A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's sticking with me and providing encouragement. I know I'm not making it easy for you this time! You guys are so ace.

--

Jess had barely slept, watching the hands of the clock next to her bed crawl through the night. She hadn't cried, or laughed, just continued to feel blankly numb. She knew it was because she was too scared to let herself feel. She remembered what that felt like, what it had been like last time, and knew it was better to avoid it. It was better not to care, not to get attached. Because so many things could go wrong and not just medically.

The last time she'd been pregnant everything had been going just as the textbook said it should. Except the concept of being a single mother. Ten years later and she still remembered exactly the words he had used. I can't do this.

He'd packed his things while she'd been at work, but had been polite enough to wait until she got home before leaving. He'd been the love of her life – or so she'd thought at the time; like a fool, expecting a diamond ring any minute – and the shock had been gut-wrenching: literally.

Always one to have her emotions under tight control at work – it was one of the reasons she was so good at what she did – but it was a different story at home. She'd managed to hold it together right until he closed the door behind him, and then the enormity had hit. Jess had wondered if her heart was actually breaking as she sobbed, but it wasn't until a few hours later that she realised exactly how much she'd broken. Miscarriages at fourteen weeks are messy and painful and require hospitals and doctors and intrusive procedures and – Jess discovered – a lot of crying.

For once in her life, her mother did what mothers are supposed to do and just stepped in and took care of everything. She guessed it was because the same thing had happened to her. Well, not quite the same thing. Her mother had ended up with her, Jess, not a bunch of painkillers and sleeping pills and well-meaning advice to try again. But alone, nonetheless.

Now, it was a distant memory. The edges had faded over time. But there was still a primal, illogical connection that had formed in her mind. Baby equals man leaving.

She already wanted it. She'd known that from the minute the realisation had hit. But she wanted Greg too. And bitter past experience had taught her that she couldn't have both.

--

House fingered the little jewellery box in his pocket as he walked into the cafe. It wasn't worth much, but the small band of sapphires and diamonds had belonged to his grandmother. His mother had given it to him when he was seeing Stacy, had encouraged him to give to her. But although House bought lots of gifts for Stacy, including jewellery, he never gave her a ring. His grandmother's ring didn't look like an engagement ring. But giving Stacy a ring – any kind of ring – just seemed too…symbolic.

A symbol he was now ready to give, to Jess. The mother of his child. It sounded so clichéd, so trite, and yet in the reality of the morning sunshine, it was pregnant with meaning. Just like she was.

For once in his life, he was early. He ordered a coffee and chose a table near the window, away from other patrons. He didn't want to feel that someone was overhearing their conversation.

Jess arrived just a few minutes later and they exchanged smiles when she stood in the doorway, scanning the room for him. He stood as she made her way over and deliberately reached out a hand to pull her to him so he could kiss her. He didn't want things getting off on the wrong foot with an awkward greeting. There was no reason they shouldn't kiss, after all, he'd kissed pretty much every square inch of her skin at one time or another.

She talked about how cold it was and they debated breakfast choices, finally deciding on blueberry pancakes for him, fruit salad for her. She ordered a coffee and he couldn't help wondering if she'd already had a coffee at home. He made his brain shut up.

They continued with small talk until their food arrived and he watched her eat her fruit salad, showing no signs of nausea.

"So, no morning sickness then," he said, half-joking, but breaking their silence about the 50-tonne elephant in the room.

"No, I didn't get it last time either," she answered. Then she looked up at him, seeming just as surprised as he was by the words that had come out of her mouth. She cleared her throat and looked down for a moment as she placed her spoon carefully back on the table. "This isn't the first time I've been pregnant," she said, not quite looking at him.

"Oh." House wasn't sure how that made him feel. Curious, definitely. Jealous? Maybe. When she didn't continue he prompted. "So, what happened?"

"I miscarried at fourteen weeks."

House looked away from her, out the windows of the cafe and noticed that it had begun to rain. It was an automatic response, but his brain filled with possible reasons and diagnoses, but above it all came the thought: What does it mean for this time? How can I stop it from happening again?

"When?"

"It was a long time ago. Almost ten years." She looked extremely reluctant to share the details.

"Was it explained?"

"No. They couldn't find anything wrong with me or the…the…" She stopped speaking and waved a hand in the air to indicate the missing word. "But…"

"But?"

"I think it was stress. There were a few things going on in my life at the time."

House knew there had to be a lot more to it than that. "Like what?"

She shook her head. "Just…stuff."

House realised he'd taken on the role of the inquisitor, but couldn't help himself. "Stuff doesn't help me Jess. If you want to make sure you stay pregnant this time, we need to look at anything that could have—"

"Stay pregnant?" She interrupted.

She was staring at him and House felt uncomfortably like an insect under a microscope. He realised he might have unwittingly revealed his hand by that comment and he still didn't want his opinion to sway her decision. After all, why an old, crippled misanthrope would jump at being given a chance for a new life with a beautiful woman and their baby seemed obvious. But just why said beautiful woman would tie herself to the crippled misanthrope was far less clear.

"I mean, if that's what you want," he hedged.

"What do you want?"

The waitress came over at that point to refill their coffees and House was given a few much-needed moments to gather his thoughts. Once the cups were full and the waitress had left, House looked back at Jess. She was still waiting for his answer.

"I don't know." It was a lie, but it was also the truth. He thought he knew what he wanted, but he also knew his own strengths and weaknesses. At work he was always decisive. But this time? This was one decision he couldn't change his mind about. "I'll support whatever you decide."

He reached into his pocket and fingered the ring again. Was the ring conditional? he wondered. Would he only give it to her if she decided to proceed with the pregnancy? Or did he want to give it to her anyway, whatever she chose?

"Well, that's comforting," she said sarcastically, her biting tone breaking into his thoughts.

"What? What do you want me to say?" She knew as well as anyone that his patience had its limits.

"Tell me what you really think." She leaned forward, her breakfast forgotten, her eyes intent on his.

House took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, she was still there, her sad green eyes waiting for him to say the right thing. Whatever that might be.

"I think we still have time up our sleeves. Time to decide—"

His words were interrupted by Jess's cell phone.

"Don't, don't answer it," he said.

She sighed. "You know I have to." She flipped the phone open and held it up to her ear. "Jessica Mitchell."

House sat back and sipped his coffee, wondering how she could sound so normal, so professional, given the topic she was in the middle of discussing.

"Well, I doubt one of our doctors said that…"

House listened in to her side of the conversation. It sounded vaguely familiar to other phone calls he'd overheard her take and House could guess it was a journalist, and that Jess was once again defending one of St Mary's doctors against a patient's complaints to the media.

"I will investigate and get back to you with a statement. No. No, I'm not prepared to make a statement now. I need to get all the details, I'm sure you understand. Yes, okay, midday. Talk to you then."

She returned the phone to her purse and clutched it to her chest.

"You have to go," House guessed.

"Yes. I'm sorry, they're on deadline and threatening to run the story if I don't get back to them by twelve. I knew that idiot Doctor Moorhead was going to get caught one day."

"Moorhead, huh?" he asked with raised eyebrows and a small smile.

"Yeah, stupid idiot keeps shooting his mouth off but, unlike other doctors we know with similar habits, he's very rarely right." She smiled thinly back.

That was it. That little smile. The sparkle in the green eyes. House knew he was gone. She had him, heart and soul.

He plunged his hand into his jacket pocket, searching for the ring.

"Jess, I—"

She rose from the table and leant over to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"We'll talk later, right?" She seemed almost relieved as she turned away and headed out of the cafe, her half-eaten fruit salad still sitting on the table.

House watched through the windows as she dashed across the rain-soaked road to her car.

He put the little silk-covered box down on the table in front of him.

"Jess, I love you," he said quietly.