Once in a Blue Moon Chapter 10: Anywhere But Here, a law and order: svu fanfic

Chapter Ten: Anywhere But Here

I walked down the cobblestone path towards the justice of the peace; standing just to his right was Lincoln, dapper in his tuxedo. The bride side was to the left, and the grooms' was to the right; Gina was to stand on my other side, while Henrietta and Noelle stood together. Livi and Leia stood together, rapt, watching me walk down the aisle with my father; Jensen stood proudly beside Lincoln, Fairfield and Thompson just beside him, while all eyes were glued to me. However, I didn't catch any of their looks, as I was completely sidetracked by Lincoln, who smiled at me as I stepped closer.

I turned to my father for the last time as we stepped towards Lincoln, and smile up at him as he leans down, lifting my veil and kissing me on the cheek. We turn to Lincoln, and he hands my hand over to his, and the moment my hand meets his, all my anxiety leaves me. I give a final smile to my father then before walking closer to the justice of the peace, and Lincoln never takes his hand from mine as we smile at this kind man, dressed in a lovely suit for the occasion.

After waiting for our looks of encouragement to begin, he does. "We are gathered here today to bring together Lincoln Matthew Beckett and Edythe Isabelle Grayson in marriage," he says, smiling at each of us in turn. "Lincoln, please repeat after me," he continues. "I, Lincoln Beckett..."

"I, Lincoln Beckett..."

"Take thee, Edythe Grayson..."

"As my wedded wife," the justice says.

"As my wedded wife," Lincoln replies, squeezing my hands.

"To have and to hold from this day forward..."

"For better, for worse..."

"For richer, for poorer..."

"In sickness, and in health..."

"In sickness, and in health," Lincoln says, and his smile sets me completely at ease in that moment.

"To love and to cherish..."

"As long as we both shall live," the justice finishes.

"As long as we both shall live," Lincoln replies.

"Now, Edythe, please repeat after me," the justice says. "I, Edythe Grayson..."

"I, Edythe Grayson..."

"Take you, Lincoln Beckett..."

"To be my husband."

"To be my husband," I reply, basking in the warm glow I felt at being stared at by none other than the man of my dreams.

"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad..."

"In sickness and in health..."

"I will love and honor you all the days of my life."

"I will love and honor you all the days of my life," I reply.

"May I have the rings, please?" the justice of the peace asks.

Gina and Jensen step forward and hand over the rings.

"Your rings by their very shape are symbols of eternal unity, without beginning or end. They are the emblem of the love that exists between you and Edythe, and characterize your devotion to one another. Let them always remind you of the commitments you make here today."

Lincoln takes my wedding ring and turns to me, hope and a lightness to his eyes that I'd never seen before. "Edythe, with this ring, I promise to grow with you and build our love, to speak openly and honestly, to listen to you, and to love and to cherish you for all the days ahead. From this day forward, you shall not walk alone. My heart will be your shelter and my arms will be your home. With this ring, I thee wed," he says, and slips it onto my finger.

I take Lincoln's ring from the justice, its platinum heavy and cool in my hand, and turn to Lincoln. "Lincoln, with this ring, I promise to grow with you and build our love, to speak openly and honestly, to listen to you, and to love and to cherish you for all the days ahead. From this day forward, you shall not walk alone. My heart will be your shelter and my arms will be your home. With this ring, I thee wed," I finish, slipping the ring onto his finger.

The justice of the peace smiles mightily at the two of us, looking like a cockerel of some kind. "Being assured that you are aware of the meaning of this ceremony, I will now ask you to repeat the marriage vows. Do you, Lincoln Beckett, take this woman, Edythe Grayson, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To honor and cherish her through sickness and in health, through times of happiness and travail, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Lincoln replies.

"And do you, Edythe Grayson, take Lincoln Beckett to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor and cherish him through sickness and in health, through times of happiness and travail, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I reply.

"By the act of joining hands, you take to yourself the relation of husband and wife and solemnly promise to love, honor, comfort, and cherish each other so long as you both shall live. therefore, in accordance with the law of the State of New York, I do pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Lincoln stepped forward, cupped my face in his hands for a brief moment and leaned down to kiss me. Immediately, my heart was I my throat as I stood on the tips of my toes and threw my arms around his neck. Nothing could stop us from the inevitable, I realized then, and I was more than happy then to be named as Lincoln's lawfully wedded wife.

"Ladies and gentleman, it is my privilege to introduce to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Beckett!" the justice of the peace said.

We turned to the crowd of well-wishers then—family and friends alike—and I felt the weight of the ring upon my finger, but it was a good weight. As I broke away from Lincoln to embrace my parents, Gina, Livi, Donnie, Mason, Henrietta, Leia, Noelle, and everyone else who thought I owed them a hug. I embraced Olivia and she told me that Don wanted to be there but he couldn't manage to get away. I held Fin to me longest, for he was so close to my own mother that he had become quite like an uncle to me.

The reception seemed to fly by so quickly, and soon Lincoln and I were rushed up to our designated rooms with our own wedding parties to change. I was put into a comfortable skirt, blouse, and wedge sandals before my bags were loaded properly into the waiting limo down below. I was pleased to have my hair taken down as I'd decided to wear it long for my trip to the cruise docks. My purse was handed over to me, filled with my passport, valid identification, lipstick, other forms of makeup, and anything and everything a young woman would need to go on a cruise. My mother, Livi, Gina, Noelle, Henrietta, and Leia all embraced me twofold, before my father entered the room to say goodbye.

"It's nearly an hour to the cruise docks," he says, mid-embrace, to me. "I know Jensen is steady on the road, sweetheart, but I want you safe."

I roll my eyes. "I will be safe, Dad, don't worry," I reply. I turn then at the sound of the door opening, and Lincoln stands there, grinning at me.

"Jensen's already downstairs, and everyone wants to say goodbye," he says, and waits for me to embrace my father one last time.

I cross the room towards him, feeling secure in his embrace, and feel the goose bumps rising on my body when he leans down to kiss me. "Ready to go?" I ask him, crossing my fingers that the answer will be 'yes'.

"When you are," he assures me. The pair of us walk arm in arm down the long corridor, before going down the grand staircase and making our way down the main steps and outside. It is only around eight p.m., and it is still light out as we walk from our place at the start of the procession and towards the waiting limo. Jensen rolls down the front window and tips his hat to us, while Fairfield waves from the passenger seat; they would be accompanying us on the cruise, although were encouraged to take the time to have fun as well.

I embrace Thompson, his husband, and their children before turning back towards my wedding party. I give a final hug to my parents, Gina, Noelle, Henrietta, Livi, Donnie, Mason, Leia, and Olivia and Fin. Finally, Lincoln and I pick up our hands and wave to the well-wishers, who shout phrases from 'good luck' to 'happy travels' as we pile into the limo. Shutting the door behind us, we take off down the path towards the exit of the grounds, before Jensen honks at the property line. Then we turn and drive towards the freeway, back to Manhattan, as the sun begins its slow decline in the sky.

We arrive at the dock within the hour, and are immediately journey inside with Jensen and Fairfield. We make our way upstairs while our luggage is tagged and taken from us, and go into the VIP line. We show off our I.D.'s and passports before we are each presented with our room keys and a map of the ship. We then walk off to go through the security check point, putting our smaller bags into buckets and walking through the metal detector. Once we've all been cleared, we journey onto the boat itself, but not before getting a cruise photo, of which Jensen and Fairfield decline while Lincoln and I smile for the camera before heading directly on board.

Jensen and Fairfield have a two-bedroom balcony cabin, close by Lincoln's and my honeymoon suite. Lincoln tells Jensen and Fairfield to get settled in and gives them the rest of the night off as the pair of us make our way towards our massive honeymoon suite—by Lincoln's reports, that is. Stepping inside, I gawk at its beauty and find I am pleased that our bags have already been delivered. Lincoln has his arms around me immediately and proceeds to nibble ever so slightly at my neck, and my body immediately responds to his touch.

I turn around to face him, smiling up at him. "Why don't you make yourself a bit more comfortable while I go and get your last wedding present?"

Lincoln raises his eyebrows at my statement. "All right," he replies, kissing me briefly before crossing the hallway, past the living room and kitchenette, and back towards the bedroom.

I walk over to where our suitcases were placed and dig through mine, where I know the secret compartment was that I'd hidden my final present for Lincoln. I grabbed ahold of the white chiffon material and made my way to the main bathroom near the front door, and slipped inside, purse in hand, and locked the door behind me. I immediately ran a brush through my hair, and put on a bit more mascara and some red lipstick. Pinching my cheeks to heighten their color, I got out of my traveling clothes and stepped into the chiffon babydoll I'd bought just for my wedding night.

With my hair voluminous and my babydoll in place, I made my way from the bathroom, carefully walking along the high-quality wooden floor and into the bedroom where Lincoln was waiting for me. I stood at the doorway, simply looking at my husband lying there with all his muscled glory. He looked like a cross between Justin Hartley and William Moseley, and I could not be a luckier woman to not only have a man who looked like he did, but a man so filled with kindness and understanding and love that it nearly made me lose my footing whenever I was staring at him for a sustained period.

"Wow," Lincoln whispered, his dark eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he got a good look at me. He gets to his feet, all six feet four of him, and makes his way towards me, looking utterly locked at my appearance. "You look beautiful...as beautiful as I've ever seen you," he says softly in awe.

I bite my bottom lip and lower my eyes. "Thank you," I whisper. I am hardly able to look up at him—he is shirtless, and merely wears his suit pants and boxers, not to mention his platinum wedding band; his muscles, as always, are rippling, and I find I am eager to get those strong arms around me.

Almost as if he's read my thoughts, he pulls me into his arms; my eyes lock with his automatically, and our lips become one as he lifts me into the air. He brings me into his arms, crossing the room with me, our kiss never-ending as he places me upon the center of the great bed. He unzips his suit pants and joins me then, pulling at the robe I've put on which matches the babydoll, and I puts my legs around his torso and bring him closer to me.

"The door..." I say softly between kisses.

"Jensen was instructed to put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on it, and I locked it as we came in—tumbler and bolt," he assures me.

I peer up at him from between my lashes. "All right," I whisper.

I allow him to lift me ever so slightly, before taking the robe off from around my shoulders. I pull down the straps of the babydoll, before pulling it up over my head and off of me as Lincoln steps out of his boxers. I lie back on the sea of pillows at the head of the bed, watching him as he gasps in shock at how I look, and, just as he moves to position himself correctly, the ship pulls out of the harbor.

I feel the sunshine hit my face eventually and slowly open my eyes to see the clock upon the bedside table read approximately 8:32 a.m. I feel Lincoln's arms around me and I lean back into them, delighting in the feeling that washes over me then. I am officially Edythe Isabelle Beckett, wife of the former most eligible bachelor in the State of New York. I turn over on my other side then, and Lincoln's eyes slowly open and lock onto mine; I feel a rush of deliciousness rush through me then when I take in their meaning.

"Good morning, Mr. Beckett," I say softly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Beckett," he replies, pulling me so as I am right up against him, and we mutually stiffen at the proximity. "Did you sleep?"

"Soundly," I reply, leaning forward and positioning my ear against his collar bone to hear his heartbeat. "I quite enjoyed the bed..."

Lincoln chuckles against me. "We'll find out who made the mattress and buy one for all the beds in the house," he replies.

I lean back then and smile up at him. "Hungry?" I ask.

He nods. "Very," he replies. Then, he throws back the comforter and I am laughing at his insisting, roving hands, although soon the laughter turns to ecstasy.

Lincoln and I head to the VIP Lounge for breakfast; it had an impressive view of the Atlantic Ocean all around us, bound for Italy. I'd been initially shocked when Lincoln gave me the official timeline for the honeymoon; I'd been under the incorrect impression that we would fly to Italy and take the cruise from there. It was a shock when we left Manhattan on a boat bound for Italy, and continue through Europe and onto the United Kingdom. Then there would be a plane trip home to Manhattan at the beginning of August.

Lincoln ordered a mushroom and spinach frittata for breakfast while I opted for fried eggs, sausages, and a chocolate croissant. Sipping my sparkling cider to Lincoln's mimosa, we cheered our wedding and our vacation in this beautiful place and just to be privileged in general. I cut into my eggs, chewing them slowly before opting to add salt and pepper to them as we continued along the smooth, blue seas towards Italy.

"There's something I've always wanted to know," Lincoln says, after a lull in the conversation after we each spotted a dolphin.

"What's that?" I ask him.

He smiles to himself. "That tattoo you've got—the one that always gets hidden by your hair..."

"Alligata est legi, in amore omnium," I reply.

"Exactly," he replies. "For years, I asked you what it meant and you wouldn't ever tell me. Then, when you broke the engagement the first time, you said that you were glad that you never told me..."

I nod, sipping my drink. "Yeah, I was."

"Well, now that we're married, do you think you can tell me now?"

I find myself smiling and shaking my head at him. "You really expect me to believe in this day and age that you didn't look up its meaning, even once?" I demand, laughing.

He nods. "Promise," he replies, putting up his hand. "I swear—I never looked up its meaning."

"Okay, fine," I reply. "It means, 'Bound by law, loved by all'."

"Would you ever consider getting another one?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"I thought about getting something while we're in Italy," he replies. "There was something my father used to say to my mother..."

"What did he say to her?"

"He would say, 'Per sempre nel mio cuore,'" he replies. "It means—"

"It means 'Forever in my heart' in Italian," I reply. "After I learned Mandarin, I learned Italian." I hesitate for a moment, and say softly, "There's something my father used to say to my mother as well..."

"Which was?"

"He would say, 'Luce della mia vita'. It means..."

"Light of my life," Lincoln replies.

Suddenly, a thought comes to me. "We could get one phrase on one inner wrist, and the second on the other," I reply.

Lincoln grins, reaching out and taking my hands in his. "I love the way you think, Mrs. Beckett," he replies.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Beckett."

We finish our breakfast and decide to hit the top-deck pool afterwards. We return to our cabin to freshen up before changing for the pool; I quickly put on a cover-up while Lincoln merely puts on a button-down shirt. We slip into our flip-flops, hats, and sunglasses before making sure we have our room keys and make our way from our cabin and into the pool area. Lincoln finds us a pair of deck chairs in the sun and we drop off our things before we make quick work of putting on sunscreen for each other. We then kick off our flip-flops and remove our cover-up and button-down shirt respectively before taking off our sunglasses and walk down the stairs and into the pool.

The pool is deserted at this hour for some reason, and Lincoln thinks it is because the other people who have access to it have opted to sleep in, have brunch, or to explore the ship for themselves. He explains that Jensen has contacted him and that he and Fairfield—who are actually as close as brothers—are going to a singles brunch later that morning to try to meet people on the boat. I tell Lincoln that that is a wonderful idea, whereupon I proceed to splash him.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Was that deliberate, Mrs. Beckett?"

I grin at him. "Perhaps," I reply.

Lincoln surges forward then and pulls me into his arms, causing me to squeal in a moment of surprise and delight. "Maybe I should punish you," he says, holding me tightly beneath the water.

I shudder in a moment of anticipation. "Maybe you should."

Lincoln chuckles, leaning in so as he can whisper in my ear. "Not here—not in public. I wouldn't want people to think I was doing something bad to you, and on our honeymoon of all places."

I pull back from him and run my finger along his lip. "No promises," I reply and he leans down to kiss me.

One week later, we docked in Naples and were permitted off the ship around an hour afterwards. Getting off the ship, we walked into town and managed to get a taxi into Napoli, where we'd done research to find a tattoo parlor. The kind man dropped us off just outside the place, and we stepped inside, telling the kind woman named Marinella Moretti what we had in mind for that day. She agreed to take us at once and was finished with the both of us in under two hours.

"Grazie," she said as we paid her.

"Prego," Lincoln replied.

"Puoi dirci un buon ristorante per mangiare a pranzo?" I asked her.

Marinella looked shocked and delighted at the prospect of speaking Italian with a mere American tourist.

"Io posso," she replies. "Prendere un taxi per la pizzeria a circa cinque isolati di distanza chiamato ristorante Da Vinci. Lo troverete; ha un tetto rosso e si trova in un vecchio edificio."

"Grazie mille!" I call over my shoulder as Lincoln and I proceed to walk to the front door of the parlor.

"Buona giornata!" Lincoln calls to her.

"Anche tu!" Marinella calls back.

We keep our tattoos bandaged as we walk down the street, looking for a taxi. We manage to find one quickly and pile in, giving the description of the restaurant so as we can get there efficiently. The taxi driver is very friendly with us and we make our way down five blocks until we arrive; Lincoln pays him handsomely before we get out of the little car and make our way inside the restaurant. We are greeted by the host, who asks us how we are.

"Stiamo bene, grazie per chiedere," I greet him.

The man smiles and shows us to our table and leaves us to look over the menu. I am such a fan of Italian food that, even though I took the language and speak it, I am able to figure out without much effort what everything is on the menu. We order a Margherita pizza to share and a pair of Italian sodas and wait for our meal to arrive. I can smell all kinds of wonderful scents coming from the kitchen, and I wonder how long I could stay in such a brilliant place like this little restaurant in Italy before I grew tired of the smell. I take a closer look at my bandages and cross my fingers that the needles were really clean and that Lincoln and I don't get an incurable infection whilst on our honeymoon.

"Are you happy?"

I look up at Lincoln's remark. "Of course I am," I reply, reaching out and taking his hands in mine. "Why wouldn't I be? We're in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, on our honeymoon..." I smile and shake my head at him. "I mean, how could I not be? I'm with the man I love..."

"I want you to be happy," he says, squeezing my hands. "I want to show you all there is to see in the world. I want us to take vacation after vacation together and to experience all there is to experience. I want to go to Holland and pick Tulips; I want to dine in five-star restaurants in France; I want to tour castles in England; I want to hike in the snows of Russia; I want to help villages in Africa build schools and hospitals... I want to do so much with you, Edythe."

Suddenly, I wonder if I am understanding his meaning correctly. "And, in the meantime, you want to put off having children?"

He smiles. "The children will come when they're meant to," he replies. "Whether it's next week or next month or next year, we'll be ready. Remember, we've got that big house to come back to."

"Yes, and I want to fill it with children—our children," I reply. "I've always wanted a big family, Lincoln."

Lincoln kisses my palm, wrapping my fingers around his kiss. "As big as you want," he promises me. "One child or ten—fine with me."

"Not ten!" I say immediately, laughing.

"More than one?"

I nod. "More than one."

"I'll drink to that," he says, clinking his glass against mine.

The pizza is some of the best food I've had in my life; the basil is fresh, as is the mozzarella, and I can taste the spiciness of the tomatoes with every bite. The crust is flaky but soft and warm, and is a perfect accompaniment to the pizza. Once the pizza is finished and we are getting the flour off our fingers, our waiter brings over a plate with something unknown to me.

"Questo è bellissimo!" I cry, seeing the custard and sponge cake but still unsure as to what it is. "Che cos'è?"

"Zuppa Inglese," the waiter replies. "Complimenti di Papa Antonio. Per la felice coppia in luna di miele," he tells us.

"Si prega di ringraziarlo per tutto. Tutto era delizioso," I reply.

"Grazie," the waiter says before slipping away.

"Looks delicious, whatever it is," Lincoln says, raising his fork.

I move to pick up mine as well. "Let's see," I reply.

We each put our forks into the confectionary, careful not to drop any anywhere, and smile at one another. We put our pieces together briefly, cheering it, and share a laugh. Then, we pop it into our mouths, and I am completely filled with the feeling of ecstasy again.

We agree to meet Jensen and Fairfield for dinner that evening in the main dining room we were assigned to on the cruise ship. I wear a new black dress that night which is cut low in an oval shape and exposes my shoulders and a bit of my back as well. I wear a necklace that Lincoln has surprised me with, as well as my ring, and a pair of new black heels. Lincoln is dapper in one of his many new suits and his cerulean tie I've gotten him, which matches his eyes.

We head down to dinner, meeting Jensen and Fairfield just outside the double doors of the place. A kind cruise ship dining room employee escorts us inside once our name is given and shows us our table by the window. It is a four-person round table, as it goes by how many people are in your booking party. We are presented with our menus forthwith, and Lincoln immediately moves to sit beside me, with Jensen on my other side.

The waiter assigned to our table steps forward and greets us. "My name is Brian and I'll be your waiter for the next few weeks."

"I'm Lincoln Beckett, and this is my wife, Edythe," Lincoln says.

"I'm William Jensen," Jensen replies, "I work for Lincoln."

"I'm Travis Fairfield, I also work for Lincoln," Fairfield says.

"Nice to meet all of you. Could I get you all anything to start you off?" the young waiter asks politely.

"Yes, please," Lincoln replies, not even bothering to look at the menu first. "A bottle of your best Dom Pérignon for the table, please."

"Very good, sir. Are we celebrating anything this evening?"

"Lincoln and I were actually married yesterday afternoon," I reply.

"Well, congratulations!" Brian says with a grin. "I'll get that champagne bottle and ice bucket out for you all right away. Just holler if you need anything, and I'll be back to take your dinner order," he says, and nods to each of us in turn before walking off to the kitchen.

"Nice guy," Fairfield says.

"Seemed genuine," Jensen puts in.

After a few moments, Jensen and Fairfield are busy comparing notes about their excursions onto land as well as the singles cocktail party they attended the night before. I didn't mind—hey, even though they shared a room, they could still have other things to share, right? I sipped at my water, looking over the menu; I noticed that they had a standard, every night dinner meal, along with specials that were changed every night. I opted to choose the Mediterranean garlic chicken with mashed potatoes and a Caesar salad. For dessert, I asked for crème brulle and turned to see that Lincoln was opting for a Cobb salad with a steak, baked potato, and bread pudding for dessert.

"Looks good," Lincoln remarked as we ate our salads.

I nod. "I like it. How's yours?"

"Perfect," he replied, reaching down below the table and touching my leg. "But somehow I suspect I am entitled to find it second to what I really find to have that aforementioned adjective..."

I force myself to keep a straight face. "Yes. Well. Somehow I think you would be allowed to that," I say, and Lincoln left his hand exactly where it was.

We left Naples that evening, and next went onto Rome. Monaco was the third stop on our journey, followed by a day in Marseilles. Barcelona came next, followed by Valencia and Gibraltar. Lisbon and Porto came next, and then we were at sea for days until we arrived at La Rochelle in the first week of July. From there, we went on to The Hague and then we finally turned around and docked at Southampton. It was wonderful to be on land again, and Jensen and Fairfield fetched our rental car for us to get into London.

We arrived in London around three in the afternoon in the middle of the third week of July. Our reservations at The Ritz London were confirmed as we drove across town to get there. We gave our names at the desk and Lincoln's and my keys for our penthouse suite and Jensen and Fairfield's keys for their executive suite were handed over in due course. We accepted help with our bags before going up in the elevator and getting to our rooms. Lincoln—who had already managed to get his hands on pound notes—handed over fifty pound notes to each hotel employee who assisted us to our suite.

"What do you say we do some sight-seeing?" Lincoln asks, digging through his suitcases for something.

I bite my lip, conflicted. Sure, I wanted to do some sight-seeing, but I was so tired from the transfer from the cruise ship to land that I wanted to sleep. "Why don't you take off with the boys for a while?" I asked.

He stops what he's doing and straightens up, staring at me in confusion. "Are you sure? Are you not feeling well?" he asks, moving to hold me close.

I shake my head. "No, of course not," I assure him. "Just tired, that's all. Besides, we're going to be in London for the next week and a half."

He smiles. "You're right," he replies. "And then on to the rest of the UK."

I nod. "Exactly—Ireland and Scotland. Won't it be wonderful to explore?" I ask him, feeling secure in his arms.

"I've made us a dinner reservation for tonight—Italian. Your favorite," he says, his arms around my waist.

"Hmmm," I reply. "That sounds lovely. Will Jensen and Fairfield be joining us tonight?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No. They're going to get into night life. So, I guess it'll just be you and me tonight."

I nod again. "Yes—just the two of us. Now, go and hang out with the boys. Maybe you'll find something fun to get into for a few hours."

"You're sure, now?"

I smile up at him. "Positive. I want to take a shower and have a nap. Then I want to change into something nice for dinner. I have plenty to do. And then there's the matter of unpacking..."

He nods. "I suppose so. All right," he says, leaning down to kiss me. "I'll be back before seven—that's when our reservation is."

"All right," I call after him as he heads into the main room to gather his wallet, keys, and a light sweater before heading out.

I quickly walked into the living room and opened the door after him, peering around the door frame and waited for him to walk through the elevator doors to the floor where Jensen and Fairfield's suite was. Getting a hoodie sweatshirt, I put it on over my clothes and would make sure to pull the hood up once outside. I made my way outside around fifteen minutes later, when Lincoln texted me that he was at a pub somewhere, and I told him that was wonderful.

As I left via the main foyer of the hotel, I motioned to the taxi waiting out front for me that I was who it was looking for. I climbed in and gave the address to the driver, and requested him to wait until I'd finished at my destination to bring me back to the hotel, and he agreed. I had Map-Quested directions to the nearest drug store, and it was to there that I was headed. The journey by car was around eight minutes and, when I arrived, I went inside and up to the counter.

"Hi," I said in a rush to the cashier. "Can you tell me what aisle pain medication is in, please?" I asked.

"Aisle 9A, ma'am," replied the cashier in a London accent.

"Thank you," I replied quickly, and made my way down the indicated aisle. I found some pills for a headache and relief flowed through me then as I picked up one of the plastic bottles upon the shelf. Just as I was about to leave the aisle, I caught a glimpse of the items placed just next to the pain pills: a variety of boxes containing pregnancy tests. My mouth dropped open—how could a drug store do that?! I mean, having a headache or some other ailment didn't make you pregnant...right? It was then that my stomach dropped when I was faced with my greatest enemy—math. I counted the days in my head then, coming up empty every time. I remembered when I'd had my last period—just a few weeks before the wedding. And now, here it was, the end of July, and I was over eight weeks late for my next one.

Initially, I thought it had been the stress of the wedding and the different eating and sleeping schedule I'd had during the honeymoon. Plus, I had been doing all kind of things my body wasn't used to over the last few weeks and maybe it had all caught up to me, right? But then, it occurred to me, that I was an every-twenty-eight-days kind of girl, and something didn't seem to add up here.

I shake my head at one of the boxes in front of me. "I must be out of my mind," I mutter to myself, grabbing one of the boxes and bringing it up to the cashier, along with the bottle of pain pills.

I hand over two twenty pound notes to cover the purchase and thank the man, before heading outside and back into the cab. I was then directing the cab driver back to the hotel, clutching my paper bag like it was my life force as we drove along the main roads. I paid the driver and got out of the car at the entrance of the hotel, concealing the bag in my purse as I made my way back to the penthouse suite on the top floor of the hotel.

I let myself in and am relieved that Lincoln hasn't returned unexpectedly. It isn't even four p.m. yet, so I have plenty of time to do everything. I take the pain pills for my headache, and then head into the bathroom to run a hot bath for myself. I fiddle with the boxed pregnancy test, frequently picking it up and placing it back onto the counter in front of me, beside the sink. Finally, I rip open the box and take out the white plastic stick and set it back down upon the sink as I sit down on the loo and do my business. I then fill a provided up with my urine and place the pregnancy test inside it, and set a timer on my phone for three minutes. I perch on the edge of the loo, stopping my bath water and wait for the results that could potentially make or break my marriage.

Sure, Lincoln said he wanted kids, just not yet. I knew Lincoln; even though he said one thing, he really meant another. What in the hell was going to happen if this test came up positive and we had a baby—a baby!—to take care of. We hadn't even done the dog thing first, and we'd only been married for two minutes. We hadn't even lived in our house for a sustainable period, nor had we had a change to adjust to normal, trivial, every-day married life... A baby; goddamn hormones and their ability to work against you...

And what on earth would my mother end up saying to me? I had only just started working for MHU, and I knew full well that me getting pregnant would ultimately result in desk duty and then, paid leave. I wanted kids, sure, but after a year or two of marriage beforehand, when the fuss of my wedding to Lincoln had died down considerably, and we were able to enjoy each other. What was he going to do? I didn't know, but I didn't want to find out. I knew he would never lay a hand on me, because part of him knew full well that any cop in Manhattan and Greater New York would have his ass and everything that came with it. But I'd seen his discontent with some of his employees over the years—the coldness in his eyes, the thin line his otherwise thick mouth became, and his voice... He would yell at people and bring them to their knees; granted, some of his employees deserved it or were working for someone else behind Lincoln's back, but still...

My timer went off then and I found myself rooted to the spot where I sat upon the white, porcelain bowl. I found my hands—gripped together—were shaking, and it took all I had to tear them apart and reach out towards the pregnancy test. I get to my feet and pour the rest of my urine down the toilet and flush, all the while keeping the white plastic stick upside-down in my hand. Finally, I exhaled, and nodded to myself.

"It's now or never," I say quietly, in encouragement. "Come on. How bad could it be, really? A baby, finally..." I turn over the test and my eyebrows raise at the result looking back at me. "Okay," I say to myself. "If that's the way it's going to be, that's the way it's going to be..."

END OF SEASON ONE