Just as Owen had promised, the next three weeks flew by in a rush of packing, tying up loose ends at work, and saying forced goodbyes to people who most likely didn't even know my first name. I said goodbye to the apartment that I had grown ridiculously tired of living in, and got on my plane home, where, once I landed, Owen swept me into a hug so big I was lifted off of my feet.

"Oh my god," he said softly.

"What is it? Makeup? Hair? Am I wearing two different shoes?"

He shook his head and ran his hand down my abdomen where, sure enough, the tiniest hint of a bump was finally visible.

"Oh, that," I said, winking at him. "Yeah, that happened pretty suddenly. All my clothes fit normally last week, and then I woke up a couple days ago and nothing would zip."

He seemed to be at a loss for words, and I didn't blame him. He just kept his hand where it was for a moment, and then wrapped me up in another hug. I knew exactly what he was thinking. This experience was something he had given up on having with anyone. He was taking in every single moment of it.

"Oh, hey, we need to go," he said after a minute. "Robbins gets off work in an hour but she said if you wanted to come in and do an ultrasound today, she'd stay for us. We should be able to hear the heartbeat by now."

I agreed enthusiastically, but for the entire car ride to the hospital, I was focused on my own heartbeat, which was faster than I wanted it to be.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Owen asked, reaching over the center console to take my hand.

"I am a cardio goddess, remember? I don't get nervous."

He slid his hand up to my wrist.

"Tell that to your pulse."

"This is just getting really real, okay? I mean, what if I'm horrible at this? What if I end up being the worst mother in the world?"

"You're going to see that heartbeat and change your mind. I promise," Owen said as he pulled into a parking spot. "And if you don't, I'll be here to help you until you do."

He took my hand and we walked together to Arizona's office, where I was nearly tackled with one of her overenthusiastic hugs the second we went in the door.

"Look at you," she said, staring at my abdomen just as Owen had in the airport. "Ready to hear that heartbeat?"

I nodded—my throat had gone too tight to speak.

"She's a little nervous," Owen whispered to Arizona. I gave him The Look and his face flushed; he hadn't realized that I had heard him.

"Nothing to be nervous about," Arizona said. "Get ready, the gel is cold."

I flinched slightly when the gel hit my skin, and Owen put his hand on my shoulder. I leaned over and rested my head against his arm.

"Am I supposed to buy that you two aren't a couple?" Arizona asked as she began moving the probe around my abdomen. I looked up at Owen—I was going to let him answer that question this time.

"We're—I don't know."

"You don't know?" Arizona said, louder this time.

"Don't yell at me," Owen said defensively, turning to look at me. "We're a couple if you want to be a couple. Because I want to be a couple. I want our child to grow up knowing that his or her parents are in a loving, committed relationship."

"After ten years, that's not how I thought you were going to ask me," I said, "but I want that, too. Yes, Arizona, we are a couple."

"About damn time. Ooh, quiet! I found the heartbeat. And right there on the monitor—that little blob that looks like a weirdly shaped walnut? That's your baby."

Owen rested his forehead against my shoulder and, from how hard his arms were shaking, I strongly suspected that he was crying. I was, too, but even though it was blurred from the tears, I couldn't take my eyes off of the monitor. Not for one second. I reached one arm out, the one that Owen wasn't holding, and let my fingers brush the screen.

"That's our baby," I whispered.

"What did I tell you?" Owen said. "You feel better, don't you?"

"Way better," I admitted.

"Still think you're going to be the worst mother in the world?"

Arizona gave him a look that reminded me a little too much of my trademarked Look.

"Really, Hunt? Worst mother in the world?"

"Hey, she said it, not me," Owen argued. "And I will have you know that I disagreed with her."

I leaned against his chest and closed my eyes, and he stroked my hair absentmindedly.

"Here are your pictures," Arizona said, handing us copies of the sonogram. "No Facebook yet. Most people don't say anything until at least twelve weeks, and with your age—no, Teddy, I am not saying you're old, you and I are the same age—there's a chance that your pregnancy is going to be a little riskier than some. You have nothing to worry about right now. I'd say just wait until around fourteen weeks to tell everyone, just to be safe."

"Does Arizona think I'm going to miscarry?" I asked Owen as we got back into his car.

"She's just making sure you have all of the information. It's possible, but it's possible for everyone. She was just reminding us that we're human. That's all. Try not to think about it. We don't have anything to worry about."

"For now," I said softly.

"Happy thoughts."

He put the car in drive and, out of habit, reached for my hand.

"What if I can't do happy thoughts right now? Every time something in my life has gone right, it's blown up in my face. Do you know how many times I've had to stand back and watch as my life fell apart in front of my eyes? Too many. I had Eve as my best friend. Then 9/11 came and I lost her. I met you, and had you as my best friend. And then we lost Megan for a while in Iraq, and because of that, I lost you, too. We all lost you. I came here, almost lost my job because I sneezed. Remember when Derek was going to fire me because I was sick and sneezed in surgery? The fishhook patient? Wasn't that fun? Then what? The shooting. Then I found Andrew, lost Andrew. Found Henry, took an eternity to realize I loved him. And what happened? I lost him, too. And then I left after being pissed at you for months. I've been lonely for six years. And now I have an actual family for the first time in God only knows how long. I have you and you're my best friend and my boyfriend and my baby's father and I can't lose this. Owen, I can't lose anything else. It'll destroy me."

"You won't," he insisted. "You're meeting with Bailey about a permanent contract in, what, a week? That's seven days that you have to come up with a plan for how you're going to take care of yourself. She was working almost the whole time she was pregnant with Tuck. She'll work with you. I promise. She's flexible. And you'll be working with Pierce. You'll be a team; she won't let you overwork yourself. And as far as losing me goes—you won't. Not ever. Try to take some deep breaths, okay? You said the word 'and' too many times in one sentence, that's how I know you're panicking."

He let go of my hand to spin the steering wheel around and back into the driveway.

"How about we unpack later? So you can lie down for a little bit?"

"Owen, I'm fine," I insisted, but I knew it was useless to fight him on it. I hadn't slept at all on the plane, which was the equivalent of pulling an all-nighter since my body was still running on German time.

"Two hours," he suggested. "Two hours and then we can unpack. Or not. We can watch movies instead. We can do whatever you want. Just give me two hours. Please? For the baby?"

"For the baby," I agreed, following him into his bedroom.

"I'll stay with you," he said. "I was at work overnight. I'm exhausted, too."

He pulled the covers back so I could curl up underneath them, and I closed my eyes the second I felt his arms wrap around me. His touch was the most relaxing thing I had felt since we left the hospital.

"Hey," Owen whispered suddenly. I knew he wasn't talking to me—I was, after all, supposed to be trying to sleep. His hands found the tiny bump on my abdomen and I knew immediately what he was doing—he was talking to the baby. Trying to, anyway—according to the books, he still had two months before the baby's ears would develop.

"I don't know if you can even hear me yet. It's your dad. I can't wait to meet you. Seven months seems like such a long time, but we'll be holding you before you know it. Your mom can't wait either. She's a little nervous. She's…a lot nervous. But you're going to love her.

She might embarrass you a little bit sometimes. She sings along to the radio when she's in a good mood…pretty loudly. She claims her voice is horrible, but that's crap. She's incredible. She…um…unironically knows all of the words to We Didn't Start the Fire. Don't hold that one against her. She memorized it in Iraq just because someone told her that they didn't think she could do it. Your mother is stubborn as hell. And she's never been able to forget the words, so she will absolutely drive you insane with it someday.

What else? Oh. She's freakishly organized. I don't know how she does it. Years in the military, I guess. There's a chance that you might fight with her whenever she tells you to keep your room clean, but she means well. The house is going to look like no one lives in it. It'll be that clean, all the time. And I'll help—I'm not as much of a mess as she thinks I am.

If she had her way, we'd have ten puppies. Ten is a lot, especially with our jobs, but she's wanted a dog since we got home from Iraq. She almost got one years ago, and ended up getting a goldfish instead. And the goldfish died under mysterious circumstances. I might have forgotten that I agreed to take care of it one of the times that she and Henry went away on a weekend trip. I still feel guilty. I'm not just going to not let her have a dog. Maybe we can even have two. Just not ten.

She gives the greatest hugs in the world. You are always going to want one of those hugs if you have a rough day. She will hold you so tight, and she won't let go until you feel better. She moved away for six years because of me, and not a day went by that I didn't want one of those hugs. You're kind of screwed when you go to college. You're going to miss her.

And I hope you get her eyes. There's nothing wrong with blue eyes, but hers are the color of…I don't even know what. They're green, but deeper than normal people's green eyes. I could just stare at them all day, every day. Forget that I have a job, I want to look into Teddy's eyes.

I don't know why I'm saying all of this. I'm pretty sure your ears haven't developed yet. So…we'll talk in a few months. Just go easy on her. She loves us both, more than she can even put into words. Your mom's greatest fear is losing the people she loves. And she's lost a lot of people before. I need to give her reasons to believe she won't lose you, too. Can you help me out with that? Give her an easy pregnancy?"

He paused for the first time since he'd started talking, and sighed.

"I love you," he whispered. "Both of you."

He put his arms around me the way he had when I had spent those three nights with him before, and as his breathing got deeper and more even, I knew he had fallen asleep. I had stayed perfectly still with one hand clamped over my mouth—I had been crying the whole time he was talking, and I knew that he would have stopped to check on me if he had heard it. I twisted myself around in his arms slightly so that I could roll over and make sure he was completely asleep, and he was.

"I love you, too," I whispered back. "Both of you."