She yawns, unable to hold it in, unsure why she's so exhausted this morning when they had a relatively quiet weekend. Dinner out on Saturday evening, a walk along the river yesterday, and the rest of the time spent at home, including the two hour sleep she fell into against Dempsey's shoulder while he was watching a film last night. Followed somehow by the solid seven hours of sleep she then had after he nudged her softly awake with an amused look in his eyes and told her it was probably time for bed.
There's a half slice of toast in front of her that she's barely touched because her stomach feels slightly peculiar, and she really hopes she's not coming down with something. They have so much on this week at work and then they have a weekend at Winfield Hall planned which she really doesn't want to have to cancel. She's really been missing her father lately and she wants to see him. She snaps out of her thoughts when Dempsey puts a mug of coffee down in front of her and she smiles her thanks at him. It's halfway to her lips when she feels her stomach lurch so she puts it back on the desk and takes a deep breath, trying to will away the sudden nausea, succeeding only in making the room spin slightly. She closes her eyes and exhales slowly, pushing her chair back from the desk slightly, fearing a hasty exit might be imminent and wanting to be able to make it without drawing attention to herself too blatantly. When she opens her eyes again he's leaning across the desk, concern written all over his face.
"You okay?" His voice is low and she glances quickly around, thankful that nobody else seems to have noticed anything amiss, before shaking her head slightly in response.
"I don't feel too good," she says quietly, feeling like it's her biggest understatement of recent times. "I'm going to sit in the locker room for a few minutes, see if it passes."
"You do look…" He pauses, frowning, a worried look in his eyes. "A little pale, princess."
"My stomach just feels a bit off. Maybe I just ate something that didn't agree with me. God, I hope I'm not coming down with something, I don't have bloody time for a stomach bug, not this week." She pushes the mug of coffee and the plate of toast away, wincing slightly as the smell of the coffee sends the wave of nausea rushing back in. "I'll be fine, I just need a minute."
She knows even as she pushes through the door and walks into the locker room that he'll probably follow, and actually, she hopes he does. When one of their desks is empty, the other usually is too, so nobody will think anything of it, they'll likely just think they're in the canteen or on their way out, or, even better, nobody will give it a thought at all. She sits down on the bench and takes several deep breaths, trying to think about something calming...like their upcoming weekend with her father, her weekends there always feel like being wrapped in a giant, comforting blanket. She somehow enjoys her time there even more now that Dempsey comes with her, and she loves how much her father adores him. He kept his opinions largely to himself, quite uncharacteristically, when she got married, but vocalised them once her divorce was finalised (if she remembers correctly, it went something along the lines of "Thank the bloody lord that wastrel is finally out of the picture, Harriet. Maybe now you can meet someone who actually deserves you."). He's much more vocal about his admiration for Dempsey and very clear about the fact that he's delighted they're more than just partners at work now. It's been six weeks or so since their last visit and she misses her father more as he gets older, and as she gets older too.
The nausea seems to subside only to be replaced by a rush of dizziness that makes her very glad she's already sitting down. She leans forward and drops her head down between her knees, hoping when she hears the door open a few seconds later that it's nobody other than Dempsey coming to check on her.
"Harry?" The familiar voice comes close and she feels him sit down on the bench beside her, his hand moving to gently rub her back. "I was about to ask if you're okay but that seems like a dumb question."
"I am okay, I just felt a bit dizzy. I'll be fine, I just…" She lifts her head slowly to look at him, attempting but failing to smile.
"Maybe I should take you home, you really do look kind of...green." The hand on her back keeps rubbing, his soothing touch helping slightly. "You didn't feel great yesterday either."
"I know but it had passed by lunchtime, I was fine after that." As she hears herself say it, tiny alarm bells start to ring inside her head. "I'm sure it's nothing, I'll be alright."
"Do you want me to get you anything? Tea? Some toast?" He really does look worried and she loves him for it.
"No, I really don't feel…" There's no doubt this time, she's going to be sick. Steadying herself with a hand on his thigh, she stands up and runs for the toilet stall in the corner of the room. "Oh God."
She can't think about the fact she's kneeling on possibly the world's dirtiest floor in one of her nicest skirts because right now she really has no choice. She hasn't eaten since dinner last night so her poor stomach is attempting to evacuate almost nothing. Her elbows are on the toilet seat, her head in her hands as she waits for her churning insides to return to some kind of normal. Six weeks, she thinks. They had a weekend with her father six weeks ago and since then she doesn't remember if she...oh God, surely not.
"Shit." She hears herself murmur and she squeezes her eyes closed, hoping the worst of it has passed. Although possibly only until tomorrow, if the two and two she's beginning to put together do indeed make four. "Shit, shit...shit."
She gives herself another minute to be sure her stomach has given up on torturing her for now before she pushes herself up off the floor, washes her hands, and wipes her mouth. Daring to glance into the mirror, it only succeeds in confirming that yes, she has definitely looked better. Slowly she makes her way back over to the bench and reaches for her bag on the floor, thankful she thought to grab it when she left her desk. She takes out her hairbrush and makes a vague attempt at tidying herself up and as she slides the brush back into her bag she spots her diary and reaches for it. Before she can take it out, the door opens and Dempsey comes back in, closing the door behind him and coming to sit beside her.
"Here…" He hands her a glass of water and puts a small pile of biscuits wrapped in a napkin on the bench between them. She shakes her head and is about to protest but he anticipates it and stops her. "They're the plainest ones I could find. You just cleared out the contents of your stomach, Harry, you need to try and eat something."
"Okay, I know. I know." She knows he's right so she takes a drink of water and nibbles cautiously on a biscuit, smiling at him. "Thanks."
"No problem." His hand moves to her back again and he starts to rub gently. "You feeling any better?"
"A bit." She nods and takes another bite of the biscuit in her hand, and they sit quietly for a few seconds. She wonders if the same thought running through her head has even entered his. "Dempsey, do you think…"
She stops because there's a knock at the door followed by the sight of Spikings peering into the room.
"Everything alright in here, you two?" There's a curious look on their boss's face, his eyebrows raised as if to punctuate his question.
"Sorry, sir, yes, everything's fine, thank you." She manages a small smile in his direction. "We'll just be a few minutes."
"You sure?" He frowns, glancing between her and Dempsey. "If you don't mind my saying, you look a little...peaky, Sergeant."
"I'm okay, really, just a bit under the weather, I think." She has no idea if she's at all convincing but she has to try. "We'll be right out."
To his credit, he doesn't push any further, he simply nods and backs out of the room, leaving them as they were.
"You know, we both ate pretty much the same all weekend and I'm fine…" Ah, perhaps he is starting to think along the same lines as she is. "So I don't think it can be something you ate."
"Maybe it's a stomach virus or something, one of those awful twenty four hour things…" Even to her own ears it makes little sense. No stomach bug she's ever known works to a schedule like this.
"Yeah, maybe." He shrugs lightly and the hand on her back moves higher to gently squeeze her shoulder. "What's the name of that virus that only shows up for a couple of hours each morning? I can't seem to remember."
"I know, I know...this isn't a stomach bug, is it?" She's not looking for an answer because it feels like the answer is already staring her in the face. "Oh God, Dempsey…"
Sighing, she pulls her diary out of her bag and flicks back several weeks, finding 'Home- Freddy's Birthday' clearly marked, and five days earlier the circle she's been marking in her diary for years, with almost military precision. Scrolling forward to around the point where she'd expect to see the next mark she finds precisely...nothing and she feels her heart pounding at the possibility. Whether it's from fear or excitement she really doesn't know.
"Perhaps I just forgot to mark it down last time. We were busy at work, we had Daddy's birthday, and…" She tries to cast her mind back, thinking that she must have just forgotten to put the usual little circle in her diary, even if that would make it the first time in sixteen years she's ever forgotten.
"You're the most methodical person I've ever met. I mean, you may as well wear your little notepad around your neck. So…" He pauses and his fingers keep moving slowly and softly over her shoulder, the feel of his touch so comforting that she almost turns and throws herself into his arms. "I'll hold my hands up if I'm wrong, Harry, but my instinct tells me if it's not written down then it's probably because it didn't happen."
"Well then, I'm obviously not so methodical that I didn't forget to take a bloody pill or two somewhere along the way, if that's what this is." She turns to look at him, surprised and somewhat relieved to find him looking a full one hundred percent calmer than she currently feels. "This is a disaster, isn't it? I mean, this wasn't in our plans at all, and I-"
"Ah, princess." He shifts slightly and takes her face in his hands, running his thumbs softly across her cheekbones and stopping her, thankfully, before she can catastrophise any further. "Listen I know it's real easy for me to sit here and say it's not a disaster, but...I'm pretty sure this was in our plans, just maybe not right now. I don't think I'm miles off base thinking we were going to get married and have kids sooner or later. We've definitely talked about it, right? So maybe we're just checking the box marked sooner."
"But...now?" She hears the shake in her voice which means he probably hears it too.
"I'm definitely no expert, and God knows I'm going to have a ton of reading to do but I do know this isn't something that happens overnight, so not right now, no." He smiles at her and the look in his eyes is so full of tenderness that she feels her own fill with tears. "Oh shit, don't cry, honey. It'll be okay, we'll be okay."
"I'm not crying. Well, I am crying, but I'm just a little...overwhelmed, that's all." She wipes her eyes and returns his smile. "And you're being so calm and so sweet, damn you."
"What do you want me to do, yell at you?" His hands move down again to her shoulders and his fingers squeeze softly.
"Not particularly, no." She has never felt like this, completely overcome by such a mix of emotions, to the point where she doesn't know whether to laugh, cry, or curl up into a ball and hope it goes away. "But I'd probably understand if you did."
"What do you mean?" He slides his arm around her, pulling her towards him, and she feels him press a kiss to the side of her head. "Why would I yell at you?"
"Well, this isn't exactly…" She sighs again, not really sure what she's thinking and definitely unsure of what it is she's trying to say. "I've clearly dropped the ball somewhere along the way and landed us here, and I-"
"Hey, I'm pretty sure this is a fifty fifty kind of situation here." His hand feels warm and somehow calming on her shoulder. "I don't think you were dropping that ball alone. I think I had some balls involved too."
"Well yes, I would have to agree with that." She doesn't know how he's managing to make her laugh right now, but he is, and she's grateful for it. "Are you really as calm about this as you seem to be?"
"God no, not even a little bit. I'm totally freaking out here, I'm just...doing it on the inside. You know, in my cool New York style." She lifts her head to look at him, a little surprised to see him grinning widely at her. "But it's not because I think this is a bad thing. The opposite, actually."
"Right then. Okay…" She takes a deep breath and opts for her default whenever she's inclined to panic; practical, logical, rational. "So firstly I need to make an appointment with my doctor as soon as I can so we can find out for sure that what we think is going on actually is what's going on. I also need to somehow figure out how to make it through the mornings without needing to constantly dash for the loo, because I really don't think I can face kneeling on that floor every bloody day. But for now we need to go back to our desks, get some work done, and say nothing to anyone, and that includes my father next weekend."
"God, I love it when you switch into cool, organised Sergeant mode, it's so…" He glances up towards the door before leaning into her and kissing her quickly, sweetly. "Sexy."
"Oh, it is, is it?" She sighs, daring to allow a faint feeling of calm to begin to move back into place. "Well, make the most of it. If this turns out to be a false alarm, I'm quite possibly going to live in fear of us ever having sex again."
"And if it's not a false alarm?" He grins at her and she realises that he really wants this, that he has no doubts whatsoever.
"Then we'll probably still never have sex again. I mean, do people ever have time once they have a baby?" She stands up cautiously, partly to check she doesn't feel the room spinning around her, partly because they really do need to get back to work. "Although I suppose people do somehow manage to have more than one, so-"
"More than one? Now you're talking." His grin broadens and she shakes her head even as she's unable to hold back her smile in response.
He stands too and she leans into him, relaxing against his chest as she feels his arms slide around her and his lips brush softly across the top of her head.
"We'll be good, Harry, I know it." She tightens her hold on him and hopes he's right.