Everything Is Illuminated

The next morning, Zane was first aware of the slightest discomfort of something lightly tickling his nose with every breath he took. Exhaling with extra force, he opened his eyes to discover, chagrined, that he'd buried his face in Lupo's hair during the night. She was still breathing deeply and evenly, soundly asleep. Zane pulled back carefully and pulled his half-asleep arm out from under the pillow to prop up his head and get a better look at Jo Lupo, sans defenses. Her hair, slightly tangled from her restless night, cascaded halfway from her pillow to his. He brushed a stray lock from her face, his fingertips feather-light, and held his breath, unexpectedly nervous, as she shifted toward him in her sleep, unconsciously pressing her cheek into the gentle touch. Gusts of wind through the trees outside caused the dappled light streaming through the curtains to dance across her peaceful face. His world was still and peaceful and whole in a way it had never been before, and his instinct was to cling to the moment. Zane's eyes drifted from Jo's face down to her still-flat abdomen. Lying in bed with her for the first time, after a night in which they'd clung to each other like the sole survivors of a wreck at sea, the once-abstract concept of Josefina Lupo carrying his child felt suddenly and viscerally concrete. He swept his fingers softly over the smooth, sun-kissed skin of her shoulder, lost in thought, and barely registered the moment she began to stir from sleep.

When Jo woke that morning, it was to the quiet scrutiny of a pair of bright blue eyes, and she was immediately and forcibly reminded of the day she'd woken in GD after her surgery. There, in that moment by her bedside, he'd looked for all the world like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar; but all traces of his former sheepish expression were gone now, replaced by an intensity of focus he usually reserved for the mysteries of the universe.

She propped herself up on her elbow, feeling nervous, and reached up a hand to fiddle with the ring around her neck – her newest and least favorite nervous habit – before she could think better of it. She was discomfited to note the reflex only served to intensify his gaze. She lifted her chin defiantly and met his stare with one of her own, raising her eyebrows slightly in an arch look. He held her gaze for a moment: Jo Lupo, wearing nothing but a sheet and his engagement ring, her dark hair tousled and partially curtaining her face. It was almost enough to make a man believe in miracles. It had certainly done a lot for his belief in time travel. He slid closer, and Jo froze.

"You are something else, Josefina, you know that?" he said softly, and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over the high arch of her cheekbone. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, his eyes holding hers. When the inevitable kiss came, it was as tender and certain as last night's kisses had been impassioned and needy. It was seductive in an entirely different way, like seeing flickering flames of a warm fire from a snowy drift outside the window – and Jo was sick of the cold. She lay back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down with her; savoring the pressure of his body above both weighing her down and anchoring her.

Absent last night's sense of urgency, Zane explored her body languorously; his brain, ever in motion, cataloguing every reaction his attentions elicited: everything from her breathy little sighs into his mouth as he caressed the soft curve of her breast to the little hum of pleasure she made when he nibbled gently at the delicate curve of her earlobe. He wanted to memorize her the way she'd memorized him, and he had some catching up to do.

Zane's hand drifted lower, tracing the sleek skin of her back, from the base of her neck to the bottom of her sharply angled shoulder blades. As his hand drifted around to the side of her waist, she twitched underneath him abruptly and unexpectedly, and they both froze. Raising his head from its prior location buried in the crook of her neck, a little smirk snuck onto his face, spreading from the left corner of his mouth to the right, and it looked as if he was holding in a laugh.

"Jo-Jo," he all but purred, "don't tell me you're ticklish." Jo's eyes widened imperceptibly, with a touch of panic. She licked her lips nervously, and Zane's eyes tracked the movement with interest, but he had bigger fish to fry. She affected total indifference, but not even her best 'Enforcer' face could stop him – all he'd have to do was –

Zane gave her side another teasing stroke, and this time she not only twitched but squeaked, to her own mortification. That. All he'd have to do was that. She scowled, and tried to bat away the hands she'd been welcoming so enthusiastically only a few moments before.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not ticklish," she heard the words come out of her mouth and groaned inwardly. If she knew anything about Zane, she knew protest was only going to encourage him; sure enough, a glint formed in his eye, and she braced herself.

"Really," he said, drawing out the word and sounding amused. "Is that so? Don't you think that's sort of – unusual?" He suggested, innocently, and she eyed him.

"No." She responded, crossing her arms in apparent irritation, but with an underlying desire to shield her sensitive sides from ominously wandering hands.

"You know, maybe you should get that checked out," he suggested. He looked up, pretending to ponder the issue. "Hey, I'm a doctor," he said suggestively. Jo rolled her eyes.

"You're a physicist, not a physician," she hissed. "Don't even start with me, Donovan." He ignored her tone entirely.

"Dr. Donovan, you mean," he corrected cheerfully, and his hand slipped smoothly under her arms and towards the goal it had been inching toward all along. Jo made a last minute attempt at deflection, which ultimately only gave him better access, and even as she began to shake with suppressed laughter, she was deciding how best to get the upper hand. Taking a deep breath and trying to control her urge to laugh, she began to carefully angle her body. Once she'd achieved the ideal position, she flipped him under her and straddled him in one swift motion, pinning his hands over his head with a victorious smirk. The position only served to highlight their general state of undress, however, and the tone of the room seemed likely to transition from playful to passionate in short order when the two of them locked eyes. That lasted only until Jo's sudden shift in equilibrium caught up with her and the child inside her protested vehemently. Jo released Zane's hands and sat back on her heels abruptly, clasping her hands to the base of her throat as if trying to physically squelch the rising nausea.

She took a deep, calming breath, and slid off of him and out of the bed, the sheets spilling like water of her body. For a moment she was silhouetted by the light which shone through the window, her dark hair tumbling most of the way down her back. He had only a moment to appreciate the sleek contours of her body before she made a dash for the bathroom and he belatedly identified the issue at hand. He shrugged off the blankets and headed for the bathroom in pursuit, where he found her crouched over the toilet, lost in a special kind of hell. Wordlessly, he pulled her long, unkempt hair back, allowing her to release it from her own fist, which then shot out to clench the toilet seat with desperation instead.

After her stomach settled, she slumped against her heels uncomfortably, reaching out to pull down the toilet handle and flush as an afterthought. He remained crouched with her on the floor, taking her hand and rubbing it gently with his.

"So," he asked, his smile soft and teasing, "You come here often?" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not when I can help it," she said dryly. Having broken the uncomfortable silence, his smile was laced with genuine sympathy.

"Come on," he said, tugging at her hand and standing up. "I'll make you whatever you want for breakfast. Or not," he added hastily, seeing her complexion turn a delicate shade of green. She let him pull her up from the floor carefully, but closed her eyes and took a deep breath in the hopes of settling her stomach once she was back on her feet. She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste hurriedly, needing badly to get the taste out of her mouth and avoid round two. Zane vanished as she rinsed the taste from her mouth, giving her a moment to compose herself, and reappeared wearing his now-wrinkled clothes from the night before. He held something out to her, and she realized he'd found her light blue bathrobe where it had been hanging on the back of her door. She wrapped it around her gratefully and looked up at him with a hesitant smile. His face was unreadable, but when she caught his eyes with her own he ducked his head for a moment, grinned, and looked up, eyebrows raised. "Shall we?" He gestured to the door and she rolled her eyes, but swept past his outstretched arm willingly. Zane shook his head and followed her in his signature loping gait, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

As they entered the living room, Zane broke away behind her and headed for the refrigerator while she made a beeline for the couch. Jo curled up against the arm of the couch, her feet tucked under her and her arm pressed against the armrest, supporting her head. Her eyes tracked Zane's movement in the kitchen absently. In spite of her illness, this was the most relaxed she'd been in weeks. Zane glanced up and smiled with self-satisfaction when he realized she was watching him. He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You sure you don't want anything to eat?" he asked. She winced and nodded, but looked at him uncertainly.

"I think I could handle some peppermint tea… if you don't mind. Cabinet on the right," she directed him. He grabbed the teapot sitting on her stove and poured in fresh water from the tap, setting it up to boil. His motions were fluid and soothingly familiar, even as he fumbled in the unfamiliar settings of her kitchen. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the couch as he rummaged through her drawers seeking the coffee strainer. He set the strainer, tea and fresh grounds with the two mugs waiting on the counter and opened up the fridge to weigh his options. It only took a quick glance at the meager contents to reach two conclusions: first, that he'd be making a stop at Café Diem that morning; second, that it was no wonder Lupo had seemed to lose weight in the past few weeks – there was hardly anything there to eat.

His eyes wandered to the woman who, huddled on the couch, had clearly drifted off; and he frowned almost imperceptibly. With her guard down, the bags under her eyes and the lines on her face now seemed more distinct and worrisome, and for the first time since he'd become caught up in the events of last night he had a moment to consider how he'd found himself in this situation. She'd been rattled when he'd arrived, and though he hadn't thought much of it at the time – he had kicked down her door at 3 am, after all, it had been a logical enough reaction – his mind flashed back to a few days prior, when he'd found her in a restless sleep in his own bed. He was sure he'd never forget the way she'd cried out for him in her sleep – it had hit him like a brick in the chest – and something she had said before she'd fully woken up drifted into his mind.

You know I hate it when you see me like this, Zane had heard her murmur, as if it were something to which they had both become well accustomed. This was a regular occurrence for her, and he was willing to bet this wasn't the first time he'd been there at 3 am. Zane clenched his jaw at the thought. This, then, was just one more… blank in his memory. He wondered if the not-knowing would ever cease to grate on him, as Jo shifted in her sleep. He'd always had a near-compulsive need to know anything and everything that intrigued or interested him; but this – this was beyond intriguing or interesting. This was supposed to be his life. The woman on that couch had been loving him for two years, and if the ring around her neck was anything to go by, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted to know how it had happened; when it had happened. He wanted to know why she loved him. He needed to know why she loved him.

The whistle of the kettle jolted Zane from his thoughts, and he dropped the dishrag he'd been clenching in his hand in his surprise. Glancing at Jo once more, he leaned over and grabbed it from where it had landed, next to his feet, and tossed it on the counter, then grabbed the kettle from the stove and began preparing the two mugs. He finished his coffee in just a minute, and hesitated over Jo's tea, frustrated to realize he had no idea how she'd want it prepared. Fed up with coming upon yet another detail he should already know, he prepared himself to wake Jo and ask, when a speculative thought came to him. If he should know… maybe he did know, somehow. Nobody knew how time travel worked; time travel wasn't supposed to work. Everyone who'd been through the wormhole remembered; couldn't the information be preserved, somewhere, in his neural circuits? It was a long shot, but… he checked the tea pot speculatively. There was enough warm water left for another cup if he needed it. He closed his eyes and tried not to think, which was a challenge for his constantly whirring brain; he didn't want an analysis of how Jo might like her tea – he wanted a purely instinctive guess. He opened the cupboard full of baking ingredients and spices where she'd stored her tea, and grabbed the first things which came to mind, which turned out to be honey and vanilla extract. Trying not to second guess himself, he added a generous amount of honey and a few drops of the vanilla extract, put them back in the cabinet, and stirred the tea quickly.

Feeling unreasonably nervous, he carried the coffee and the tea over to the couch and placed them on the coffee table in front of Jo, who was still fast asleep. He slid onto the cushion beside her and caressed her hair with a cautious hand.

"Hey, Jo-Jo," he murmured. "Time to wake up." He shook her awake gently and she stirred, slightly disoriented and rubbing her eyes with the hand her head had rested against. He smiled at her. "I've got your tea," he said, and offered it to her once she'd opened her eyes all the way. She gave him a tired smile in return and leaned forward, grasping the tea from the table and raising it to her lips. She took a sip and closed her eyes in satisfaction.

"That's perfect, thank you," she said. Zane studied her features intently, for a moment, then picked his own drink off the table and settled in on the couch, contemplative. The two of them sat together, Jo's bare feet brushing against the rough denim of his jeans, until Jo got a look at a nearby clock and was startled into motion. She gulped down the rest of her tea and set the empty mug down on the coffee table.

"It's late, I have to get to GD," she said apologetically. He smirked suggestively in response.

"We can always go late," he said with a meaningful look, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Some of us like to actually do our jobs," she said pointedly, hands on her hips, and Zane was amused to find she could look fierce even wearing a fluffy bathrobe. He grinned and held up his hands, signaling his harmless intent, though his mind had already progressed to wondering if her irritation would be as fearsome without the bathrobe. Something in his eyes must have given away his thoughts because she paused, shook her head and vanished through the door before he had a chance to act on them. Zane's smile was rueful as he picked up their mugs and headed to the kitchen sink, knowing he was going to see her emblazoned behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes today. He was placing the freshly rinsed mugs in the dish rack by the sink when Jo stepped through the door in her black suit and a bright blue blouse, her hair pulled back into her customary ponytail. The sight of Lupo ready for business, gun strapped to her waist as always, made him tense up instinctively; but she gave him a little smile, discomfort obvious, and just like that he relaxed. He may never know exactly what to expect from the new and improved Jo Lupo, but so far the surprises had all been pleasant. Zane stepped around the counter and approached her, stopping just a little too close for her comfort and with a smile that made her begin to feel weak at the knees. Her eyes widened a fraction as she looked up at him, her pupils dilating with reluctant desire.

"Off to work?" he asked quietly, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, mouth dry.

"Will I see you tonight?" he asked, a hint of huskiness to his tone. She swallowed deeply, distracted by his proximity.

"I – um. We should talk to everyone tonight." She managed to stammer out, licking her lips unconsciously. Zane's gaze flickered immediately to her lips, any control he might have had over the moment evaporating promptly.

"Just tell me when and where," he said, distracted. She hmmed an affirmative, and the pursing of her lips which accompanied the sound was the last straw. Zane swept down, claiming her lips with his and pulling her closer, hands caressing the small of her back. Her hands flew up to the back of his neck, burying one in the soft hair at the base of his neck and sliding the other one forward to stroke the curve of his face. They were both lost in the increasingly heated kiss, until Zane pulled her harder against him and her gun shifted uncomfortably on her hip, reminding her she was supposed to be leaving for work. She pulled back, breathing hard, but Zane kept her pinned close, leaning his forehead against hers, focusing on her eyes and raising one hand to brush a stray wisp of hair out of her face. "Jo," he gasped, equally breathless, and a liquid heat shot through her, in spite of herself. He kissed her again, lingering and tender, the hand which had smoothed away her hair toying delicately with the edge of her ear and making her twitch with desire; but this time when she broke away his grip wasn't enough to keep her in place.

"I – I have to go to work," she blurted out as she backed away. She turned for the door, feeling shaky on her feet, when she heard his voice behind her.

"Jo," he said once more, voice low, and she turned around slowly. He didn't move an inch, but the intensity written in his stare pinned her in place as effectively as his arms had only moments before. His eyes were dark with unspoken emotions that she didn't dare identify. "You can leave - but you don't get to run. Not this time," he said simply. She opened her mouth to reply, but he had rendered her effectively speechless. Another minute passed, Jo finding it difficult to meet Zane's eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up.

"I'll see you tonight," she said, and walked out, the front door swinging shut behind her.

Disclaimer: I have pretty much nothing to do with the production of Eureka. But I'd love to be a fly on the wall of that set.

A/N: Soooo, about this chapter. Sorry it took so long. It was a beast to write, seriously. I tried it about ten thousand ways, and first Jo wouldn't make up her mind, and then Zane started getting all these ideas, and finally I just gave in and let them do what the hell ever they wanted. I was really just along for the ride. I could probably have kept going - I already have some upcoming scenes with other characters written - but I suspected you'd all be thrilled to see the chapter, and it was at my typical length. Also there's this organic chemistry test I might actually fail on Monday if I keep writing this chapter. Still, short of cooking I don't expect you'll have much competition for my love and affection and attention for the next week, so hopefully our characters will be obliging and there will be another update sooner rather than later.

Peace out.

ADM