'Mr Honourable,' Jim threw the pen in his hand down with frustration. Allowing his sudden burst of temper to cool, he picked up the photo sitting on the edge of is desk. 'That's me, Shamus, at least you keep telling me that. Well, it doesn't matter that I own the school I once dreamt about or that my personal fortune has grown or my family's money is always there to back us up, I still can't find in within myself to take time off when you really need me.'

Signing heavily, he looked at his personnel record spread out on his desk, along with several others. 'It's not the honourable thing to do when I've used up all my allotted personal leave. How can I take time off, even in this situation when I've denied some of my employees the same opportunity? It would be hypocritical and against my Honourable nature.'

Ten minutes ago his administrative assistant disturbed him. 'I know you said no calls, Jim,' she hesitated. He knew that tone. It meant something important occurred needing his undivided attention. 'You're wife is on the phone and she's in a state. I don't think I've ever heard Trixie sound so frightened. You'd better take this call.'

Sighing he'd told Loran to put his wife through. The monthly figures before him needed to be presented to the board of Wheeler Incorporated tonight. Not only did James Frayne personally manage his school, he also worked for his father at the family company. The degree in psychology and education lead Jim to understand he needed a lot of money to fund the kind of educational system he wanted to provide for abused children. The only way to achieve that had been investors who couldn't expect any return, or following Matthew Wheeler's example and administering your own multinational company. By the time Jim finished his studies, he'd been astounded at the number of philanthropy projects Wheeler Incorporated sponsored around the world. It explained why Mr Wheeler encouraged the Bob Whites babbling attempts to help those in need.

Waiting for the call to connect, he thought about Trixie's appointment this afternoon. Although unhappy, his wife understood his honourable reasons for staying at work. After their earlier conversation, Jim's mental health deteriorated as his mind began to catalogue the reasons for Trixie's sudden and unexpected fear. At seven weeks, this meeting had been the last at the fertility clinic. All going well, next week Trixie had her first obstetric consultation. They'd never gotten this far before.

They'd married the moment Trixie finished high school, planning to do his graduate studies and her undergraduate degree at the same university. When Jim had been accepted into Harvard Business School, they'd argued. The memory brought a quick smile to Jim's face. Finally he'd convinced his wife to use some of his inheritance so they could both get an IV league education. It had been the only reason Sargent Molinson employed Trixie straight out of school.

Moving back to Sleeyside and into the adorable cottage they brought, Trixie decided the time had come to stop using contraceptives. They'd been inviting accidents for five years when his wife unequivocal stated they needed to get serious about making a baby. Before he knew it, they were in a doctor's office discussing their marital state and sex life. Confused, the doctor sent them directly to an expert. A host of test later, and a good deal of their hard earned savings, they got the results.

'It's very simple and yet the scientific explanation is complicated,' Dr Blackmore said, watching the young couple before him. 'While you're obviously very compatible in most ways, I'm afraid Mrs Frayne, your virginal mucous isn't compatible with your husband's sperm. Kill's it dead. It's the reason why you've never achieved a clinical pregnancy in five years.'

'What are our options,' Trixie asked undaunted.

'We can try washing the sperm, placing in it a more compatible fluid then inject it back into your womb,' Dr Blackmore stated, watching Jim blanch at the suggestion. 'Unfortunately the chance of success is minimal, however it is the least invasive procedure and we suggest you try it at least three times before moving on to the more intensive treatments.'

'If it doesn't work?' As usual Trixie needed all the facts.

'IVF,' the doctor pushed several brochures towards them. 'I'm thinking we might even have to use intracytoplasmic injection given the results of your tests.'

'You mean individually injecting each egg with sperm,' Trixie proved she'd already done her background check.

'Yes,' smiling Dr Blackmore. 'Did you share your research with your husband, Mrs Frayne? He seems a little bemused by this information.'

'Give us a week,' Trixie smiled at the doctor while taking his hand, 'and we'll be back to discuss when we can start.'

They'd gone back. They'd tried washing his sperm. They'd moved on to IVF after three unsuccessful attempts. Finally they'd had to use ICSI. This would be their third clinical pregnancy. None of the others had survived past the four week test. To lose a baby at almost eight weeks would be devastating for both of them.

'Trix,' Jim finally managed to stutter, hearing his wife's words but not taking then in.

'I have to go for a scan,' Trixie stated each word carefully, trying to hold back the tears.

Panicked, Jim swore under his breath. They'd been here before. The three week test coming back positive causing excitement and the prospective parents to cautiously celebrate. Then at four weeks, the bad news followed by a scan to ensure they'd lost the chance to hold their child.

The response bought a slight, melancholy chuckle down the phone line. They knew each other so well, words hadn't been needed. Trixie sensed her husband's emotions and wondered if this would be the death of a long held dream.

'Trix,' a shudder infused the words, 'what did the doctor say exactly? Why is he sending you for this scan?'

'He's worried about the heartbeat,' she managed to keep the terror at bay.

'What time' he'd finally managed to get out. To come this far, so many rounds of IVF, the medication, the emotions and loose the best chance would be devastating. They'd kept hoping this time would be it.

'I'm booked for three,' Trixie muttered. 'Try and make it. I know your schedule is really tight at the moment. If you don't get there,' her voice caught. Trixie Frayne knew he'd never make it across town in this traffic. Besides, her Mr Honourable couldn't break his conditioning. 'We'll probably get home at about the same time and I'll tell you what happened then. I'll come into New York with you tonight for the big meeting.'

'I'll call dad,' Jim managed, 'we'll work something out. As long as I give him the spreadsheet before I leave, I'm not really needed tonight. If I manage to finish…'

Smiling despite the pause which stated Jim really couldn't see a solution to this one, Trixie said, 'we'll talk at home tonight, Jim. I caught the train from White Plains. I can get one of my staff to take me home. I'll leave your car at the station.'

'Trix,' Jim didn't know what else to say, 'I'm sorry.'

'Me too,' she attempted to keep her fears at bay, 'and maybe I'll be even sorrier by the time you get home. Celebrate or commiserate, we'll do it together tonight.'

Still holding the picture of them in the square at Harvard, he remembered very word of the conversation. It tormented Jim's mind. Letting out a breath he didn't realised he'd been holding since hanging up on his wife, he replaced the photo. Taking up his pen, he forced his mind back to the figures before him.

'Dad,' he called into Matthew Wheeler's office two hours later, 'I'm finished with the monthly reports. I've saved them on this thumb drive.'

'Going somewhere?' Matthew asked, eyeing the coat over his son's arm.

'Home,' Jim managed a slightly sad smile. 'Trix had an appointment with the clinic today. They sent her for further tests. I'm not coming back in tonight.'

'Why,' Matthew sounded furious, 'didn't you tell me. Honestly Jim, Trixie has you pegged, doesn't she?'

'That's why my Wife still calls me Mr Honourable,' Jim infused his worried expression with a little embarrassment. 'You can handle it, Dad. If there are any issues, give me a call. I'm catching the train to White Plains.'

'Get out of here,' Matthew grumbled, 'and Jim,' he stopped the man before he left, 'next time I hear you stand your wife up for such an important meeting, I'll fire you personally, understand?'

'Yes, Sir,' Jim couldn't help the grin crossing his face, 'if Trix doesn't kill me first.'

'Jim,' Matthew stopped him leaving once again, 'how far are you this time?'

'Almost eight weeks,' he answered. 'At least I'm hoping so.'

'You know what they say,' Matthew infused his tone with all the hope he could. 'No news is good news. Now get home to your wife and find out what happening. Then you'd better call me. Honey's got four kids. I'm kind of hoping you and Trixie will even up the score.'

The train seemed to take every second of the forty minute commute. Still trying to take his mind off the situation, Jim attempted to continue working on his laptop. If Trixie hadn't called, he hoped it meant the pregnancy continued. Matthew contacted Jim as he got into his SUV at the railway station. The head of Wheeler Incorporated didn't really need to go over the figures. He just wanted to keep his son's nerves calm on the lonely drive. Finally reaching the cottage they'd called home for ten years, Jim took up the gauntlet and approached the back door. He never expected the surprise awaiting him.

'Come here,' Trixie beckoned, 'and feel your children.'

Astounded, Jim realised she used the plural form deliberately. His heart leapt for joy. After all this time, they'd finally been blessed with not one, but two children.

'The strange heartbeat,' he couldn't contain his surprise or glee, 'it was two?'

'Yes,' Trixie responded happily, 'we're having twins.'

No more Mr Honourable, Jim promised himself. The life of his wife and two children would always come first from now on.

AN – I didn't mean to do it, but the stories, Dating, Kissing and Savage Garden kind of decided they were all linked. My fingers just had to type this one. There's another story running rampant in my brain, which might link these drabbles all together. I'm just not sure what to call it – Baseball comes to mind – or maybe Second Base. Whichever, it will be coming to a computer near you soon. Finally, yes I am working on the last book in the Abducted series.