, all thanks to a crime, and someone who was never caught. Her hair is thick and black, and when she cries, Spencer’s sure he hears Brendon’s voice in the wind, shushing her.

When Spencer looks in her eyes, all he sees is Brendon.