Trapper

A/N: This is pretty short and sweet. Please enjoy!

For the past week, Mildred McIntyre has not been well. She has been sick. Throwing up, stomach pain, mood swings; the works. She got tired of it and had her husband, John Xavier Francis "Trapper" McIntyre to do some tests. "Maybe it's the flu, it's Christmas," she thought. "Or, it's all in my head." Either way, she did the tests. One came clean. The rabbit died. She was pregnant.

It was the most precious thing in the world. Now, she needed to tell her husband. He knew she was sick and took her right away, but he never stayed for the results. Now, she needed to tell him. Since it is Christmas Eve, it would only make sense to tell him Christmas Day. How would she plan it?

She thought of it for a while and figured something out. The Mrs. McIntyre would make a big dinner; a lamb with mashed potatoes and the works. It was his favorite meal. It would be perfect. Once the timing was right, she would tell him.

Finally, Trapper came home. It was a quiet night, since Mildred still wasn't up for cooking. He helped himself to what was left. She greeted him and listened to his day then finally went to bed.

Christmas morning came and Mildred was nervous. They each exchanged gifts in front of their middle sized tree all decorated nicely. Mildred then started to cook the dinner. The afternoon was normal, Trapper didn't need to go to work. He helped around the house and his wife.

"You know," Trapper started to say as they set the table for the dinner, "I think I should really send you for more tests."

"Tests will do no good, John." Mildred said as she sat to eat. Each one toast to peace and a new year and helped themselves.

" I want to make sure you're not dying."

"I'm not, trust me."

"How do you know, Mildred? How do you know?"

"Well, the first clue would be that they would of told me AND you!"

"They could it keep it secret, if you didn't want me to know." He stuffed his face with meat covered with gravy.

"Those doctors wouldn't keep it secret because the rabbit died!!"

Trapper John McIntyre literally frost in his spot. He looked into his wife's eyes. "We're pregnant!?" he thought. It took him a second to find words. "We're, pregnant, Mildred. You mean a child?"

"Yes John, a child."

This had to settle into him for a second. A child, a baby. This Boston General doctor was going to have a baby. To be a father. A father. Someone to raise and love their child. Someone to take them to the right path in life; to follow his footsteps; to do good for all mankind. A father to the new boy or girl coming into this world. Trapper John McIntyre was excited. He kissed his wife with a big one. "Merry Christmas, Mildred." He finally said.

All she could do was smile and cry tears of joy and reply, "Merry Christmas, Daddy!"