A/N: This chapter sees a significant jump ahead, and would be included in an Oblivion sequel if I were to write one. For now, it stands alone. I have many ideas as to what life for each of our warriors would be like at this point in time, and may elaborate in coming one-shots.

February 1997

[Post-Oblivion]

Two-hundred thirty-three million, five-hundred forty thousand, seven-hundred thirteen.

That was how many minutes of life she had endured up to that moment. It was easily five times that afforded to most humans for their entire lives, and she still had at least another twenty-five million to go.

So why did three minutes feel like an eternity?

There was a gentle rapping outside the door, and Iris turned her head over her shoulder. "Honey, could you get that?" she called into the hallway.

"Of course." Hearing her husband's footsteps descend the hall, she turned her attention back to the clock. Thirty seconds. Time seemed to warp around the clock's face, slowing to an impossible crawl. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as the seconds ticked by.

The ticking vanished amid a wave of high-pitched humming that suddenly flooded her ears. Her fingers trembled and her breath arrested in her chest.

"Ah, you are early!" Anubis declared cheerfully as he drew the door open, revealing five grinning faces.

"Yeah, no thanks to this guy," Kento jabbed at Rowen with his elbow, the blue-haired man swiftly swatting back at him.

"Hey, I don't remember agreeing to come here this early in the first place," Strata quipped, "you all know I'm not a morning person."

There was a smattering of chuckles from the warriors as Anubis waved them inside.

"The boys are here," he called down the hall.

"Okay," Iris responded, "I'll be out in a minute."

Anubis walked to the kitchen as the men settled in, taking the tea kettle from the cabinet and igniting the stove.

"How is the wedding planning going?" he called into the living area cheerfully. All eyes shifted to Cye, with Kento pursing his lips to stifle his chuckle.

"You know how it is," Torrent sighed a bit, "Sophie and my sister are having a field day. Venues, photographers, caterers. It's utter chaos." He took a seat at the table. "My job is to just stay out of the way."

"Sounds like it will be quite the celebration," Anubis mused, exiting the kitchen with a tea tray. He circled around the table distributing tea cups.

"Believe me, I would much rather have a wedding like yours," Cye asserted. "Something small, simple. None of this nonsense."

"You have many friends and family who wish to attend." The Warlord smiled sympathetically as he took his seat. "It is a good thing." Torrent conceded to the statement, nodding a bit.

"I suppose you're right."

"Besides, something's bound to come up that you're interested in," Kento said. "Have you talked to the florist yet?" Seeing the sparkle that flashed in his friend's eyes brought a smirk to his face.

"And how is Mia?" Anubis systematically poured his guests' cups full.

"Great," Ryo replied. "Oxford seems to be treating her well. She said she'd get to come back during the summer, but she's said that the last three summers, so I wouldn't count on it."

"Mmm," the Warlord nodded knowingly.

Iris quietly emerged from the hall, saying nothing as she lingered just inside the doorway.

"Ah, there you are," Anubis said lightly, smiling. "I made tea." But as he spoke, their company seemed to notice something he did not: the strange, uneasy stance she had taken. She tried to offer a small, welcoming smile to the warriors, but failed.

"Anubis." Her voice had a distinct tone of urgency. It was enough to bring his brows to furrow and he straightened up. "Can I talk to you?"

He watched her eyes flit nervously to the Ronins, and knew immediately she was requesting his undivided attention. He quickly got to his feet.

"Yes, of course," he agreed. Looking back to his comrades, they nodded in understanding, and he stepped over his seat to join her as she ducked into the kitchen doorway and turned her back against the wall. He placed a hand gently on her waist, catching the slightest tremor that only deepened his concern. "You are shaking. What is it?"

Large brown eyes gazed back into his, and the streak of fear in their depths was unmistakable. Her lips gaped as if to speak, but not even breath escaped her as it arrested in her chest. Anubis looked down to find her hands knotted and wrung together, and he took them gently into his free palm. Finally, she breathed.

"I'm late."

Two words, then silence. At first, the Warlord was confused; late for what? But just as he prepared to ask exactly that, the question halted on his tongue. Late. He knew this phrase. All at once, his heart slammed against his ribcage and plummeted to the abyss of his stomach.

"You are with child." Anubis's voice was soft, its tone indiscernible. His eyes searched her face for confirmation; finding nothing, his hands numbly wound their way around her waist and drew her body against his. "Iris, tell me."

"I don't know yet," she managed weakly. "I'm going to see the doctor on Thursday." She looked up to him, her eyes tinged with guilt. "I didn't mean to ruin the day, I just—I couldn't—"

"No," the Warlord offered, though there was a dryness to his voice now that caused her stomach to sink. "I am glad you did not keep this from me."

"I think I'm going to go lay down for a little while," Iris murmured.

"Of course." He reached up to gently brush her cheek with his thumb. "Should I take you to the bedroom?"

"No, I'll be okay." She withdrew from her husband's grasp, offering a half-hearted smile before turning out of the kitchen. Hiding the quiver in her voice as much as she could muster, she addressed the warriors still seated patiently at the dining table, "I'm not feeling so hot today, guys. I hope you don't mind if I sit this visit out."

"Not at all," Sage replied. She flashed all of them a small, weak smile, then turned away to leave the room.

Anubis lingered in the kitchen doorway, watching her as she descended the hall alone. Several silent moments passed before he noticed the collection of concerned eyes that had moved to him. There was a faint, dull hum in his ears that threatened to drown out the warriors' inquiries.

"You gonna tell us what's wrong with Iris?" Kento asked, his voice low and steady.

"Is she sick?" Ryo pressed, his brows furrowed.

"No, she's not sick," Anubis replied. He barely noticed his own feet as they started to move, taking him to his seat at the table. He sank slowly back in place, an uneasy hush settling on his company as they awaited an explanation. "I may be a father," he said finally.

"Wait, you mean she's—" Kento started.

"You mean you two might be—" Rowen interjected.

"That's great!" Ryo said cheerfully. When silence responded, he continued, uncertainly, "right?"

It was brief, but all of them saw it: the stone-cold, speechless expression that flitted over the man's face as he sat with both palms planted firmly on his knees.

"… oh." It was the only response Wildfire could muster.

Iris crept into the bathroom, quietly plucking the small white plastic stick from the sink where she had left it. Glancing at the tiny, simple screen, she saw the two pink lines that formed a distinct cross.

Pursing her lips together, she dropped the stick into the waste basket.

Anubis had stayed home, concerned of what his reaction to his wife's diagnosis might be and that it could be inappropriate within the confines of the doctor's office. The Ronins had been kind enough to visit and occupy his mind, and each had their own unique comfort to offer. Rowen was, surprisingly, a master of diversion, successfully distracting the man with a tense chess match that took up a considerable chunk of the morning. Sage's seemingly endless stoicism, while usually infuriating, was strangely soothing now against the chaotic state of the Warlord's mind.

Seated at the table with a cup of tea in hand, Ryo broke the silence as Anubis looked over the chess board, analyzing his defeat. "So how do you feel?" Wildfire's straight-forward question was almost liberating. No sidestepping, no sugarcoating. It was a question Anubis realized he had been avoiding for days, and his lack of an answer jarred his senses.

"I am not sure," he confessed after a long moment of silence. His eyes had not budged from the chess board, but now it seemed he was looking through it into the distance.

"It's okay, you know." There it was. Cye's gentle voice, his masterful compassion. "To be unsure. It's a big deal, being a dad."

Dad. The Warlord felt his heart starting to race. Was it excitement? Fear? He truly was unsure.

"Hey now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Kento jabbed, "we don't know how good this guy's shooting is."

Humor. Kento's consolation tactic. Unable to find it within himself to be offended by the vulgar suggestion, Anubis simply chuckled. Looking up to see Sage's look of utter disapproval only made matters worse, and the Warlord finally had to throw his head back and let out a full-chested laugh.

"Kento's got a point, though, in a way," Sage noted begrudgingly. "Maybe the better question is, how will you feel if she isn't pregnant?"

"Then there is nothing to have feelings about, is there?" Anubis replied.

"You tell me."

The retort was met with serious green eyes. It was another contingency Anubis had not considered. And as he thought about it, the smallest pang shivered through his heart. Disappointment? Perhaps Halo's question was the better one.

He had little chance to ruminate on it or answer the man. A shadow moved across the open doorway, and looking up they found Iris standing in wait. Her face revealed nothing, simply calm and collected, and her fingers were gently clasped in front of her.

"Hey, Iris," Ryo offered, getting to his feet. "We, uh, we were just about to take a walk." He nodded to his comrades, who quickly took the hint and followed suit. As they passed her in the doorway, Kento extended the gentlest hug, something akin to holding a small, fragile animal, before trickling out into the graveyard. The caretaker returned it, watching them silently as they left.

"You told them." There was no question in Iris's voice as her gaze settled on Anubis. He felt immediately ashamed, green eyes darkening as he got to his feet and slowly walked to meet her.

"I am sorry," he confessed, "I—they asked—"

"It's okay," she assured him, shaking her head a bit. "I get it."

Quietly, he approached her and reached his arms out to take her tenderly into them. His eyes locked with hers, and that feeling as his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach sent a nervous wave through him.

"Iris," he said, trying to calm his trembling voice, "are you—?"

Waiting for her answer was agonizing. But finally, he saw the smallest glimmer of tears brim her eyes, and she pursed her lips, nodding ever slightly.

The cold apprehension that had ensnared his bones was overtaken by a sweeping warmth. His heart found its way back to his chest, and for a moment he felt as though it might burst. Watching his wife's eyes flood with tears, however, he struggled against the quivering excitement fluttering in his stomach.

"Why are you crying?"

"We've never talked about this," Iris managed to whimper, two large, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't even know how you feelabout this."

Reaching up to take her face into his hands, he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks to clear the tears away. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, then to her wet cheek.

"It makes two of us," he confessed. Seeing the fresh wave of tears that filled her eyes, he frowned. "How do you feel?"

"Scared," came her whimpered reply. He managed a small, relieved laugh, her admission seemingly releasing a massive weight from him. Leaning down, he tenderly kissed her forehead.

"That also makes two of us."