A/N: You guys remember that weird ep when Grace kept smiling at Rigsby and Rigsby wondered out loud to Cho if maybe she still dug him? First off, it bugged me because of course she still dug him. She never said she didn't love him anymore, so that comment smacked of writers not paying attention to their own plot. Second, Grace getting smiley all of a sudden snagged in my brain. It wouldn't let go. Grace isn't smiley, and they'd broken up, so what gives? This is my take on it.

Late

She'd been too busy to notice. That was the biggest reason for leaving it so late. Between the crazies coming out with the warm weather and dropping bodies and Grace trying desperately to become a emotional robot in the last two months, it just never even occurred to her until something innocuous tipped her off. She should have paid better attention. Usually, paying attention was her forte. But ever since...

Well.

Ever since. Attention to certain things had become shockingly expensive.

Two months ago, after she'd dropped the bomb and leveled him, she just shut down completely. She wouldn't look at him. Not even for a second. She felt him moving in her peripherals and that was more than enough. She told herself it was just as much attention as she paid to Jane and Cho, and therefore it was normal. Of course, she looked at Jane and Cho. Doing so didn't punch her in the gut, so it wasn't a big deal. Looking at him, on the other hand, hurt like a mother. So she didn't. That was one attention she could no longer afford to pay.

Talking to him also had to go. It was another attention that had become too rich for her blood. No more silliness by the coffee machine. No more aimless conversations when they were partnered together. No more mumbled sentiments. God, definitely none of those anymore. So words with him were now stunted and case-related. Always. Again, it was all she could afford.

Her body, hating her for her treachery, had shut down. It wasn't talking to her anymore. Grace jutted her stubborn chin and didn't talk to it either. She ignored it when it was hungry. She silently shouted at it when it responded to his closeness. She petulantly gave it coffee, but only because it helped her think. Aside from bathing it and walking it around, she didn't do it any favors. Not until it stopped pining for a certain set of long arms, bright eyes and the shy smile that had somehow become her whole world.

She knew she was being pissy and unreasonable. She was only hurting herself, really. But a standoff with herself gave her something to focus on. So instead of focusing on the pain in her heart, she took delight in her growling stomach and neglected limbs.

Childish, yes. But it got her through the first month.

It was after that that she was finally able to glance at him without wanting to sob. It was better than that, actually. Looking at him, which until now had been so painful, actually made her feel a little giddy. Yes, they weren't together, she knew that. But something about the line of his shoulders as he walked by made her chest tighten pleasurably. Something about the way his hands picked up simple things like pens and cups filled her with a warm, pooling sensation. He didn't often look at her anymore, but when she caught his gaze, he'd smile hesitantly for her, unsure if he was still allowed to. It was that -her shy boy's smile- that worked on her just like brandy. It was so warm and sweet and intoxicating that she instantly gave him the smile that she had always reserved for when they were alone. And naked. His eyes rounded, surprised as hell to see it. Even when they were together, she would never have given him that smile in public. Never mind work. He inhaled sharply and looked down, still smiling unevenly, but confused as all getout.

Grace knew she was sending mixed signals, but something was rippling just under her skin and she couldn't seem to stop herself from responding openly to the man she'd broken in half. Infuriating situation aside, he was still impossibly attractive. He was still kindhearted. He still emitted the faint smell of maple syrup, which had always driven her crazy as she buried her nose in the crook of his neck and demanded to know why he smelled so deliciously sticky sweet. And, despite everything that had happened, she had never, ever stopped wanting him.

Still, her sudden overpowering urge to be near him baffled her. She was once again paying full attention to every little thing about him and not twisting in agony. And every day, she felt herself getting closer and closer to him, letting their hands brush, keeping her hair off her shoulder should he want to squeeze it reassuringly, walking too close for a professional relationship. She had been so good at stiffling those inclinations for a whole month.

What had changed?

Seven weeks after their breakup, she realized.

She glanced at the tampon machine in the ladies' room at work one day as she washed her hands, and she slowed her soapy fingers until she stood completely still. The metal box on the wall subtly advertised several different brands of menstrual aids. She stared at it through the mirror, her eyes drilling so sharply it could have cracked the glass.

Her period.

Wait. When had been her last period?

She checked her watch for the date and did the math.

Six weeks.

Grace swallowed, took a deep breath, and did the math again.

Six weeks.

She caught herself on her slick palms and she leaned into the counter, suddenly lightheaded. They slipped on the frictionless surface and she barely caught herself in time before she fell forward. Shaking, she rinsed off and reached for a paper towel, staring at herself in the mirror and watching sweat break out along her hairline.

She was six weeks late.