A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You guys make my day when you send me reviews and other messages. Enjoy!

When Claudia opened her eyes again, Steve was sleeping next to her. So You're Gonna Be A Daddy was open on his chest, and he was snoring softly. Claudia successfully resisted the urge to pick the book up and light it on fire. Instead, she carefully removed it from his chest and closed it, setting it on top of the other books stacked next to him.

Then she gently rocked herself to her feet and pulled herself upright, using the sink as the fixed point in her tilting world. For a moment her head swam and her stomach flip-flopped; Claudia hung her head and closed her eyes, waiting for her body to catch up with her movements.

Eventually the world stopped swaying around her. Claudia picked her head up and caught sight of her face in the mirror. Her hair was wild and straggly; she blew a long breath of air upward, straightening her bangs, and smoothed the rest of her hair as best she could. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was far too pale. In the mirror she looked like a stranger.

Steve snorted and snuffled in his sleep, bringing Claudia back to herself. She smiled and flicked the bathroom light off as she left, closing the door softly behind her.

She wasn't surprised to see that it had gotten dark outside. Artie was gone from the patio and the B&B was quiet. Soft noises rose up from the room HG shared with Myka, as though the Brit was watching one of her beloved reality TV shows, and Claudia could hear Artie and Abigail talking in the kitchen, but she didn't stop to make conversation. She was feeling alert and with-it for the first time in a couple of days, and she wasn't going to let small-talk get in the way of her plans.

Somewhere in the midst of her gastrointestinal fireworks, complicated by her hazy memory and her exhausted body, Claudia had remembered the conversation she'd overheard between Dr. Vanessa and Mrs. Frederic. The words had been fuzzy at first, but with every beat of her pounding heart and every breath the words formed themselves back into sentences, sentences that terrified Claudia to the tips of her toes, jolting her back into "research mode" more effectively than any deaf DJ causing people to dance until they dropped.

Many people have become pregnant before – Mrs. Frederic, far too calm. But I believe you are referring to someone chosen by the Warehouse going through a pregnancy. It has happened before. It is not the recommended course of action.

And Vanessa, saying something about the body starving itself… that part was blurrier.

And Mrs. Frederic responding, Yes. Miss Donovan has a way of doing things in the most difficult manner possible. Her connection to the Warehouse is very strong and, unfortunately for her, her body is going to see any other competing energy as a threat. Especially the… baby.

The words had galvanized Claudia into action. If it had happened before, there would be records in the Warehouse. If it had happened before – and Mrs. Frederic seemed convinced it had, and when had that lady ever been wrong? – there would be instructions. Or at least something. Something more than a semi-permanent IV line in her chest and the mingling tastes of saltine crackers and ginger ale lingering on a palate dulled by vomit.

Or maybe there was nothing, and Claudia had her hopes pegged on absolutely nothing.

Either way, the information or the lack of it could only be confirmed by a visit to the Warehouse. As Claudia slipped out the front door with her Prius keys in her hand, she sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods might have been listening.

Let me find something. Let me find something to make this more bearable. Let me find something to put my mind at ease. And if I can't find any of that, let me find something to get the vomiting to stop.

Or at the very least, some way to make those damn parenting books disappear.

Myka and Pete had gotten as far as the parking lot when their government interpreter pounced on them. "It's happening again," she said without much pretense.

"What's… happening again?" Pete asked.

"The dancing," Katia replied. "Well, to be more specific, the not-stopping part of the dancing."

"How do you know that?" Myka wanted to know.

"I'm with the government," Katia said. "I know a lot of things I shouldn't know. And, also, I was sitting next to some EMTs in the coffee shop at the student union when they got a call to report to the University Club."

"It's Tuesday," Pete said. "There aren't any DJ sessions going on tonight."

Myka was scanning her notebook, rummaging through the paperwork they'd collected at the radio station and the University Club. "But there is something called a mass jazzercise open floor class going on."

"Sounds like it's something to do with the University Club," Pete said. "And not our deaf DJ."

"Don't be so sure," Myka said. "Anna could still have been using something at the club that's still there, causing trouble."

"Let's go check it out," Pete said. "My bet's still on the roommate."

"Wait," Myka said. "Wasn't the roommate part of some dance team? Oh, no, she was a cheerleader. Right?"

Pete nodded. "A cheerleader, if that information Claudia found for us is correct. Why?"

Myka held up the flyer. "Because the Bundel University cheerleaders are the ones running the jazzercise class."

It was strange, being in the Warehouse alone. Or, Claudia corrected herself, not alone. She put one hand to her still-flat belly. "It's weird," she muttered. "I'm thinking of you like you're a real person and you're the size of a blueberry. And you know what else is weird? You're the size of a blueberry and yet you make me puke like a gallon of vodka…"

She typed in the pass code to get into the office and flicked the lights on. The computer monitors were free from blinking alerts and void of alarm codes; under a faint patina of golden light, the Warehouse slept.

Claudia sighed as she looked over her second home. After giving the Warehouse a few sweeping glances, she dragged the trash can over from the corner and set it next to the desk. There was no need to tempt fate, and she had every reason to believe that no matter what she found in the Warehouse's computers, she was definitely going to puke again, probably within the next twenty minutes.

She sat down and started typing, asking the Warehouse's system to look for anything related to "pregnancy" or "baby," with or without "Caretaker" or "agent" near it. Once her search terms had been tapped in, Claudia leaned back in her chair, watching as the computer scrolled through its search paroxysms.

The search was nearly complete when her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, keeping her eyes on the screen. "What?"

"You left me unconscious in a dark bathroom" came Steve's voice from the other end of the line. "I woke up and thought I was at a high school party for a split second. It was the lack of Diet Sprite cans and the presence of all those pregnancy books that convinced me otherwise."

"You drank Diet Sprite at parties?" Claudia asked. "Wow. You really are a square."

"Where did you go?"

"I'm at the Warehouse."

"What? Why? I brought your computer back here," Steve said. "I thought you were going to stay here."

"Yeah, well," Claudia said, "I'm good, but I'm not good enough to use all of the Warehouse's databases at once. Plus – and it's no reflection on you, Jinksy – I needed to barf somewhere else."

"Claud," Steve said, sounding concerned. "Are you still throwing up?"

"At this exact moment? No," Claudia said.

The computer beeped and a series of search results appeared. Claudia leaned forward and started reading. The first few sentences were vague, but then her bolded search terms popped up and she felt like the floor fell out from beneath her.

"Claud? You okay?"

"Uhhh," Claudia said. The nausea came rushing back, sweeping over her like a wave at the beach, and she put her head between her knees. Her phone clattered to the floor.

"I'm on my way," Steve said, and he hung up.

Ten minutes later Claudia heard the door to the office open, but she couldn't bring herself to pick her head up. She'd thrown up twice and was too dizzy and worn out to move.

Steve crossed the floor and knelt down next to her chair. "Hi," he said.

"Mmmhh," Claudia mumbled.

"You could have woken me up," Steve said. "You could have said, 'Hey Jinksy, I have a sudden bizarre need to go to the Warehouse. Will you drive me in that banging Prius you're so proud of?' And I would have said, 'Of course, darling Claudia. I would take you anywhere you wanted to go.'"

He brushed his hand against Claudia's cheek. "You scared the shit out of me. In fact, all of this scares the shit out of me."

She mumbled something else, and Steve shifted his position, sitting down next to her chair. "I didn't hear that. Did you say, 'Oh, Jinksy, you do the best impressions of me?'"

"In your dreams," Claudia said finally, grating the words out of her raspy throat.

"Ah, she speaks," Steve said. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

At this tears rushed back to Claudia's eyes. "I can't," she said. "It's just… it's too bad."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jinksy, it's over."

"Claud, you are not making any sense," Steve said. "Can you please look at me and try to explain? Slowly."

Claudia took a few deep breaths and thought of everything calming – of the way Artie smelled like old books and oatmeal scotchies, of the way Mrs. Frederic hugged, of the feeling of Steve's hands on hers. Then she raised her head. "Myka was wrong."

"What? Claud, you have to give me more than that," Steve said. "Myka, like the rest of us, has hit-or-miss days and is occasionally wrong about more than one thing."

"Shh," Claudia said, and she leaned forward and put her hand over Steve's mouth. "Stop talking. I can't stand it."

"Claud," Steve said.

"No, shhh," Claudia said. "Just…"

She jerked away from Steve and leaned over the trash can, retching.

Steve took the opportunity to get to his feet and approached the computer screen. A strange feeling thwacked into the pit of his stomach, and without any further information, he knew he'd found what had made Claudia so upset. But he couldn't stop himself – he leaned in and kept reading.

"Five of the eight pregnancies experienced by Caretakers or potential Caretakers ended in miscarriages at varying lengths of term (nine weeks, eleven weeks, twelve weeks, and fifteen weeks). Of the three remaining pregnancies, one resulted in a stillbirth at full-term, and the other two resulted in babies with severe birth defects. One was born missing both legs and an arm and in addition had a serious heart condition. The other was born without eyes and with a malformed trachea. Both babies…"

And there Steve cut himself off. A cold sweat had popped up on the back of his neck, and he realized that silence had fallen over the office. Behind him, Claudia had stopped throwing up. "It's bad," she whispered. "It's really, really bad."

His hands felt like blocks of ice, but Steve forced himself to close all of the windows on the screen before he knelt down next to Claudia again. "That's not going to happen to us," he said firmly.

"You don't know that," Claudia said, her voice breaking.

"We're not going to let it happen."

"We don't have any control over this."

Steve squeezed her hand. "That's where you're wrong."

"All we've got is… us… and a stack of dumbass books," Claudia said, and she started crying again.

"That's all we need," Steve said. "Can I hug you? Are you okay to hug?"

Claudia nodded, and Steve leaned in and wrapped his arms around her. "It's going to be okay, Claud," he said.

After a few seconds he could feel her shaking, crying harder.

"I love the baby already," Claudia sobbed. "I hate it, but I love it, and I want it, and I don't want it…"

"Shh," Steve said. "I know."

"Okay, okay," Myka said as she and Pete reached the top of the stairs at the University Club. "Let's figure out where this dancing is going on and get in there before anyone gets hurt."

"There's so much going on in here," Pete said, studying a sign on the wall. "Biology Club mixer… Engineering Careers Fair… meeting of the Sign Language Society…"

"Where's the jazzercise?" Myka asked.

"Wait," Katia said. "The Sign Language Society?"

"I doubt our DJ is a member," Pete said. "It's like Myka joining a group called 'I Speak English.'"

"I might do that," Myka said. "If we worked to promote better grammar on the Internet…"

"Well, she might not be a member," Katia said, "but when we asked Anna earlier to give us her schedule for the day, she mentioned that she was giving a speech to the Sign Language Society with some of the other deaf students on campus. I didn't realize it was here, though."

"Okay," Pete said. "Katia, will you go down to the sign language meeting? It's in Room B-14. Grab Anna for us – maybe she can tell us if anything is similar to the night she was DJ'ing. Myka and I will go up to the jazzercise class and see if we can stop the crazy dancing before anyone gets seriously hurt."

"Fine," Katia said, and she took off.

"Did you just get our government shadow to leave with a plausible suggestion?" Myka asked.

"Talk to me when we've got the artifact handled," Pete said. "And you can't tell me you're not curious to get our DJ's perspective on all this."

He hit the "up" button on the closest elevator and yanked Myka into it.

Even before they reached the fourth floor they could hear the commotion – pounding music with a ribcage-shaking bass line and what sounded like a whole posse of young women screaming. The elevator doors opened onto a crowded hallway; young people in exercise clothing were streaming around two EMTs, who were standing by a stretcher, looking confused.

Pete shoved his way through the crowd with his badge held high. "Secret Service! Clear a path!"

Myka followed him, raising her badge as well.

"Secret Service?" one of the EMTs asked.

"I don't care who they are," the other EMT said. "They could be aliens from Mars for all I care – this is out of hand."

"Dude, we're EMTs," his partner said. "We're the ones who are supposed to take charge here."

"And I haven't the faintest clue in hell how to fix this. Give them a chance."

Myka and Pete managed to get through the crowd and into the large ballroom where the jazzercise class was being held. They recognized it from the security footage they had viewed earlier – it was the same room where the uncontrolled dancing had happened earlier, when Anna had been the DJ at a Friday night party.

Expensive-looking sound equipment was set up on a platform at the far end, and two girls in brightly-colored exercise gear stood next to it, their expressions frozen in horror. Mere feet in front of them was a group of students, their bodies contorted in frantic, jerking movements.

"Targets spotted," Pete said.

"You see if you can get anything out of the girls over there by the door," Myka said.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to turn off this damn music," his partner replied. "I fully plan on stopping this, but I'd like to be able to hear myself think while I do it."

"You envy Anna now, don't you?" Pete quipped. He grinned at her. "If you start dancing like a fool…"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Lattimer," Myka barked.

"'Cause you can dance if you want to…"

"I'm about to leave you behind," Myka growled. She reached the platform and started towards the terrified exercise leaders.

"Claudia, you're being unreasonable."

"There are some things I just don't want to share with you," the redhead replied.

"I already know you're a musician," Steve said.

Claudia was on the other side of the couch, watching snowflakes float down into the twilight of a November day. "Yes. And that's enough information."

"If you're going to be angry with anyone, you should be angry at Artie. He's the one who told me you're writing a song for me."

"I'm not writing a song for you."

"Lie."

"And now I'm really not writing a song for you."

"Claud," Steve said. "I think it's beautiful. I love music."

"Oh, I know," Claudia said. "You sang the entire score of 'Les Miserables' for me."

"I love that movie."

"Yeah? Well, I'll never know if I like it, and neither will the twenty-five people seated around us," Claudia replied. "Instead, all they'll know is that they may or may not like your voice."

"Okay, maybe I should have waited until the movie came on DVD to sing along…"

She raised her eyebrows.

"But this isn't about me. This is about you, and your song."

"There is no song."

"Lie."

Claudia let out a gusty sigh. "Fine. Go in the kitchen."

"What? Why?"

"You can hear just as well in there," came the answer. "And I don't want you to look at me while I play it for you."

And that was how he ended up in the kitchen, eating a chocolate chip cookie while gorgeous music wound its way out from the living room. Steve was sure he'd never heard the B&B's piano sound so lovely, and he was definitely sure that music had never moved him in the ways Claudia's song moved him. It filled up the empty spaces in his soul, smoothed over the rough spots in his heart, and made him realize that the universe was even more complex and wonderful and marvelous than he'd imagined.

Finally the music stopped and Claudia appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish as she stared down at her socks. "Well?" she muttered.

Steve stood and walked over to her, pressing a chocolaty kiss to her lips. "I love you, too," he replied.