The moment Connor entered the house, he could tell that something was wrong with Abby. He had become so sensitive to every aspect of his wife's actions and emotions over the years they had spent together that he knew almost instantly whenever she was upset. It was the little clues that told him as much – the radio was playing a song that he knew she hated, her kickboxing pants were lying in the middle of the floor, and a mug of tea was sitting, undrunk, on the kitchen counter. "Abby?" Connor called cautiously, walking slowly into the house. He picked up the pants and threw them over his arm as he switched off the radio and poured the cold tea into the sink. "Everything all right?"

No response. Connor wasn't surprised; when Abby was in a mood, she was rarely talkative, unless she was yelling at you. He paused halfway down the corridor to toss her pants into the laundry before stopping at their bedroom and knocking on the door. "Can I come in?"

There was a long silence. Connor chewed his lip while he waited for her to speak. "Abs?"

"…Fine."

He gently pushed open the door and walked quickly to the bed. Abby was sitting in the centre of the mattress, wrapped tightly in the duvet. "What's wrong?" Connor asked, immediately entering overly-paranoid-boyfriend mode. "Are you sick? Can I get you something? Tea? Hot water bottle? What hurts?" He reached out to put a hand to her forehead. When she didn't flinch or smack it away, he knew that something was very wrong.

"I'm not sick," she muttered. Her voice was hoarse, her face red from crying. Connor began to assume the worst. Someone was dead. Rex. Jack.

"Oh, God, Abby," he whispered, his arms encircling her. When she leaned her head against his shoulder, he felt tears spring to his eyes. Strong, independent, fearless Abby never acted like this, like she needed him, like she didn't know what to do. "What's wrong? Please tell me."

"I'm…" Abby began. The words caught in her throat over a sob. Connor's grip tightened around her, but he couldn't tell which of them was trembling. More silence. He couldn't take it. He closed his eyes.

"I'm pregnant, Con."

It entered his ear and then his brain, but it was a long, long few seconds before Connor could process exactly what it was that she had said. Slowly he opened his eyes. He wasn't shaking anymore, though his heart was now racing fast enough to outrun a velociraptor. Surely he had heard it wrong. Abby could not have said what he thought she had just said.

"You're what?"

"Pregnant." She pushed his arms away and turned around to beat her fists against his chest. "I'm pregnant, damn you, and it's your fault! You did this. You – I –" She closed her eyes as she continued to pummel him, but she couldn't keep back the tears. He could feel the fear radiating out from her like heat.

"Abby," he murmured soothingly, catching her wrists until she stopped trying to hit him, then pulling her in close for a hug. "Abby, hey, shh, it's okay. We're okay." He stroked her hair as she cried herself out on his shoulder, forcing out in between sobs that she hadn't planned this, that they weren't ready, that everything was going to go terribly wrong. "Hey, hey. No, it's not. Abby, listen. Calm down. It's going to be okay."

She pulled away from his shoulder to glare at him through her tears. "It's not going to be okay," she argued. "Connor, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."

"Yeah, I… I know." He felt the first flutterings of joy in his heart, and his face was suddenly overtaken by a smile the likes of which he had not worn since the day they were married. "A baby. Abby, we're going to have a baby!" He kissed her on the mouth before wrapping his arms around her again. This time he felt her hug him in return. "Oh, my God. A baby. Abby, this… this is the greatest news I've ever heard."

She sniffled and pulled away from him, her mouth wobbling as she tried to figure out whether to laugh or to cry. "So… you're not mad?"

"Mad? Abby, why would I be mad? I'm…" Connor shook his head, unable to articulate just how overjoyed he was, and excited, and scared, and shocked, and happy. "This is… We're… How could you think I'd be mad?"

"Because we've only been married a few months," she whispered, "and because we still have to deal with the anomalies, the world isn't safe, and because we never talked about it, and I didn't know if you wanted – if you want –"

"If I want this? A child? A family with you? Abby, I can't think of anything I want more in the world," Connor answered honestly. He kissed her again and squeezed her hands. "We are going to be wonderful parents," he said, "and we are going to have a beautiful baby, and we are going to get through this. Together. Do you understand me?"

Shakily, Abby nodded. "Together?"

He smoothed her hair from her forehead, cupped her cheek, and kissed her a third time. It was a longer, slower kiss as he tried to find a way to remove all her uncertainties, to reassure her that everything would be all right. No matter what they had faced before and what was still to come, they had each other, and they could do this. "Together," he whispered when they had broken apart, and leaned his forehead against hers.