The weekend was like something from a dream; Nick was lovelier than words could describe, had surpassed her every expectation in that quiet, steady way he had, had kissed her so gently her heart ached to remember it. Charlie had been happy, and in her arms, and they had all of them laughed together, enjoyed a rare moment of peace. A vision of things to come, perhaps; at least, that's what she told herself. This can work, she'd told herself with some conviction, more than once over those two days. We can have this. She wanted it, wanted the three of them together, wanted Nick's arms around her, wanted his kisses and his quiet promises. She wanted to believe him, when he told her you're worth the risk, wanted to believe she could somehow have both, Nick at home and Nick at work, wanted to believe that Nick could be the father Charlie deserved, the lover she'd always wanted. And for those two days, it had felt to Jen as if everything she wanted was within reach.

But then Monday morning arrived, the way it inevitably must. She'd left Charlie and Amy eating breakfast at the kitchen table in their pajamas, and taken herself off to the station, and with each passing moment she'd felt that dream trickling like water through her fingers, evaporating into nothingness beneath the rising sun, beneath the reality of her situation.

Nick had offered to take her to dinner, and she had accepted, and she fully intended to go through with it, but her resolve to see where this goes, as Nick had said, did nothing to quell her doubts. For a time Nick's gentle hands had silenced the nagging voice in the back of her mind, but he could not touch her today as he had done the last time he saw her, could not hold her hand or press his lips to the corner of her mouth, and without his reassurances every unanswered question gnawed away at her. One thing at a time, she tried to tell that anxious voice. Wait and see.

She would go into work, she would dig into her caseload, she would talk to the boys, she would go home again; these things she had done a thousand times before. Nick would be there, but then he always was, and if they were to really try to make a go of it this day would be something of a test, she supposed, a means to evaluate their skills at obfuscation, to see if there was any chance they could carry on a personal relationship without alerting everyone at the office. It seemed to Jen that if they could get through this day, perhaps the next would be easier, and the one after that easier still; perhaps, she tried to tell her anxious conscience, with time they would find their way.

The moment she stepped off the elevator she found Nick, standing by his desk, deep in conversation with Matt. He looked handsome in his dark navy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles of his forearms, but then again he always looked handsome to her mind. They had been working together for months now, she reminded herself, and he was no more attractive today than he had been the week before, even if the last time she'd seen him he'd kissed her deeply, those strong arms wrapped tight around her. There was no need to treat him any differently today, and yet as she approached the pair of them, a friendly smile plastered on her face, she found herself suddenly at a loss for words; she should be natural, calm, the same today as any other day, but in the moment she felt as if she'd forgotten how to be, as if no matter what she chose to say she must surely give the game away.

"Morning," Nick said softly as she reached her desk and dropped her handbag on it. His voice was warm, his expression kind, and Jen could not help but melt, just a little, at the sight of his face. One thing at a time, she told herself, yet again.

"Morning," she answered.

"All right, Jen?" Matt asked cheerfully. "Have a good weekend?"

"Yeah," she answered, smiling. "It was nice. Quiet. You?"

"Yeah, it was all right. Talked to Dunny. They're making him take this week off and he's climbing the walls already."

Christ, somehow Jen had forgotten that Duncan had been shot the previous Friday. It seemed a lifetime ago, the operation that had thrown them all into this mess, the circumstances that had led to Charlie's arrival at the station in the first place. So much had changed, in such a short time; Nick had kissed her, and found out about his son, and come to her house and spent time with Charlie, and kissed her again, invited her out on a date, and it had all happened so quickly her mind was still reeling, just a little bit, trying desperately to catch up.

"Poor bugger," Nick said, but his heart wasn't in it; his eyes were distant, and Jen couldn't help but wonder if the same thoughts were occupying him as well.

"A little rest and relaxation will be good for him," Jen said decisively. "Now. Who wants coffee?"

She looked so beautiful.

Nick knew he had no business thinking such things, knew he could not afford to spend his quiet moments studying the curve of her neck, the rise of her cheek, cataloging every place he longed to kiss her, hoped to kiss her soon, if fate was kind. He shouldn't be thinking about the cut of her trousers, and the way they made him yearn more than anything to reach out and catch her by the hips, draw her into him, run his hands over her ass until they were both ragged and wrecked. No, he should be focused, but the report in front of him held no appeal, not compared to Jen's golden hair and her soft skin and her cheeky smiles.

Part of him knew she was right to be so worried. If anyone found out that he was Charlie's father they would both catch hell for it; one of them would be transferred out, at the very least. He wouldn't put it past the brass to knock both of them back out of sheer pique. The rules were clear, and he and Jen had committed a serious infraction in not disclosing their prior relationship. But then again, they could hardly have told the truth; they had both taken solemn oaths, sworn to take the secret of their time with SIS with them to the grave. SIS demanded silence, but offered no protection. That was the nature of the spooks, he'd found; they took everything from their pawns, and gave nothing in return.

But they'd made it this far. That was a comfort to Nick, in a way; they'd managed to hide their feelings for one another for months, and Jen had likewise managed to keep Charlie a secret from him for all that time, and if nothing else, their time undercover had made them both consummate liars. They'd survived that operation with their legends in tact; surely, he thought, they could make it a little while longer, hiding the truth from their colleagues.

But to what end? Nick knew he wanted, very much, to be a part of his son's life. Having met the boy, having spent time with him, Nick knew already he could not give Charlie up. No matter what happened next, he was determined to be there for his son. And Jen, too; Christ, he wanted Jen. He'd kissed her before he even knew about Charlie, had already found himself on the cusp of throwing everything away for the chance to be with her. But what would that mean for them? Would he be satisfied with the occasional casual date, falling into bed with her as and when they could, but driving in to work separately in the morning? Was that all that waited for them, just a low stakes, secret affair? What he wanted, more than anything, was to be with her, and he could not imagine a time when that might change. But if they were to make a go of it, to really give their all to one another, to be a family, things would inevitably have to change. Nick had no problem hiding a casual shag from his coworkers, but he would not dream of keeping his wife a secret.

As that thought flitted through his mind his gaze settled more firmly on Jen.

You're getting ahead of yourself, he thought grimly. It was hard, he found, to separate what was from what had been. Jen had been his wife once, after a fashion, and he knew already that they were good together, good in bed, good at sharing the responsibilities of a home, good at making one another happy. Everything was muddled up, backwards in his mind; they'd been married before they slept together, but they'd never actually dated, and they'd spent so long apart. He rather felt as if they'd missed a step somewhere, as if it were wrong for his mind to jump straight to marriage before he'd ever even taken her out to dinner. Maybe this was their chance, he told himself. Maybe this was the opportunity they needed to do everything in the right order, for a change. A kiss, a dinner, a drink, and then bed, and then, later, somewhere down the road when a respectable amount of time had passed, when Jen was feeling more sure of herself, more confident in their relationship, maybe then he could circle back to thoughts of marriage. To mention it now, he knew, would be to send her running for cover.

"You're staring at me," Jen murmured. She had not lifted her gaze from the file she was reviewing, but she had caught him just the same, and Nick ducked his head, averting his eyes at once.

"Sorry," he answered, his voice as quiet as hers had been.

"You've got to be more discrete." Perhaps she had meant the words to come out lighthearted, but she only sounded scared. Nick looked up, cast his eyes around quickly to be sure no one was close enough to overhear him, and then he took a calculated risk.

"It's not my fault you're beautiful," he said.

Her cheeks went pink at his praise but she did not smile or shift her gaze away from the file in front of her, and his heart sank like a stone. It would seem that was one gamble that hadn't paid off.

"If this is going to work," she said slowly, turning a page in the file as if it consumed her attention utterly, "you can't say things like to me at work. This is important, Nick."

"You're right," he answered at once, wishing it weren't so and yet knowing it just the same. "I'm sorry."

Their little exchange had gone entirely unnoticed by anyone else, and Nick tried to turn his focus back on his work. She was right, of course; she always was. He wanted to tease her, wanted to touch her, wanted to see her smile, but he could not take such a risk while they sat together at their desks. It had been foolish, really, to have said such a thing in the first place, but in the moment he had wanted to, had wanted her to know that she was beautiful to him, always, that he was thinking of her. And in that moment, he realized that keeping his feelings for her a secret was going to be much, much harder than he'd ever anticipated.

It's not my fault you're beautiful.

That man was going to ruin her, Jen was certain, because much as she wished he'd just kept his mouth shut she could not deny how grateful she was to know that he was just as affected by their rapidly evolving relationship as was she. Jen had not found the courage to tell him how handsome he looked that morning, how well his dark navy shirt suited him, how distracted she had been by his presence from the moment she walked in the door, but Nick had no such qualms. Of course he was braver than she had been; he always was. Nick was the risk-taker, the one willing to put everything on the line, and though she had known in the moment that she had no choice but to chastise him, she had envied him his confidence, just a little.

The call came in just after lunch, a new case that would take them both out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. There was nothing unusual about that; they were paired together often, and since cases were assigned based on availability, it only made sense that their number came up at the same time. And while Jen would never be grateful for a murder, for death and violence and another broken family, the chance to get out of the office, away from the prying eyes of their team, was something of a blessing.

Nick drove; it wasn't a question. He always did. If she were paired with Matt or Dunny she'd give the boys shit for it, tease them about how their egos were too fragile to allow a woman to drive them around, but with Nick it just made sense. She trusted him, adored him, and she very much appreciated the chance to sit quietly beside him, to lean her head back and take her eyes off the road. As he maneuvered the car towards their destination she found herself mulling over a question that had been bothering her for most of the day, and it suddenly occurred to her that she would never have a better opportunity to give it voice.

"Nick?" she said quietly.

He hummed to show that he was listening, though his gaze remained fixed straight ahead.

"You aren't just doing this because of Charlie, are you?"

She felt small, pitiful for even asking, but she had to know. Things were happening so quickly, and he had gone from respecting their boundaries to asking her to dinner in the course of a single day. The thought that he was only interested in her as the mother of his child, that he was only pursuing her because it was the right thing troubled her more than she could say.

And it did not help matters much that Nick laughed aloud when she asked her question, but he reached out and took her hand, lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss against her palm before lacing their fingers together and bringing their hands to rest against his thigh, and that gesture quieted her distress somewhat.

"I kissed you on Thursday night, remember?" he told her gently. "Before I'd ever even seen Charlie. We were sitting in that bar, and we were talking, and I realized…"

His voice trailed off, but Jen was eager to hear the rest of it, and in no mood to wait.

"Realized what?"

"That I wanted you more than the job. That you were worth the risk. That I would have to be stupid to just let you go."

For a moment Jen sat in a stunned sort of silence. At the time it had all seemed so natural, and she had thought it was her kiss there in the car that had caused him to go chasing after her. But he was right, she realized; he hadn't let her take a cab home, had insisted on driving her back to her house, had caught her face in his hands and pulled her in close. He'd whispered I've got you, and she knew that what he'd meant that night was I love you. It all became so clear, in that moment; he'd already made up his mind, already begun to chase her, before Charlie had come bursting on the scene.

"And now that I know about Charlie," he added, and she held her breath, wondering where this was headed, "I can't think of a single reason not to give us a chance. I want you, Jen. I wanted you four years ago, and I wanted you that night in Matt's kitchen, and I wanted you last week. I want you, and I want to be Charlie's dad. I want both."

"Me, too," Jen whispered, somewhat thunderstruck by the sincerity of his tone, but the depth of her own feelings on the matter. "I want that, too."