A/N: I know, I know, I'm getting really bad about posting. But I promise I'm working on stuff. I'm just getting busier since school's starting up again. Here's a piece of honest-to-goodness TnM.

I forgot to mention that the drabbles are all out of order. This is post-Day Four.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. But I REALLY wish I owned the Almeida family (or at least Tony.)

She Wants You There for the Big Stuff

Tony Almeida sat quietly on his bed, looking through the all-too-exciting world of business inventories. He was amazed that he'd been able to keep up with his wife when it came to the figures; turned out that Michelle had a head for business as well as a gift for managing people, manipulating computers, and toting a gun.

Actually, he was just amazed in general. Amazed that he and Michelle had been able to start over. Amazed that she still loved him. After everything he'd done to her over the past two years. Amazed that he was beginning to deserve wearing the gold band of metal on his right ring finger.

He took a moment to pause his work and stared at his unadorned hand. It was the one sign that truly showed how far he'd come, how much he'd moved on from everything that happened. It also proved how forgiving and steadfast his Michelle was. After all, the things he'd done to his wife had cast a shadow over her. And if he had to be completely honest, it was that one fact that killed him. It hurt to think that he had been completely responsible for her despair, never mind that fact that she had been the one to leave him. He twisted the ring around on his finger, gently running his fingers over it. He kissed the metal and thanked God for having her back, then returned to his work.

After about an hour of incessant working, he heard the front door open. He walked out to greet Michelle, but as he wrapped her in his arms, he noticed that there was something much more fragile about her. Her usually bouncy curls laid flat. Her pale face was white and drawn; none of the usual rosiness showed in her cheeks. Her eyes still sparkled, but something seemed wrong.

"Chelle, are you sick?" he asked. "When the hell did this happen?"

She looked at him, still as pale as if she'd seen Nina Myers' ghost. "I've been feeling kinda weird the past few days, Tony," she said, frustrated, "you know that."

"I thought you were feeling better again."

"So di I," she mumbled, groaning. "I hate being sick, hate not having control over my own body."

"I know," he said gently, rubbing her back, one hand rotating in smooth circles and the other on her soft cheek. She sighed and leaned into Tony, and he kissed her forehead.

The moment was noticeably ruined, though, as Michelle's spine stiffened and her face turned green. She muttered a "Damn it," and clasped a hand over her mouth. Tony was quick to follow his wife to the nearest bathroom and sit down next to her just in time to watch her lunch empty in the toilet bowl as she prayed feverishly to the porcelain gods. As he had for the past five days, he massaged her shoulders as she panted and continued to retch. After a few minutes, she finally stopped, and Tony lay down with her on the tiles, listening to her rapid heartbeat, blocking out everything except for the fact that his Michelle was in pain.

"How are you doing?" he whispered aloud.

"Never been better, honey," she grimaced. "Can't you tell?" She shifted slightly and curled up into a fetal position.

He tilted her chin up so that he could look her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry that you have to feel like hell right now."

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?" she mused. "I get sick immediately upon returning from CVS."

"Did you at least manage to get anything you needed before you felt sick?"

She nodded numbly, frizzy curls bouncing. After appearing to hesitate for a moment (during which Tony couldn't for the life of him figure out why she was so tentative), she said, "I left the bag on the coffee table. Could you bring it into the bedroom for me? I'd get it myself, but…"

"…you really need to rest, Chelle," Tony said protectively. He sat up and lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a child. "Let me take care of it. That's what I'm here for."

"To be my flunky?" she asked innocently, smiling up at him.

"To help you with whatever you need," he corrected, elaborating at the end. "Because you are completely worth it."

"Oh, Almeida," she laughed, "you're still smooth, even in middle age."

He mock-scowled at her. "I'm not that old yet," he retorted. "And neither are you. We're both thirty-six, for God's sake. If you ask me, I'd like to hold off on the midlife crisis for at least ten years."

"If you haven't already gone through it," she mused as he placed her down on the bed, pulled the covers over her body, and kissed her forehead.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

"I'll be waiting, as usual," she said, rolling her eyes.

He walked to the living room and quickly grabbed the bag. When he pushed the plastic off and looked inside, he nearly dropped what he was holding. He twisted around the box as he tried to let the fact sink in. No matter what he did, he couldn't quite get his brain to wrap around such a lucky possibility.

He finally got it together as he entered the bedroom. "Michelle?" he said aloud. "Were you planning on telling me about this, or were you just going to do it and tell me in a month?" He took the incriminating piece of evidence and plopped it next to her.

Michelle took the box into her hands, looking at the words printed on the box: PREGNANCY TEST. "I was planning on telling you," she replied. "The nausea kind of got in the way, sweetheart."

Tony walked around to the other side of the bed and rolled next to his wife, taking her gingerly into his arms. He heard Michelle mumble something but couldn't quite make out the words.

"Come again?"

A sigh. "I want you to do this with me. You're my husband. And my best friend. I want you with me for everything, no matter the outcome. You coming?"

Tony couldn't believe it'd only been thirty seconds. Two and a half minutes to go, and her was getting so restless he might explode. Michelle sat on his lap, head lying on his shoulder, as they waited for the outcome together.

"One minute to go," he whispered into her hair. "How're ya doing?"

She looked up at him, eyes shining. "Fine," she said. "But honey, the suspense…"

"…is killing you," he finished. She nodded into his shoulder.

"I want this to be true," she whispered. "So, so much."

"I know, sweetheart," he said, kissing her lips sweetly. "So do I. But it isn't now or never. We still have a few years."

"I know that. But…"

Tony understood what she was saying completely. "I get it," he assured her. "So, when it beeps, what do ya wanna do?"

"We'll look at the same time," she said firmly. "Together. Tony, I told you before, whatever we do, we do together."

He nodded. After a couple of seconds, he said, "Sweetheart, no matter what, I will always love you, more than anything."

She leaned up and kissed him, again and again. He pulled her body to his, and as they broke apart for breath, they panted. At that very moment, they could hear the timer for the test beeping, shrill in their ears. Michelle stood up, fixing her hair and the shirt she was wearing. "You ready, sweetheart?" she asked as he followed her into the bathroom. They situated themselves around the stick, resisting the urge to look at it.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, taking her hand in his though he was shaking. "One…"

"Two…"

"Three," they said unanimously. They peered over the counter at the test and looked at each other. Then, a wide grin broke over their faces, and Tony swept his wife and unborn child into his arms, kissing Michelle's hair, face, and belly. This was the sign he'd needed, the sign that they'd truly moved on from their past. Everything he wanted was right there with him, and he planned on keeping it that way.