A/N: Three little things:

1) You can't actually get married at the national zoo in Washington but who really cares about reality, Matthew Reilly certainly doesn't.
2) Re-reading that last chapter made me realise I need to proof read a lot more carefully
3) I'm amazed that this story is still getting more and more readers in spite of my ridiculously long time between chapters, poor proof reading and the fact that it's an mpreg story. You guys are the best!

I've set myself a rather ambitious little goal - I'd like to have this story finished in a week. 7 days for approximately 7 more chapters so keep an eye out for that and feel free to hold me to it - pm me, facebook me, tumblr me. I'm sure if you've stuck with it this long, you want this beast done as much as I do

Chapter 32 - 31 weeks, three days

For the first few days, it was the first thing Schofield noticed when he woke up - the thin gold band on his left hand. It would catch his eye, glinting in the sunlight and the weight of it a steady, reassuring presence. It felt heavy on his hand like his dog tags had once dragged around his neck and someday very soon, he'd adjust, stop noticing it, feel naked without it but for now, it was still novel and strange and every time it invariably dragged the thought through his weary brain - he'd gotten married.
He'd gone and got fucking married.
And to the Black Knight of all the people in the whole damn world.

This time though, it wasn't the ring that first caught his notice as the last dregs of sleep slipped away - already it was fading into the background - it was something scrabbling at the sheets, trying to get underneath them and a cold, wet nose pressed into his cheek.

Schofield groaned, rolling onto his back and lifted the sheets so Louis could disappear inside them. As he wiped dog slobber off his face, the bed dipped with a much larger weight.

"Afternoon sleepyhead," Knight teased, ruffling Schofield's hair before his body could gather the strength to protest, "You planning on getting up today at all?"

Shane watched the lump that was Louis snake his way down under the sheets to curl up at the foot of the bed.

They hadn't had a honeymoon.
Largely because Shane had rarely left their bed since the wedding, and not for the reason newlyweds were supposed to.

The strain on his body was growing with every passing day. No marine was a stranger to pain, Schofield less than most. The constant pressure on his bladder was an annoyance for sure, but he'd had worse. He could even ignore the battle going on for space inside of him between the baby and his internal organs (which his organs were losing by the way). No, what was really getting to him was the exhaustion. Jean had stressed the importance of getting lots of rest - the baby would grow her best when he did - and Lord knows he was always tired now but the minute he lay still, the little ratbag inside of him did the opposite. Schofield was sure this one was a marine in training. And the pain meant that no matter how he lay, he couldn't get comfortable. He'd been sleeping fitfully at best and it was starting to take its toll.

Knight had been a wonder - and maybe Mae had practically moved in too - stepping up to take almost sole care of Beth whilst Schofield slept on and off through the days.

Thirty one weeks down, he only had to hang on for five more.
Five weeks had never looked so long.

"Do I have to?" Schofield mumbled into the bed sheet. He tossed up between trying to look pitiful and pulling the covers back over his head, ignoring the other man, and properly achieved neither.

Knight smirked at him.

"Can't stay in bed all the time," he teased, going so far as to poke Shane in the stomach, "You'll get fat."

Schofield levelled his best glare at him.
"You're an ass."

Knight grinned at him in a manner that was practically indecent for so early in the morning.
"But you love me," he added and slipped out the doorway, obviously optimistic enough that Schofield would follow.

Which, of course, he didn't.

"God knows why," he said but the words were swallowed by the pillow as he rolled back over again and tried to steal a few more minutes sleep.

It was Louis who ended up making the decision for him with a cold nose to the toes that got Schofield yanking his feet away and finally rolling out of the bed. He saw the bedside clock flashing red numbers at him and realised with a start - and a flash of gratitude - that it wasn't early morning at all. Knight had waited until nearly midday to let Louis loose in their bedroom.

Stumbling into the kitchen, he found Beth in her highchair with food of unknown origin smashed all over her face and Mae seated before her, cooing at her and attempting to get her to actually put the food in her mouth.

"Hello beautiful," Shane said warmly as he stretched his back out.

"Which one of us?" Mae asked, looking up at him with laughter in her eyes.

Schofield stooped down to kiss his nana's soft cheek and wipe a smudge of what looked like stewed prunes off the corner of Beth's mouth - no wonder she wasn't eating it - but it didn't do much good.
"Both of you," he said, "of course."

Knight, watching the little scene, pushed his way in beside Shane and handed him a large stack of dry toast, saying, "Think you could eat that in the car?"

Schofield's mind went blank - in the last few months, he'd become terrifyingly aware that not only did baby brain exist but that he was apparently suffering from it. It must have shown on his face because Knight looked crestfallen.

"You forgot," he said, "I've spent weeks house hunting, only choosing places we could move into fast and narrowing a shortlist down so you only had to be out a short while to view them and today, the day we agreed to look at them together, you've forgotten?"

Of course, Shane could've smacked himself. Their attempts to manoeuvre a second cot into Beth's little nursery had impressed on them the rather urgent need to move and Knight had made it his pet project.

Knight bit down on the corner of his lip and looked at Shane over the rim of his amber lenses, showing off his best puppy dog eyes.
Beth had inherited those eyes straight from Knight.

Of course, they were absolutely ridiculous on anyone who even vaguely knew him. Bounty Hunters didn't have bloody puppy dog eyes, except when they were after something. All the same, Shane smacked him lightly on the cheeks and said, "I didn't say I don't want to go."

He stole the stack of toast out of Knight's hand.
"Just give me two minutes to throw some clothes on."

Whilst the pair of them shrugged into sneakers - they had long ago given up on the laces, Louis had chewed through every pair in the house - Nana Mae resumed her attack with the stewed prunes but it was far too late for that. Beth had sensed that something was happening; that her daddies were going out without her and she didn't like that one little bit. In a remarkable display of petulance that Schofield was also keen to blame on Knight's genetics, she swiped the spoon away as soon as it came anywhere near her face and flung prunes across the kitchen, much to Mae's consternation.

"Don't worry about that," Shane reassured his Nana, "She's just at a clingy age. We'll deal with the mess when we get back."

Swiping a hand quickly through her black hair, he tipped a healthy handful of cereal straight onto the tray of the highchair.
What Beth didn't eat, she would play with and that at least, would keep her entertained for a while.

Mae's brow furrowed and Shane tried not to feel guilty.
"You shouldn't just let her get away with being such a fussy eater. I seem to remember another young boy who didn't like his prunes either - "

The pair of them were keen to slip away before Beth really noticed so they were out the door before she could finish the sentence. Nonetheless, Mae's voice carried out into the stairwell.

" - but they're good for the bowels."

With an odd look from the lady who lived across the hall, who naturally had chosen that exact moment to put out her rubbish, Schofield and Knight hastened for the basement and the relative safety of the car.

The first place Knight had picked out was an apartment practically atop Capitol Hill. It was shiny and new and fitted with more mod-cons then they would ever learn to use - not to mention you could've fit Schofield's entire apartment in the kitchen alone - but Shane found himself wandering through it without really taking it in. He was more interested in the dry toast he was munching on and that was saying something.

"Whadaya think?" Knight said when they stepped into the master bedroom, sweeping his arms open to encapsulate the views that unfolded before them.

Schofield thought hard for a moment.
Then he asked, "How did you get us in here without an agent?"

Knight's hands fell to his sides.
"That's what you want to ask?" he said, "I take you to one of the most spectacular new builds in D.C. and you want to know about the real-estate agent? Is that a no?"

Shane pursed his lips.
"It's not very dog friendly."

"Nope. Fine," Knight said shortly, "Next one it is." The gesticulations had returned. "You're not very good at this whole being rich thing, money opens just about any door you want. Or at least, it certainly does in the up-market property business."

Schofield followed him out the door, supressing a snort the entire way.
When Knight wanted, he had a real flair for the dramatic.

The second option sat bang in the middle of a row of identical houses, though at least this time it was an actual house with an actual garden. It was a lovely house, it really was. Lovely spacious living areas filled with plush sofas and delicate floral smells. Everything was soft and crooned luxury. There was even a goddamned tennis court. It was the American Dream right down to the details but - "it feels like somebody else's home," Schofield explained, "not ours."

"But it's perfect," Knight countermanded, "big bedrooms, even two spare ones just in case, plenty of space for the dog, good local schools and close to the river. I thought it'd be everything you've ever wanted."

Shane shrugged a little.
"It just doesn't feel right."

"You're being irrational," Knight retorted.

"I'm allowed to be," he shot right back, "I'm pregnant."

Knight crossed his arms across his chest defensively and Schofield could feel the frustration starting to build under the surface. He slipped his hands into the space between Knight's arms and his body, holding onto his biceps and grinning wryly.

"It is perfect but maybe a little too perfect," he said, "and I do appreciate the effort you've put into this but can you seriously imagine either of us being able to live in a place like this? We'd blow something up in the first week and all the neighbours would look at us funny."

"Hey, I'm not the one who blows stuff up for fun," Knight defended himself but his customary smirk was falling back onto his lips, "You're a bad influence."

"And you agree I'm right," Shane said, it wasn't a question. "We keep looking?"

"We keep looking," Knight agreed. "Partly because you're right and partly because only a fool argues with a pregnant person. Especially if they have to live with said pregnant person."

Schofield hit him in the arm.
(But not too hard)

The third place was smaller and at the end of a shabbier street on which the only thing the houses had in common was peeling paint. Being right at the end of the cul-de-sac, the garden wrapped the whole way around the side and back of the house and best of all, it backed right out onto the Potomac.

"I mostly picked it for the location," Knight explained as he exited the car. "Thought we could just knock it down and rebuild."

Schofield was only half listening. There was a porch that wrapped itself the whole way around the sprawling bungalow in faded dark wood. It was so easy to imagine Ralph and Knight arguing over the barbeque, the rest of their friends sprawled out along that porch with cold beers, keeping an eye on the kids running loose in the yard.

There was even a sprawling tree that looked strong enough for a treehouse.

"Of course the first thing to do is put up a new fence down by the riverbank," Knight continued, "Wouldn't want Beth to give swimming a go before we're ready."

And he wandered off to check out the fence situation whilst Schofield headed straight for the front door.

The house smelled musty but well lived in and the floor boards creaked beneath his feet. The layout was a little idiosyncratic but that was nothing they couldn't fix by knocking down a few walls. Schofield trailed his hands along the wooden door frames and white-painted panelling that lined the living room. The house had good bones and a good soul. Stepping into one of the bedrooms - a bedroom that could be one of his daughters' bedrooms - he felt inexorably drawn to the large window that captured the river and the garden and at the base of it, Aloysius poking at the fence.

His vision seemed to narrow in, going grey at the edges. Shane leaned one arm on the sill for support and realised it was now crisp and clean and freshly painted and littered with little meaningless ornaments - shells and flowers and a plaster of paris mould with an infant's foot impressed within it. His other hand rose unconsciously to cover the precious bump and then he saw it - Aloysius, watching a little girl run back and forth through a sprinkler squealing with delight whilst a dog that had never really grown out of being a puppy chased her heels.
And in his arms, another child - smaller, chubbier but with the same mop of dark hair that Shane would recognise anywhere.
Beth and her sister.

Christ, there was even the damn treehouse he'd imagined building for them.

The spell released him with a sudden rush of dizziness and fatigue that settled in his very bones. He'd thought his sessions with Jean had given him some measure of what it meant to be able to sense the future but this was so markedly different from anything he'd experienced before. He'd never been able to push more than a few minutes ahead and they'd never arrived spontaneously like that.

Schofield took a deep breath and brushed a hand through his short hair. The other never left his stomach, thumb idly tracing the swell. There was no guarantee it was their future, he reasoned. It could just have easily been his tired and hormonal brain screwing around with him. And there was no point in worrying either way, he realised with a pang, because if it was the future then it was a future he wanted to pursue and if it was only wishful thinking, then he would pursue it anyway.

Turning back to the window, he saw only the overgrown grass and the rickety fence that Knight had been examining.

Shane found him in the living room instead, poking about with a measuring tape.

"It's not as big as the others," Knight said as Schofield wandered in.
"It's big enough," Shane replied casually.

"There's a lot of work."
"We've got a lot of time."

"With two small kids underfoot?"
"You saying we're not up to the challenge?"

He met each and every one of Knight's objections until the other man put away the measuring tape and looked him in the eye.
"You really like it?" Knight asked.
"You don't?" Schofield retorted.

"You do know it's a deceased estate," Knight said warily, "The old man that owned this place died here. That's the only reason the estate agent said it hasn't sold yet. People being superstitious."

Schofield shrugged.
"So somebody died here an old man, after he'd lived his life and raised his family. I can think of worse ways to go. We could have that for ourselves. We could raise our family here."

A slow smile had started to spread across Knight's face and it was catching, Schofield could feel his own lips begin to twitch.
"What?" He said as Knight stalked across the room towards him, still smiling ferally.

"Okay," Knight said, stepping right into his personal space.
"Okay?"
"Okay."

Schofield almost did a double take. Almost.
"I didn't expect it to be quite that easy," he said.

Knight just laughed, his hands running up and down the length of Schofield's arms.
"I'm not as sentimental as you are. It's got four walls and a roof and you like it so that's good enough for me."

"Not sentimental my ass," Schofield said, leaning into the touch. "Who insisted we get married?"

"That was practical," Knight retorted and Schofield scoffed a laugh at his expense.
"Okay, a little bit sentimental," he amended, "but don't tell anyone."

Aloysius pressed their foreheads together and breathed into their shared space, "Okay?"
"Okay."