The sun had yet to rise above the streets of Ballykissangel. Saner heads were still rested on bed pillows, dreaming of unfamiliar climes and times better than these. But not Assumpta Fitzgerald's.

Never an easy sleeper, she often found herself awake at this hour, nestling her head in the arm nook of the man beside her; watching the dawn break leisurely over the hills.

This was not one of those mornings as she found herself sat on the edge of the bathtub, willing a thin blue line to materialize on the pregnancy test she held.

Positive, be positive, she implored the test, and herself.

She was over a week late this time. That had to mean something, right? Her menstruation cycle had been decidedly erratic ever since her 39th birthday. The beginning of the end, her doctor had warned. Time was running out.

Assumpta tried to ignore the panic rising in her throat but it was difficult. She'd never known how much she wanted a child until the possibility was being taken away from her.

Be positive. Be positive. Be positive, she chanted inwardly. She glanced at the clock: two minutes were up. Carefully she turned the thin plastic stick over in her hands.

No blue line. It was negative. It was always negative.

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. It doesn't matter her head tried console her, there's always next month.

But was there, really? Assumpta didn't want to anticipate how many childbearing months she had left.

A gentle tap on the door broke her reverie. "Assumpta? Everything okay?"

"Fine" she asserted, wiping an errant tear from her cheek.

"Come back to bed," the voice chimed.

"In a minute."

Assumpta threw the test in the bin and studied her face in the mirror. She tried to see past the indentations forming along her brow, the laughter lines creasing the corners of her eyes.

Laughter lines, she smirked thinking of her relationship with her husband. That's a joke.

It was coming up to their 15th Wedding Anniversary and in the most part, they'd been happy. It was only in the last few years – when the baby fever began to take hold – that the arguments became more frequent; the meal times, decidedly quieter.

Washing her hands in the basin, she splashed cool water on her face and moved to rejoin him.

As she approached the bed, he turned and watched her undress, his eyes softening with comprehension.

"No cigar, this time?"

Assumpta shook her head, mournfully.

"Well, we can always get a head start on next time," he whispered playfully into her back.

"Shhh, it's not the right day"

"Well, practice then?" he smirked, pushing his hardening length into the crevice of her behind.

"That's not how babies are made!" Assumpta playfully slapped him, a smile forming on her face.

She turned to face her bedfellow. Time had been kinder to him than it had to her. His lines only added to the character of his face. He was still as handsome as the day they'd first met, she decided – and with his own hair, to boot!

Watching her frown lines crease as she studied him, her husband remarked, "You're so beautiful"

Assumpta grinned widely and kissed the end of his nose. "I love you, Leo." She whispered, snuggling toward his side of the bed.

Leo smiled, drawing her in closer. He couldn't imagine anyone could be as happy as he.

Ah, who of you saw that one coming? I do wonder what would have happened had Assumpta stayed married to Leo. Where would they be in the present day? How will this have affected Peter?

Fair warning - i'm going to change the rating of this story to M in later chapters. Things are going to become pretty racy!

Next installment to follow shortly...