A/N: This is now to become a serious of one-shots, some smut, some fluff, some likely a combo of both…I need some comfort these days with all the baiting. So until the pendulum swings our way, solace in fiction as always!

The house was quiet, only the steady tick from the grandfather clock and the low hum of the heating system kicking on as he tread softly through the hall, palming his hat onto the hall tree and then climbing the stairs. He had seen the house only once, from the pictures and description Marvin had shown him. She had someone do the heavy lifting for most of the furniture he'd had delivered, and here and there he could see touches of her own choosing. Pictures hung along the stairway, a big pink letter A on what must be Agnes's door. A softly glowing nightlight in the hallway upstairs.

He eased her door open and smiled at her form draped across the bed sideways—her first "big girl bed." She had a tendency to roll in her sleep and apparently had maneuvered herself all over already. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching her. Agnes had the look of her mother at Agnes's age, all dirty blonde hair and rounded cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. She breathed softly in her sleep, dreaming deep as he swept the hair from her forehead and kissed her brow.

He stepped out of her room and walked straight down the hall to the opposite door, aiming for what he hoped would be the master bedroom. Easing the door open, he could see her sleeping form facing away from him, sprawled across the four-post rice bed. He chuckled low, slid his gun out of his holster as he crept across the room so as not to disturb her. He laid the gun on the night table nearest him, and hung his jacket off the top of one of the posts at the foot. As quietly as possible, he toed off his shoes and set them beside the trunk at the foot of the bed, followed by his vest, shirt and pants draped across the trunk itself. Finally, sighing deeply, he slid into the cool crisp sheets of finest Egyptian cotton. He drew himself around her warmth and breathed in her scent at the nape of her neck.

Her soft waves tickled at his nose, and he slid his hand from her hip over her belly only to find it slightly rounded and firm. His breath caught as the small bump under his palm shifted and a lump lobbed in his throat even as the tears filled his eyes. He had been gone for a few months, he realized dimly, and every time he called he could hear the hesitation in her voice. There was something she wanted to say, he knew, but when he pressed her she always hedged.

"I wanted to tell you in person," she said groggily, placing her hand over his and their child moving under them. He pressed a kiss to her head, nuzzling her hair, still unable to speak or breathe for the emotions swirling in him. This was it, he marveled, what he had worked so tirelessly for and thanks to his Lizzie he had it at last. His second chance.

"Oh Lizzie," he breathed finally. She turned in his arms and he found her mouth unerringly despite the dark. His hand left her pregnant belly to brush fingertips through her hair and skim over the side of her face.

"I wanted to tell you at home, once you got back and knew your pardons were approved. When you knew you were free and clear, and could finally enjoy this."

He choked up again and merely held her tighter, clasping his arms around hers and burying his face in her neck.

"Harold said you had stopped working in the field for a while," he said when he could talk again, "he never did say why…"

"I had to tell everyone at work. They wondered after my status was restored why I would pull back so soon after. I'll be shadowing Aram until I deliver and then go on leave for a few months. I want some time home with our baby, and you—especially now that you're an honest man."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "It's funny you should mention my newly reacquired status," he said, a smile in his voice as well. "Since I've had to go respectable again, the Navy agreed to grant me retired status. The FBI however, offered me a job…"

"Oh?" she gasped.

"As a paid consultant."

Lizzie laughed into his chest. "Who better to know the minds of criminals."

"It seems I've earned their trust, and maybe even a grudging sort of admiration."

"As well you should," she said, squeezing him gently. "Will you have a partner?"

"I did make a suggestion."

Lizzie giggled, already suspecting. "Did you now? Who?"

"I happen to know a truly excellent profiler with extensive experience in the field and first-hand knowledge of the criminal mind."

"Is she cute?" Liz asked, pinching his butt and then smoothing her hand over the spot.

Red laughed, "oh sweetheart, she's gorgeous."