He shakes his head in disbelief, as he sits in the squad car, with his partner, on a stakeout. He chuckles, and finally is able to compose himself enough to say something, as she shoots him the stink eye from the driver's seat.

"She really said that?" He questions.

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"I love that kid. She acts just like you. She doesn't give up when she's interrogating someone."

"I wish it wasn't something that she got from me," she admits.

"So what did you tell her?"

"I finally convinced her that we would talk about it later."

"When is later going to be?"

She shrugs, "I don't have the slightest idea. I am really hoping that she just lets it go."

"I am fairly certain that she isn't going to just let it go. After all, it certainly isn't going anywhere, now is it?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You're having a baby, and it is only going to get more, and more obvious."

"I know," she sighs.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"What can I tell her? She is twelve. Nothing that I tell her is going to be satisfactory. I don't know how to make the conversation age appropriate, and even if I do she will ask questions until I feel completely and totally awkward."

"Kids are designed to teach humility, and remind parents what it feels like to be totally, and utterly embarrassed."

"I think that she truly believes that at the end of this there is some grand happily ever after."

"What has you so convinced that there isn't? Have you really been that jaded by the world, that you don't even leave a splinter of hope for happily ever after, in your heart of hearts?"

"I don't believe in happily ever after. Life has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Most of it is the middle, and you just muddle through until you get to the end."

He cocks an eyebrow, "So basically what you're saying is that you're born, you muddle through life for a while, and then you die?"

"It doesn't sound as nice when you put it like that."

"Is that, or is that not what you basically just said?"

"It is?"

"How depressing."

"What do you want me to tell her? How am I supposed to answer her."

"I would suggest starting off with the truth."

"Which part?"

"Maybe start off with the baby, and ease into the rest of it."

"The baby," she nods, as she turns away from him, and looks out the driver's side window.

"Why don't you want to talk about the baby? You have waited your entire adult life to bring a child into the world. Why do you suddenly act as if you have cold feet?"

"I never said that I wanted to bring a child into the world. I have a child. I was perfectly happy being her mother. She is three quarters of the way raised, and let's face it I am not getting any younger."

"That is too bad, because like it or, not, in a few months you're going to have another kid. You are going to give birth to a beautiful little baby."

"I know," she clenches her fists.

"It scares the shit out of you, doesn't it?"

"I am one person," she answers, continuing to avoid eye contact.

"So?"

"There are going to be two of them. I will be completely outnumbered. I don't know to make this work. I have a hard enough time taking care of the one child I already have, and she is pretty self-sufficient."

"Why don't you increase your odds a little bit? You know, hedge your bets?"

"How so?"

"I'll help you."

"I get that you have this hero complex where you want to be the hero, but I won't ask you to do that. In fact I will ask you not to do that."

"What did you tell her when she asked whose baby it was?"

"I shirked the question."

"You are quite adept at dodging questions."

"What was I really supposed to say?"

"You tell her the truth. What is wrong with the truth?"

"What is wrong with the truth? Only everything."

"How do you figure? She's going to have a half sibling. Why wouldn't you want to tell her that?"

"Because I don't know that."

"You don't? You think it's going to be an alien? I guess that it is possible it will come out a big purple dinosaur," he jokes.

She turns towards him, and stares at him with a stern look. The smile quickly disappears from his face.

"What?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Nick I don't know if it's Brian's baby."

"You don't know? What do you mean? Are you just saying that, because the thought of having a dead man's baby creeps you out?"

"I don't know," she admits.

"I don't understand."

"The baby might not be Brian's."

"Who else could it possibly belong to?" His nostrils begin to flare is outrage, and confusion.

"Who do you think?" She furrows her brow.

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"Nick consider the date that the baby was most likely conceived."

"How can I do that? You never told me exactly how far along you are. Somewhere between three, to six months, I am certain, but I can't pin it down anymore than that."

"Five months and three days," she answers him, "That is how long ago this baby was conceived."

"Okay. Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"You and I were working late on the Granger case," she reminds him.

"And?"

"We headed into the crib to take a nap, we were both so tired."

"And I wouldn't shut up."

"So, I rolled off my bunk, and in a moment of desperation for a single moment of silence, and the hope of a little shut eye I kissed you to shut you up."

"Yeah, I remember."

"And then what happened?"

"I kissed you back."

"Yeah, and?"

"And we were about twenty second away from getting caught by the nightshift janitor."

"Caught doing what?"

"Oh," he looks at her. She doesn't break eye contact this time, "Oh?"