On an average Tuesday, he finds her in a stairwell at work, quivering against the handrail, face buried in her hands. It didn't take a detective to know that she was crying, but as to why remained a mystery.

When he sits down on the step beside her, all he can think to do is wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders.

So that's what he does, and in a moment, her shaking subsides. She looks up, pushes his arm away, focuses her eyes somewhere behind his left ear and starts to speak, her words coming out in one breath:

"Well, Beale, I guess we're going to have to be public about us now, although in all actuality they probably know already, they're investigators after all. We hadn't really talked about this yet, or at all, but we're adults and we know that adult actions have adult ramifications and we should have been more careful but here we are and -"

His face betrays his concern, eyebrows burrowing together as he attempts to make eye contact with her. He cuts her off with a nudge.

"Nell, take a breath. I love you, so if this is important to you, it's important to me. That's what I told you when I gave you a ring, and it's something I'll hold myself to forever. Just tell me what's happening, and we'll handle it, together."

A watery smile graces her face as she looks at him. In a fluid motion, she takes a photograph and her cell from her blazer pocket, and places them in the space between them. As he traces the edge of the photo with his fingertips, a look of wonder visible across his features, she pulls up an audio file, and the corridor echoes with the sound of a heart beat.

"Meet your baby, Eric."

She hands him the sonogram and pulls herself to her feet, straightening her skirt and fiddling with a slender ring on a chain around her neck. Suddenly, he's the one looking up at her, eyes filled with so much emotion. Before she leaves, he opens his mouth as if to speak, but can't find anything applicable to say except "God, I love you."

Then he's on his feet, a step below her, making their heights nearly even. He unclasps her silver chain, placing the ring on her finger. All she can think to do to follow is hold him, placing her head on his chest, with his arms wrapping firmly around her waist in response.

That's how Hetty finds them, wrapped in a tender embrace in a stairwell on a Tuesday that was anything but average, a ring on her fourth finger and him still holding the sonogram.

"I believe a congratulations are in order, for the both of you."