"Because there is someone in there," she answers feeling her eyes begin to well up with tears.

He feels a tiny foot kick his hand. All color drains from his face, as he realizes that his gut was right. She moves his hand. "That's a butt." After a moment passes she moves his hand to the other side of her stomach, "And that's a head. She isn't head up, or head down, instead she prefers to be difficult, and lie transversely."

He doesn't move his hand. He stares at Sarah's face. He looks her in the eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She takes a deep breath, and takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub. He takes a seat on the bathroom floor. His hand rests on her knee.

"I didn't know how to," she admits.

"You had a million opportunities to tell me."

"I'm sorry."

"I can't believe that you're pregnant."

"Most days I can't either," she admits.

"Mac, I don't understand why you thought that you would have to keep this a secret from me."

"I was scared."

"Scared? Of what? All I want is for you to be happy."

"It doesn't seem that way sometimes," she replies.

"Have you told him, yet?"

"Who," she furrows her brow.

"Mic."

"He's in Australia," she points out.

"Don't you think that you should tell him?"

She shakes her head, "Why would I tell him?"

"You almost married him, and now you're pregnant."

"I'm not going to tell him."

"That is a little cold, even for you."

"Cold? It would be cold to call him and tell him."

He furrows his brow, "How do you figure?"

"Why would I call and tell him that I am pregnant with a baby that isn't his?"

He swallows hard, "What?"

"That would be cruel," she adds.

"It's not his baby?" He queries.

She shakes her head, "No."

"You're certain?"

"Harm they did a DNA test when they did my amniocentesis."

"I don't know what that is, but, okay."

"It is definitely not his baby."

"It's not?"

"No. She is not his."

"She?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation, "definitely she."

He shakes his head, and his face twists into a painful expression, "So if he isn't the father who is?"

"The Admiral," she jokes.

His eyes widen, "The admiral?" He squints, "You and the admiral?"

She rolls her eyes, "No. It was a joke."

"Then who is the father?"

"Who do you think?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. How long ago did this happen?"

"I am due on June fifteenth."

"That means nothing to me."

"You add forty weeks from the first day of the last menstrual period."

"Again, that means absolutely nothing to me."

"About thirty eight weeks after the date of conception."

"You expect me to count back thirty eight weeks from June fifteenth?"

"No. Why don't you ask an intelligent question," she suggests.

"How many other possibilities are there?"

"Just one."

"Who?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Just tell me who it is."

"If you aren't smart enough to figure it out, then I am not going to tell you."

"Sarah, I don't know who you've slept with."

She flares her nostrils, "You act as if I've slept with the entire roster of the New England Patriots. I can assure you that there is only one other possibility. There is just one other person."

"Other than me?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"I don't understand."

"Why don't I go get dressed, and give you a minute? Obviously you are in shock, and are having a difficult time receiving what I am trying to tell you."

"Okay," he nods in agreement. She exits the bathroom, and wonders how long it will take to hit him. She has managed to get on undergarments when he exits the bathroom. She stands in front of an open dresser drawer, rummaging for a clean t-shirt. He makes his way over to her, standing between her body, and the open drawer. She frowns giving him a disapproving look. He stares at her round stomach for a moment. His eyes move upward until they fall on her face. He makes eye contact with her, despite her desperate desire to avoid it at all costs.

"You've been pregnant for eight months, with my baby, and you're just now telling me?"

She exhales, "To be perfectly honest I didn't intend to tell you at all. When this assignment came up, I thought that it was the perfect opportunity."

"Perfect opportunity for what?"

"To give birth without you knowing. I figured that I would take my leave, and come back to JAG, and you would never know."

"You don't think that I would notice you had a child all of a sudden?"

"I wasn't planning on telling you."

"Why not?"

"Because you made it very clear that you thought that we made a hasty decision. You told me that it was a mistake. I didn't want someone in her life who thought that she was a mistake."

"I don't think that she is a mistake," he tries to remain calm.

"Neither, do I."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"You're overbearing."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I wanted to be sure that the decision that I made was based on what I wanted, and not what anyone else wanted."

"What I want doesn't matter?"

"It didn't then."

"You are the one who pushed me away."

"Harm," she takes a seat on the end of the bed, "I am sorry that I didn't tell you."

"You're sorry that you got caught."

"I don't know how to try and be a parent with you, when I can barely work with you on a case. We rarely agree. How are we supposed to try to raise a child together?"

"Obviously we are going to have to figure that out."