Author's note: further exploration of the M/I pairing, which I currently adore.

She’d spent days, perhaps weeks, considering how he’d react. Played out a thousand scenarios in her head, and none of them ended well. He got angry. Threw things. Cursed at her. Left her—not alone, but lonely enough. She fought the nausea back down her throat and tried to stand, but was greeted with a dizziness that she took to be a sign and leaned back against the pillows. Just five more minutes, she promised herself. Then I’ll go. She knew in her heart that stalling would just make matters worse, if that were at all possible. He would be angry. Irrationally, yes, but angry all the same. And this was all she had left. The only home, the only family… No. She forced herself up and took a long look in the mirror that hung above her bed. “You can do this,” she informed her reflection steadily. “You are a strong woman. You do not require any person but yourself to rely on. You can get through this.” Then she walked over to the washbasin that sat on the floor, splashed some water on her face, took a moment to enjoy the cool, soothing water on her face, chapped from crying and stress, then turned and walked firmly out into the cockpit.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait just a minute, darlin’?”

She swallowed hard, shifted her weight to her other hip, and considered. “No, I need to talk to now.”

He spun around in the chair, and the look on his face—love and something else that she had never seen before in him, at least not directed to her—concern. “You okay, darlin’?”

She made sure to meet his eyes, keep her gaze steady. “Malcolm, I’m pregnant.”

There were a thousand thoughts running through his head. Is it mine? What about her job? I don’t know the last thing ‘bout babies. Instead, he blurted out the first thing that had sprung to his mind. “Marry me.”

She burst into tears. “Oh, Mal.”

Fear crossed Mal’s face. “We…don’t hafta, if you don’t wanna.”

“Do you want to?”

“I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“You are