You have all been very patient! I couldn't get the flow of this right and I'm not sure that I'm writing very well at all lately, sorry to those reviewers who I've lost. I have other ideas that may work better but see what you think

This set in the ambulance, you'll be pleased to know.

He's surprised to see tears in her eyes. Harry will let her emotions out in private, but rarely on the job. "The baby, Dempsey, you have to tell them about the baby."

There's a pause. A moment when he feels the paramedic up front and Anna, share a look. There is noise invading the space; the siren, the dammed monitor, cars but now the rush of blood in his ears and her breathing. And a metaphorical ball dropping as it all makes horrible sense to him.

What in hell's name does she mean? He tries to find solid ground in the maelstrom inside his head. Harry, it's Harry. Not some random broad who might turn up on his doorstep claiming a split condom. A fear he used to worry about in those early days. It is Harry, not Simone. Harry would never say what she doesn't mean about something so important.

Dempsey aims for calm as if he knew all along and it's all just hunky dory, just a-okay as the monitor bleeps slower. He takes her hand in his, uncertain of all he knew this morning. It's an action that stops the ground from racing up to hit his face as he tries to assimilate the news.

"Yeah, course." Dempsey flounders.

Is the baby his? He wants to ask. He doesn't think she was seeing anyone else but her leaving the force makes him wonder how well he really knows her. In the years they've worked together, she hasn't dated, though not for the want of men trying it on. For reasons he will never question, he was the one she came to after her divorce was official. He saw her every day after she left SI-10 albeit like a stray cat pestering for scraps. He knows he wants a future with her and they were doing fine. He'd never said he loved her or needed her, it just was. He thought that in making love, he'd shown her.

He feels his heart skip in fear; "Harry, are you sure?"

He brushes a stray strand of hair and she nods, saucer-sized eyes staring at him nervously from above the mask. The bumps on the road jolt them both. Around them, Anna is stern-faced as she sets up an ultrasound machine.

He can't stop looking at his partner as everything falls into place. The open champagne with the spoon, he thinks to fool him; her getting her own drinks at the bar, a craving for chips and the unnecessary space she's created around her. He wonders how she forgot that she hasn't told him anything about being pregnant. Why not sooner, the night at the bar or…. he wonders if that was the case of her leaving the force? Was he that obtuse? Unwelcome? Are they so terrible at words?

Then Dempsey recalls his words when they were with Simone. The loud finality of nah is clear in his memory at his ex-girlfriend's prediction of a domestic life with Harry. No wonder she pushed him away. Oh, Harry. He's such a prize prick.

A baby. Did she know the gender? He thinks back to his nephews and niece and thinks it unlikely. Then to last weekend, when they spent most of it re-christening each room in her house. They'd spend two days mostly naked, wrapped in each other and she didn't look or taste any different but she had refused breakfast and didn't want any wine, saying she wasn't in the mood and needed clear head.

Jeez, a baby.

"Are you okay?" There's a cautious hand on his arm and he looks up to see Anna's worried face.

Dempsey clears his throat, finding a sudden swell of emotion threatening to rinse out his usual primeval state. Maybe that's no bad thing and he thinks there's going to be a lot of that from now on, if the baby is his and she'll let him take care of her. "Yeah. Oh hell, I don't know. I will be if she is."

"I thought I was going to have to give you an IV!" Anna teases.

"Good luck with that, I hate needles." He tries to joke wearily but there's no heart for it. He feels like he's grown up in thirty minutes.

He wishes he could stop the ambulance. He doesn't want to see this child without Harry being fully present too. He can't tell Anna that he has only just found out or that he's not sure if he's the father, because he comes over as an idiot and Harry would sound like she slept around. Whatever way, he's an idiot for not seeing the signs.

As Anna moves around them, he has the feeling that the paramedic knows it's a revelation. She doesn't berate him for not saying anything, anyway and carefully explains what she's doing. It terrifies him and reassures him in equal measure.

Dempsey is relieved when Harry stirs at the coldness of the gel and clutches his hand. Her eyes don't leave his until they hear a whooshing sound of a heartbeat. He realises with clarity, in this odd language of words without sounds that he is going to be a father. He is filled with an abstract wonder as some of his doubts are kicked into shape, typically by her.

Anna is pointing to the screen at a small shape that's one half of him and Harry. "The baby is okay?" He pleads.

"Yes, absolutely fine it seems. " Anna wipes Harry's tummy, the reassurance enough to send his partner back into a doze and her hand relaxes. "They'll run another scan and probably do a blood test but I can't see anything to worry about but I'd suggest rest and maybe review what she does on duty."

"Her blood pressure was up," Dempsey remembers feeling stupid at the words, they know, of course. Anna looks kindly at him, realising perhaps that he's had life changing news.

"It's elevated but nothing to worry about but she was a little dehydrated too."

Dempsey nods, not entirely certain they're out of the woods yet. He concludes he'll only be happy when Harry has told him she's okay. Life is hard then you die has been part of his narrative for too long, maybe he could start really living it like he deserves better.

She's rolled away from him on the bed into the hospital, but he catches up, and refuses to let go situating himself within eyesight. She's finally allowed into a recovery room to rest. Across the bed on the table is the sonogram, calling for him to look. His daughter or son resting inside its mother. He kept his eyes shut as the technician confirmed all was well, not wanting to be alone in this responsibility and knowing he can't function in any dump without her. The man checked that Dempsey would take his wife to see her own doctor. He didn't bother to correct them.

Since then, it has been an hour of him here, with her, alone with his thoughts and his increasingly awareness of a third person in the space.

In seven months they'll have a human who will need them. The very thought is enough to panic him. He's no wimp, but he can barely look after himself sometimes. He can't ruin this, he won't do that. He's in Harry's good books and nothing is going to pull him under. The Met can throw their worst at him but no more undercover and no more unnecessary gun slinging.

He needs to sort out his residency. Does she even want him to stay? He can't imagine a world in which there's his child out there and he has no contact with them. He feels sick at the thought. What he can offer a child? He comes up with very little.

As if she senses his internal monologue, Harry stirs and says his name. Her voice is low and scratchy but relief floods through him when Dempsey hears here. This has happened too often, so many near misses. Next time they're here, it'll be cradling a newborn with a proud Freddie waiting and, if he can manage it, his mother too.

"Hey," His own voice isn't much better and the nerves start to kick in. He good at hiding them usually but when he comes to Harry all bets are off. He can barely croak out the words. "How you feeling?"