A/N 1: Thanks for all the reviews to the previous chapter, it's a relief to see that this story wasn't forgotten. It means a lot! And thanks to the 70 readers who favorited this story. I'm shocked, amazed and so grateful!

A/N 2: Don't get used to such quick updates, this is an exception :P

Tuesday, June 3rd

The apartment is jazzed up by the bustling morning preparations of the kids and their discontinuous voices.

Grace is getting ready for school, while Zach took advantage of a moment of academic quiet to come and visit. It's an invaluable joy for me to have them both around. One stare at Zach makes me aware of how much I miss my young man and how much he grew up. He was a child a moment ago and now I'm here waiting for long weekends or holidays for a chance to hug him.

Their chatter reaches my ears while I sip my breakfast in the kitchen. The leftovers of the yoghurt cake with soft fruit Grace prepared for the occasion still taste delicious the next day. I could easily get used to this pampering. With a pleased smirk I leaf through the first thing that comes to my hand while casting a quick glance at the clock. Tara should be here in about an hour to discuss the retrial. My retrial. Apparently I'm left in the minority or my client changed his mind, I brood, while in front of me photos of highway robbery houses follow one another swiftly without leaving any mark on me.

"Are we moving?" Zach's voice makes me flinch in my seat. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even hear him walk into the kitchen.

"No, I was just… passing time…" It's the truth. There's a whole hour that needs to get killed. But somehow those two always manage to needle my conscience and make me feel guilty over things I haven't done. Or even remotely pondered to begin with.

"Looking at houses?" he asks me with apparent puzzlement, but I recognize the teasing in the shade of sneering of his tone.

"Who's moving?" Grace's question sounds totally innocent but something tells me this will change quickly, as I find myself in the position of having to give explanations for Zach's joke.

"Nobody is moving." My reply comes out as a tad defensive, as with a swift gesture I close the magazine and wonder what crossed my mind when I decided to open it. A rapid change of topic is needed. "Ready for school?"

"Almost," she answers, looking at me askance before she walks away again.

"Nobody is moving anywhere," I repeat louder, as she turns the corner and disappears from my sight.

This makes for an interesting start of the day.

My phone starts to ring and the name appearing on the lit screen makes my face shine with a cheerful smile.

"Hello," I answer light-heartedly.

"Hello," Will's tone matches my own and it's clear that he's in a good mood. "What are you up to?"

"Apparently we are buying a home," I summarize the surreal show that's just happened in my kitchen.

"We are what?" Will's bewildered laughter makes me shake my head in amusement.

"Nothing, just panic around here seems to ride like the wind." Which is pretty much the normality lately.

"Do I wanna know?" he questions, clearly entertained and curious.

"Probably not," I choose to save him from a discussion with no way out.

"Plans for the day?" he asks me. From the background noise of flipped papers and unhurried steps it's a safe bet that he's already in his office. The image of him sipping his morning coffee from a red mug brings to my memory fragments of old days I miss more than I'll ever admit.

"I'm getting bored and was about to go out for a walk." His sudden silence confirms that now and then it can be amusing to put his reactivity to the test. "You know that thing called humor?" The teasing kicks off automatically.

"Not funny," he reproaches me but his voice is smiling and a tad shaky from his morning work routine through the phone.

Killjoy.

"Meeting up with Tara in an hour to discuss a case," I switch back to a sort of seriousness.

"How are things with her?"

"Ask again at the end of this retrial I fought against with tooth and nail." My voice doesn't hide that Cary's phone call from a few days ago with the retrial news didn't really make me jump for joy.

"I seem to grasp a veiled disappointment," Will teases, reading perfectly into the subtlety of my remark.

"Is it fair that I feel robbed of my clients?" My question is spoken as totally innocent and devoid of any malice, but the moment it's out I want to kick myself at its absurdity.

A pause, a chuckle, a stifled laughter. Will's reaction doesn't really come unexpected. "Aren't you really asking me, are you?"

And my laughter can't help joining his. "Will you come over for lunch?" I throw out there, without thinking, without knowing if he has meetings or lunch with clients or whatever his previous engagements might be.

"I thought Zach was there," he questions me but doesn't say no.

"He's meeting with some friend," I explain briefly. In the end, Zach still has a life and friends here, it's fair for him to have the chance of spending time with them, too.

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as my session is over," he agrees with enthusiasm.

The silhouette of someone entering the kitchen makes me look up from the table to see Grace ready to leave.

"Okay, gotta go now, see you later," I cut it off quickly, knowing he'll be here in a few hours anyway.

"Okay, love you," he says before hanging up.

But the most appropriate and logical answer dies on my lips, crushed under the inevitable embarrassment of telling him those words in front of Grace. And my love you too is replaced by a bizarre, indelicate silence.

"Will?" she asks me with seeming indifference.

"Yep. He's coming over for lunch." With a half-smile I place the phone back on the table and give her my full attention.

"Good," she nods.

"Zach was kidding, by the way." No idea where the need to come back on the matter comes, but Grace looks a bit upset and this feels like the best thing to do. Explain something that needs to explanations. On second thought, maybe it's not really the best thing but it's too late to eat my words.

"I know," she shrugs.

Does she?

"See you later then." And with a quick kiss on my cheek she's gone.

/

My phone is scorching after almost fifty minutes spent in a thorny discussion with Cary over a new client. What was supposed to be an easy victory has unpredictably turned into a personal war against Geneva Pine and for the life of me I still can't understand how and why this happened in the first place. But Cary's troubled voice is not really of help to my need for quiet and rest. When the doorbell's ring announces Tara's arrival, it's almost a liberation to dismiss him. Hopefully she will make things easier for me.

Hopefully.

The warm beam that greets me across the threshold is an instant relief for my nerves.

"Alicia, it's such a joy to meet you again!"

The innate exuberance and engaging cheerfulness in the way she speaks and gesticulates makes her presence here all the more pleasant and welcome.

"Thanks for coming," I invite her in with a smile, then show her the way to the living room.

"So… still on bed rest?" she observes.

An easy guess in the end, judging by the mess that's become my living room lately. I basically spend most of my day here. The office material takes up a good part of the coffee table. Videophone, a couple of cases' folders, my laptop. I basically moved my office into my apartment. "Someone decided to give me a hard time," I sigh, yet can't help but smile softly as I look down at the little troublemaker who's probably doing the twist inside of me.

"But it looks like this little someone is growing fast," Tara comments as her gaze moves down my body. "What a beautiful little belly," she compliments me, as her hand nears my soft bump. It's so little, still it shows through the thin cotton sweater I'm wearing.

Her hand is only inches away and the moment my mind anticipates her intentions my own hand is already covering my child, a bit defensively. It's not meant to be rude or impolite. It's my maternal instinct prevailing, I assume. Or my very secretive and distancing nature. It's for me a gesture too intimate and deeply personal to share with a woman who in the end is nothing more than a professional connection.

"Thank you." There is a veil of uneasiness and unspoken apologies in my smile as I invite her to take a seat at the table and join her, ready to jump on a folder that's still so familiar. God only knows how many hours I spent on that case and how many times resignation was within an inch of winning. When it was supposed to be over, my associates – replacement included – persuaded my client that it wasn't over instead. I brief her on all the main points, making sure she doesn't miss anything important and to my great joy and relief, she's a quick learner.

By the time my eyes focus on the clock it's almost lunch. Will should be here anytime soon and with Tara we covered every possible case-related topic. The small talk from the living room to the doorstep turns into an amusing vent over teenage daughters and the seemingly insurmountable struggle to communicate without drama. More than once I recognize myself in her anecdotes and it's good for a change to have someone whom I can share my mommy issues with. It's something that I miss in my life.

The doorbell rings interrupting a sidesplitting debate over the school uniform length and it's actually a good thing because cramps and laughter don't seem to get along, and the lack of rest during the morning is starting to take its toll.

When I open the door to Will, he seems briefly taken aback by the third presence in the apartment. A box of pizza in one hand and drinks in the other, he smiles and offers a polite hi to both of us. The introductions are very friendly but fast, since Tara is on her way out and Will's lunch break is probably very limited. She congratulates him on the baby, which makes him blush imperceptibly and definitely sends him to cloud nine. And I can't help losing myself in his shining eyes. Then Tara leaves with the promise to ring me right after the first session.

"She seems nice," he observes as he places a soft kiss on my lips, then walks into the living room and places the pizza on the coffee table, well, on what's free on it. Couch, Will and a steaming pizza. My ideal of lunch.

"She is," I confirm. The few hours we have spent working together ended up being enjoyable beyond my expectations, after all. "How was your morning?" I change topic quickly, not really interested in talking about her.

"Not bad, the jury hangs off our words," he tells me, modestly gloating, as with his unique smirk he walks into the kitchen, comes back with glasses and napkins, then offers me a slice. No idea where he bought it, but it tastes so exquisite.

With genuine interest I listen to the recap of his morning and his enthusiasm makes me feel part of it. It's frustrating to stay here and just follow everyone's successes from the outside. Though in six months from now my reward will be more gratifying than any trial I might miss from here to the rest of my life.

"Are you worried about the retrial?" he suddenly asks me, apparently out of nowhere.

Lost in thought, it takes me a moment to grasp his question. "No." What's the point in lying? "Just a bit," I admit with a weak shrug.

"Tara seems a very determined person, I'm sure she'll do great," he uplifts me, as he abandons his lunch in the box, cleans his hands, then rests a comforting hand on my thigh.

"I know… it's just…" It's not an easy feeling to describe. I'm so used to doing everything on my own that it's kind of disheartening to have to rely on someone else. "It's weird to watch someone live my life while I'm home. Does it make sense?"

"When I was suspended I barely resisted one week home, I think Diane had even sent flowers to my sisters, so yes, I know the feeling. But look at the bright side, at least you don't have David Lee and Eli roosted outside your office," he kids.

I'm not sure that people like Carey or Anthony might be less harmful and pugnacious than David and Eli put together but I get his point.

"Speaking of home," he stares at me puzzled, "what was the talk about moving about?"

Oh dammit.

I was so hoping this was forgotten over the day. Why did I feel the need to mention it? "It was nothing, just Zach making some joke and Grace not getting that it was a joke in the first place." Better cut it short.

I bent over the coffee table to get a second slice when a sudden… something… makes me jump back against the pillow.

"Cramps?" Will questions me, concern etched on his face.

"I…" The answer hesitates to come. It definitely didn't look like cramps. It's come and gone in a second, like a bubble popping inside of me.

It can't be.

"I don't know." Or do I?

It's too soon. Or isn't it?

"It's gone. It was probably…" Nothing. "Just my imagination."

But my grin betrays the words just spoken and before I realize it, Will is already gazing me up and down, questioningly. From the hesitant smile on his face, he's probably thinking the same.

"W… was it the baby?" he asks me, his voice a tad quivering in what's definitely a nature of excitement that until now was unknown to him.

"I…" Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I should just listen to my instinct that leads me to nod and laugh softly. "Yes, or so I think. I don't know. It's soon. Or maybe it's not. Oh God I'm starting to babble." I should stop, for in the end there are really no words needed in this moment. Our baby is more than just eloquent.

Without thinking, I take Will's hand and place it very delicately right where I felt it, a bit on the left.

And it doesn't matter that it's impossible for him to feel anything from the outside – it will take weeks to get there, - his emotion is all there, seeping from his eyes, his ecstatic beam, his loss of speech and his lightly shaking hand. He simply looks up, his hand refusing to move from its loving place, and the excitement in his gaze is quickly replaced by an intensity, a depth that I know well and that makes my heart skip a beat. Every time. No matter how many times over the years I've been and I'll still be on its receiving end, it never loses its disarming impact on me.

I close the little distance with a kiss. Soft in the beginning, it quickly turns demanding. It leaves us both breathless and with a thumping heart.

The black and white image of the ultrasound is not just an image anymore. This baby starts to make itself heard, making it more real, bringing us even closer with each passing day.