AN: Thanks to those who have taken the time to review, it's very appreciated. But thank you as well to the silent followers, you're just as appreciated.

A warning: I've changed the rating from T to M, because of the content that occurs in this chapter – I can't NOT include it!

BTW, this story is assuming a relationship was formed after S3. For the record, I've yet to see S3 (bad, I know) but MaryAnn's articles on have given me a good idea of what went down.

Enjoy!


She rolled, stretching her hand toward him. Empty. Cold. No Auggie to snuggle into. The once consuming sleep fog dispersed relatively quickly; a gaudy 4:03 AM glared back from the alarm clock. She sighed, allowing herself to fall wearily to her back.

He seemed fine. They seemed fine. Perfect, even. For a couple of hours, a respite from the worry had allowed her to sit back and enjoy time with Danielle, resulting in a re-cap of the more memorable moments of Danielle's birth experiences; it had allowed Auggie to teach Chloe and Katia how to escape a headlock, even though Katia insisted that Chloe would never need to escape one.

And once he had pulled her into their bedroom, Auggie placed his palm firmly on her belly, simultaneously burying his face in her neck to inhale the scent he couldn't get enough of; hers. The pressure of his hand sparked the thaw needed to melt her earlier reserve, and her body capitulated to the ignition of the slow burn that only he could create… until their mutual energy had been discharged, fingers tangled in hair and mouths gaping in earnest.

But now, that fire had long since expired. She gingerly placed her hands on her tummy, willing the foetus to somehow acknowledge her, wishing too for his electric touch.

He promised it'll be ok.

Anne pulled herself from the sanctuary of their bed, and after robing herself incase the girls should be surreptitiously awake – stranger things and all that – she padded downstairs. The acrid sharpness of fresh coffee led her to the kitchen, where she spotted him facing the window. His fingers danced on the tile countertop, translating his current thoughts into a rhythmic code string too convoluted to decipher. A half empty cafetière stood next to him.

As expected, her presence caused a momentary lull in the cryptic tapping.

"You always know to save me some." Closing the distance to stand next to him, she poured the remaining coffee into his empty mug, savouring the heat in her palms against the night time chill. "I know your stance on excessive change, but penny?"

"Joan's successfully put in a recommendation for the new head of DPD." Both hands gripped the edge of the sink. "You're looking at him."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Wow, indeed. Thing is –"

Annie shook her head, knowing immediately where he was headed. "No, Auggie, you can do it. You're completely amazing in Tech Ops, yes. But head of DPD? You'd be… well, you'd be my boss. " She took his hand. "Sorta' kinky, no?"

He didn't take the bait. "That's the problem, Annie." He sighed. "I'd pull you out of field work."

She quickly withdrew her hand, stepping back as he reached for her. He flinched as she slammed the mug down. "Damn it, Auggie." She crossed the kitchen to close the door leading to the staircase. The last thing she needed was for Danielle or either of the girls to stumble upon this argument; it never really ended well, but she was resolute in her determination to square up to him.

Whatever the fallout.

He directed his gaze toward the sound of the closing door. "It's only because of the baby."

Baby. It cut her. How can he not understand it? She skirted the kitchen island, creating a barrier between them. "Oh, look, a novel excuse." She scoffed, careful of her pitch. She folded her arms, knowing that body language was absolutely useless at conveying her feelings, yet she needed the illusion of armour. "You think because Joan wouldn't agree to pull me out before that you can suddenly waltz into her shoes and kick me out entirely?"

"No," He inhaled, maintaining control. "No one's kicking you out of anything."

Annie swallowed, bile rising.

He raked his hands through his hair. "I care about you. I don't trust anyone else to look after you. Especially now."

She shook her head. Pregnancy was irrelevant. "I understand that I won't be allowed to wander halfway around the world chasing terrorists but I can quite easily carry out operations, here, on US soil. Intelligence gathering. Gaining assets, trust, it's what I'm good at and I won't stop. It didn't stop me before and it won't stop me now. Joan understands that."

Auggie turned away, beginning to pace, trailing his hand against the countertop. "Annie, things will change. Once your sister goes home, once you're back from vacation, once you declare you're pregnant…" He trailed off, turning back to her. "Regardless of my position, there's protocol. It's not me kicking you out."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn him, damn her. She should have waited, given the baby chance to make the decision for her: to stay, to go, to announce its existence for her. Let him find out when it's pouring out between her legs. Like last time… when losing that baby was the icing on a massive fucking cake of one damned screw up after another. "Since when did you become the poster boy for protocol? Auggie, I distinctly remember sitting in a doctor's office, with you, because you nearly got your ass blown up in a blatant disregard for protocol!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Trying to stop you getting killed."

She opened her mouth to carry on the reproach, lay the final barb… but then, no. He flogged himself every morning; when sunshine radiated onto their pillow, streaming through the crystal chime she suspended from the curtain rail, sending rainbows dancing around the room. It was just another reminder that his darkness was ever present, and would carry on being so.

She'd caused enough damage.

"Auggie?" Her voice quivered, her hands fell to her sides. Jesus, trading blows with the man she purported to love in some sick game of one-upmanship? "That whole thing, I'm –"

"No, Annie, don't you ever apologise for my decisions." He stepped toward her, hand out, misjudging and hitting the corner of the kitchen island, fumbling for orientation. She lunged to help. "Damn this house. One day…"

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the frustration slowly ebb from his spine as he held her closer. It was time, now. This moment, as their vulnerability was swimming at their feet. Instinct prepared her to say the words. It couldn't let her lie any more, to him, to herself. Their feeble skirmishes at skirting the truth have repeatedly culminated in blood; his, hers, an innocent child's. "I didn't want it." She paused, breathing to steady her voice. "I didn't tell you because I didn't… want… you to want it. When I didn't."

He nodded, exhaling a steady kiss on her head.

She pulled back to stare into his eyes. "Until I miscarried. Then I wanted nothing more."