As usual, the airport was crammed with people as I stepped off the plane in New York, and by the time I made my way out to hail a cab, my normally cheerful mood had taken a distinct swan dive. The airline had lost my luggage, TSA had randomly selected me for extra screening, I was going through the worst caffeine withdrawal of my life due to pregnancy restrictions, and I hadn't gotten a chance to eat since dinner the night before, which meant my morning sickness was back in full swing and I'd had to sprint to the bathroom to dry heave into a public toilet. On top of all that, my hormones were rapidly turning me into a roller coaster of emotions, and I almost started crying when Gabriel thoughtfully surprised me by showing up to take me home.

Instead, I managed to muster an enormous smile and launched myself at him, and he caught me with ease, kissing me soundly in greeting. In fact, I was so happy to see him that it wasn't until we arrived at home and I found that he'd made my favorite for dinner that I burst into tears, because the smell of cooking meat had me sprinting for the toilet. All the trouble he'd gone to, and I couldn't eat it.

He was more than a little alarmed when I dropped my purse and sprinted to the toilet, but rubbed my back soothingly as I dry heaved. "Well, this isn't exactly the reaction I was expecting. Wait, why are you crying? Are you alright? Hero, tell me what's wrong."

He wet a washcloth and handed it to me, and I sat back, wiping my face tiredly, still sniffling a little. Gabriel met my gaze levelly when I stared up at him, until finally I pat the ground beside me and he sat down, resting his elbows on his bent knees. "Hero, talk to me."

I sighed. "You know when I had that sinus infection a few weeks ago, and I said we had to be careful? Well, we weren't careful enough."

Gabriel was one of the most intelligent men that I'd ever met, and he instantly caught what I was trying to tell him. "Are you..."

I nodded and sniffled pathetically. "My eggo is preggo." Gabriel's dark eyes were wide as he stared at me silently. "Gabriel? Say something." When he didn't respond or even blink, I waved my hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. "Um...I'm going to check some emails from Steven. You just...uh...process."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began checking my email, replying to the updates that Steven had sent. My stomach churned in protest of the smells wafting in from the kitchen, but was beginning to settle. Gabriel was silent for so long that I sort of zoned out and was startled when he finally spoke. "What do you want to do?"

I met his gaze firmly as I set down my phone. "Honestly, I don't know. I want kids, but…I don't know if I want them right now. I mean, my work is important, and I won't be able to give it the attention it deserves if I'm taking care of a baby, and vice versa."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's ultimately your decision, but I want a family. We could get married and try the white picket fence thing."

"Gabriel, we're not white picket fence people, and this isn't 1955. I'm not worried about my reputation."

He took my hand where it rested on my leg, and we both stared at our intertwined fingers. "Let's just think about it. We've got time before we have to make a decision. Let's revisit the subject in a week."

"Alright," I agreed, resting my head on his shoulder. "But you have to get rid of the baked ziti, because the smell is making me want to projectile vomit everywhere a la The Exorcist."

0o0o0o0o0o0

I sang softly as I rocked the baby to sleep in our house for the first time. The nursery was dim now that the sunlight had finally faded, and the nightlight cast a dreamy haze over the room. A shadow from the hall fell across us and I looked up to see Gabriel leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. His eyes were soft as he watched us.

"Are you singing Greenday," he asked in amusement, keeping his voice quite so that he didn't wake the sleeping newborn.

I smiled sheepishly. "It's been stuck in my head all day." Gabriel laughed softly and came closer, stroking the peach fuzz on the top of his daughter's head. "She spit up all over the Tickle-Me Elmo that you hate," I told him, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "I had to throw it out."

His dark eyes were warm with love and amusement. "That's my girl. She wanted to spare me the effort of blowing it up." I rolled my eyes, stifling laughter as I stood and carefully put her in the crib. Gabriel put his arm around my waist and we stood there for a moment, staring at the baby sleeping in the golden glow cast from the nightlight. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You did so well, Hero. She's perfect."

I started when Steven tapped on the glass wall of the conference room, gesturing that he needed to talk to me. A glance around the table confirmed that the other members had zoned out of the meeting as well, so I didn't feel bad about slipping out of the room for a moment. "Talk to me, Goose," I said as the door swung shut behind me.

"I just got a call from Charles Aringheri's office. He's in town and he wants to meet you."

I frowned. "Not that I'm complaining about being pulled from that meeting – Good God, it was drier than the Mojave Desert – but is that all?"

Steven shook his head. "No, I mean, he wants to meet you now. Right now. His flight leaves in two hours."

My eyes widened as I read the address scribbled on the paper he thrust in my hand. "You've got to be kidding me. This is across town."

"Yeah, I know." He was already shoving my purse at me. "There's a cab waiting outside. I'll hold the fort."

"Remind me to give you a raise," I called as I sprinted down the hall as fast as I could in stilettos and a pencil skirt.

It was rush hour, which meant it took me almost an hour to get to the address Steven had listed. Still, when the cab pulled up, I wondered if perhaps Steven had written it down incorrectly; the small ranch house was certainly not a place I expected a multimillionaire to frequent. It was well-maintained with what was clearly a new coat of paint and a recently mown lawn, but we were deep in middle-class suburbs. Confused but knowing I needed to meet with the man who had bet millions on me being the proverbial goose that could lay the golden egg, I paid the cabbie and walked to the door, nervously straightening my skirt and blouse as I rang the doorbell.

The door swung open to reveal a man in his mid-forties, his golden blond hair neatly combed back despite it being strangely cut, as if someone had taken scissors to it to make it look more presentable. He was gaunt in appearance, as though he hadn't eaten in a while, and his clothes fit badly: pants too short for his gangly height revealed white socks, and his white collared shirt accentuated bony wrists. Consciously silencing the internal alarm ringing in my mind – bad fashion sense and a high metabolism were no reason to judge someone – I smiled warmly at him. "I'm Dr. Ramsey. Mr. Aringheri's office called me with this address?"

The man smiled and stood aside with a gesture for me to enter. After momentary hesitation at his awkward silence, I obligingly slipped past him into the house, noting with surprise that he locked the door behind us. He motioned for me to hand him my purse, which I did with no small amount of confusion, before he led me down a hall. The office he ushered me into, if indeed it could be called an office, was starkly furnished with just two chairs facing each other. My misgivings were rapidly growing, but I shrugged them off; maybe Mr. Aringheri was somehow trying to test me or make a point.

It wasn't until a familiar face walked in that my stomach plummeted. "Dr. Goswami. What are you doing here?"

The Indian man smiled at me but glanced at the gangly man who had greeted me. "Thank you, Tom." Tom smiled and left, closing the door firmly behind him. Dr. Goswami turned back to me, rolling his eyes. "I found him wandering around on the street. I'm fairly sure he's mute, but maybe he just doesn't like us. Still, he cleans up fairly well. Please, have a seat, Doctor."

"Actually, I think I'd prefer you explain what's going on." My eyes drifted to the door behind him.

He frowned at me in disappointment. "Now, Hero, I thought we were past all this distrustful paranoia. It's unbecoming on such an otherwise lovely woman."

"It's Doctor Ramsey." Right now, I didn't give a rat's ass what he considered ladylike behavior. "Either tell me why I'm here or I'm leaving."

He sighed and clicked his tongue. "So rude. To answer your question, Dr. Ramsey, you're here because you stubbornly refuse to stop work on your project. No matter what I throw at you, you continue on like the Energizer Bunny. It's very frustrating." He watched as I tugged off my heels, and I didn't care that he saw that I was preparing to run. If he could calmly stand there and imply that he was behind all the disasters that had plagued my project, then I could calmly arm myself with the sharp heels of my stilettos. Well, calmly being a relative term; my heart was hammering in my chest and I'd instinctively fallen into a crouch. "There's no point in all that. After all this preparation, do you really think I would implicate myself if I hadn't anticipated you trying to bolt?"

"Do you seriously think you can tell me that you blew up a lab, killed my best friend, attempted to murder dozens of volunteers by tampering with the device, and send a freaking hit man after me, and have me just stand here? You're a monster," I hissed. My gaze inspected the room and the man in front of me as I spoke, checking for anything he could use as a weapon. Seeing none, I kept my heels in my hand and moved to the door, ready to swing out with the improvised spikes if he made a move.

"You call me a monster, yet you are the one trying to take away the powers given to an entire demographic by God himself," Dr. Goswami replied chidingly, as if to a child. "None of my actions would have been necessary had you simply minded your own business."

He was moving away from me as steadily as I approached, until my hand was on the doorknob. "Yeah, I was trying to give people the choice to have a normal life," I said sarcastically. "Fuck me, right?" I rolled my eyes skyward and swung the door open. In the split second it took to register Tom's presence, he had already stuck the hypodermic needle deep in my arm.