"Fuck." Tracey couldn't help smiling as she looked over their closing arguments. Kelly's swearing was surprisingly customary at home. While she kept all but the most frustration induced cussing to herself at work, at their place it was completely different. Tracey stopped and mentally checked herself. At home? Their place? Where did THAT come from? The apartment was Tracey's, of course, but Kelly spent so much time there….still, when did it become their home? She paused in her review of the speech, shaking her head with another a wry smile. Funny the way things change.

"Fuck." Kelly stormed into the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge door and pulling out a bottle of beer. She snapped the top off on the edge of the bar and leaned moodily on the doorframe. Tracey looked up, surprised at the show of temper, her smile falling slowly, replaced by a look of concern. She could see Kelly taking a swig through the space above the bar that looked into the kitchen. She looked like a rain cloud was about to appear above her head and douse her with water.

"Anything wrong?" She queried, looking Kelly over critically. Her partner looked as if she didn't hear her, lost in thoughts of her own. "Kelly?" Tracey drew the name out like she was pulling toffee.

"What?" She looked up, retaining the irritable expression and tone to her voice. Tracey watched her incredulously and Kelly sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry, Trace. I'm just a bit pissed." Her voice had softened back to her regular lilt and she shot Tracey an apologetic smile before taking another drink from the bottle. Tracey stood up, dropping the papers on the coffee table, and walked over to the bar. She sat down on a chair and leaned on her forearms, the concerned look back on her face.

"What's the matter?" Tracey asked, looking Kelly over critically, as if searching for some physical trouble. Kelly glanced up at Tracey, giving her a thoughtless smile and directed her eyes back to the floor. She twisted the bottle in her hands.

"I'm late, is all." She said this looking at the ground, then tossing her blonde head back to take another drink from the half empty bottle. Tracey looked momentarily puzzled.

"Late?" Kelly nodded, scratching at the corner of the label, peeling it off the condensation covered glass. She was still leaning against the doorframe, facing Tracey, one leg out straight in front of her, the other bent at the knee. Her eyes were a blue blur as she looked back up at her partner.

"Yeah. Just a few weeks but… you know how regular I am." Kelly shrugged, eyeing the top drawer under the bar where Tracey's hands rested. She didn't really know why it bothered her so much but it just did. She was a relatively routine person. Not like Tracey, definitely not so much. But organization and timing was certainly a characteristic they shared. This didn't conform to her schedule. And it pissed her off. She felt like kicking something and the fact that she didn't know why made it worse.

"Like clockwork. I plan around your PMS like a review day at work." Tracey smirked, a smirk which tapered off as she looked at Kelly. She wasn't meeting her eyes much, looking at the floor. What's the matter? Oh Christ, have I done something? Tracey thought. Fuck, typical me… Suddenly, a cold chill slid down Tracey's spine like a drop of ice and began to spread through her chest. She couldn't be… No, they were together. A couple. What a stupid thing to think. Kelly shook her head again and took another drink.

"Yeah, it's just strange." Kelly scuffed her bare foot against the kitchen floor, considering her toenails. They needed to be painted. The pearly pink sheen was wearing off, chipped at the edges. She was sincerely thankful for something to look at, tenuously viable a distraction as it was. For some reason, she just didn't feel like looking at Tracey. She felt grumpy and off colour. She hadn't been eating well in the last few days and she'd thrown up that morning. Not that Tracey new. She'd have a fit if she thought Kelly was sick.

"Maybe you've been working too hard, honey. A little time off might do the trick?" Tracey suggested nudgingly, hoping Kelly would respond. As her partner didn't move an inch or say a word, Tracey sighed and continued, "I think you're too stressed. And I don't want you messing up your health just so you can watch me lose my temper with defence attorneys." Tracey dipped her head trying to catch Kelly's eye with a small smile at her self deprecating comment. Kelly did smile but it was a wan, colourless show. Tracey wasn't impressed. Lying still on their bed, not moving except for the occasional blink, she'd heard Kelly coughing up her what was left of her dinner that morning. She'd been worried. She knew Kelly had been off her food and had to be entreated into taking some lasagne the night before. She also knew, however, that Kelly wouldn't like her to fuss by bringing up her nausea, so to speak.

"I'm fine, Tracey. I'm not taking time off." Kelly shifted her weight, her head rolling to the side and back again to stare invariably at the kitchen floor.

"Kelly, I…" Tracey began, trying to get her partner to see sense.

"Tracey, no! How much clearer can I be?" Kelly snapped, looking up at Tracey with fire in her eyes. The older woman was taken aback by this attack, shocked at Kelly's response. What the hell was going on…?

You know Kibre, you know… said a spiteful voice inside her head but she pushed it away. Jesus, this is not the time for self doubting crap. Kelly's with me. Kelly's mine. I'm hers. Shut. Up. Though Kelly's behaviour was confusing, to say the least. Who are you and what have you done with my gorgeous, sweet tempered girlfriend? She wanted to say, but she knew that Kelly would snap again. Quieting her inner dialogue, Tracey's eyes slid away from her partner who was moodily rubbing the back of her neck with one hand.

"Okay." Kelly's eyes looked as hard as granite, staring relentlessly at the opposite side of the door frame. Tracey felt confused and a little hurt. She didn't know what was going on. All certainty about anything within her apartment had been swept out the door. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, looking back at Kelly. The blonde dropped her hand sharply so that it hit her thigh with a slap and she laughed bitterly. Tracey was severely taken aback by the light in her eyes. Never had she seen those beautiful blue eyes seem so cold.

"Sorry? That's not the Tracey Kibre I know." Kelly smiled without any warmth or happiness. She was being cruel, she knew, but it felt good to take it out on Tracey. She didn't know what was happening with her, why she'd been sick or felt irritated all the time. She would become frustrated with the tiniest little things and if anything worse came along, she run to the bathrooms and cry. She felt hideous and out of her body. That was the worst part. She didn't even feel herself anymore. And if tearing strips off Tracey would feed the bitch she seemed to be now, so be it.

"I… I don't know what's up Kelly but I am trying to help." Tracey stammered. She never faltered like that. She was never uncertain, never this confused. This was so out of character, she felt like the world had been turned upside down. She and Kelly usually had no communication problems. If anything, they gave away too much. They knew each others' body language like they knew the alphabet. And yet Tracey didn't know what was going on and why Kelly was behaving this way. She stood up, staying behind the bar. "I know you haven't been eating well lately and I heard you being sick this morning…" Kelly huffed, as if it was the most irrelevant thing in the world. Tracey persisted, "Kelly, if there's anything you want to tell me…" She left a space for the burning blonde to fill in. With words, please with words. But again, that harsh mirthless laughter.

"Oh, right. You're so worried about me, aren't you? I would've thought slimmers disorders were more your thing, Tracey."

That was cold. Tracey flinched as if Kelly had physically slapped her. It'd been more than once that she'd been accused of starving herself, having a problem, because of her small frame. Her mother had told her as a teenager that people were just jealous. Then again, her mother had been digging into a tub of Lo-Fat ice cream at the time, while looking up the points it carried in her diet book. She probably didn't know as much about the matter as she professed to. Tracey had been taken aside countless times by concerned professors, roommates, friends and colleagues to be quizzed on her eating habits and self image. She tired quickly of having to reassure them all. This, Kelly knew. So why she was making such a heartless accusation, Tracey had no idea.

"That's not what I meant… I'm just trying…That's not funny, Kelly." Tracey's voice shook a little, belying the pain she felt and the slowly rising anger. Kelly downed the last of her beer and looked Tracey straight in the eye with a cool unruffled stare that made Tracey shiver.

"It wasn't meant to be." Tracey narrowed her eyes at Kelly, watching her stand there with her arms folded, holding the empty bottle in one hand. She stood unmoving for several seconds and then turned with a disbelieving noise to walk back to the couch. She picked up the typed pages and began to scan the first few lines. But she was angry now.

Kelly turned to the fridge with a calmness that was really not befitting of the situation. Not to the regular Kelly, anyway. But she was long gone. This new, vicious persona was taking over and Kelly didn't know how to fight it. She didn't know where it came from or why it took so much pleasure in hurting Tracey but she didn't actually care. This was Kelly now and she was thirsty for blood.

Pulling the fridge door open with much more restraint than the first time, Kelly selected another bottle from the bottom shelf. Letting the door swing shut, she sauntered around the corner and into the living room. She leaned on the bar and twisted the lid off the bottle with her hand. Tossing the lid onto the counter with a metallic ping, Kelly took a gulp of beer and leaned her hip against the bar, watching Tracey feign concentration when she was truly pissed. She smiled.

"Tracey.."
"What?" Tracey snapped, an irate, if a little exasperated, look on her face. She didn't seem as angry as Kelly expected, more tired. Kelly noted the papers in her hand were shaking ever so slightly.

"I've never really thought.." Kelly directed her gaze across the room at the half open blinds as if considering some unanswerable question, something really noble and interesting. Tracey cut her off, not in the mood for crap.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Kelly looked back at Tracey, her face blank. Tracey studied her for a moment and then laughed humourlessly, very similar to Kelly's mocking refrain from earlier, but aimed bitterly at herself. "I am so fucking blind." She dropped her head and ran her fingers through her curls. "So fucking blind."

"You mean so fucking self assured. Leaping to conclusions, aren't you?" Kelly tossed back disinterestedly, taking another sip of her beer. She was losing equilibrium slowly. Good. I don't think I can take my own bitchiness, she thought. She felt sick of herself, sick of the situation, sick of everything. She just wanted to be left alone with her alcohol to self medicate.

"So you deny it?" Tracey waited a beat, praying in the back of her mind that Kelly would interject with something, anything to fix the situation. When nothing came, Tracey gave in to her urge to fight Kelly. It was a protection, of sorts. "Who is he then?"

Kelly nearly cackled at this, her throaty laugh echoing around the apartment, more like Tracey's than her own. Must be the beer, she thought. Speaking of… she downed the rest of the bottle in one go. Ah, everything was lighter and a little fuzzy. The world is so much easier to deal with when slightly blurred. Lightweight, a voice in her head chided. Still, it had it's advantages.

"Wouldn't you like to know." It just came out. She didn't necessarily mean for it to but it did and now Tracey was staring at her, gaping openly. She sat frozen, looking up at Kelly with shock and a trace of horror imprinted on her face. Kelly admired her handiwork blandly. Very nice. Very… traumatized. A very teenage voice remarked, Cool.

"I…. I'm going." Tracey struggled to move her lips. Her jaw felt locked in one position. Her head felt like it was being constricted by a metal band. The same feeling hit her chest. Her heart. Oh Christ… She hadn't expected that. She'd asked the question but she hadn't expected that answer. It hurt. Suddenly, she was up and off the couch, walking blindly towards the front door. As she pulled her coat off the hook and grabbed her keys from the table, she was dimly aware of Kelly following her. She grasped the door knob and pulled the door open, turning at the threshold. She caught the blue of Kelly's lazy, lightless eyes. Oh god.

"Don't be here when I get back."

Kelly felt a sharp pain in her chest but it was vague, dulled. Like someone else had been stuck with a needle. Not her, not her body. But she felt it nonetheless. All she could do was follow Tracey with her eyes, lingering on her hips, her waist, her breasts covered by a thin red sweater. Her partner's brown eyes that looked blank and in terrible pain at once. How does she do that, she thought slowly, watching Tracey stand there. Kelly raised her empty bottle in a sort of distant farewell toast. Tracey let out a gasp, maybe a sob, and whirled, slamming the door behind her.

Kelly felt like a part of her had gone. But somehow, she didn't care. She shrugged and opened the cupboard next to her deliberately, yanking down a travel bag from the top shelf. Setting the glass bottle with a clink on the hall table, she turned towards the bedroom, lifting the case with one hand. She needed to pack.