AN: Sorry that this has taken EONS to finish. I got caught up with work and writing Choosing Realities and this went on the backburner. But I had to finish this so I could actually focus fully on CR which should be up within a week (hopefully). Thanks for everything!

Brilliant beams of sunlight peeked through the bedroom curtains, casting their warmth and light directly onto Rose's face, causing her to groan in pain. She'd awoken earlier that morning with a persistent dull ache and a slightly queasy stomach. Hoping to stifle the headache from progressing further, Rose had carefully extricated herself from John's arms and quietly shuffled her way through the darkened room and into the en suite. After popping a couple of pain relievers, she went back to bed and curled back into John, fully expecting to awake later on free of the headache. However, the intense pain she felt as the light hit her face proved that it had only gotten worse.

Even though she felt as if an anvil was resting on her head, Rose rolled onto her other side and pulled the covers over her fully. The next conscious thought she had was that something was making far too much noise, and quite close to her at that. It was mobile too, because one moment it was beside the bed, the next it was further off in the distance. Rose assumed it was Tony looking for his earlier confiscated DS. The fact that it wasn't in their room and he was needlessly making a racket only irritated her further.

"Get out, Tony, or I'll…," she trailed off, her head hurting too much to make up an actual threat. "Just go," she grumbled, burrowing herself further under the covers.

There was a pause in the noise, and Rose started to drift off. After a brief moment, the noise began again and Rose's eyes flew open. There were three things that fiercely irritated Rose—waking her up needlessly, people trying to have a conversation with her before she'd had any caffeine, and bothering her when she was sick. With her head pounding and fire in her veins, Rose ripped back the covers, ready to tear into whoever.

"I said…," she trailed off as her eyes locked with her husband's. Even though her vision was blurry, she was able to see that John was staring wide-eyed at her, his hand buried in her purse.

They continued to blank each other for several moments before Rose finally broke the silence.

"John…what are ya doin' in my purse?" she said lowly, her voice garbled due to pain and fatigue.

Immediately, John yanked his hand out of the bag, causing multiple items to fall and roll about on the floor. Rose winced at the noise and rubbed at her forehead. It took a moment before John registered her reaction and quickly walked over to her, kneeling beside the bed.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked worriedly, stroking her hair.

"Don't feel well," she answered wearily. She looked up and squinted at him. "Ya still didn't answer me. What are you doin' in here muckin' about? 'Specially in my purse?"

John's eyes darted about as he attempted to come up with an answer. The whole situation had him utterly flustered and the normally verbose man was reduced to muteness.

"Uh…gum?"

"Are-…," she halted as a wave of nausea hit her. Taking a breath, she tried again. "Are you askin' me or tellin' me?"

"Uh…," John blanked idiotically, rubbing the back of his neck to expel his nervous energy and come up with some plausible excuse.

Rose continued to stare at him through hazy eyes, but then another spasm ripped across her forehead causing her to grimace and hiss in pain.

John noticed her reaction instantly this time. "Rose?" he asked worriedly.

"My head is killin' me."

He softly stroked her cheek. "Do you need a doctor, love?"

"No…," she started but halted immediately as an intense wave of nausea hit her full-force, and bile rose to her throat. "I need the loo!"

She scrambled off the bed and stumbled to their en suite, barely reaching the toilet bowl before violently retching. After she'd emptied every trace of food from her stomach, Rose sank her bottom down to the floor, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand and closing her eyes. She'd not had a migraine like this in ages.

John knelt bedside her. "Are you sure you don't want to go see a doctor? You obviously don't feel well. They'd be able to see if anything is wrong…weelll…there might not be anythin' wrong with you per se…maybe everything is perfectly alright…"

He needs to stop talking…

"Babe…," Rose groaned, trying to stop his escalating ramble.

"…Maybe more than alright… unless you know what's wrong. I know you said you had a headache, but maybe there's something else bothering you..."

"Babe…," she tried again, her voice stronger.

"…Well, maybe not bothering you. But maybe there's an underlying cause. Maybe you ate something that triggered this. Or you're about to start your…thing… or maybe you're not...may-…"

Rose couldn't take it any longer. "JOHN!" she shouted, wincing as the words vibrated through her skull. "One more bloody word, and I won't let you lay a finger on me for a month!"

John's eyes widened comically at her words and his mouth gaped. He was torn at hearing her ultimatum. He really wanted to know if the test was hers and what it said, but if it turned out it wasn't hers… Oh, he really didn't want to be exiled for a month. Before he could make his decision, Rose made it for him.

"Just go. I'll be fine in a bit," she said weakly, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall.

John made to protest, but all he got out was a squeak before Rose's eyes flew open and over to him, dark and blazing.

"Get. Out."

Realizing the importance of heeding her warning, John quickly got to his feet and left their room, hoping his wife didn't interpret his squeak as a word and make good on her threat. He was in such a hurry to leave that he didn't see Jack walking down the hallway, and he ran smack dab into him.

"Hey," Jack said with an oomph. "Watch where you're goin'." Noticing John's flustered manner, he asked, "What's goin' on?"

"Uh… Rose is sick," John pointed his thumb to the door behind him.

Jack furrowed then raised his brow. "Like sick-sick, or just sick?"

John blew out a long breath, running his hand through his hair. "Uh…not quite sure. I think just sick. Has a pretty awful headache, and currently has her head in the toilet."

"Ya just left her there?" Jack asked incredulously.

"I didn't exactly want to," John retorted, frowning. "But I didn't have a choice. She kicked me out."

"Well, did ya find anything out?"

"No, and when I tried to get information outta her, she threatened to make herself off-limits if I didn't stop talking."

Jack couldn't help but snort and cackle in amusement. "Well, that's one way to get ya to shut up."

John glared daggers at him which only caused Jack's laughter to intensify.

"Are you quite finished?" John growled, crossing his arms.

"Sorry," Jack apologized, his laughter finally subsiding.

"Did you find anything?" John asked, wanting the attention away from him, well…at least for the moment.

"Nah," Jack answered, shaking his head. "Nothin' that says Donna's pregnant. Although, I did find this new little purple number. It's got these tas-…"

Instantly John's hand went up, and he scrunched his face in disgust. "Oh God, STOP! Just…NO! That's just weird and gross and…NO!"

"Oh grow up," Jack said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "It's only lingerie. Ya can't tell me that Rose doesn't ha-…"

"We are not having this discussion," John said adamantly. "Not now, not ever. So…moving on. Do you know if Mickey found anything?"

"Nope. He took off like a shot earlier, and I haven't seen him since. I don't know how well he's gonna hold up, though. He was a sweaty mess when he left the bathroom. He literally might have a stroke if it turns out Martha's pregnant."

Chuckling, John nodded his head in agreement. "Let's just hope he's alright."

Mickey Smith was decidedly NOT all right. Not even slightly. He'd looked through every drawer, the closet, the entire en suite—nothing. All he could think about as he searched his and Martha's bedroom was the fact that he might be a father again. He wasn't sure he could do it. It wasn't that he didn't love his son—on the contrary. Mickey loved Ben entirely, would give anything and everything for him. And it wasn't as if he didn't want any more children; but the thought of having another so soon… Mickey suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. He walked over, and with a groan, plopped face forward onto the bed, mumbling his worries into the duvet.

It wasn't long before the bedroom door opened roughly, banging against the wall. He lifted his head off the bed to see Martha shuffling into the room, a crying Ben strapped to her chest and shopping bags in both hands. She was clearly frazzled, her hair disheveled and her eyes flittering about the room. She dropped the bags onto the floor in a huff, running a hand through her hair.

"Hey, babe," Mickey greeted from the bed.

"Hey," she sighed, unstrapping Ben from the chest carrier and placing him against her shoulder. He continued to wail even as she swayed and bounced back and forth, patting his back to soothe him.

"Have fun?" he asked, finally rising from the bed.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Oh a blast. It's always a thrill to have a baby strapped to my chest and screaming in my ear for hours on end. Plus, I loved changing into three different jumpers in the span of an hour. Nothing takes the cake more than being puked on twice and then leaking through my last clean shirt. It was the time of my life."

"Didn't Harriet help at all?"

"She tried. Ben screamed louder when she took 'im, snotting all over her. Everybody in the shop kept staring and whispering, so I had to keep 'im. She mainly helped gather the groceries. There wasn't much else she could do."

Mickey walked over to her and hugged her. Martha rested her head against his chest and sighed. All the while, Ben continued his persistent wailing.

"I love being a mum, really I do… But today…," Martha sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe," Mickey comforted, stroking her back. He could feel the tension in her body release ever so slightly. "Imagine if we'd had twins. That'd be somethin', yeah?"

He could hear a soft chuckle come from Martha. That reaction prompted him to continue. "Two of 'em… Two babies… Wha-…what do ya think about that? Havin' two babies?"

Mickey instantly felt her body become rigid, and it filled him with uncertainty and more than a little amount of fear. Martha laid her hand on his chest and slowly pushed back till her eyes locked with his, and it was in that instant that Mickey realized he'd made a colossal error. Martha was staring at him, her expression equal parts furious and incredulous.

"Are you seriously asking me if I want another baby? Right now? After everythin' I just said, ya thought now would be the time to convince me?"

Mickey felt his stomach drop to the floor.

Uh oh…

Martha, her hand still against Mickey's chest, pushed him back forcefully and began pacing about, still trying to quiet Ben.

"Mar-…," Mickey started, but was immediately stifled by a fiery Martha.

"I spent eight months waddling around, bigger than a bleedin' whale, then spent over eighteen hours in grueling labor. I barely slept more than four hours at a time for five months. I finally, finally got back into my old jeans. Now here I am, holding our screaming child who's barely a year old, and ya seriously want to entertain the idea of havin' another one? Now?!"

Mickey started shaking his head vehemently. "N-…"

Martha stepped closer before shoving him backward a few steps. "Well, clear your ears good, Mickey Smith, 'cause I want ya to hear every single word I say. If you want to have another baby so bloody soon, I suggest you grow y'self a uterus and vagina, because there's no bloody chance that I'm pushin' one outta mine anytime soon!" she raged, shoving him one more time for good measure before turning swiftly on her heels and slamming the door behind her as she and the still wailing Ben left their bedroom.

Mickey groaned loudly and plopped down once again onto the bed. He'd really stepped in it this time. He continued to lie there, grumbling and arguing with himself over everything that had just transpired, and completely oblivious to the small figure crawling out from underneath the bed and quietly sneaking out of the room.

Donna sat in the family room, curled up on the sofa and looking through one of the several magazines surrounding her. She was currently quite enthralled with a one on home remodels, and barely registered Tony's small body bounding onto the clear spot beside her. It was only after several minutes of uncharacteristic silence that Donna looked up from her mag and over at her nephew. She saw him intently focused on his Nintendo DS, his tongue poking out in concentration.

"Tony," she called, but he didn't acknowledge her.

"Tony."

He ignored her, and Donna pursed her lips and swatted his arm. This finally got his attention and he turned his head toward her.

"Wha'?" he asked innocently.

"Didn't John take that away from you yesterday?" she asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Kinda."

Donna arched an eyebrow at him. "There's no 'kinda' 'bout it. I was there. You bought a game on his iPad after he told ya no, so he took it from ya. I also remember that ya threw a fit 'bout it too."

"I didn't throw a fit," Tony insisted, turning his attention back to the game. This didn't go over well with Donna, and she sat up to take it from him. However, Tony was faster and he scurried off the sofa, quickly putting distance between them.

"John's not mad anymore, so I can play with it."

Donna was off the sofa and making towards him. "That's not the point, Tony."

"Yes it is!" he said, running around the sofa as Donna chased after him.

"No, it's not," Jack's voice said suddenly, catching Tony by surprise and allowing Jack to snatch it from his hands.

"Oi! Give it back, Uncle Jack!" Tony insisted, jumping up in the air and trying to grab it.

"No. If John wanted you to have it back, he'd have given it to you already," he countered.

"That's not fair!" Tony whined.

"Tough luck. You didn't listen, so that's the way it is."

His hands clenched at his sides, Tony glared at Jack. "I'm tellin' Granma!" he shouted before stomping off.

"Yeah, that'll help your cause," Jack called after him. He knew there was no chance that Harriet would take the nine year-old's side.

"He's in a bit of a rare form, isn't he?" Donna asked, picking up the scattered magazines.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe a little bit. He seems to get like that after John gets after him. You know the pair of them are thick as thieves. Have been ever since they met."

"Hmm," Donna hummed in thought, reclaiming her spot on the sofa. Jack took a seat beside her. He'd been searching all morning, and to be honest, he just wanted a break to enjoy a little bit of quiet time with his wife. He put his arm around her and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He looked over at the magazine she was holding. "Watcha reading?"

"Just one of those home magazines. Ya know, those 'how-to-do' types."

"Planning on having me do some construction, huh?" Jack said smilingly.

Donna snorted. "You can barely hang a shelf, let alone remodel a bedroom."

"I'll have you know," he grinned, moving closer to her, "I'm very handy."

"More like handsy," Donna countered with a cheeky grin.

Jack's eyes twinkled with mischief and he gave her an equally cheeky grin. "Oh, I'll show ya handsy," he said, moving his hand to her side and poking at her ribs. Donna squealed which Jack quickly silenced with a more than thorough snog. She responded in kind, causing the magazines to once again fall to the floor.

"Gross."

Immediately Jack and Donna broke apart to see Tony standing there, his brow scrunched and tongue sticking out in disgust. Donna sat up straighter and tried to tame her hair while Jack…well, Jack didn't really do anything because, well…because he's Jack.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, you two," Harriet's voice chastised as she entered the room, "Keep those types of activities off the sofa and away from innocent eyes."

Donna rolled her eyes at her aunt. "Oh, please! We weren't doing anythin' indecent. 'Sides, it's nothin' he hasn't seen before."

Harriet rolled her eyes but stifled her retort. After spending hours with a screaming Ben, she was much too tired to reprove her niece. Instead, she turned her attention to her grandson.

"Tony. Don't you have something to say?" she prompted in a no-nonsense maternal tone.

Tony gave a dramatic and exaggeratedly long sigh. "Sorry," he muttered.

It was obvious to all that his heart was definitely not in the apology, but he was nine and hadn't gotten his way…what could you expect?

Donna and Jack acknowledged his apology a smile and 'thank you.' Since Harriet had forbidden him from all electronics for the rest of the day, Tony drug out a multitude of toys, scattering them across the family room floor. It wasn't long before Wilf and Harriet joined them, each with a steaming cuppa and periodical. Mickey was presumably still upstairs; John had decided to make a run to the grocer's; Rose was still in her room; and Martha had taken baby Ben out for a stroll on the beach, hoping the warm ocean breeze would be able to soothe him. The atmosphere was completely calm and relaxed. It was absolutely per-…

"What's a vagina?"

That question sent a shockwave throughout the room, and all eyes immediately focused intensely on the little boy. An tense and awkward silence immediately fell over the group as Tony moved his gaze from adult to adult, waiting for a response.

Harriet, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, suddenly turned her attention to Jack and Donna. "What in Heaven's name were you two doing on that sofa?!"

"Not that!" Donna shrieked, her cheeks flushing bright crimson. Even Jack seemed a tad uncomfortable.

Harriet narrowed her eyes, uncertain if she should believe them, before turning her focus back to Tony.

"What made you ask that?"

Tony began nervously fiddling with the toy in his hand. "Uh…I snuck into Uncle Mickey and Aunt Martha's room so I could look for my game. I heard 'em come in and I hid under the bed. They started arguing about babies and Aunt Martha said that Uncle Mickey would have to grow somethin' called a vagina. There was somethin' else she said he should grow, but I forgot what it was."

It took a remarkable amount of restraint on Jack's part to not burst into laughter. Harriet continued to stare at her grandson, weighing how to approach the subject. Finally, Wilf spoke up.

"Tony, why don't you go play with that DS of yours?"

"Wilfred, I told him that he cou-..."

"Harriet, sweetheart," Wilf gently interjected, "Let him play with the game. For all our sakes."

She pursed her lips, battling the desire to stick to her guns. But after a moment, she reluctantly gave way and sighed. "Go on, Tony. It's in the nightstand drawer on the right."

"WOOHOO!" Tony cheered and excitedly ran out of the room, his question completely forgotten.

A few beats passed before Wilf spoke again. "Well…that was…unexpected."

"That's one way to put it," Jack chuckled.

"I don't think I'm quite prepared to tackle that topic yet. I may need a few years…or a few stiff drinks," Harriet said, shaking her head.

"I think the latter option will do for the moment. C'mon, sweetheart," Wilf said, standing and reaching his hand out to Harriet, "I brought a bottle of the good stuff, and I have the perfect spot to enjoy it."

Smiling, Harriet put her hand in his, and the two of them quietly left the room. Jack turned to Donna, a broad smile on his face.

"I think it should be noted that I was incredibly well-behaved during that whole thing, sooo…," he drawled, scooting in closer and nuzzling her neck, "I think I deserve a reward, don't you?"

"It's sorta chilly. I'm gonna go get a sweater or somethin'," Donna said and abruptly stood, her arm accidently bumping Jack's nose in the process.

Jack stared after her as she rushed up the stairs. Her sudden departure and change in attitude confused him. He shook his head and picked up one of the scattered magazines, mindlessly flipping through them as he waited for Donna. Almost ten minutes passed, and yet she still hadn't returned. Frowning, Jack tossed aside the magazine and climbed the stairs to their room. The door had missed the latch, so he merely had to push it open. Taking a few steps into the room, Jack saw Donna pacing about, alternating between wringing her hands or raking a hand through her hair. The nervous energy radiating off of her was nearly palpable.

Jack stepped towards her. "What's wrong, Donna?"

She whirled around, her eyes widening as they met his. "N-…nothin's wrong."

"Donna," he said evenly, "Don't try an' fool me. I can see something's bothering you. You're hiding up here, why?"

Closing her eyes, Donna sighed deeply. Jack took another step closer and took her hand. Feeling his touch, Donna opened her eyes and met his. Without breaking her gaze, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small something, placing it into his hand. Jack felt a slight crinkling from the object in his hand, and he looked down. In his hand, there was a printed image. It was black and white, grainy, but unmistakable—an ultrasound photo.

All ability to breathe and speak completely failed him. Jack could only stare at the picture, drinking in the image and all the implications rising from it.

"Jack?" Donna said quietly, a nervous tinge in her tone.

Finally, his eyes met hers, and all of the anxiety Donna had previously felt vanished. Jack's eyes were wide, glistening, but overflowing with joy and excitement. Before Donna could respond, Jack pulled her into his arms and twirled her around. She couldn't help herself and burst out into giddy giggles. He suddenly stopped and lowered her feet to the ground.

"So you really are?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "No, it's photo shop," she answered sarcastically before swatting his arm. "Of course I am, you plonker."

"But why were you so nervous?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "The test wasn't conclusive, so I'd gotten the scan the day before we got here and… I just wasn't sure how to tell ya 'bout it. I did buy a new outfit for it, though," she finished with a saucy grin and wink.

Jack was about to enthusiastically reply, when a certain part of her words halted him.

"Wait…you…you didn't take a test here?"

"No. Why would I take a test when I already had a scan? Did you scramble your brain with all the twirling?" she teased.

The wheels in Jack's mind spun. If the box wasn't Martha's, and it wasn't Donna's, then that only left…

Jack grinned brilliantly before planting a long kiss to Donna's lips. "Must have. Now… about that outfit…"

Taking a deep breath, John opened the bedroom door slightly, waving the napkin he'd brought through the small gap.

From inside, he could hear Rose giggle softly, and he opened the door fully. The room was still fairly dark, except for the light emitting from the television. Rose was curled up in bed, and smiling brightly at him. Seeing her in a much better mood, he returned her smile with a brilliant grin and joined her on the bed.

"I bring a peace offering," he said, holding out a container of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Rose eagerly took the offered container and spoon, tearing off the lid and spooning away.

"So…does this mean that I'm forgiven?" he asked, only mildly teasing.

Cleaning the spoon, Rose leant up and placed a slow cold, sweet kiss to his lips. "Mmm… Oh, alright," she teased before snuggling into his side.

John grinned and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Several minutes passed as they quietly watched telly and Rose nibbled at the ice cream.

"Y'know...," Rose started suddenly, "Ya really need to work on subtlety, babe."

Furrowing his brow in confusion, John looked down at her. "What?"

Rose continued to focus on the screen. "Earlier today. When I had my head in the bowl. My head might've been splitting, but I could still hear your babbling."

"Oh…," John said, blowing out a breath. "That…"

"So what made ya start in with all that?"

"Fine," John relented, seeing as the jig was up. "Us three blokes found a box to a pregnancy test, and we tried to find out who's it was."

Rose merely nodded and took another bite. "You ever find the test?" she asked, her eyes still on the tele.

"Nope."

"Hmm…"

Hearing Rose's hum, John focused his attention onto her. Keeping her eyes on the screen, Rose left the spoon in the container and moved her hand to the side of the bed, reaching into the small space between the box spring and the mattress. She silently brought her hand back and handed an object to John. Automatically, John took it and Rose reached again for the spoon, taking another big bite. Both were silent for what felt like ages before John spoke.

"This is a…," he started.

"Yep."

"And it's…"

"Yep."

"And this little sign here means…"

"According to the manual."

John was silent after that. Rose turned to face him. Instead of looking at the small white stick, he was staring at her, eyes wide and shining.

"Y'alright with that?" she asked, grinning with her tongue in teeth.

He swooped down and crashed his lips against hers eagerly and passionately. Pulling back for just a moment, he looked at Rose adoringly and stroked her cheek.

"Oh, more than alright," he grinned before capturing her lips once more and proving his point thoroughly.