Truth Behind Those Brown Eyes.

"I'm not crazy!" she shouted, shaking her head wildly as he advanced on her, hands thrown up in peace, his eyes wide at the sight of his wife.

"I'm not crazy," she repeated, calmer, sighing softly. "I'm not crazy, am I, Seth?"

Seth smiled softly, walking forward to pull her to him, tugging her by the arm. He sighed, resting his head on hers, the smell of strawberries filling his nose. His arms ran soothing circles over her back. "You're not crazy Summer," he answered, whispering softly, so only she could hear, even if they were along. "If you're crazy, I'd have to be crazy, wouldn't I?'

She giggled softly, her brown eyes looking up at Seth, filled with worry. "Then why do I feel this way? Why am I so anxious all the time, and throw up everything I eat?"

"I don't know," he confessed, running a hand through his hair, sighing. "I really don't, Summer."

"Maybe I should go to the doctor," she whispered, gazing out onto the sea, her eyes blinking slowly.

"Maybe."

"On Monday, though," she began, sighing. "I could stand it this weekend. Everyone's there, the sick, coughing kids, the sneezing grandmothers, and the sniffling toddlers. I can't stand it when it's like that. I'll go on Monday, before work."

"Good," he answered. "I make an appointment for you, with Doctor Matthews."

Monday came around way too fast, within the blink of an eye. Seth woke up at eight, the sun blaring into the room, Summer snoring softly beside him, her knees tucked up under her chest. He sighed, placing his feet on the ground, his face in his hands.

What if something really was wrong with her? What if he was going to lose her, his Summer, his light in the bleak existence that was the office?

She had been throwing up since midway last week, after they had had dinner at a restaurant Taylor had recommended. Summer had enjoyed it immensely, enthusing in the experience of being able to dress up, even if it was for only one night. The food had been delightful, but, once they had stepped into their house, Summer had covered her mouth with her hands, dropped her bag loudly on the floor, and raced to the bathroom. Ever since then, she had been throwing up like clockwork, the smell of peaches suddenly revolting to her, which was unfortunately, since his mother had just sent them a bag.

The doctor would work out what was wrong, he thought, concentrating as he tried to tighten the pipes on the bathroom sink, a frown on his face. Summer would come home, and pronounce that it was just food poisoning, and she would get over it in time. She would be healthy, completely, and they would be happy.

She arrived home at three. He heard her, slipping her shows off and placing her bag down from the living room. Taking a deep breath, he placed his eyes straight ahead, concentrating on the television. She would be alright, she had to be alright.

"Seth?" she called and he watched her look into the kitchen, before shake her head. Summer grabbed an elastic from her pocket, and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail, sighing loudly.

"I hope he's not too unhappy about you," she muttered, placing a hand on her stomach, smiling slightly. "He shouldn't be, he's been talking about children since last Christmas."

Seth felt bile rise up in his throat. Pregnant? Summer was pregnant? They were going to have a baby….

It was true, he had been talking about children, but he didn't expect her to become pregnant now for God's sakes. She was too young, and he wasn't ready! How was this going ever to work out? He wasn't meant to have children, he was horrible with them, and they hated him.

How could he be a father?

How could he, barely on the brink of being a responsible man, be able to raise a child successfully, without breaking its fragile little heart? He wasn't meant to be a father.

Summer cleared her throat in the entrance way, making him jump with nerves in his seat. Sighing, he watched as she made her way up the stairs, humming happily. He watched her walk into their bedroom, and heard the door slam, before he sighed once more, and threw his head down on the couch.

How could he raise a child?

How?

Enjoy!