"Has Amy been pregnant before, any time in the past?" Dr. Perl had queried.

"Not that I know of," the Canadian calmly replied.  "Why?"

"Well, usually in cases such as hers, the woman has been pregnant once before and suffered a miscarriage," the woman explained.  "Based on the fact that Amy's periods have been irregular in the last four or so years - from what she's told me - I believe she may have been previously pregnant and not even known it - and then had a spontaneous abortion - a miscarriage that occurs within the first couple of weeks."

"Oh," was all the lanky blond had managed.  He felt too numb to say anything more.

He rose from his chair at Amy's bedside instantly as the redhead suddenly roused, crying out softly.  Adam winced, knowing she had to be in pain.

"Ames...?  Baby?"  He leaned over the rail on the bed, instantly slipping his hand into hers as he gazed down into her face with tender concern.

"I...ow, that hurts," she said softly.  She gazed up into his eyes.  "Adam..."

"I'm here, honey," the tall blond man said as he gazed her over.  He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly.  God, he loved this woman.

"Is everything...what did the doctor say?"

"You're going to be okay, Ames," he replied.  He managed a soft smile.

"Am I..."  Her voice trailed off, her hazel eyes filling with tears as she started over.  "I want to have your baby someday...will I be able to?"

"Yes, baby," the Canadian replied softly, the emotion swelling inside him nearly overwhelming.  "The doctor said there's no reason you can't have a normal conception and pregnancy in the future."

"Oh, thank God," the redhead whispered.  She'd been terrified that the surgery was going to leave her permanently scarred, and therefore sterile.  And she wanted in the worst way to have Adam's child someday.

The blond continued to gaze tenderly at her, his emerald eyes glittering with all the love he had for her.  He lowered his head to hers, placing a gentle kiss on her brow, then nuzzled her, his eyes closed.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

When he pulled back, their hands still clasped, he placed a hand gently against her cheek.  "I...have to take a trip for a little while," he said.  He hated having to do this, as he didn't want to leave her even for a moment, but he had no choice.

"What?" Amy asked.  She was still a tiny bit disoriented from the anesthesia and medication she'd been pumped full of.  "Where?  And why?"

The tall man ran his hand through his long blond hair.  "It's business, Amy...I have to go to Indianapolis for awhile...but I'll be back before you know it - by sometime tonight.  I promise."

"Indianapolis?" the diva questioned.  She quickly wracked her brain until it suddenly dawned on her.  "RAW - you're going to RAW?"

"Yes," he admitted.  He didn't want to have to tell her about the cruel things Eric Bischoff had said to him on the phone the previous night.  He didn't want to upset her any more than she'd already felt.

The redhead remained silent for a beat as she gazed straight ahead.  Then, shifting her eyes back to his, she asked, "It's about Bischoff, isn't it?  He wants me to show up tonight and didn't like it when you said I wouldn't be able to make it..."

Adam blinked, surprised she was so perceptive.  "How did you know that?"

"Just a hunch...Adam..."  Her voice suddenly took on a beseeching quality, "...please don't do anything rash."

"I won't...but I have to talk to him face-to-face.  It'll be all right, Ames."  He gently squeezed her hand as if to reassure her.

The diva sighed as she thought about their entire ordeal.  Strange how it had begun on the night of her birthday - and that she had gotten so violently ill and had had a horrible reaction to, of all things, a ski mask someone had given her.  It just didn't add up.

"I wish...I wish Trish and the Hardys could be here with me," she said sadly.  Besides Adam, Trish Stratus and Matt and Jeff Hardy were Amy's closest friends.  It would make her feel somewhat better to have them around her during this trying time.

Adam gazed down into her face softly.  He decided right then that he was going to see what he could do about getting one, two, or perhaps all three of them back here with him.

*

The young woman cowered in the corner in which she sat huddled on the cold hard cellar floor.  She bitterly wondered how long she'd been in this prison hell.  It felt like ages that she'd been here - held captive by that sick son of a bitch.

The man suddenly appeared in the doorway, as if he'd heard her thoughts.  Instinctively, she moved backward until she was up against the wall.  She kept her head bowed as he approached her, refusing to look up into his face, her long brown hair falling in two wings across her face.  She could hide behind her hair - hide her eyes and not have to look at the smug bastard.

"I've brought you some dinner..."  John bent over and laid a plate with a chicken leg, mashed potatoes and string beans on the floor before her.  While he did so, the woman hung her head even lower.  How could the asshole even expect her to be hungry after everything he had subjected her to?

The man lowered a glass of water, placing it beside the plate.  If she hadn't felt so sick because of her situation, she would have found the food appetizing.  Then, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a napkin and fork, also laying that down on the floor.  He would never let her have a knife - the bastard was smarter than that, smarter than he looked.

The woman remained huddled in the corner, her legs tucked underneath her, arms crossed protectively across her chest.  She was still only wearing her bra and panties, as that was all the psycho would allow her to wear.  She had no idea what he had done with her clothes, or her coat.

He stood there as if fixed, his strange eyes trained on her intensely.  "Angelica...Angelica, look at me..."

The woman refused to look up.  In the middle of this horrible ordeal, she had very quickly grown to hate that name.  It wasn't her real name, anyway.  But this asshole thought it was.

John came closer to her, kneeling down directly in front of her.  The young woman attempted to move over, to her left, but he stopped her.  He roughly grabbed hold of her chin, holding her head up and forcing her to look at him.  She practically snarled as she did so, having grown to hate his stinking guts more quickly than she could ever loathe anyone.  She felt as though she could spit on the man.

"You have got to eat, Angelica..."

The woman tried to turn her head away from him, shutting her eyes tightly and refusing to look at him.  He wasn't much to look at, anyway.

"Don't you dare close your eyes - don't you dare look away from me!"  He raised his other hand to her, clenching it into a fist.  She opened her eyes just in time to see it.

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" John shouted.  She was sick of all of this - tired of his madness, tired of being held prisoner in this hellhole, and just plain tired.  Since she'd been here, she'd never really slept - how could she?  She had lapsed in and out of consciousness at times when the asshole had struck her.  It seemed he hit her whenever the mood struck him.  She was surprised that it hadn't happened again now.

"You are going to eat!" the man yelled.  Then, before she could even react, he picked the broiled drumstick up from the plate and shoved it toward her lips.  She tried to keep her mouth tightly shut, her teeth clamped down, but somehow, he managed to get it open.  The maniac shoved the piece of chicken into her mouth, moving it in and out as he shouted orders at her, his other hand roughly gripping the back of her head.

My God...he was truly a madman.  He was forcing her to pantomime fellatio on the damn chicken leg.  Oh, God...what the hell was he going to do next?

She wished she hadn't asked herself that question, as a moment later, he forced her hand to his crotch.  She let out a horrified whimper as she realized he had a hard on.  He threw her down on the cold concrete, instantly falling to his knees, pinning her in place.

"No!!!"  She screamed and thrashed around beneath him, more terrified than she'd been up until now.  Before this, the worst he had done as far as violating her body was touching her breasts.  Oh, my God...

She kicked at him as he suddenly shifted, yanking her panties down.  She had to stop him!  She couldn't let him do the sick thing he was thinking of doing.

The maniac somehow, during all of her struggling, had managed to get his pants undone, and now they were down just enough... "No!!!"  She screamed at the top of her lungs, raising her small fists to batter him in the chest as he pulled down his underwear.

Her tears finally came as he suddenly plowed into her, thrusting hard.  She sobbed as the pain tore through her, shutting her eyes tightly, refusing to look at him.  She thought she was going to be sick.

"Angelica...oh, Angelica..."