"So, you're Mrs. Constantine." Leslie shook Elizabeth's hand warmly then hugged her. Elizabeth blinked a bit, hugging back.

"Most of John's friends…acquaintances… don't hug me." She smirked.

"I'm not surprised. I've known him since he was 15… an unfortunate time to meet such a man, but I can say it's certainly been interesting to know him."

"My ears are burning." Constantine growled dryly. Both women laughed. Leslie turned to Elizabeth.

"John told me why he brought you in." She reached over to the metal tray on the table and picked up the plastic cup. "I'm sure you know what to do with this. The bathroom is through that door." Elizabeth took it slowly, eyes on John. He looked back, impassive. The specimen cup firmly in hand, she walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

"When will we find out?"

"I can call you with the results tomorrow. The lab closes soon, and it'll probably be processed in the morning."

"You're kidding me, right? We can't go that long!" John gripped the arms of the chair, leaning forward a bit. "I'm serious. We need to know as soon as possible. Pull some strings. For me. Old time's sake."

"John, it'll be less then twenty-four hours," Leslie was writing in some notes on the chart. He kept his eyes on her, not breaking contact.

"Please, Leslie, for me."

She studied him for a moment. "She really has changed you. You've never said please before." John's gaze flicked over to the bathroom door. Elizabeth had blocked their link; he felt the mental wall when he touched the bond with his mind.

"Yeah. She has." He replied quietly. Then he turned his face back to her. "Please. We need to know."

"I'll do the best I can, John." Dr. Archer rose, gathering the papers. The lock clicked and the bathroom door opened. Elizabeth stepped out quietly, handing the cup back to Leslie. Leslie nodded to them both then left the room. Elizabeth stayed standing, folding her arms around herself.

"She'll bring us the results soon." John's voice seemed to echo off the walls of the small room. Elizabeth only nodded. He tested the mental link again, found the wall still up. Something was wrong. "Why?" he asked aloud, knowing she'd know what he was referring to.

His wife shook her head, eyes closing tight.

"Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

Again she shook her head. "No, John." Her arms closed tighter around her self. The metal foot of the chair scrapped on the floor tiles as he rose, took three steps and caught her upper arms in his hands.

"Tell me. Tell me Elizabeth, or show me. I can handle either way." He bent his head a bit to get face-to-face with her. "Tell me baby. What did you see?"

Elizabeth's eyes opened slowly, tear-filled. She said nothing, and he saw nothing with his inner eye. But it didn't take a genius to know. He knew her so well, so intimately, only after a year.

"John." She said his name, her voice small. Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her to him, held her tight. She brushed the tears from her eyes with her fingers. Slowly he stroked her back, being careful of the fresh tattoos underneath her shirt. Closing his eyes he shared his strength, in every sense of it that he possessed, with her, and they waited together.