A Canadian artist for Total Drama's Canadian heritage.

Michael Buble's Haven't Met You Yet.

Sitting on the hard plastic chair beside the cot, his back was completely rigid. As the technician rubbed the blue jelly over her abdomen, he felt her squeeze his hand. He gave her as much of a smile he could manage, but it was forced and it really showed.

He almost didn't want the technician to press the wand against her body.

He didn't want to know that they'd failed again. That it was another false alarm. They'd been trying so hard, and now even their dedication seemed to be failing them.

Countless times already, their excitement had ended with disappointment at the sight of only a single line. A handful of false alarms too, with two lines or the little plus symbol, with nothing more having come of it. This was their first glimmer of hope since Dawn had miscarried nearly a year prior.

When he saw the abnormal shape in the black and white static of the ultrasound monitor, his throat tightened.

And then a heartbeat.

Both his hands wrapped around one of hers, he pressed the back of her hand against his lips and let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

A single tear splashed against her hand, and she could feel his ragged breath against her skin. He was trying so hard not to cry in front of the technician, but the way his hands were trembling told her clearly enough.

She'd told him to be optimistic, but with every failure, he'd grown even more cynical and snarky than he usually was.

Her chin trembled, and she pursed her lips, but she didn't try to hold back her own happy tears.

They'd been trying for years, and finally they'd managed to get the right combination of timing and luck.

They were going to have a baby.

Normally, he was not a very excitable person, but today he was willing to make an exception.

They'd gone through such a journey to make it to where they were, one of his arms around her waist, a hand pressed against her extended abdomen, part of him still in disbelief that they were indeed having a baby.

He felt her tense, heard the sharp intake of breath as she paused mid-step.

It was really happening.

After a moment, they were finally able to make it to the reception desk. Taking one look at the couple before her, the receptionist called for someone to take them to the maternity ward, and went about looking after the other patients in the waiting room.

Would the baby have Dawn's eyes or his? Would they be fair or dark-skinned? Or perhaps a mix? Blonde or brunette? Would they have the proud Roman nose of the Balan family, or the cute little nose of the Warners? Would they be a book-loving realist or perhaps a spiritual hippie type? Would they be especially like either parent, or a mix of both? Would they be like his brothers and sisters at all? Or like any of their grandparents?

He'd spent so long trying not to get his hopes up, but now he could see every single possibility.

And he'd never been more excited to meet someone before in his life.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone.