A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Epilogue

My eyelids are drooping and every time I don't pay attention my head threatens to fall from my hand with sleepiness.

It's nine pm, Valnetine's Day, or night really, of all days, and the doctor has told me to wait another hour while my daughter stays in observation and then we should be free to go.

I'd really have preferred having Brendon here with me, but we agreed that June knowing about our relationship might provoke her to want to keep the baby because, well, after all she is still rather conservative, and I don't know how well the thought of her daughter being raised by two guys in a relationship would sit with her. So better safe than sorry. Which is also why Brendon isn't going to try to adopt until June looses all rights in a year and he can do it without her permission.

I've been in the hospital for close to 24 hours now. I've been screamed at, I've had the life squished out of my hand, I've been close to fainting several times and eventually I got kicked out of the delivery room, only to be called back in a few hours later to see my daughter. And Gods, is she beautiful?! I know red and wrinkly usually doesn't make anybody beautiful, but she honestly is. When I was allowed to hold her, she opened her eyes and shit, seriously. They were the exact shape and color of Brendon's and once more I don't care that genetically they come from June, because those eyes always have and always will be his in my mind.

I loosen my tie a little, annoyed for the umpteenth time that I had to come in my stage clothes. Last night we were having a show, just a small, local one, and I'd forgotten to turn my Sidekick off and take it out of my pant pocket.

In the middle of 'I Write Sins' it started vibrating and I just had this feeling that I needed to pick it up. So, to odd looks from people, I moved away from my mic and picked up the phone.

"Ryan!" Recognizing her voice was never hard.

"Hey June. What is it?" I asked, eager to get back to the show. There wasn't all that much to worry about. I mean, she wasn't supposed to give birth in another one or two weeks.

"My water just friggin' broke! I need you to take me to the hospital!" she more or less screamed.

I think I pretty much just panicked there, dropping my phone and all. I picked it back up a moment later and reassured her that I'd be there in a moment.

The guitarist from the warm-up band, who is luckily a big enough fan of ours to have learned the chords, was sent for as I quickly explained the situation to Brendon before I ran to the car, leaving the others to ride in Jaime's shitty Jetta.

******

"Mr. Ross?"

I look up and squint my eyes sleepily as I recognize the doctor from before. "Yeah," I mutter.

"We need you to sign a few papers. Miss Urie already signed and you're more or less free to take your daughter now," he explains.

I nod, get up and follow him into the office where he pushes a stack of papers across the table to me. I quickly make my way through them, habitually putting my signature on the bottom of the needed pages before I'm finally done.

He takes the lead again, guiding me through the corridors and hallways until we reach the nursery. He stays outside, allowing me to walk in.

A nurse is holding the baby I recognize as mine and quickly turns around to face me. "George Ross?" she asks.

I nod, not bothering to correct her as she places the tiny girl in my arms.

"Good luck," she says.

I turn my attention from my daughter for a split second to send her a broad smile. "Thanks. Have a nice day."

******