It was the twentieth of April when Detective Nick Valentine sighed heavily into his tepid cup of coffee, in the poorly-lit basement of the Cambridge police department, and begrudgingly admitted to himself that just maybe he was making a big deal out of absolutely nothing.

It was getting harder to pretend that he wasn't biting off more Operation Winter's End than he could chew, he'd started making mistakes… just this morning he'd left behind a pile of dossiers concerning the mobster's hardest working grunts on the kitchen table. Technically those papers weren't even allowed to leave the station… if anyone else needed them today he was in for a hell of a chewing out from Widmark.

And what was he doing now? Hogging the departments holotape player and obsessively running through their latest piece of evidence over and over and over… Why? Because something was bugging him… The last time a fellow investigator said something like that in front of him Nick had gently suggested that it was time to take that trip to the lake they'd been talking about for the past year.

Despite his inner chastising he reached out and pressed the play button on the machine yet again, after almost three hours of repeating the tape it was due more to muscle memory than any desire to listen to Eddie Winter's smug, slightly gravelly voice for the thousandth time…

"Message to Johnny Montrano… Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You fat, lazy piece of shit. I knew, I KNEW this arrangement was too good to be true. Let's join forces with the North End! Bury the hatchet, work mutually against a common enemy! Well you put the nail in that coffin, huh boy-o? What did you have to do Johnny? Huh? What was your job? Sit in your car, on the corner. Keep your eyes open. If you see a uniform, you get out, walk down the street, knock on the door, and let the fellas know there's trouble coming. Easy as pie, right? I coulda got a nine-year-old from the projects to do it. But no. In the interest of Irish/Italian relations, I give the job to you. So what happens? Nothing. Nothing happens. You sit on your fat ass dribbling cannoli cream onto your third chin. You watch. You WATCH the uniform blow months of planning, all in two minutes. Congratulations, Johnny. You got me. You and your pals sure put the screws to old Eddie Winter. You should tell this funny story to your little girl, when you tuck her in at night. In that corner bedroom, upstairs, pink wallpaper, little house on Prince Street. Ha ha… Eddie Winter, signing off"

As the recording ended with a soft click Nick swiped a hand across his face and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his closed eyes in a futile attempt to banish the headache gradually blooming there. Just as he suspected, the latest play-through yielded nothing more than what was already dictated. And just as he suspected, something undefinable about the message still continued to niggle at the back of his brain, steadily driving him crazy.

He pressed the eject button on the console and conceded that Nora was probably right… he shouldn't be so surprised, she was always right when it came to things like this.

Today marked the second day he'd spent an inordinate amount of time over-analyzing the holotape in front of him. At the end of the first day he'd returned home and bounced ideas off his shrewd lawyer wife as they carefully assembled a chest of drawers for the nursery together, it'd become something of a family activity… do the chores, furnish the baby's room and discuss the gritty, grisly details of Boston's criminal underground. Nora had proven invaluable time-and-time again whenever he was stuck on something, and she seemed to relish the opportunity to mull over his cases… the assignments at her new job weren't nearly as exciting as what she'd become used to at the district attorney's office after all.

Her most recent speculation regarding his fixation with the latest Eddie Winter recording was that Nick's fatherly instincts were beginning to kick in… causing him to empathize with the little Montrano girl, whose dad had been officially reported missing a week earlier. Even if Johnny was a fat, moronic criminal scumbag to the rest of the world his kid must still be going through hell wondering when her daddy was coming home.

Regardless, he clearly wasn't going to find anything else of use by wearing out a key piece of recorded evidence, no matter how much it made his brain itch. The detective pocketed the yellow rectangle before vacating the basement room in search of a new angle… and maybe a fresh cup of coffee.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Nora Valentine pressed her fist into the small of her back in an effort to dispel the near-constant ache she suffered from now, and begrudgingly admitted to herself that just maybe she had a tiny bit of "pregnancy brain"… or so her father called it.

Why else, on her day off, would she be standing in an unfamiliar neighborhood located halfway between her apartment and her workplace? Because she'd been trying to be a good wife…

After leafing through the stack of folders that Nick had forgotten to take with him she realized that if they didn't get back to the precinct before someone else went looking for them then her husband could get into a lot of trouble. So she'd loaded them into her work satchel and headed for the local train station… only for her to zone out and automatically board the train that took her to work instead of the line that went through Cambridge. She'd only noticed her mistake when the trip terminated prematurely at Andrew Station due to an accident at a nearby construction site.

It was thanks to the same accident that she was now forced to seek out a payphone and call for her dad to come and rescue her… both the route home again and the Cambridge line had been halted for the time being, and she hadn't seen a taxi as of yet… they were starting to become rarer as the price of fuel continued to rise.

Nora huffed to herself in annoyance, shifting her heavy bag from one stiff shoulder to the other as she finally spied a public phone in front of a diner… her father was never going to let her forget this… he'd be regaling his clients ten years from now with the tale of how he'd had to collect his full-grown daughter, with her hormone-addled brain, from a strange neighborhood after weeks of steadfast insistence that she was as sharp as she'd always been.

She thought briefly of calling Nick instead as she picked up the receiver, but in all honesty, she'd rather keep this little mental meltdown a secret from him. Her dad would laugh it up for a few days at the most… but her husband would fret and watch her like a hawk until the baby arrived.

After feeding the machine a few pieces of change, and exchanging pleasantries with her father's secretary, she found herself biting the insides of her cheeks as Franklin Fitzsimons gleefully mocked her from the other end of the line… it didn't seem polite (or particularly smart) to snap at the person helping her out of a pickle.

"Okay, I'll be there soon" he finally agreed after getting the last of his chuckles out. "Get us a table in that diner, I haven't had lunch yet. Do you think they serve meatball subs?"

Nora glanced over her shoulder and scanned the prominent signage of Joe's Spuckies sandwich shop before replying.

"Their mascot is a meatball sub, so it's probably a safe bet"

It was almost an hour later, seated in one of the bright red booths of Joe's Spuckies, when Nora started to mentally revise her policy on getting angry with people she needed help from, her blasted father had absolutely zero boundaries.

Though it was comforting to know she wasn't the only one who missed working on assignments with actual criminals… the majority of cases that Fitzsimons & Stone dealt with generally boiled down to petty squabbles between rival companies and the occasional rich couple getting a divorce.

"Hah! Look at this" Frank laughed, pointing at a line of text in the folder he was currently perusing. "This guy tried to rob a jewelry store with a bag on his head, right? But he tied it too tight and passed out from suffocation halfway through! The cops had to carry him outta there!"

"Give me that!" Nora snapped, lunging forward to grab the stolen police document, only to fail when her reach was impeded by her baby-belly pressing against the edge of the table.

"Do you really think Winter would recruit idiots like these?" he asked, completely unconcerned with his daughter's mounting irritation.

"Somehow I don't think they're the ones in charge of planning the heists" she hissed through her teeth. "Now give me the goddamn folders! You're not even supposed to know about those!"

"Neither are you, honey" he retorted with a raised brow.

She deserved that, Nora mused with a frown. It served her right for thinking that her dad would stay out of her bag while she went to the bathroom.

Huffing as she sat back in her seat she began rubbing circles against her stomach in the dim hope that the repetitive motion would aid digestion, calm the baby and maybe put an end to the volley of blows being dealt to her liver.

It was hard to tell if the little one was happy or upset with whatever she ate… usually with the grace and enthusiasm of an overpowered wood-chipper, thanks to her increased appetite. The baby kicked her almost constantly now… when she ate… when she worked… and especially when she tried to sleep. Her child seemed to operate entirely on the occasional three-minute cat nap and a steady supply of Fancy Lads snack cakes…

Huh… maybe that was the problem. Their unborn son or daughter was a sugar fiend of the highest order. If she hadn't gotten pregnant Nora might have never discovered that it was possible to crave something and hate it at the same time. She made a mental note to ask her doctor about healthier substitutes during her next check-up… then lowered her hopes when she remembered that he'd changed his mind about her due date four times so far.

Her chain of thought was broken by a snort of laughter from her father, who'd moved on to another criminal's biography, and she shot him a disapproving glare… which failed to quell Frank's amusement, but succeeded in teasing a smirk and a nod from the gentleman seated in the booth next to theirs…

The gesture seemed oddly familiar.

While her dad continued to leaf through the stack of classified documents Nora wracked her brain trying to remember where she'd seen the mystery diner patron before, stealing glances whenever he looked out of the window or busied himself with his food. A former client from the DA's office perhaps? No… more recent than that. Though she was certain she'd remember a mustache that hideous.

Before she could tease the answer from the archives of her memory the mystery customer suddenly threw back the last of his drink in one long gulp and slammed a handful of notes and coins on the table… nearly ripping the sleeve of his jacket as he struggled into it on his way to the door.

Well that was weird, she thought to herself as she watched him pick up the receiver of the payphone she'd used earlier through the window.

Nora's heart then shuddered in her chest… astonishment tinted with fear seizing her in a full body bind upon recognizing the two men heading for the entrance of the sandwich shop. She lowered her voice and leaned forward in her seat as far as she was physically capable of with her bulging stomach, addressing her father with a forced air of calm.

"Dad, I need you to pass me the folders… and please don't turn around"

He looked up at her with an impish grin, assuming that her seriousness was part of a setup for a joke, but searched her face and finally obeyed… sliding his current reading material across the table and asking in a low murmur;

"Why?"

The expectant mother downgraded to a whisper as the bell above the door to the diner rang out;

"Because Eddie Winter just walked in"

"Come with me!" Donny snapped as he seemed to inexplicably materialize next to Nick Valentine's left shoulder, triggering a startled jump from the lead detective as his concentration was broken.

Apparently his partner expected an instantaneous reaction, because he scowled and lost his patience after a mere two seconds and began dragging the lead detective away from the cluttered case board by the collar of his shirt.

"What the hell?!" Nick snapped, wrenching himself free before the taut fabric could choke him, collecting himself and jogging to catch up with the testy man wearing his work-friend's face. "You gonna tell me what's going on or are we playing twenty questions in the car?"

"Williamson just phoned in" Donny explained tersely as they descended the stairs to the motor pool. "He was stakin' out that little sandwich joint of Winter's when the head honcho himself shows up… with Arthur fuckin' Black in tow!"

A small wave of nausea rolled unpleasantly through Nick's stomach and he palmed the holster hidden beneath his coat… reassuring himself that he did, in fact, have a working firearm. Arthur Black was deranged psychopath, a mad dog with barely contained blood-lust and a talent for evading jail-time… and Eddie Winter held the leash. Nothing good ever happened when the two appeared in public together.

"Has anything happened yet?" he asked, while Donny grabbed a set of keys for the nearest patrol car. "Or is this an extraction run?"

"We're pickin' up Williamson, hopefully that'll be it… but Nick…" the ginger man trailed off and turned to fix him with look of immense sobriety before finishing his sentence… adding further to the apprehension he experienced whenever the informal 'Nicky' was substituted with 'Nick';

"Nora's there"

She tried her hardest to keep a straight face and pretend that she wasn't eavesdropping… eavesdropping was the last thing Nora Valentine wanted to do in that moment, but what else could she do when two infamously violent mobsters were loitering near the only exit?

After more than five minutes of exchanging light small talk (heavily veiled in dark threats) with a jittery diner employee, the conversation finally shifted just as she was considering a new course of action if the criminals continued to block the door.

"So, uh… what brings you here today, Mister Winter sir?"

"I think you know, kid. Where's Joey?"

"Oh… he, uh, stepped out a little while ago. Said he'd be back soon though"

"Don't hold your breath waiting. Fucking typical. Shit hits the fan and Joey pulls a disappearing act. Just give me the keys so I can see how much this accident is gonna set me back"

Nora forced herself into finishing off the cold dregs of her tea with averted eyes as the crime lord finally walked past their booth and towards the back of the sandwich shop, Arthur Black following at his heels faithfully.

After a few seconds Frank rose in order to pay their bill at the front counter, stone-faced and visibly tense beneath his favorite tweed blazer… and she began the arduous task of easing herself free from the booth with her rounded middle impeding her movements.

As she braced herself with one hand against the edge of the table she suddenly found herself pulled into a standing position… a rough hand at her elbow and gravelly voice near her ear;

"Allow me, ma'am" Eddie Winter intoned with practiced charm, and Nora shot back a polite smile which she hoped-beyond-hoped didn't look too forced as he leaned over and collected her satchel for her.

"Thank you" she replied as he handed over the heavy bag, and tried not to dwell on the tiny accidental slip of her tone… he mustn't have noticed anything off, because he retreated to the back of the diner without another word, and Nora made a beeline for the door… silently praying that her father was right behind her.

That hadn't been the case… and she spent what felt like two endless hours nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot on the pavement outside Joe's Spuckies waiting for him, despite her silver wrist-watch plainly stating that it had only been two minutes. She wasn't sure if she could hear actual sirens in the distance or if her brain was merely trying to provide an appropriate soundtrack to go along with her anxiety.

Nora was digging her knuckles into the knot of pain throbbing against the small of her back when Frank eventually reappeared, several shades paler than he'd been earlier. He apologized in a mumble with a hand on her shoulder after reading the raw relief she was likely displaying across her face;

"Sorry… he tried to talk to me. Said he recognized me from somewhere, I couldn't get away"

"It's fine" Nora replied with a sigh of relief. "Maybe you went to the same charity function at one point?"

"Yeah, that's what I told him. I think maybe-"

The rest of her father's sentence was abruptly cut off by a loud explosion and a shrill ringing in her ears… a blinding, white hot agony lancing through her lower back, choking her and knocking the air from her lungs as her knees buckled beneath her.

She succeeded in staying on her feet for a few more dizzying seconds as she instinctively grasped at the site of the pain… pulling her hand away in confusion when she realized the back of her dress was warm and wet.

The last few things Nora dimly registered before happily allowing a dark spinning abyss to wash over her was the pale face of her father… the feel of his arms struggling to pull her up as her legs failed her… and the far away sound of Nick calling out to her.

Author's Note: Yeah, I know... I'm a horrible, evil person :( But the sunshine and rainbows had to dry up at some point, and I'm really trying to move this fic along now. This is my first cliffhanger, so I hope I did it right. I've already started on the next chapter but it probably won't be out until after the 23rd of January (which is my birthday).

Next Chapter Preview: Nick steadily goes into shock at the hospital while waiting to hear if Nora and the baby are going to survive, and the surgeons treating her can't locate the bullet... forcing Nick into a series of difficult choices regarding the direction the doctors should take.

I love you all, dear readers... even if you very likely hate me right now. Please leave reviews! Especially on my birthday, please.