He lay there, barely feeling her hands rubbing his back as his mind raced frantically. Okay, he had known her for four months. In each of those months, she had been in New York for two weeks. Was it possible her visits just hadn't coincided with her period?

Possible but… vanishingly unlikely. They hadn't always been the same two weeks, after all. One month she had stayed over the first two weeks, the next two over the second and third week, last month it had been the third and fourth week. Whether she was on the Pill or not, she should have had a period at some point or other during those weeks and, given that they'd spent a lot of time together, he'd definitely have noticed.

He felt vaguely uncomfortable speculating about his girlfriend in this way, but the thought was being drowned out by the voice in the back of his head screaming ohmyGod-ohmyGod-ohmyGOD-what-if-she's-pregnant-what-if-she's-PREGNANT? Well, he reasoned frantically, if she were pregnant, she could not be more than a few weeks along… no sickness, no weight gain. She'd been drinking. Would Sienna drink if she were pregnant? Somehow, he doubted it… but what if she didn't know? How much had she had before he arrived? Not much, obviously, she was still quite sober, maybe just a few sips…

"Bobby, are you okay?" Her voice broke in on his mind's frantic churning.

"Huh?"

"You've gone as stiff as a board, and whilst I'm generally in favour of that as a principle, not exactly like this."

"Aahhh… it's just been a really, really bad day at work."

"Sorry to hear that. You want to do something to help de-stress?" The invitation in her voice was obvious. The voice in the back of his head took the opportunity to remind him that, even if she hadn't been pregnant before, she quite possibly was now, given what they'd just done. Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. He wasn't sure what was more worrying, the possibility that she might be pregnant or the fact the thought caused an entirely unexpected feeling of elation - elation mixed with panic, fear and worry, but elation never the less. Before he could reply, the sound of her stomach growling saved him. She giggled.

"Oops, sorry. Haven't eaten for a while."

"You want to go out to eat? I don't feel like cooking." He didn't feel like eating either, but it got him out of having to explain to her why he suddenly didn't want to make love to her either.

"Yeah, why not? I need to shower. You want to join me?"

I want to know if you're on the Pill, and if not, why you didn't tell me. No, that was not the way to ask. He needed time to think. "Umm… my foot's still bad." He explained briefly about the twisted ankle. "You go ahead… I'm going to go see if I've got any ice or ibuprofen."

"Uh-huh." She wriggled off the bed and wandered off towards the shower, turning back at the door to smile in invitation. He returned the smile, feeling like a liar as he did so. She shut the door behind her, and he let out a long breath.

What now? Had Sienna been lying to him all this time? He ran through the facts. One, she had had no periods whilst he'd known her. Two, she claimed to be on the Pill – she'd told him that just before the first time they'd - but he'd never seen her take it, and the absence of periods suggested she wasn't, in fact, taking it. He briefly considered going through her suitcase to see if he could find any pill packets, but rejected that because if she suddenly remembered she'd left something she needed in it, she'd catch him doing it and that would lead to some very awkward questions.

Awkward questions were undoubtedly going to be a feature of the near future anyway, but, even so, he wanted to be in control of the situation. I thought I WAS in control of the situation… He stared at the bathroom door. Normally, he'd not have thought twice about joining her in there, picturing her in the shower, water and soap running over her curves. Less than twenty minutes ago, I was screaming her name, telling her she was beautiful. Now I'm wondering if she's carrying my child. Hardly the first man ever to be in that situation, but he'd never have thought it would happen to him.

What were the possibilities? One, she was lying about the Pill and was a few weeks pregnant from an earlier encounter – they'd always used condoms, but even so, one accident was all it took… and she'd just not been in New York during her period when she'd stayed with him the first couple of months. He swiftly repressed the jumble of feelings that evoked, and moved on to option two. She was lying about the Pill and had some other reason for not having periods.

Barren for some reason? That would let him off the hook, and would explain the absence of periods… but he hoped not, for reasons he didn't care to examine too closely. What were the other options? Transsexual? That was a real outside possibility. He doubted it – no scarring, either mental or physical, and she had the sort of stretch marks over her hips and breasts you'd expect from a born female who'd gone through a growth spurt. He forced himself to face the fact that he didn't want her to be transsexual; it wouldn't say much for his abilities as a detective if he couldn't spot something like that about his own girlfriend. Therefore, it was either option one or two. Unfortunately, the only way he was going to find out, he realised, was to ask her.

Nearly an hour later, showered, clothed and hunting for a meal, he still hadn't worked out the best way to approach the problem. In keeping with how his day had gone so far, they'd hopped out of the cab to find that their favourite restaurant was closed, and had turned round to find that the cab had accepted another fare and was halfway down the street. As the rain began once more to fall, they'd dived swiftly into the nearest place that looked halfway decent. It was attempting to be an Italian bistro; since the chef was Greek, the headwaiter Chinese, and the waitress who'd showed them to their table from what sounded to him like northern England, the attempt was not exactly successful. Still, it was nearly full, and some of the other diners were obviously regulars, so hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.

Sienna was perusing the menu with eagerness. He'd thought before, privately, that she seemed to prove the truth of the old saying about girls who liked their food. Sienna enjoyed pretty much every kind of sensual pleasure that came her way. Then again, he'd noticed that Eames liked to eat too… ah hell, Eames, he thought, with a sense of frustration at how things had been going between the two of them lately. He had no idea what the problem was, and he didn't think he'd done anything to piss her off. It just seemed as though Eames had something else on her mind, something that might be more important than their partnership. He had to admit, the thought of that was uncomfortable, although if he were being fair, perhaps she'd thought that when he'd been in the early stages of his relationship with Sienna. He sighed wearily. It seemed as though right now every relationship in his life was becoming fraught with difficulty.

"What's wrong?"

"Sorry?"

"You're frowning."

"Eames and I – well, I'm a little worried about her right now." He found himself describing the problem to Sienna, who listened with interest, and, he was slightly irked to see, some amusement. Still, at least she wasn't jealous. That had been a sticking point for a couple of other relationships he'd had. Eventually, any prospective partner had to come face-to-face with the fact that he spent most of his waking hours with another woman, one who understood him completely and whom he trusted utterly, and generally that was the point at which things started going wrong.

Sienna so far seemed utterly unfazed by his partnership with Eames. Her one and only comment about it had been "I just assumed that if the two of you were sleeping together, you wouldn't be with me." Well, she was in law-enforcement herself, and understood that the relationship between a cop and his or her partner was one that could become almost as deep and trusting as any romantic relationship. She was smiling now, enigmatically.

"You got any ideas?" he asked.

"A couple, but I could be wrong… anyway, do you want some wine?"

Oh, shit. The "is she pregnant, did she lie about the Pill, what the hell's going on here?" problem reasserted itself with a vengeance.

"Uh… no. Best not with these pills I'm taking for my ankle."

"Okay." She sounded disappointed. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she would not drink if he wasn't; didn't like being more drunk than the person she was with. Although for a small woman, she had a surprising capacity for alcohol; "Russian genes" was her explanation.

The waitress arrived. "Can I take your order?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the steak, medium rare –" He stopped. The waitress looked over her shoulder, then leaned forward conspiratorially. He caught a distinct suggestion of wine on her breath.

"Can I give you a word of advice?" She didn't wait for him to answer, but went on "I wouldn't have the steak. He's really not very good at cooking it; we only have it to compete with that place over the road."

"Do you know why they got shut down?" Sienna broke into what looked like being a monologue on the inferiority of the restaurant over the road, obviously a hated rival.

"I think it was Environmental Health, love. Li? That place over the road? They got shut down last week, wasn't it?" She looked up at the headwaiter, who was passing by at speed, balancing a large pile of plates with the skill of a juggler.

"Oh yes. Rats I hear. But don't worry! They inspected us at the same time; we're fine." He smiled professionally and vanished through the swinging door, yelling at the chef. Sienna was looking amused, and Bobby had a nasty suspicion it was at his expression.

"So what do you recommend?" she asked, wearing her most charming expression. The waitress beamed, and replied, "I'd have the risotto. He's really good at risotto."

"Make that two risottos then – unless there was something else you wanted?" Sienna raised her eyebrows. He shook his head.

"You two want anything to drink?"

"Just water is fine," he replied, a touch more firmly than he'd intended. The waitress shrugged, smiled, collected the menus and disappeared. Sienna was giving him a rather quizzical look. He thought yet again, about how on earth he could ask her what was bothering him.

It was almost amusing, he supposed, if you looked at it from the outside. The great Detective Goren struggling to ask someone a question! But then, when he usually interrogated people he didn't have to worry about sharing a bed with them later on that evening. Oh, God. Well, he could play the "I'm too tired tonight" card, but unfortunately he wasn't, in fact, too tired. As Sienna would find out in about three seconds if she tried snuggling up to him, or touching him, or any of the myriad other pleasant ways they usually ended an evening together, although whether he would be able to perform with this worry hanging over his head was another matter… He needed to think of some way to resolve this, and fast.

"So, how did your friend Elena's birthday party go?" he asked, trying to regain control over the situation and buy some time.

"It went really well, we had a great time, I was so relieved – we've been planning that for months!" Sienna glanced down for a second, and when she looked up, she was smiling so affectionately at him, he involuntarily caught his breath. She looked beautiful; there was no other word for it. "You know-" she paused, obviously trying to find the right words "-most men tend to forgot stuff like that. I like how you always listen when I'm talking to you. Thanks."

He shrugged, trying to keep the tone light. "You know me… I have a good memory."

She smiled back. "Must be why I love you. See you in five." She rose and headed towards the ladies' room. He watched her go, staring dumbly, her words playing repeatedly in his head.

Must be why I… love you. I love you.

Oh… damn. Oh wow. He rubbed his face, and sighed helplessly. Be honest, Goren. You've thought that a few times yourself. Never seemed like the right time to say it, he thought helplessly, but nevertheless, it was the truth. He tried out the words inside his head. I love you. They fit.

When did I fall for her? he wondered wildly. Was it when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep after an especially harrowing case that week, and found her there beside him, and spent an hour holding her and watching her sleep, realising that he didn't have to face the nights alone? When he'd tentatively pushed open the front door after spending the night at Eames' when what had been intended to be an hour or so going over some papers turned into five hours plus falling asleep on the couch, and been greeted with "How's Alex?" not "Where the hell have you been?"

When he'd discovered that, although her claim that she could burn water was accurate as far as her cooking skills went, she was an extremely appreciative eater and always washed up afterwards? When, trembling with nerves and clad in borrowed army fatigues, she'd propositioned him, and then turned out to be warm, sexy, and surprisingly skilful once she'd gotten over her nerves? That had been one of the most memorable and erotic experiences of his life… Oh, damn, he thought, shaking his head in resigned amusement at the whole situation. I've finally fallen for someone, and I can't even tell her until we sort this out.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sienna's return, followed shortly by the waitress, who was bearing two large bowls and some bread. Sienna dug in with enthusiasm. He tasted, and frowned. It wasn't bad, but it was the wrong kind of rice; basmati, not arborio. Sienna looked up at him.

"What's wrong?"

He explained about the rice. Sienna shrugged. "Well, it tastes good anyway," she replied, and kept eating. He followed suit, nibbling unenthusiastically. She noted that, and frowned.

"Bobby, seriously is something wrong? You seem to have had something on your mind all night."

I'm wondering if you're carrying my child. "Could you pass the Parmesan?"

"Sure. What's wrong?" She sounded genuinely concerned.

"Just… a bad day. Lots of different problems to deal with all at once…" he hedged, looking at her, trying desperately to work out if he could see her lying to him about the Pill. To what end, anyway? Why would she want to do that? To get pregnant? He couldn't quite see how that would square with all her ambitions, her new job. He suddenly realised she was speaking, and something in her tone suggested he'd better pay attention.

"Ah… that reminds me. There's something we need to talk about." She paused in her eating for a while, balancing the fork on the bowl.

Oh shit.

"You might have been wondering why I was in your apartment this evening, not staying over with Juliet."

Okay, not quite what I was expecting. "I, uh… assumed you were missing me."

She smiled, a soft smile that would ordinarily have had his heart beating faster. "I was. But, also, last night Juliet's boyfriend proposed."

"Ah."

"Yes. Ah. They didn't throw me out exactly, but… it was pretty obvious that they don't really want anyone else around right now, he's practically moved in with her. Which leaves me with a problem…"

This would be my cue to say, "So, you can come and stay with me instead." Now what? Do I want her to come stay with me? Be honest, Goren. The answer is yes – okay, so we haven't discussed what she wants in the long-term, or whether she sees you as potential father material, and there's the whole fourteen-year age gap – but, even so, and even knowing there's all that to sort out plus whatever this other problem is, still, definitely, YES.

Or at least, he mused, it would have been yes – if he could be certain that he hadn't totally misjudged her. He recalled her expression when she'd been discussing her new job two weeks ago – so keen, so excited, so happy – and suddenly he reached a conclusion. She couldn't possibly be as excited and confident about her job if she thought she might suddenly have to leave it to go on maternity leave, and she knows there's no way she could simultaneously help create this new squad and become a first-time mother, so she CAN'T be either pregnant or trying to be. There must be another explanation, and this is where you have to ask her what it is. The other alternative to all this – that his ability to judge someone's character could be off – he rejected out of hand. Right, how do I ask this?

"… and my father is the Emperor of Japan, and my mother is a small tray of raspberry puddings," Sienna concluded, and fixed him with an annoyed glare.

Whuh? His brain tried desperately to process that last sentence, and came up with "I didn't know you read Terry Pratchett – that's from 'Maskerade,' isn't it?" as a delaying tactic whilst he tried frantically to read Sienna's expression, which was one part normal female annoyance at not being listened to, to several parts… something he wasn't sure of, but which was not good. She was frowning quite severely, an expression he'd never seen her use on him before, but if she regularly used it on others he could begin to understand where her new reputation for keeping people in line was coming from.

"Yes, it is. I read a great deal when I'm in the air. You have spent the entire evening looking at me as if I'm a particularly difficult suspect, and you're not quite sure how to get me to crack. What's wrong?"

He covered his mouth with his hand – a classic 'I don't quite know what to say next' gesture, he realised with some annoyance – and returned the stare. Whatever she saw in his eyes caused her expression to soften somewhat, but she was clearly not going to let this go. "Bobby – you may be great at mind games, but I'm not. I work better with honesty. Please, just tell me what's wrong."

"I've spent the past hour or so wondering why it is that I've never seen you take the Pill, and you seem to have no periods," he replied, and instantly thought of three ways he could have phrased that better. Or possibly not? Sienna looked – baffled at first, then slightly embarrassed and amused.

"Ah. Yes, I see how that could be a problem. Have you spent the past evening wondering if I'm pregnant?"

He nodded.

"Ah. Right." She leaned over the table and covered his free hand with both of hers, looking him intently in the eyes.

"You have to promise to let me get all the way to the end of this next sentence."