A/N: Thank you for your patience, duckies! Let's get to it.

Eric did Bella the solid of meeting her for lunch the day after the disastrous dinner. She didn't feel much like eating—her stomach was twisting too badly with nerves—but she ordered something to drink anyway. She didn't want her boss thinking she felt sick because of the pregnancy.

"I guess I want to apologize," she began as soon as the waiter had walked away. "I should have told you—"

Eric held up a hand. "You know as well as I do, as well as Tanya does, for that matter, that you had every right to keep that information from me. When you told me has always been your prerogative, Bella, and I'm sorry it came out the way it did." He hesitated a moment. "I don't like to speak for other people, but I feel like maybe this is one of those times I should. It's not that I'm trying to make excuses for Tanya. That's not my place, and I don't agree with how she handled the situation." He huffed. "Then again, I know she didn't agree either. Last night didn't go the way any of us would have wanted, but I do believe she was genuinely upset on your behalf."

Bella's stomach twisted again, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. "I guess the part I don't understand is what she thinks this is going to cost me. You weren't planning on sending me into the middle of the Zika virus outbreak, were you?"

His lip twitched. "No, nothing like that." He studied her a moment. "Before we go on, let me say again, congratulations. Children are a good thing. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Thank you." Bella sat up straighter in her seat. "Everything is fine. Nothing that's affected my work." Yet, she didn't add.

"I have no complaints," he assured, looking her in the eyes.

Their drinks came, and they took a moment to order their lunch. When the waiter walked away, Eric's expression was contemplative. "From my perspective, I'm not sure why your, ah, condition needs to affect your ability to do this assignment. But as you might imagine, I'm not the leading authority on all things pregnancy."

"I guess that would depend on the job," Bella said, trying not to show her impatience.

"I'll get to the point. I want to do a series of reports on love tattoos."

Bella's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She gave a small laugh. "Tattoos? What can be said that hasn't already been said?" And what the hell did that have to do with her pregnancy?

"And yet people love reading about them. It's always a big seller." He leaned on the table, steepling his fingers. "I'm looking to do something slightly more taboo, though."

Bella was instantly intrigued. "Okay."

"It's nice to concentrate on the beautiful side of love. Man, ain't it grand, all of that. Love can be beautiful, but we like to forget that it can also be terrible."

Bella scoffed, and Eric nodded. "This is one of the reasons I knew I wanted you on the series," he said. "You don't romanticize love. You never have. I know we've had discussions about your best friend and your mother. In fact, cases like your mother's are some of what I want to highlight." He frowned. "I knew a woman when I was in college. Abusive boyfriend. You know the drill." He took a deep, steadying breath, obviously still affected all these years later. "Whenever I pressed her, she would always say, 'He loves me. I know he loves me. It's written on his skin.'"

This time, Bella's stomach twisted for a whole other reason. "Love doesn't make people incapable of hurting each other," she said.

Eric nodded. "Exactly. The science behind our tattoos is elusive. People do whatever they can to separate the beautiful love they feel from anything ugly. They say it's not real love, not true love, if this, that, or the other. Yet the existence of those tattoos is proof that there's nothing inherently good about the emotion of love. The worst monsters of history—Hitler, Mussolini, you name it—all have others' tattoos. We're all capable of it."

"Against our will, even," Bella murmured, nodding.

She would never, could never, regret falling in love with Edward. Finding him was worth all the pain and complications, but she never would have made the choice to fall in love with her mentor's husband—a married man, ten years older than her. Love wasn't rational. That was her biggest problem with it.

"Yes," Eric said. "History gives us so many examples of what may happen if you fall in love with the wrong person at the wrong time. Love doesn't discriminate, even if it's unrequited. One way connections are common." He sat back, drumming his fingertips on the tabletop. "There are many ways I want to take this series, but among them is the darkest side of love. The abusers, yes—the men and women who die with their murderer's tattoos on their body, and their murderers with theirs—but also the most disturbing marks of love."

Bella was riveted.

"I want to talk about people like serial stalkers," Eric said. "I want to talk about the number of times the courts have failed to convict a rapist because he had his victim's tattoo, and therefore, they must have done something to get it there." He paused as though to make sure she was following along. "I want to talk about some of these serial murderers." Another pause. "I'm this close to securing an interview with Aro Scarpinato."

A chill went down Bella's spine at the name. "The serial killer?"

"That's putting it mildly." Eric's lip curled in disgust. "He stalked, kidnapped, raped, and killed five little boys before they caught him."

"And he has their tattoos." Bella shivered. "All in a row up his arm. I remember the reports from the courtroom said he seemed to like taunting the families of his victims by rolling up his sleeves. I thought it was terrible—for the parents to have to see their dead baby's mark on him. To know he must have loved them, as twisted and warped as that love was."

She eyed her boss carefully, disgust and excitement warring in her. "Are you telling me that's the interview you want to give me?"

It was beyond a huge opportunity. Aro Scarpinato was infamous. The piece would, no doubt, generate controversy no matter what direction Eric wanted to take it. As long as she didn't take up some ludicrous position that would piss everyone off, the attention could only mean good things for her. And besides that, it was a fascinating topic.

"Not just Scarpinato," Eric said. "Marcus Betaluci and James Hunter."

Bella's eyes made for her hairline. "Marcus the Mangler?" Twisted soul. He'd been desperately in love with a girl as a teenager. Had stalked her. Ultimately, had murdered her. The act appeared to have sent him over the edge as he'd repeated the process too many times with women who bore a resemblance to his first victim. It was the tattoo that set him off. When their tattoo would appear on his body—a tattoo that didn't match the first victim, he'd get angry. "But what's the connection with Hunter?"

"James Hunter, by all accounts, has no soul. There's no rhyme or reason to his madness. His choice of victim seemed completely random. The only thing consistent was that the person he took suffered greatly and died screaming."

Bella shuddered. "Christ, that's terrible."

"And yet, he has a tattoo. He's loved someone, though he won't tell anyone who it is."

"I see." Bella furrowed her brow. "But what the hell does any of that have to do with me being pregnant? They're not going to be loose, right? I'd assume all three of them would be in cuffs and all that, so they're no danger."

They paused again while their lunch was served. Bella found her appetite had improved considerably. She wasn't in trouble, and there was an exciting story on the horizon. She could convince Eric to give it to her. She wanted that story.

"As I said, I'm not so familiar with pregnancy," Eric said. "I've heard the term delicate condition, and I'm not sure how far that goes. Tanya's concern is the stress."

"The stress?" Bella arched an eyebrow.

"Serial killers are fascinating, but they're not fun to work with, Bella," Eric said, his voice quiet. "The research itself is sickening. You'll need to know the details of the crime scenes, and believe me when I say it's not something that helps anyone sleep well at night. Then, there's being able to talk to them."

He frowned, drumming his fingertips on the table. "You'd be surprised at how normal they seem at first. But they're really deranged, and that makes them dangerous. Scarpinato in particular is smart. I trust you'll understand I don't mean this as an insult, but he's smarter than you. He's smarter than most of us. He can and will get under your skin."

By the end of that little speech, Bella's skin was crawling. She didn't like the idea of a man like Aro Scarpinato being in her head.

Eric spread his hands wide. "So you see the dilemma here. It's a challenging story to begin with, but it comes with the added bonus of sleepless nights and the stress of a good, old-fashioned mindfuck. I want you on the story. You're levelheaded, adapt well, and you've been good in stressful situations before. I want you to have the story, but not at the cost of your or your baby's health, of course."

Bella frowned. Her automatic reaction was to deny that conversations, even with three of the biggest assholes the world had to offer, wouldn't affect her pregnancy. Stress, though unpleasant, hadn't ever plagued her the way it did so many people. Stress for her didn't come with anxiety.

But then again, the last time she'd been super-stressed about a project had been when Tanya sent her to Israel. That had been crazy—being put on a plane to go to a country she didn't know much about with only a few hours notice? Having to be most of the world away from Edward when she'd just discovered he loved her, that he'd asked his wife for a divorce? Not knowing what the hell was going to happen—with her job or with Edward—when she came back? Yeah, that had been stressful. Stressful enough that she'd missed a period for the first time in her life.

If stress messed with her body enough to throw her cycle offtrack, what would it do to a growing and developing fetus? It wasn't that she was paranoid; she was simply ignorant. She'd been keeping away from the long list of delicious things she could no longer eat, but stress and sleeplessness? She'd been stressed and sleepless over finding herself pregnant in the first place.

"I'll talk to my doctor. Just in case. But I think it would be fine," she said in a rush. "I mean, women have healthy babies in stressful situations all the time. Everything should be fine."

"Talk to your doctor," Eric said. "And let me know when you're sure."

~0~

Bella bounced her leg as she stared at Edward from the opposite side of the couch. "You're angry," she said when a minute went by and he hadn't said a word.

He made an effort to smile. "Not angry. Worried." He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Of course, I'm worried. That's a daddy's job."

"Does that mean you think I don't worry?" She put her hand over the little bump—imperceptible through her clothes—that she could feel beneath her skin. "I worry. It's not like I don't think about it. About him. Or her."

"Bella." He kissed her forehead, smiling ruefully. "I don't like the idea of you being in the same room as a serial killer, let alone three. You can't tell me it's a comfortable idea to you."

Comfortable wasn't the right word for it. "Part of what drew me to this profession was the possibility of meeting fascinating people, knowing fascinating things. Those fascinating things aren't always going to be pleasant or easy to deal with."

"No." His brows were furrowed, and he didn't look at her as he said it.

"You are angry," she said. "You don't want me to take the assignment."

"Of course I don't want you to take it, but again, that has more to do with the fact I don't want those animals anywhere near you." Edward sighed. "Bella, I'm not telling you not to take it. I would never do that." He raised his finger and began to trace the shape of her lips. "I know how quickly your job description can change when you're not interested in a column. You're a human interest reporter." He pressed his lips together, hiding a wry smile. "Of course, I wish the humans you're interested in would all be as benign as Zafrina. Being the supportive boyfriend isn't always going to be easy."

"I'm not going to be in any danger," she said, as much to herself as him. "And I talked to the doctor. He said as long as I monitor my stress level, there's no reason to think any of this should have a bad effect on the pregnancy."

"I know. And all things considered, I know I should be glad you don't want to be a field reporter, off in the middle of wars for six months at a time." He pressed his thumb against her lips, studying her with worried eyes. "I do want to ask something of you, though."

"Of course," she said with a hint of caution. She wanted Edward's support, but not at the cost of being able to do her job well.

"Let me be a little clingy. Let me bring you your meals, so I know you're eating. Let me rub your shoulders when you're hunched over your computer. Let me be there for you for whatever silly thing you need."

"In other words, you want to help me with as much stress as you can?" Bella asked with a small smile. She did adore this man.

"Yes. I don't want to annoy you by being there as much as I can, but I promise I won't get in the way." He paused a moment, and when she didn't protest, he continued. "I'd like it if you talked to me about what you're researching." Another pause. "And I'd really love it if Eric could arrange for you to talk to a professional."

Bella furrowed her brow. "You mean, like a shrink?"

"Maybe, but not necessarily for you. I mean someone who might be able to prepare you for what it'll be like to talk to men like these."

"I think all of that makes sense, and it's more than reasonable." She shifted and threw her legs over his lap. "You're good to me, do you know that?"

He fixed her with a faux put-out expression. "You do make it difficult sometimes. You know, most people have enough sense not to strike up conversations with serial killers."

"Yes. I know. You wish you'd fallen in love with someone with a sedate job. Like architecture. You don't design murder houses." She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips, carefully kissing the jagged cut there. "Your hobbies, on the other hand, have gotten way more dangerous than talking to incarcerated serial killers."

"But the birdhouse was straight this time, wasn't it?"

He sounded so triumphant Bella couldn't help but be charmed. "Yes. But can you do it without ripping your hand open next time?"

"I'm done with bird houses," Edward said.

"Oh, good. Because I like your hands."

"I'm going to try a bench next."

Bella quirked an eyebrow. "A bench?"

"A very small one. A child's bench." His smile became tender as he moved his hand down to her belly. "For our child to sit on."

She nuzzled his cheek. "Well, there's time before they can sit on a bench. Time for you to build one that won't collapse."

"Benches, especially very short ones, aren't prone to collapsing. They're fairly sturdy."

"And bird houses are supposed to be easy to make." She smiled sweetly at him. "You managed to mess that one up. I'm more than a little nervous about this project. No death traps, please."

"I'll see what I can do."

A/N: Welllll.

How we doin', folks?