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As Amy made her way back to the women's locker room, she was prepared for the stares she knew she would receive.

A few people out in the hallway didn't actually pay any attention to her - but more than not gawked her way, obviously in complete shock over her announcement.  She knew what they were all thinking.  She tried her best to just ignore them all.

"Hey, Amy!" she heard a voice call, and, despite herself, she looked up, finding her gaze drawn to the face of Steven Richards.  The man was grinning like an idiot at her.

"So, who's the father?" he asked unabashedly.  "Or do you even know?"

The redhead gasped in shock at the sheer bluntness and rudeness of the man's inquiry.  Then, stepping closer to him, she pulled back her arm and slapped him across the face - hard.  How dare he ask her that!

Then, without a single word, she left the jerk standing there in shock, one hand up to his face.  She hoped she left a permanent red handprint on him.  The bastard...

Amy kept her head up high as she returned to the locker room, her breath held as she steeled herself for the inevitable.

The women who were inside all looked up as one as the door opened and she entered.  The redhead knew they'd been gossiping about her.  It was written on all their faces.  Most likely, they'd been speculating on the identity of the father of her child - and they all hushed in seconds.

One diva quickly came straight for her, the woman's face looking both shocked and concerned.

"Amy..."  Trish eyed her sympathetically, reaching out for her friend's hand and giving it a tender squeeze.  "No wonder you did all that last night..."

The redhead glanced around quickly, instantly noticing Torrie Wilson and Victoria practically huddled together across the room.  Both women were outrightly staring at her, and she didn't like it one bit.  In fact, while Torrie was facing her from where she sat, the raven-haired woman was actually looking at her from over her shoulder.  Evidently, she knew nothing about subtlety.

Amy turned away, closing her eyes tightly and trying to calm herself by breathing deeply.  She was becoming more than a little annoyed - and, being pregnant, an attempt at kicking two women's asses would not be a good idea.  And while it wouldn't take much for her to get Torrie, Victoria was a different story.

Trish glanced over at the two nosy divas with annoyance, knowing what must obviously be going through Amy's mind.  She was angry for her friend.  Who did those two think they were?  The least they could do was not be so obvious about staring at her!  But they obviously didn't give a damn.  Either that, or they were totally clueless - well, she could believe that about Torrie.  Victoria, on the other hand, probably fell into the former category.

"Amy, do you want to-"  Before the little blonde could finish the question, the redhead grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.  They went right out into the hallway, just to the side of the door, and Amy figured some of the other divas, particularly the platinum blonde and the dark-haired one she didn't like, would probably move closer to the door to get an earful.  Whatever... She needed to speak privately with her friend - not out in the open of the locker room, where the prying eyes and ears lurked.  And the very idea that this damn hallway was more private than the locker room made her shudder.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetie?" Trish asked as she peered into her friend's face with concern.  She was still holding onto the redhead's hand, and she gave it another sympathetic, gentle squeeze.

"I...I didn't know how," Amy replied in a whisper.  "I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to apologize, Amy...I do understand.  But I could have helped you...It must be so hard to be in this situation with no one knowing..."

"Three people knew - well, possibly four..."

Trish cocked her head to the side.  "Of course...Shane must know, right?" she whispered.

The redheaded diva raised her free hand to her hair, raking her fingers through it.  She gestured for her friend to follow her, and they walked a ways further down the hall, stopping at a deserted corridor.

"Trish, Shane's not the father..." Amy finally said when she made certain they were the only ones in the area.

The petite blonde's expression grew surprised.  "He's not?"

"No..."

After a beat, Trish spoke again.  "It's okay...if you don't want to tell me who is, I'll understand..."

"It's Adam..." Amy blurted, closing her eyes and letting out the breath she'd been holding.  She opened her eyes to see a look of confusion dominating Trish's face.  It was quickly replaced by shock.

"Adam?  You mean Adam Copeland?"

The other diva nodded.

"Oh...God...Does he know?"

Amy nodded again.  "He found out by accident - Chris...Chris Benoit found out - he overheard me talking to Stephanie in her office, and..."  She knew she was babbling, probably incoherently in her friend's opinion, but she couldn't help it.  "And he told Adam when he went to beat him up over it...They - Chris and Stephanie stopped me from having an abortion last night, and..."  She began to cry, the tears quickly coursing down her cheeks actually a surprise.  "Trish, I'm so scared!"

The petite blonde diva winced but put her arms around her friend.  "It's okay to be scared, sweetie...Shh...it'll all be all right."  She rubbed a hand over Amy's back as she tried her best to soothe the other woman.