Disclaimer: I own no part of Secret Life. All characters are the creation of Brenda Hampton. I just own the plot.

Adrian's pregnant, and it's my baby! Amy could still hear the sentence he'd spilled in one breath. Each time she heard it in her head she wanted to pound it out, take those words away as if they had never been said. This couldn't be happening. Ben Boykewich wasn't having a baby with Adrian Lee. It just wasn't possible. She soon realized that yes, yes it was. If what happened at band camp was possible then so was this.

But he loves me she thought. Ben wouldn't be stupid enough to go off and have sex with someone when he promised to wait until she was ready. Let alone with her worst enemy. Adrian. The name tasted bitter as it mentally slipped off her tongue. Adrian was having Ben's baby and he'd waited until now to tell her so. The first part of the confession was the one that really got to her. Amy couldn't even read the numbers off the meter. As the taxi cab pulled up to the hotel she could barely see anything in front of her. Coming to a halt, the driver turned to face her.

"That'll be twenty dollars Miss." Being taken out of her own personal pain, she fumbled for her wallet. With shaking hands she offered the man a twenty. "Have a great night now," he called as she collected her things. She held back a laugh and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Oh yeah, tonight's been fantastic. Instead she smiled kindly, offering him a quick 'thank you' as she closed the door. Before he could even pull away, she ran.

For a minute she had no idea where she was running. Her room, so she could cry her heart out? No. If she went to bed she'd dream. Dream about how the man she cared about so much had gone behind her back and had sex with another woman. You kissed another man she reminded herself. But he wasn't just any man. He was the father of her baby. The kiss was nothing, it would never be anything. It could never be anything.

Ricky Underwood was a lady's man. Willing to keep a girl in his life was unheard of. The idea for some reason angered her. Not because she wanted him. She'd just as easily jump off the Golden Gate Bridge before she ever fell for Ricky. They were friends, sure. They had to be for the sake of their son. They had even become really good friends over the past few months. Ricky was irritating. That much she knew. He committed himself where it counted most. Her son had a father. A father who loved him. A father who kept telling the world that John was all he really loved. For Amy that was all that mattered.

Amy cried harder when she realized why she had John in the first place. She gave herself up at band camp. At fifteen she'd had sex with the head drummer. Just another notch under his belt. Yet, as far as she knew she was the only one lucky enough to have accidently been impregnated with his child. He'd used her just like he used all the others.

Through a steady stream of tears she saw the espresso machine in the main hall. She walked up to it, taking a small coffee cup and letting a few shots drip. When it was finally filled it to the brim she took one big swig and slammed it down on the counter. Those around her looked at her questioningly but she ignored them. Just like she'd tried to ignore the unquenchable pain in her chest. The knife was still there, she knew.

What I wouldn't give for a shot of booze right about now she thought. Amy stopped mid-espresso shot her eyes wide. Even admitting it to herself was scary. As quickly as she shock had come, it vanished. Anything to take this pain away she cried. By now her brain was set on autopilot. Drip, swig, slam, cry, drip, swig, slam, cry. Time became non-existent. She had no idea how long she'd been downing shots of coffee but soon enough she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Hearing the sound of drums, she smiled.

Everything in her rang with elation. She felt a wide smile come across her face as she walked back to her apartment. She'd finally decided. She had to call John. She'd been so busy that she wasn't able to call all day. With a new sense of purpose she slammed through her door swiping up the phone and dialing. Shaking fingers found the familiar number she'd called this morning. She almost squealed at the idea of talking to her son. She loved him so much, missed him so much. Falling back on her bed, she bounced impatiently.

"Pick up, Ricky! Pick up, pick up, pick up!"

"Hello," he mumbled sleepily. Oh crap. I woke him up! I'll just call back tomorrow she thought. What her brain wanted and what came out of her mouth though, were two completely different things.

"Hi Ricky! How's John? Can I talk to him? Please? I haven't talked to him all day!"

"Amy?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah it's Amy. Who else would it be, Adrian?" she asked rolling her eyes. "Of course you're thinking its Adrian. How could I have guessed differently?" she added in disgust. "Well it's not Adrian. I'm sorry to rain on your parade," she growled.

"Amy," he said more awake this time. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" She looked down at her watch and smiled.

"Yeah it's three o'clock," she replied.

"Holy crap Amy! What the hell are you doing up at three in the morning?" he asked angrily.

"Talking to you silly! Well more specifically I want to talk to John. Can you wake him up so I can say hi?"

"Amy it's midnight. He's asleep. Just like everyone else is. Just like I was before you called."

"I'm too awake to sleep!" she announced bouncing again on the bed. Ricky's eyes widened. He noticed the tremor in her voice, the over excitement. His heart stopped cold, panic setting in.

"Amy, what did you have?" he asked uncertainly, now fully awake.

"N-n-nothing," she said. Ricky noticed a shaking in her voice immediately. Whether it was her trade-mark lying give away or whatever she had in her system he knew she wasn't telling him the truth.

"You had something. What the hell are they giving you?" he asked running a hand nervously through his hair.

"The stupid s-s-s-school doesn't have any booze," she whispered. Ricky wanted to ram his head into the nearest wall. Since when was Amy interested in alcohol?

"Of course they don't! Why the fuck would you even want that stuff?" he growled. He heard Amy sigh on the other side of the phone.

"The bet-t-t-er question being, why do you care? Ricky Underwood doesn't care about anyone but himself!" His train of thought stopped dead. Along with it he could feel something in his chest give and drop about a foot. Is that what she thought? He quickly realized that she really couldn't come up with anything else. That was all he'd given her.

The way he treated her when she first found out she was pregnant. The denial he'd gone through when she told him whose baby it was she was carrying. He'd given her every excuse in the book. He couldn't have gotten her pregnant. He was always so careful. He had done it before; he knew how to be safe. Yet somehow he was here, in her house, in her room looking after the son they shared. The baby that wasn't supposed to be but ended up happening anyway. A baby that held his entire heart in his small little hands.

Why did he care? In the silence that followed her question she could hear her breathing. The same sound he heard the morning after she'd given him what she most valued. The possession that he'd never had to take from anyone before. Amy was different. Whether it be the fact that she was different in the sense that she'd never actually had sex before or something else he wasn't sure. Going over it in his head he realized that he was leaning more towards the second option. Amy Juregens had something about her, something he couldn't place.

"Hello?" he heard her ask. "Knock, knock, anybody home?" Despite the fact that he knew she wasn't herself at the moment (he'd really have to watch her coffee intake from now on. Did she even drink coffee?) he had to laugh. He felt another pull at his heart when he heard her giggle. Not sure what it was, he ignored it.

"Yeah I'm still here," he said. "How much coffee did you have Amy?" He heard her sigh, exasperated. Ricky could almost hear her rolling her eyes at him.

"I d-d-don't know!" she yelled. He cringed at the volume of her voice and pulled the phone away slightly.

"Why were you drinking it?" Amy sighed. She was both irritated and in pain. Why was Ricky asking her all these questions? What she did to drown her misery was her own business. A picture of him flashed across her mind and without realizing it felt the world blur around her. "Amy?" he asked more carefully, "What happened?"

"You got me pregnant, that's what happened!" she growled. Ricky felt like he'd just been slapped. "And because of that, everything's been ruined! Everything!" she sobbed. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. How could I have been so stupid? He heard her struggling for breath and sighed.

"Amy you have to breathe," he said gently. She had no idea why, but something in her flared.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do Richard Underwood!" Anger. "It's because I listened to you that all of this even happened! 'Let's hang out tonight. Let's have sex. I won't let you give up the baby.' Look at where I am Ricky! A baby at fifteen!"

"Hey you're not the only one with a baby!" he countered.

"Oh yeah? Who spent nine months pregnant with him? Who went through hours of labor to have him? Who wakes up around the clock to look after him? Me! It's all me!"

"Not true. I'm over here every single night to be with him," he said.

"Yeah, till he's asleep. Then you leave it all up to me." Ricky had an argument but held his tongue. It wouldn't help anything if he brought up another point. She'd just find a way to be right. It didn't take him long to realize that, for the most part she was. She had John living with her. She tended to him every night. He just came to see him for a few hours every night. He'd just had sex—Almost instantly, it hit him. This wasn't about John. This wasn't even about him. This was about Ben. He had no idea why, but he now wanted to pound the kid's face in.

"This isn't about me, is it?" he asked. Hearing this question Amy released a heart-wrenching sob. It surprised Ricky that he could almost feel it himself. Digging deep in the pit of his chest, a knife stuck so deep that it almost made him bleed.

"She's having his baby!" she cried. He just stood there not knowing what else to do. Not that he could do much. She was states away from home. "That jerk is having her baby!" He wasn't even going to correct her on the way she said that. Instead he sighed.

"I know," he whispered. Amy's blood ran cold. He knew? The admission angered her even more.

"You know? You've known this entire time and haven't even bothered to tell me?" she screamed.

"It wasn't my story to tell Amy. Ben had to tell you himself." He heard an object fly to the nearest wall on the other side.

"Oh he told me alright. I believe his exact words were 'Adrian's pregnant and it's my baby.' He said it right after we kissed all in one breath." Ricky literally slamned his head into the wall this time. Ben was such an idiot!

"Shit!" he groaned. He could feel a bump forming on his head now. He made a silent promise to pound him the next time he went into work. For the bump that he had a feeling would turn into a watermelon Ben would pay. And for hurting Amy he added.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine," he said.

"Well that makes one of us," she mumbled. "I…I can't do this anymore," she sniffled. "I don't want to be here," she sighed.

"Do you want me to talk to your parents about flying you home?" he asked.

"Home? Are you crazy? Home is where all my problems are! I can't go home!" Ricky sighed. If she didn't want to be there or at home, where the hell did she want to be?

"Well for Christ's sake Amy! Make up your mind! What do you want?" He soon regretted his tone when she heard her release another sob. "What do you want?" he repeated much quieter this time. Someone to hold me she thought. Her next thought terrified her. You to hold me. She shook her head frantically fighting to get the image out of her head.

"I don't know!" she shot back. "I don't know what the hell I want! God I need more coffee," she sighed.

"No you don't," he said.

"How do you know what I need?" she snapped.

"I don't know unless you actually tell me Amy."

"I…I…"

"You what?"

"I need John," she said weakly. "I need my baby," she whimpered. Something in Ricky snapped when she heard her weakness. He now knew why Amy was nothing he'd ever seen before. He finally understood why he fought so hard to keep the baby. It wasn't just about his own screwed up childhood. Somewhere deep in the back of his head he couldn't get rid of her, didn't want to. That scared him. Why couldn't he lose her? He had sex with her. That's all Ricky ever did, have sex. That's what he was good at. The alien emotions were something completely unknown.

"Oh lord Amy, please don't cry," he begged. It was as if he hadn't said anything for she kept crying. And now, she had no idea how to stop. Everything hurt. She couldn't move. She was freezing, even with mountains of blankets on. "Breathe," he prompted. As hard as she tried she couldn't comply. Her heart was racing. It felt as though her heart was going to leap out of her chest.

"I….I….I can't," she cried. "It hurts. Everything hurts."

"Come on. In and out. It's not that hard." This time she complied, but they were short and shallow as she tried to compose her crying. "In….out," he whispered.

"I don't want to sleep. I can't…"

"Yes you can. Just take it slow." Finally she did so with a little bit more ease.

"That's it," he said. "Slow and steady."

"What day is it?" she asked softly.

"Friday, well Saturday now," he yawned. Now she felt bad. She'd kept Ricky awake to blab about her own ridiculous problems.

"Go to sleep," she laughed.

"I could definitely use some," he said. "Are you okay?" She could hear the ring of sincerity in his question and smiled.

"No," she said quietly. Ricky jolted when he realized his next plan of action. He found himself logging onto her computer now, entering a search for red-eye flights from California to New York. He had no idea why he was doing this but continued on anyway.

"Aha," he said tapping one last key on the keyboard.

"What?" she asked.

"We'll see you in seven hours," he told her. Amy's eyes widened.

"What? No!"

"Amy you're not sleeping. I won't be able to tell Italian from breakfast sausage come morning." She found tears pooling yet again. Italian. Hearing her sniffle he groaned. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "We'll see you soon," he promised.

"Ricky this is ridiculous! You have work, you have school. Stay home I'll be fine!"

"Will you?" he asked uncertainly. At this point she really didn't know.

"I think so."

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said. "Can I bring you anything from home?" Just you she thought. Why she thought this she had no idea. Even though she wasn't allowed to, the image soothed her some. She realized that if anyone could help her right now, it'd be him. He'd been there, he'd felt her pain. Ricky understood her on a level that no one else ever could, no matter how hard they tried. It was all thanks to John. All thanks to that one time at band camp.

"No," she sighed knowing now the fight to keep him there would be pointless. There was no arguing with him when he'd made up his mind. Amy learned that the hard way.

"I'll see you soon," he said.

"Tha—" but the line had already gone dead. "Thank you," she whispered to no one but the walls of her empty room.

A/N: Mr. Plot Bunny wouldn't leave me alone, I had to write this. Should I continue?