Author's Note: mikes_grrl , this one is for you. I have no idea at all if this is what you had in mind, and if you didn't, a thousand apologies! This one is a bit dramatic, folks. Like, possibly soap opera dramatic but it's almost 6,000 words so that should count for something, yeah? It's like three fics in one! A huge thank you to Kelley for her help with this one. I never would have finished it without you. Please don't forget guys that comments are love!

The sun is just beginning to set and already, John is exhausted. It's been a long day filled with pages upon pages of paperwork. Requisition forms, leave approvals, mission reports. He slacks off for a day or two and suddenly, his inbox is overrun with paperwork and Carter is breathing down his neck to get it finished.

Annoying.

His eyes feel like they're going crossed as he makes his way down to the lab and while he's surprised that he doesn't hear Meredith's screeching from out in the hallway, he chalks it up to paperwork on her end too. While he's bad, she's worse and he knows for a fact that between the two of them, they're driving Carter a little crazy.

Yeah, he feels a little smug about that.

"Hey Doc," he greets, waving across the room to Zelenka while heading for Meredith's office. "Quiet day today, huh?"

"Just a little," Zelenka says, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" John asks, pausing outside Meredith's door.

Zelenka just points at her office like John is supposed to know what the hell he's talking about so he shrugs and asks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She is not here, Colonel," he says. "She has been gone for some time now."

"McKay?"

Zelenka shrugs. "I learned a long time ago not to ask."

"Smart man," John grins before he backtracks to the doorway, waving at Zelenka again. "Catch ya later, Doc. Don't work too hard."

"I never do, according to your manželka," Zelenka mutters, and John is a equal parts afraid and curious to know what he just called Meredith, but he doesn't stick around to find out.

When John makes it back to their room, he pauses outside the door, listening for any signs of life from within. There's nothing, which is horrifying because the last time she was this quiet in their room, she'd dismantled his laptop and refused to put it back together unless he talked Simpson into parting with some of her chocolate.

Shuddering at the memory, he swipes his hand over the control crystals and winces in anticipation when the door slides open.

Huh. Nothing except a Meredith-shaped lump in the middle of the bed.

"Mer?" He calls tentatively, thinking the lights'on' as he makes his way over to the bed. She doesn't even flinch.

Frowning just a little, he sinks down onto the edge of the bed and reaches out, resting a gentle hand against what he hopes is her shoulder. The last thing he needs is for her to take a crotch shot because she thinks he's trying to feel her up in her sleep.

A quiet groan escapes her as she shifts just enough to pull the covers down so she can peek out.

"Wha' time z'it?" She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"Almost eighteen hundred," he says, reaching out to smooth her curly hair back from her forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Nap," she responds, barely stifling a yawn as she stretches out on the bed. "Ugh."

"What's wrong?"

"Stomach," she mutters, curling back in on herself.

"You're sick?"

"No. I feel just peachy," she says sarcastically. "What the hell do you think? I'm too busy to just lay around for the hell of it."

It's a fight to keep from his rolling his eyes, but in the end, John is victorious. Instead, he leans over, kisses her cheek and pushes himself to his feet. "I'm going to grab something to eat then. Do you want me to bring you anything back?"

She groans at the mention of food and waves him off.

Okay then. She's definitely sick.

It doesn't take John long to make it down to the mess. He grabs a not-quite-turkey sandwich for himself and some of that beetroot soup that Meredith pretends to hate for her before he makes the short trek back to their room. When the door slides open, she's still in the same place he left her.

"Mer?"

The covers come down about a fraction of an inch, just enough for one annoyed blue eye to peek out. "What?" She asks and there's a distinct hint of a whine in her voice.

"C'mon, sit up here. I brought you some of that soup that you like."

"John, I don't want anything," she says and yeah, she's definitely whining.

"You need to eat. Your sugar is going to drop and the last thing I need is for you to slip into hypoglycemic shock and end up in the infirmary, so yeah. No arguments, just eat."

She huffs angrily as she throws the covers away from her body and he really doesn't like how pale she looks. Well, paler.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"I had a power bar this morning," she grumbles as John crosses the room and drops down onto the edge of the mattress beside her. "I don't want to eat."

"Just a little," he coaxes, pressing the bowl into her hands before he unwraps his not-really turkey.

She huffs again and John can feel her glaring daggers as he takes a bite of his sandwich, but it tastes heavenly enough that it offsets the anger he can feel radiating off of her. He's just about to offer her a bite of his sandwich when she dumps the bowl of soup and practically leaps off the bed, catching more air than he ever thought was possible.

He's impressed.

He's pulled out of his stupor seconds later when the feeling of hot soup begins to creep up his thigh and the sound of the bathroom door clicking closed catches his attention.

"Sonofabitch," he hisses, jumping up off the bed, glaring down at his wet leg. He curses a little more, torn between going right to the bathroom to check on Meredith and changing his pants because Jesus Christ, that soup was hotter than it looked. He starts towards to the closet because he knows that Meredith isn't going to let him in anyway, but he doesn't get very far before the door chimes.

"Shit," he huffs under his breath, limping his way over to the door. Waving his hand in front of the control panel, the door hisses open, revealing Carter.

Right. Like his night couldn't get any worse?

"Colonel," he greets brusquely. While he's managed to put most of his issues with Carter aside, he isn't going to lie and say that the man's presence doesn't bother him because it does. Especially now as his pants are melting to the skin of his thigh. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a minute?"

John frowns and tugs a little against his pant leg. "Yeah, sure," he says, hoping to God that it takes less than that because this really does hurt.

Carter hesitates and reaches around to rub the back of his neck. "I received a message from Stargate Command last night," he says hesitantly. "I'm afraid… I have some bad news."

John just stares. "Okay."

"Your father suffered a heart attack last night. I'm sorry, John, but he passed away."

In that moment, it felt like everything screeched to a halt; from the scalding soup seeping in through the pores on his leg to the sound of the bathroom door sliding open again. Nothing mattered.

"If you ever bring a God damned turkey sandwich in here again," Meredith starts, but miraculously she stops when she spots Carter. "John? What's going on?"

Carter glances over at her before he reaches out and claps John on the shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he says again and John knows that he means it.

Seconds later, Carter is backing out of the room, John feels a little like he's going to throw up and Meredith is there at his side, hand on his arm, guiding him back towards the bed.

"John?" She's saying in a voice softer than he's used to hearing from her. He's vaguely aware of his ass hitting the mattress and when he finally looks up at her, he can see the concern written all over her face. "John, you're freaking me the fuck out. What's going on?"

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Instead, he reaches for her and pulls her down onto his lap, burying his face in her hair.

She's silent as she turns, wrapping her arms around him and John realizes he's trembling.

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. When he finally pulls away, the moon is shining brightly into the room and even though he hasn't done anything, he feels exhausted.

"My dad died," he says, his voice steadier than he imagined it would be. He never thought that the death of the man who had made the majority of his teenage years a living hell would impact him so hard but right now, he feels like someone's simultaneously punched him in the gut and kicked him in the crotch. Not a good feeling.

"I'm sorry," Meredith says solemnly. This isn't something they've ever really talked about before so he's not surprised when she asks, "were you two close?"

"Not at all. Hated him, actually. Pretty sure he hated me too," John says with a hollow laugh that sounds fake even to his own ears. He's quiet for a moment before he speaks again. "I guess I have to go back."

"I'll go with you," she offers and John just nods because really, he has no idea how he's going to face the life he left behind without her.

.::.

"You can't come back with me," John says dully. He's just left Carter's office and he's angry that he didn't get the answer he was looking for.

Deep down, John knows he's right. Meredith hasn't been feeling well for nearly a week now. She insists it's nothing, but they have no clue if it's the regular Milky Way flu or some random Pegasus strain and they can't risk her exposing anyone to something from this galaxy. It's the right call, even if John is a little pissed off.

"This is horse shit," Meredith practically screeches. John's positive she would be on her feet, pacing angrily and waving her hands if she still wasn't still so dizzy. Privately, John agrees with her assessment but then the greenish tint to her face reminds him why they have rules like this set in place.

"Yeah," he agrees, sinking down onto the bed with a sigh. His bag is all packed and ready to go. He's scheduled to dial out in less than thirty minutes and he still has no clue how he's going to deal with the funeral on his own.

It's moments like these that he has to remind himself he's a grown ass man and he doesn't need her to hold his hand, no matter how much he may want her to.

"I'll go deal with him," she grumbles, throwing the covers back. She's on her feet when another wave of dizziness hits and it's only his hand on her elbow that stops her from face-planting.

"He's right, Mer," John says, standing to help her back into bed. "You can hardly stand without wanting to topple over. 'Gate travel and a funeral? You don't need to deal with that. I'll be fine."

"But John—"

"It's okay," he says. "Really."

"I want to be there for you," she says assertively and John's reminded of just how much she's changed since they first met.

"And I want you to focus on getting better," he says, using his stern 'Colonel' voice. "Which means hanging out in here and getting lots of rest. You are not, under any circumstance, to try and take the 'Gate room by force."

"But I could come up with a diversion and—"

"No, McKay. I'm serious. It's forty-eight hours. No big deal."

She looks like she wants to argue, but she also looks like she wants to puke so rather than take a chance, she closes her mouth and crosses her arms over her chest.

He leans over to peck her lips but instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry, John," she says. "I really wanted to be there for you. You know that, don't you? If Carter would pull his head out of his ass—"

"I would have made the same decision if I was in Carter's position," he says firmly, pecking her lips before he pulls away. "I should head down there," he says, jerking his finger at the door and she nods.

"I'll walk you down."

"No way. You stay put," he says.

She huffs a little but rather than argue, she just nods. "Okay," she agrees. "But take care of yourself, huh? Don't… ummm… well, don't let anyone get you down and whatnot," she tries and while it falls a little short of a pep talk, John appreciates the effort. "I love you," she adds and he nods.

"I love you too."

John grabs his bag off the bed and hurries out of the room, ready to get this over with. It's a short walk to the 'Gate room and by the time he arrives, he's feeling a little nauseous but he's positive it has more to do with nerves than whatever stupid bug Meredith has come down with.

He can feel eyes on him as he makes his way over to the 'Gate, but he ignores it until he hears someone call his name. Turning, he's surprised to see Ronon jogging over to him, knapsack slung over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" John asks.

"I heard what happened and I'm sorry about your father."

"Thanks, buddy. I'll see you in a few days."

Ronon snorts. "You think I'm letting you do this by yourself?"

John just smiles.

.::.

The first thought that crosses Meredith's mind when she finally stops throwing up is that this is all John fault. Really, she's quite happy to assign the blame to him because she's too fucking smart to allow this to happen.

He is, after all, the one that he broke the condom. If he'd just keep his God damned fingernails clipped like she asks, he never would have torn it.

She thinks it's probably a good thing that he's in another galaxy right now because she's pretty sure there's nowhere in this fucking galaxy that he could hide and be safe from a kick to the crotch. They're too old for these kinds of mishaps.

Of course, he'd better hope it is just a harmless mishap, or she thinks she'll probably dial the 'Gate at random and shove him through so he can't come back.

She swallows hard at the thought and closes her eyes, praying to the Ancients that she's just turned into a paranoid bitch. It's quite possible, after all, that her mind started manifesting all these stupid symptoms after Teyla announced her pregnancy earlier the previous week. She knows it's easy enough to find out; a simple trip down to the infirmary to pee on a stick and it'll all be over, but truthfully, she's terrified of doing that.

"Stupid," she mutters angrily to herself, wincing at the way her stomach turns. "Maybe I should just throw myself through the 'Gate," she huffs, pushing herself to her feet. Regardless of whether or not she's chicken shit, John is scheduled to be back in thirty-six hours and she knows she needs to figure this fucking thing out before he gets back.

She stumbles out into the bedroom and is just about to crawl underneath the covers and go to sleep in hopes that the problem will solve itself when the sound of the door chime reaches her ears. She glares moodily at it before she stomps over, waving her hands in front of the crystal.

"What?" She barks as soon as the door slides open.

"Hello to you too," Carter greets cheerfully. "You look like shit, McKay."

"Fuck off," she grumbles, stepping back to allow him into the room. "What do you want?"

"Just stopped by to make sure you hadn't died in here. Doctor Zelenka said he hasn't seen you today and that's not normal."

"I've earned a little time off," she says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No one said you haven't," Carter says, holding his hands up in surrender. "We were just worried."

"Oh," she responds sullenly. "Well, I'm fine, I'm alive, whatever. You can go now."

He narrows his eyes at her, catching her wrist when she moves to shove him towards the door. "Hey… What's going on?"

"I'm sick, Sam! I just finished puking my guts up and now I have to stand here and answer your stupid questions, and, and, and…" she runs out of steam halfway through her rant and reaches up to shove her fingers through the hair that's escaped her ponytail. "I'm fine."

He looks like he doesn't believes her, but mercifully, he just nods. "Okay," he says. "Okay… but you know, if something's going on or you want to talk…"

"Yeah, I know where to find you. Now get the hell out," she says, shooing him towards the door. He goes, thankfully without protest and once she's alone, she sinks down onto the bed, dropping her head into her hands.

She'll give it until tomorrow, she decides. She won't officially be late until then anyway. There's still plenty of time for this situation to work itself out.

.::.

In the end, Meredith decided to put her big girl panties on and go see Keller, but that plan went all to hell when John got back earlier than expected, Ronon trailing along behind him. They both looked a little worse for wear in a way that she was sure had nothing to do with the funeral.

She really didn't want to see Keller anyway, so Meredith had tagged along with them to Carter's office to find out what the hell had happened on Earth and by the time John finished the story about the replicator chick, her situation was temporarily forgotten.

For awhile, anyway, until she ends up in the bathroom again later that night all because John decided it was a good idea to bring out the real turkey sandwich he'd brought back from Earth.

She's really starting to get acquainted with the tiles in the bathroom, she thinks as she dry heaves for the millionth time. John is outside of the bathroom, knocking impatiently, calling into her but she remembers this is all his fault anyway, so out of spite, she chooses not to answer.

"Meredith," he calls in his nasally voice that he knows annoys her. "C'mon. Open up."

"Dying," she croaks. "Let me die in peace."

She wishes it was that simple. Death would be preferable to this, she thinks. She drops her head into her hands and contemplates which is worse: a possible pregnancy or an all-out war with the Wraith. She thinks the pregnancy might possibly be worse because while she knows it's her duty to pass along her genius genes, she always thought it would be in form of an egg donation or something.

She's not cut out to be a parental figure.

When she finally gets herself under control, she pushes herself to her feet, grimacing at the ungodly taste in her mouth. She takes her time washing her hands and brushing her teeth before she finally slips out of the bathroom, glaring angrily at John as she passes.

"Have you been to see Keller yet?" He asks and she's a little annoyed that he sounds annoyed.

"No," she responds shortly, climbing into the bed under the covers.

"Well, don't you think you should? This is getting a little ridiculous now, Mer."

"I'll go see her tomorrow," she grumbles. "Right now, I want to sleep."

The look on his face is a cross between annoyance and concern and for a moment, she feels bad. He's just returned from his father's funeral and she knows that he deserves better than her attitude, but she's still too pissed to really care.

Instead, she pulls the covers up, closes her eyes and prays that things will be better in the morning.

.::.

Things are absolutely no better in the morning, Meredith decides as she storms out of her lab, hands shaking. From the time she started getting her period at the embarrassingly late age of fifteen, she'd always had an abnormally regular schedule. There isn't one instance she can remember where she was late and yet here she is, a day overdue.

She doesn't know where she's going, she realizes as she stalks through the hallways. At least she doesn't until she ends up standing outside the training room, wringing her hands together nervously. She feels like she's going to throw up again, but that's a sensation she's used to so she swallows it back and pushes the door open a little, peeking her head inside.

She's always gotten a little thrill sneaking down here on the days that her morons really start to get to her to watch John train with the marines.

Especially on days like today when he's all hot and sweaty.

Yum.

She pushes the door open just a little more and slips into the room, unnoticed thanks to all the grunts and groans from the marines having their asses handed to them by Ronon.

"Has she gone to see Keller yet?" Ronon asks, sounding obnoxiously pleased about sending another marine to the ground.

"No," John responds in a huff, blocking a hit from Lorne. "But if she doesn't go soon, I think I might tie her up and drag her down there."

"Can I help?"

John snorts and then grunts when Lorne catches him in the stomach. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't ask, buddy," he says. "It's one of those things where I'm worried, but she's driving me nuts. She's grouchy when she's sick."

"Only when she's sick, Sir?" Lorne asks with a smirk and Meredith thinks very seriously about kicking him in the nuts. Dick.

Her blood is already beginning to boil and she's pretty sure steam is coming out of her ears when John just laughs and makes no attempt to defend her from that.

See if I show you my tits anytime soon, asshole, Meredith thinks angrily.

"Does that mean you're going to divorce her too?" Ronon asks and Meredith stops suddenly at that. What the hell?

"Meredith and I aren't married," John explains, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "But no. People only get divorced when things are beyond repair."

"Like you and Nancy."

"Exactly," John says and at this point, Meredith has heard enough.

Her heart is hammering wildly in her chest and she can feel her face reddening in anger as she clenches her hands into fists at her side.

"Who the fuck is Nancy?" She bellows loudly and she's too pissed off to enjoy the way all sixteen of the men in the room jump like little girls.

John turns, his face paling faster than she thought possible. "Meredith."

"Some woman John divorced," Ronon supplies helpfully and she thinks that she'll spare him. "She's really nice."

Maybe not.

"Not helping, buddy," John says quickly before he turns back to Meredith. "I can explain, Mer."

"Don't you fucking think this is something you should have 'explained' a long time ago?" She asks, her voice cracking slightly as she pushes through the throng of marines. John backs up, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Meredith—"

"You were married?"

"It… it was a long time ago," he says in a voice that Meredith thinks is supposed to make her feel better but it doesn't. If anything, it only serves to piss her off more.

She punches him hard in the shoulder, ignoring his growl of warning.

"You are such an asshole," she says and she's surprised to find that tears have blurred her vision. "You're such an asshole! You should have told me! This isn't something you can just keep from me!" She reaches out to hit him again, but before her hand connects, he's grabbing her wrist, drawing himself up to his full height.

"That's enough," he hisses. "I'm not doing this here with you, McKay," he warns.

"Clearly, you aren't doing it at all! How could you keep this from me?" Somewhere, in the back of her mind, there's a voice warning her that she's overreacting. Unfortunately, there's a louder voice that reminds her that the man who's possibly impregnated her kept something as big as a marriage a secret and she's fucking furious.

"Uh… Sir," Lorne says uncomfortably. "Maybe… um… Ronon and I can finish up here," he says and that's all that John needs before he's pulling Meredith bodily out of the room.

She fights against him the whole way, shrieking and cursing while trying to claw at him with her fingernails.

"Get your stupid, idiotic, moronic hands off of me!" She bellows when he pulls her into the hallway. "I don't want you to touch me! You've done enough!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks, backing her up to the wall. "Jesus Christ, Meredith. I didn't think it was a big deal! I haven't even thought about her in Christ knows how long until she showed up at my father's funeral!"

"It is a big deal!" She says and she's a little embarrassed to realize she's crying. "It's a huge deal!" She reaches out to try to hit him and he catches her wrist once more, stopping her.

"I swear to Christ, Meredith, if you try to hit me one more time…"

"Oh, what? Are you gonna divorce me?" She spits, trying to wrench her wrist out of his grip.

He drops her hand almost like he's been burned, his eyes blazing angrily. "I am so fucking sick of this. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but you've turned into some psycho, raging…" he trails off, stopping himself. "You know, maybe before you start pointing God damned fingers at people keeping secrets, you should take a good look at yourself!"

"I don't—"

"Right, okay. And this whole… secret thing you've got going on with Carter? I guess that doesn't count, right? Because it's your secret? Whatever, McKay," he says. "I can't do this right now."

She doesn't know how the hell this got turned around on her, but it has and now, he's walking away from her. She feels a bit like she's being ripped apart from the inside out so she wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to hold it together and she calls out to him.

"I think I might be pregnant."

John stops in his tracks and turns back to her. "What?"

.::.

For a moment, John can't breathe. He feels a little like someone's sucked all the air out of the hallway and he's just standing there, reeling.

"I, I, I…"

Meredith is standing where he left her, floundering for words and even though he's fucking furious with her for causing a scene like that, he crosses the distance between them and pulls her into his arms.

She goes limp almost at once and he finds himself supporting her completely. Her body is shaking as she sobs loudly and he can already feel her tears staining his shirt. Suddenly, the last couple of days make a lot more sense and he thinks he could kick himself for not seeing this sooner.

"Shh," he says. "C'mon, let's get back to our room and we'll talk about it," he tells her because this isn't a conversation he wants to have in the hallway.

It takes nearly twice as long as usual to get back to their room and when they finally make it, Meredith looks like she's seconds away from hyperventilating.

"Hey, c'mon. Calm down, Mer," he tells her, leading her over to the bed. He eases her down onto the mattress gently before he drops down in front of her, clasping her hands with his. "Take nice, slow breaths," he coaches expertly, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. "It's okay."

"This, this, this is so fucking far from okay, John," she says shakily. "I don't want to have kids. I'm, I'm not a kid person. I hate children. They're noisy and messy and, and, and they crap on themselves and they can't tell you what they want and, and, and…"

"Easy," he tells her. "I think before we freak out anymore, we should probably go see Keller, huh? For all you know, you've worked yourself up over nothing."

"I'm never ever late and I haven't gotten my period yet and I can't stop throwing up-!" She starts to cry again at this point, so John leans forward and wraps her in his arms, holding her against his chest.

"It's going to be okay, Mer," he whispers into her hair. "I promise you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but it's all going to be okay."

"I'm sorry," she cries, fisting her hands in the front of his shirt. "I, I should have told you sooner but I couldn't, John. I didn't want to say it out loud and I really hoped it would just go away!"

"I know baby," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll talk about all of that later, but for now, let's get you down to the Doc and checked out, huh? We have to know either way."

It isn't easy, but John manages to maneuver her into the bathroom to wash the tearstains from her cheeks before he wraps an arm around her waist, steadying her.

The walk down to the infirmary feels excruciatingly long and by the time Keller gets her to pee into a cup, John feels close to hyperventilating himself.

The idea of having kids has always been horrific to him. His father was never an inspiring role model when it came to parenting and he was always afraid he would make the same mistakes with his own kids.

The whole kids debate was one of the reasons why he didn't work out with Nancy. She was ready to settle down, have a family and John wasn't.

But now?

Now, he's torn between hoping that Meredith is pregnant and horrified at the idea that she might be.

Right now, Meredith is huddled on the bed, looking more than a little lost so he sinks down onto the hard infirmary bed beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey," he says, nudging her side gently. "I meant it when I said that everything would be okay."

"You were going to walk away from me today," she says quietly and she sounds so fucking afraid that he wants to kick his own ass.

"Yeah," he says, pulling her even closer. "But I would have come back."

"I'm sorry," she tells him and her voice cracks just a little. "I don't know what the hell… I just lost it when I overheard you and Ronon and I'm sorry for going so crazy, but I can't, can't…"

"Shhh," he whispers, kissing the top of her head again. "It's okay, Mer. I'm not going anywhere."

"Even when I'm a psycho, raging bitch?"

"Especially then, because that's when I know you need me the most."

"Okay," she says, swallowing hard.

She still looks like she needs some reassurance, but before he gets the opportunity, Keller is back and Meredith is squeezing his hand hard enough that he feels like he can hear the bones creaking.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" John asks.

"The test was negative, Meredith," she tells them. "You're not pregnant."

"Oh thank God," she breathes, collapsing against John. He knows he should be as happy about this as she is because really, Pegasus isn't the ideal place to raise a kid but it doesn't stop that little sinking, disappointed feeling inside.

"See?" He asks. "I told you everything would work out like you wanted it to."

He just doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

.::.

John watches from the bed as Meredith slips out of the bathroom, dressed in only one of his black t-shirts and her panties. While she's still feeling a little nauseous from the plain ol' Milky Way flu, she looks much better than she had earlier that day and for that, he's grateful. He hates seeing her so miserable.

She's quiet as she crosses the room and climbs into bed with him and it isn't until she's pressed up against his side that she speaks.

"I know I overreacted about the whole… being divorced thing," she begins, "but I'm still not… you know, very happy that you didn't tell me about it."

"I know," he says. "I don't think I'd be too happy if you kept something like that from me, but I swear, Meredith, it's not something I even think about anymore. We were young when we got married and it only lasted a couple of years before we figured out that we just weren't right together." He laughs humorlessly. "I guess I know how she feels now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nancy always wanted kids. It wasn't something I could ever see for myself, but now…"

"John."

"Would it have been so bad?" He asks, turning on his side to look down at her. His hand is resting on her hip and he's tracing light patterns against the bare skin there.

"Right now? Yes."

"You've never thought about having kids?"

"I don't think I would make a very good mother," she confesses. "My own parents were complete shit and I just know that I would expect too much from a child. I don't have that whole… nurturing thing. I yell, I curse… Can you honestly say you would ever want me for the mother of your children?"

"Yeah," he says. "I can."

She looks genuinely surprised by that and he wants to beat the shit out of everyone who ever made her feel like she wouldn't be good enough.

"I know this isn't the best time to talk about something like this, given everything you've been through this week," he says, hesitating slightly. "But I think you're the only one I could ever see being the mother of my children. I don't think it was that I didn't want kids… I think I just didn't want them with her."

"John…"

"I'm not pressuring here, Mer," he tells her, leaning down to kiss her lips. "Just… you know, if you ever decide… well…"

She's quiet for awhile and he can't help but wonder if he's screwed things up. She's never struck him as the married with two point five kids and a white picket fence kind of woman anyway and he wonders if maybe this is too much for her.

"I'm not saying no," she says after what feels like an eternity. "I'm just saying not right now."

John nods and pulls her close. He can live with that.