Everything Is Illuminated
The upside of being a pregnant woman and a recent coma patient, respectively, was that no-one, least of all the doctor in residence, was willing to let Jo and Zane move the entirety of Zane's apartment across town under their own power. Carter was (inevitably) the first person to get an inkling of their plans, and as far as Eureka was concerned, 'privacy' lasted exactly as long as the afternoon that passed before Carter had a chance to mention it to Henry. Then, Henry and Grace knew - then anyone who happened to eat lunch at Cafe Diem that day and so on, and so on.
The moment Allison caught wind of their plans, she flatly forbade Zane from lifting anything upwards of fifteen pounds on threat of another week spent as her 'guest' in the infirmary. As soon she was done with Zane, she hunted down Jo, who was handling paperwork in her office.
"Moving?" Allison asked her flatly, arms crossed over her chest. Jo barely glanced up from her paperwork.
"You did say you wanted Zane under supervision when you released him from the infirmary," she reminded her.
"Jo, you're six months pregnant. You shouldn't be dragging furniture and heavy boxes across Eureka."
"Good, because we'll be driving them, actually."
"Jo," Allison said sharply, and Jo looked up. The frustration written across her face was hard to miss.
"What do you want me to say, Allison? That I'll just sit back and enjoy the view while everyone else moves Zane into my - our," she corrected hesitantly, "house? You were the one who told me I could keep exercising. I do lift weights, you know." Jo turned her eyes back down to her paperwork, her lips still twisted into a moue of annoyance.
Allison pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, feeling a headache coming on.
"Lifting weights in a controlled environment is not at all the same as handling boxes with weight shifting inside, or handling unstably packed furniture - " Allison cut herself off suddenly, staring at Jo, who was pointedly not meeting her gaze. "But I think you've already realized that." She narrowed her eyes. "There are easier ways to ask for help, you know."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," Jo replied, her tone entirely neutral but for the hint of amusement underneath.
"If there's a next time, I'm giving you up for a loss and moving to Kansas." Allison muttered under her breath, and beat a hasty retreat.
Despite Allison's exasperation, when Zane was released later that week there was a small crew of movers arranged to meet them at his apartment. This was why Jo nearly jumped out of her skin with surprise when she opened her front door to find Carter, Zoe and her brother lounging in her living room. Fortunately, she managed to regain her equilibrium before Carter could have the satisfaction of knowing he'd caught her off guard. Behind her, she could hear Zane snicker softly, and she whipped around to glare at him.
"Not a word," she hissed. He put his hands up in a mockery of a good faith gesture.
"Wouldn't dream of it, your worship." Jo reminded herself how glad she was to see him up and on his feet.
"So! Where should we start?" Carter asked, laughter in his eyes as he watched the two of them. Jo huffed at him with relatively good-natured annoyance.
"You realize we already have movers coming?" Carter shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
"Somebody has to make sure you two crazy kids don't get in trouble." Jo just looked at him.
"Allison sent you." She stated. He grinned and nodded.
"Yeeah, Allison sent me." Jo shook her head.
"What about you two?" Daniel crossed his hands over his chest and tried to look forbidding.
"Chaperone," he said brusquely. Jo rolled her eyes before turning to Zoe.
"And you?" Zoe flashed her a bright smile.
"Beats writing papers," she said flippantly. Carter looked as if he would like to argue that point, but Jo cut him off.
"Well, the movers should be at Zane's place in a few hours, so we were about to go over and get everything packed. If you could just give us a moment, we'll be ready to go."
About a half an hour later, Jo stood in Zane's den, feeling overwhelmed. To be honest - aside from her conversation with Allison and the subsequent arrangements for the movers - Jo hadn't given much consideration to the details of moving Zane into her house. Until their discussion in GD's infirmary, it had barely even occurred to her that either of them would be sharing living space with an infant in only two months. She already had furniture. What were they going to do with Zane's?
Jo pressed a hand to her temple, feeling a headache coming on.
"Stop that," murmured a low voice from behind her, followed by a warm kiss pressed to the column of her neck. Zane's hands wrapped around her and settled comfortably just over her belly button.
"Stop what?" She asked absently. Zane's mouth crept a little higher, this time to the delicate skin of her earlobe. He nipped sharply and Jo shivered despite herself before elbowing him.
"You stop," she admonished. "Someone could walk in here any moment." Zane chuckled but pulled away.
"Stop worrying," he clarified. His hand lingered on her stomach for a moment longer before he stepped back. "It's all just things. You remember what it was like when I came to Eureka - well," he laughed, "I guess you don't - "
"Zane!" Jo hissed, her eyes darting to the door behind them.
"Anyway," Zane continued, grinning at her unrepentantly, "I didn't have much of anything. I'm used to being able to pick up and go." He shrugged. "Furniture is furniture. I've never really needed," he waved a hand dismissively, "y'know - stuff."
Jo gave him a half-amused, half-exasperated smile.
"Stuff," she repeated, eyebrows raised. He laughed and pulled her back toward him.
"Yes, stuff," he said playfully. "Don't you look at me in that tone of voice." Jo's eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. Zane smiled back at her, but his eyes were suddenly serious.
"The thing is, Jo," he said, his voice lowering. "All I really need in that house is you." His eyes drifted down to the curve of her stomach where it pressed against him. "Both of you," he said softly. "Everything else is just - details."
Jo raised a hand to cup his cheek gently, her thumb rubbing circles over the stubble of his cheek. She leaned up to kiss him, and when she pulled back he held her close, his forehead pressed to hers.
"Feeling better now?" He murmured. She grinned.
"I don't know, maybe you should - " A startled exclamation from the doorway stopped her short.
"Oh!" Zoe squeaked. Jo jerked away from Zane, remembering belatedly where they were. Zoe turned slightly pink.
"Sorry - um - I should just - " Jo ran a hand through her slightly mussed hair and gave Zoe an embarrassed smile.
"No, Zo, it's fine. What did you need?" Zoe bit her lip.
"Well, we were wondering what you wanted from the kitchen..." Zoe trailed off, giving Jo a questioning look.
"Um..." Jo glanced at Zane, then back at Zoe, who shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "I'll be right in," she said. Zoe nodded and disappeared through the doorway. Jo smiled wryly and pressed a kiss to the corner of Zane's mouth.
"I should..." He nodded towards the door.
"Go," he said. She made it a few steps before his voice stopped her.
"Jo," he said. She turned back to glance at him questioningly.
"Just details," Zane reiterated, his eyes holding hers steadily, his eyebrows raised slightly for emphasis.
Jo gave him a small smile.
"Just details," she agreed, and left the room, the smile lingering on her lips.
About half an hour later, Zoe pinned down Jo again, this time for completely different reasons. Jo was standing in the hallway, one eye and one ear monitoring a heated debate between Daniel and Zane regarding the 'appropriate' packing of his electronics. Neither party would thank her for interfering, she knew, so with no small effort she managed to stay out of the room and hold her tongue.
"Hey, Jo?" Zoe asked her. Jo only half-attended to her words.
"Hmm?" Jo responded, noticing nervously a sudden silence from the room containing her... boyfriend, and brother.
"So, I was talking to Allison the other day, and she was saying we ought to throw you a baby shower."
"Mmmmhm - " Jo stopped short to stare at Zoe. "What?" She asked blankly.
"Do you want a baby shower?" Jo's eyes went wide.
"Oh, hell no," she blurted out, then looked chagrined. Zoe laughed.
"I didn't think so," the younger woman assured her.
"It's just... a big event like that..."
"…is kind of asking for trouble around here? God, you're getting as bad as my dad." Zoe sounded amused. "You know, Murphy's law is a concept, not an absolute rule." Jo grimaced and muttered something unintelligible. Zoe grinned.
"Well then, I'll be sure to let them know," she said, pressing herself against the wall by Jo to let Zane and Daniel pass with the boxes of electronics. Jo gave Zoe an appreciative smile.
"Thanks," she said. A moment passed, and a shout came from the front of the house.
"The movers are here!" Jo exchanged a look with Zoe.
"Here comes the fun part," she said, eyebrows raised. "Shall we?" Zoe cocked her head and grinned.
"We shall," she said playfully, peeling away from the wall and heading down the hallway, pausing only long enough for Jo to do the same.
Moving, like so many things in Eureka, was simultaneously quite simple and very complicated. The movers arrived with what were effectively adhesive hover pads, at least as far as Jo could tell. On one hand, it did take much of the physical strain and exertion out of the process. On the other hand, it was yet another prototype. Jo found herself spending as much time eying the boxes to make sure they didn't start floating away as she did directing the movers.
Somehow - for once - things proceeded without mishap. Jo suspected that this only meant the fates were saving up for a big one, one of these days. She eyed her brand new house and shivered a little at the thought before climbing the brick path to the front door.
The inside of her home was the very picture of precariously-controlled chaos. Boxes were being floated every which way. Zane paused in his role as director just long enough to flash a distracted smile at Jo. One of the movers noticed Jo's presence and sidled up to her.
"Excuse me, Ms. Lupo, but we also have a delivery for you." Jo turned her attention to him, frowning with puzzlement.
"A delivery?" The team Allison had arranged for the move was typically responsible for the transportation of proprietary technology and restricted substances to and from GD, but given the top-secret nature of the town they also handled more ordinary tasks that involved crossing town lines - such as postal work and deliveries. Jo tried to remember what it was she might be expecting, but nothing came to mind.
"Yes, ma'am, it's in the truck still, if you could just follow me." He requested politely. Jo blinked.
"Of course," she said. He gave her an acknowledging nod and strode out the door. Jo followed, racking her brains as they descended the brick steps once more.
She remembered the crib and changing table only seconds before she saw them.
"Oh," she breathed, so quietly that the man beside her almost missed it entirely. He cleared his throat.
"Would you like us to bring it in, Ms. Lupo?" He asked respectfully.
"Yes, of course," she said, her eyes still fixed on the crib. She dragged her gaze away with difficulty to glance at the man beside her. "If you could just put them in the spare room at the end of the hall..." She trailed off. He nodded at her.
"I'll get someone on it," he said firmly. There was a pause as he seemed to be debating with himself internally. "May I just say, congratulations?" He said finally.
Jo stared at him, startled.
"Thank you," she managed, not sure what else to say. She looked back towards the house. "I should, um..." She trailed off. He gave her an understanding smile.
"No problem," he said. He nodded his head toward the house. "Go ahead."
Jo gave him one last grateful smile before walking back toward the house, steeling herself for the chaos inside.
The hubbub at the house began to die down after the movers left and what was remained of their moving endeavor was merely the unpacking of boxes. Jo slipped away once she was certain people had settled into their tasks, into the still relatively empty spare bedroom. The baby's room, she reminded herself, rolling the words around in her head as if to see how they tasted. She ran a hand over the sleek mahogany of the crib, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.
Jo had grown accustomed to living without her mother years ago - before her death, even. Eleni Lupo had always seemed fragile to Jo, even during the good times when there had been ballet recitals and homemade Halloween costumes. Jo's strongest memory of her mother was of the delicate, bird-like hands that had repaired those tutus and pieced together those costumes as if by magic. Daniel, she knew, barely remembered their mother at all. Jo remembered the good and the bad: days spent baking and vacations at the beach but also days where their mother couldn't even get out of bed. But the most important thing Jo remembered was the way she'd loved them. That, at least, Jo wanted to pass along to her own children.
She rubbed a tentative hand over her increasingly large belly. She was used to life without her mother, yes, but every once in a while there would come a day like today and she would feel the loss freshly. And she couldn't help but feel just a little deprived, every time she found herself at the brink of one of these major life events.
"I could have used a little advice right about now, Mom," she murmured. The baby kicked and Jo chuckled slightly, pressing her hand to the approximate point where she'd felt it.
"You," she whispered, feeling silly immediately and choosing to ignore it, "are loved." She stared out into the room, her nose crinkling thoughtfully as she considered the combination of the mahogany furniture with the beige walls. "Not exactly baby colors, is it?" Jo reflected. She felt the baby kick from inside and grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." She cocked her head. "If only I knew whether you were a boy or a girl," she lamented. "Maybe green..." She murmured thoughtfully. "Nice and neutral, and we can always add a color..."
Jo leaned back against the nearby wall, her gaze drifting back to the crib. She bit her lip slightly before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone, which she eyed as though it might bite at any moment. She slid down the wall and onto the floor, shifting her phone from one hand to the other as she deliberated. She pulled up a number from the address book, hesitating before she finally hit the dial button.
The phone rang once, twice, and then she heard a tell-tale click at the other end of the line. Jo smiled tentatively, her hand plucking nervously at the fabric of her pants.
"Hi, Dad," she said.
It was a long time before Jo rejoined Zane and the others in the living room, though it had certainly never been her intent to abandon them to the unpacking. Something about moving a crib into what was formerly her spare bedroom had reinforced the need to come clean to her family in a way that even her brother's arrival had not.
Daniel, closest to the hallway, gave her a quizzical look when she walked in.
"Where have you been?" He asked, eying her drawn expression. She gave him a lackluster smile.
"Talked to Dad," she said, by way of explanation. Daniel eyed her warily.
"How'd that go?" He asked. Jo shrugged.
"About how you would expect," she sighed. "He wanted to know why I hadn't told him sooner, and I – "
"I wouldn't mind knowing that myself," Daniel interrupted, eyebrows raised. Jo gave him a startled look, almost as if she had forgotten who she was talking to. She shook her head slightly – not so much in denial as in an attempt to jump start her brain. Fortunately for her, Zane chose that moment to interrupt.
"Is everything okay?" He asked Jo, his blue eyes dark with worry. Jo gave him a wan smile.
"Just tired," she assured him. Her eyes lit upon Daniel only briefly before she turned to survey the room. Hints of Zane's presence were everywhere. It was odd, Jo mused, how effortlessly it all fit in – she'd never thought of her new home as sparse, but Zane's belongings seemed to fill up empty spaces that Jo had never even realized were there.
Zane still looked concerned.
"I think we've just finished up, Jo-Jo, if you want to go lie down." Jo almost felt, rather than saw, the look on her brother's face when Zane called her 'Jo-Jo.' There would be no coming back from that one. Jo grimaced.
"I'll be fine," she insisted. Carter, who had been watching them from the couch, stood up and ventured over.
"Well I, for one, am exhausted," he announced cheerfully. "In fact, I think it's about time we got going. Don't you, Zoe?" He asked, pointedly. His daughter gave him an amused look.
"Oh, yes," she said dryly. "I think I might just pass out on the kitchen floor."
"I'm with the Sheriff," her brother chipped in unexpectedly. Jo's eyes widened and she turned on her heel to direct her most intimidating stare in his direction. He smirked. "I'm still getting used to this time zone, after all."
"It's been weeks!" Jo hissed at him, but he and the others ignored her, wandering her living room and gathering up their coats and assorted hats and mittens. Jo gave a half-laugh, half-sigh.
"Thanks," she said, shaking her head. "I'm glad we had you here to help."
"If there's anything else I can do to help, Jo, all you need to do is ask," Zoe reminded her, pulling on her cherry red down jacket. "I'll be here for almost a month."
Daniel lounged against one of the couches, his winter coat already zipped up.
"Well, you know I'll be around," he said wryly. "Unless the Department of Defense develops a sudden, unexpected need for my assistance," he added, with a pointed look at Zane, who had the decency to appear faintly abashed.
"Actually," Jo said slowly. "There is something you could do." She licked her lips, seeming nervous. The motley assortment of volunteers watched her curiously. "I'm sure I'm not supposed to be painting," she continued, in response to their inquisitive looks, "but the baby's room. It needs repainting."
"Jo, this is a brand new house," Zane pointed out. "The paint is fine." She gave him an embarrassed look.
"Yes, but..." She trailed off. "It's, you know, not really the right color for a kid?" she pointed out. Jo met Zoe's eyes. "It would go faster with the both of you," she added, hopefully. Zoe shrugged.
"Sure, sounds great," she said, glancing swiftly at Daniel. Jo followed her gaze, and had to stifle a laugh at the mixed emotions flickering across her brother's face. No doubt he was discovering the way Carters grew on you, much as she had four years ago. It was cruel, perhaps, but Jo found she couldn't muster up much sympathy for him. She'd survived just fine, hadn't she? She grinned.
"Perfect. I'll have some paint ready for you by the end of the week."
Much later that night, Zane found himself suddenly and unexpectedly awake. Jo was curled up beside him, her back to him. He lay in bed and blinked, his eyes adjusting slowly to the half-light of Jo's - his, he reminded himself, not for the first time that day. His bedroom. Their bedroom, a concept that still felt entirely foreign to him. Zane supposed it was the sort of thing that just took time. But time he had - and, oh, how he still found himself shying away from the enormity of it all, the idea of entire years, hell, decades with Jo stretching out in front of him. It was like standing by the ocean, seeing that line where the water and the sky seemed to end, but never did. Vast. Infinite. And a more than a little terrifying.
Zane flipped to his side, facing Jo, and wrapped an arm cautiously over the valley that had formed between her breasts and the rise of her belly. Her frame seemed tense, he noticed immediately, and as he sharpened his focus he caught her making a small noise of distress.
"Jo," he whispered, concerned. She didn't respond, reinforcing his suspicion that she was still sleeping. "Jo, wake up." It wouldn't be the first time he'd caught her in the midst of a bad dream. He'd learned quickly to let her take the lead. It was dangerous to startle her, to say the least.
Jo was breathing rapidly, now, and Zane propped himself up with one hand before he raised the hand draped over her to grasp her shoulder hesitantly.
"Jo," he called her again, and shook her gently. This time her eyes flew open, with a startled gasp. For a moment it was silent, with only Jo's ragged breathing filling the space between them. Then:
"Zane?" Her voice was uncharacteristically small.
"I'm here, Jo," he assured her. She rolled over, careful of her belly now instead of the smooth, confident movements he was used to. Zane was surprised when she tucked herself into his side, flush against his body, her forehead pressed into his chest, the jut of her belly creating the only space between them. He thought she might be trembling faintly. He wrapped the arm not propping him up over her side again, this time rubbing her back soothingly. The small shudders faded, replaced by such stillness that for a moment he thought she had fallen back to sleep, until she pulled herself up to press a warm, open-mouthed kiss on his lips. Caught off guard, it took Zane a minute to respond, and by the time he had she'd already slid her left leg between his, her toes curling against one of his calves.
"Jo," Zane protested, unnerved by the sudden change in mood. There was something alarmingly urgent, almost desperate about her kisses. She was nearly straddling him when Zane finally got control of himself and pushed her gently back onto the bed.
"Jo, stop." She stiffened and rolled until her back was to him. Zane exhaled softly, falling onto his back and running a hand through his hair.
"Jo," he said, imploringly.
"You were dead," she whispered, so quiet that he almost missed it entirely. The words hit him like a slap to the face. Jo, in her distress, missed his sharp intake of breath. He turned onto his side and reached for her, coaxing her toward him until, with a small sigh, she turned over and back into his arms. He rested his chin lightly against her silky crown of hair, and his hand slipped to her lower back, rubbing small circles.
"Hey," he whispered. "I'm here, I'm okay." Jo let out a deep, shuddering sigh, her breath warming his chest. Zane thought he could feel her muscles start to unclench. "I'm not going anywhere, Jo."
"You don't know that," she murmured, finally glancing up from where her face was pressed to his chest. The tone of her voice was regretful, but matter-of-fact. Zane pulled back.
"Jo - " he started to argue, but she shook her head, the tips of her hair brushing across his bare chest and making him shiver reflexively.
"No. This is Eureka. Things will never go the way we plan."
"Jo - " he tried again, but he stopped short when she pulled back, pressing a hand against his chest. Even in the half-light of their bedroom, her gaze was intense.
"Promise me, Zane." She said urgently, and he furrowed his brow in sudden confusion.
"What - "
"Promise me you won't put yourself in danger like that again." She didn't have to clarify. It was obvious this wasn't just about the nightmare anymore. Zane shook his head, frustrated.
"Jo, you said it yourself, this is Eureka. I can't control what happens, any more than you can." She swallowed hard, and nodded. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"Then promise that - that you'll be careful. That you'll do whatever you have to do, to make sure you come home at night. Promise to come home to me, Zane." Zane's chest felt suddenly tight. He pulled Jo back into his arms, resting his chin on her head.
"I promise," he said.
This time, when she kissed him, he didn't pull away.
It was the next evening when the inevitable call finally came, and Jo was the one with the dubious honor of answering it. Unfortunately, that only confused things.
She'd been in the midst of a particularly intense contemplation of the leftovers currently in their fridge - should she eat the peanut chicken stir fry and the curried bananas, or the steak tips? What if the baby had a peanut allergy? Was Zane allergic to anything other than penicillin?
It was almost a relief when the phone rang, Still, Jo nearly jumped out of her own skin, and she did manage to send her Seltzer water flying the moment she reached for the phone.
"Hello?" She answered, and dove after the Seltzer, watching in dismay as the fuzzy drink spread across the counter. "Shit," she muttered.
"Zane?" Asked a female voice from the other end of the line, sounding confused. Jo grabbed a handful of paper towels and started mopping up.
"No, actually, he's out in the garage. I can go get him if you'd like." Jo said, only half listening. She winced as she saw the carbonated liquid dripping off the counter and onto the floor.
"I - garage? Who is this?" The woman on the other end asked. Jo paused, suddenly certain she knew that voice.
"Let me just get Zane for you," she said hastily, and beat a quick retreat to the garage.
Zane took one look at her expression when she entered the garage, and his hands stilled on the motorcycle.
"What's wrong?" He asked quickly. "Is it the baby?" Jo waved her hands at him frantically in that universal sign for shut up, shut up, shut up!
"It's your mother!" She half-hissed, half-mouthed. For a moment, Zane just stared at her blankly. "You know, the one you still haven't told!" He opened his mouth, ready to point out that she was one to talk, having only spoken to her father the night before - and hadn't that been a good time - then closed it again. It was probably not really the right moment for that debate.
Might as well resign himself to his fate. Zane reached out a wordless hand for the phone. Jo disposed of it with more haste than she would a viper, the coward, vanishing from the garage with incredible speed (if not grace). Zane was left standing alone in the garage, grease all over his hands, and now the phone. He winced as he lifted it to his ear.
"Hey, Mom." He said. Eileen Donovan was not so much indignant as perplexed when she replied.
"Zane, what on earth is going on? First you don't answer your phone for a week, then when you finally call you leave a message with a whole new number - are you in some kind of trouble? Again?"
Zane chuckled, which in hindsight probably wouldn't reassure her at all.
"Nothing like that," he told her. "Ah - so how is the semester going?"
"The semester is going well, and stop deflecting, Zane Michael." Zane screwed up his face in distaste. His mother continued. "Who was that woman, and why is she answering your phone?"
"Ah. Well." He said awkwardly. "It is her phone too." He tried. There was a long pause.
"You're - living together?" His mother asked, slowly.
"Yeees," Zane said, drawing out the word as he considered the best way to go about explaining. Obviously there were some key details he couldn't share - and he really had no desire to get into his recent coma experience with her - but there was one obvious detail in need of discussion. He frowned.
"Zane?" His mother sounded wary. She, not unlike the woman who'd only just fled the garage, knew that a quiet Zane was a dangerous Zane. Most of the (relatively minor) explosions in his house growing up had been preceded by unusually restful afternoons. Shortly before the first time the FBI had hauled him out of class in handcuffs, there had been an entire week worth of peace and quiet. Eileen Donovan had learned to fear such silences.
"The thing is," he began, before quieting again. "How do you feel about grandchildren?" He asked, finally.
"Like I could use a second chance to instill a love of literature in another generation of Donovans," she said drily. Zane grinned.
"Hey, I liked - " She cut him off.
" - the naughty bits in Chaucer, yes, dear, I have not forgotten the horror of your education just yet. Might I know the name of the mother of my grandchild?" She inquired pointedly. Zane hesitated.
"Jo Lupo," he said finally. There was a small pause.
"Jo Lupo?" His mother repeated. "The security chief you spend all your time ranting about?" It was hard to miss the amusement in her voice.
"You're taking this very well," Zane said, slightly disgruntled. She laughed.
"Sweetheart, you could knock me over with a feather." She assured him. "I certainly never thought I'd be seeing a grandchild anytime soon. When is she due?" His mother asked.
"Mid-March," he admitted.
"Been trying to figure out what you're going to say for a while, have you?" Zane turned a delicate shade of pink only his mother could drag out of him.
"I was working on it," he grumbled. He could almost hear her smiling tolerantly from the other end of the line.
"That's good, dear." Her tone finally turned chiding. "Now, I had better be getting a call from you in mid-March, you hear me? Not mid-April, not May - " Zane cut her off.
"I get it, Mom."
"Well, then," she said briskly. "If that's all, I have final papers to mark. Grades are due in a week, you know." Zane raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. Dr. Eileen Donovan always had papers to read, end of the semester or not.
"That's all that comes to mind," he drawled, a hint of sharpness to his tone. Eileen sighed but declined to comment.
"Goodbye, Zane," she told him, firmly, and after a pause, added, "Congratulations." Zane blinked, startled.
"...thanks," he replied, and hung up.
For a moment, Zane just stood there, pondering the phone in his hand. He was faintly surprised she'd called at all. It wasn't as if she were an absentee parent, strictly speaking - certainly not to the degree of his father, whom he had not seen since he was six - but she was no helicopter parent, either. She had agreed to send him on to college and independence at a young age, and neither of them had really looked back. Or at least, neither of them had ever admitted to it.
Zane pursed his lips and wiped both his hands and the phone on a handy rag before leaving the garage. He found Jo in the kitchen watching the microwave. She had her back to him, but clearly wasn't startled in the slightest when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Instead, she sighed and dropped her head back against his chest as he traced the burgeoning expanse of her stomach.
"Are you sure you don't have eyes in the back of your head?" Zane murmured into her ear. He could feel the muscles in her cheek as she smiled, though based on the tone of her voice and the tension in her muscles, it was a half-hearted one.
"What did she say?" Jo asked, ignoring his comment entirely and cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Zane gave a dramatic sigh.
"That she'll have our child reading Dostoevsky by ten," he lamented. Jo processed his words. This time, he thought, the smile was a genuine one.
"Let's hope she holds off on Palahniuk until he's at least fifteen, then." Zane gave a startled chuckle.
"We can only hope," he agreed readily, pressing his face into her hair - that familiar scent of citrus and gunpowder. Zane smiled.
"I love you, Jo-Jo," he told her, and she twisted in his grip to face him, cupping his face gently between her hands and leaning in to kiss him.
"I love you too." Behind them, the microwave beeped pointedly. Neither of them noticed.
The end of the week found Daniel waiting impatiently for Zoe in the living room of S.A.R.A.H. They were due at Jo's house in - he checked his watch - twenty minutes now, and they were stopping to get food on the way.
"Zoe?" He called up the stairs, tentatively.
"Geez, don't get your panties in a twist," she bounded down the stairs in overalls, a white t-shirt and - Daniel stared - an honest to God bandana tied over her hair, which she'd pulled into tiny little pigtails for the occasion.
Zoe grinned.
"What?" She said, certain she knew exactly what he was thinking. "You like?" She twirled around, smirking.
"It's January. You're going to freeze." He raised his eyebrows, giving her a skeptical look. She scoffed at him as she sailed past - to the closet, to get her jacket. "I mean, inside the house," he clarified. "We need to keep the windows open, assuming you want to keep any of your brain cells. Haven't you ever painted before?" She popped out of the closet in a parka that made the bandana look even more ridiculous.
"Of course," she said dismissively, which was a complete lie, as she'd never in her life painted anything bigger than a jewelry box. She gave him a wicked grin. "But, you know, I've got to look the part. Anyways, I'm sure we'll build up some body heat with all that painting. Door, S.A.R.A.H." She turned and walked out. Behind her, Daniel twitched - there was really no other word for it - and he shook his head briefly as if he were actively attempting to dislodge thoughts from it, before following her out the still-open door and into the chilly air.
It ended up taking them thirty minutes, rather than twenty, to make their way across town to Jo and Zane's.
"You're late," Zane said without looking up from his laptop. Zoe narrowed her eyes, taking in the scene - recovering coma patient lying on the couch in his robe, feet propped up on the arm of the couch and the remnants of a meal on the coffee table next to him.
"Nice to see you too, princess," she said, eyebrows raised, heading across the room to the attached kitchen. She stuck their take-out bag into the fridge and turned back toward the living room, leaning on the kitchen counter.
"Allison told me to take it easy," Zane said, by way of explanation, but closed the laptop and placed it by the empty plate before getting off the couch. "Paint's this way," he said, gesturing for them to follow him down the hall.
"Woah," said Zoe, when he opened the door at the end of the hall.
The floor of the nursery was completely papered from wall to wall with newspaper. Around the room, the edge where floor and wall met was sealed with a thick line of blue tape.
"What's all this?" Daniel asked. Zane looked exasperated.
"As it turns out, Jo is not so good at the taking it easy," he sighed. Daniel's lips twitched as if he were holding in a grin.
"No," he agreed, but didn't elaborate. Zane gave him an unamused look.
"Jo got primer, some white and this - green - " he prodded the paint can with his toe and gave it a dubious look. "She said to keep the moldings white." He raised his eyebrows at them. "Better you than me," he said, unrepentantly, before vanishing through the open door. Zoe rolled her eyes and crouched next to the cans of paint. She poked at a lid.
"How do you even open these?" She wondered, before she remembered who she was with and snapped her mouth shut. She gave Daniel a guilty look.
His attempt at righteous indignation fell flat in the face of her sheepish expression.
"...you've never painted a wall in your life, have you?" Zoe shrugged, faintly embarrassed.
"I grew up in an apartment in LA and then I moved to a crazy sentient underground bunker. There was never really an opportunity." Daniel snorted, turned his back on her and walked out, stepping through the open doorway. Zoe rocked back on her heels, slightly crestfallen. She'd sort of thought, after the past few weeks - but it was obvious he wasn't interested in a friendship with the silly little girl who tailed his sister like a lost puppy. Zoe scowled and stood up. Fine. That was fine. She'd just - go tell Zane she couldn't do this, and that they'd have to arrange for a team from GD -
Daniel reappeared through the door with two warm, damp washcloths, and a small bucket of water. She froze, staring at him. He shrugged, a gesture which made him seem immediately younger, and less strait-laced military.
"We should probably start by wiping down the walls," he explained. "We don't want the primer getting any dirt in it." HR held out a washcloth. Zoe swallowed once, hard.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, of course." She stared at the washcloth in her hand. Huh.
Across the house, the front door opened to admit a tired looking Jo, with her own take-out containers, fresh from Cafe Diem.
"Are Zoe and Daniel here?" She asked Zane, stifling a yawn behind one hand. Zane frowned.
"They're here," he said dismissively, all of his attention focused on her. "Are you okay? Come sit down." Jo joined him on the couch without argument, which in and of itself alarming. She yawned again, this time not bothering to hide it.
"I can't seem to stay awake," she admitted. "He was pummeling my insides all night, after we..." She waved a hand, uncomfortable rehashing the emotional conversation from the night before. "Y'know," she said lamely.
"Oh, I know," he said, voice suddenly low as he wrapped and arm around her and pressed a warm kiss to the juncture of her jaw and her neck. Jo laughed breathily.
"Zane," she protested weakly, aware of Zoe and her brother down the hall - quite possibly the two people she least wanted to walk in on them. After all, poor Zoe had already been subjected to that once this week.
"What's the matter, Jo?" He murmured, his voice rumbling against her where she was pressed against his chest. His hands wandered south. "Worried about your - "
"Oof!" she said suddenly, stiffening. Her hand slid down to the large curve of her belly reflexively. "Ugh, I think that was my kidney..." It met Zane's hand, frozen in place on her abdomen. She pulled back to look at him -
"Zane?" She asked, perplexed.
- but his arms tightened, holding her in place.
"I felt it," he said, his voice hushed. His hand started to rub slow circles over her belly. Jo watched, mesmerized, feeling voiceless and breathless, her chest tight with emotion. She finally managed a deep, shuddering breath.
"Zane..." She said, and trailed off, watching as his hand continued to glide back and forth, back and forth over the fabric of her blouse. She leaned into him, feeling suddenly limp in his arms.
"This is really going to happen," she said softly, and felt him grin where his face rested against her cheek. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
"It really is," he agreed, his voice thick with poorly contained joy.
Jo smiled.
Two hours later, Zoe and Daniel had managed to transform about half of the baby's room to a blinding white, the other half remaining a jarring beige. About an hour in, Zoe had returned to the kitchen for their take-out and found Jo and Zane entangled, fast asleep, on one of the couches in the living room, their uneaten dinners languishing on the coffee table in front of them.
There had only been one conceivable response: Zoe had whipped out her phone and taken a picture, before calling Daniel in.
"Look," she had whispered, gesturing at the couple still fast asleep. "Aren't they adorable?" She cocked her head and continued. "If I had known they'd be like this, I would have pestered Jo about dating him ages ago." Daniel, in response, merely crossed his arms over his chest and given the couple his typical inscrutable look before turning his attention back to the question of dinner.
"Did you heat up the soup?" He asked. Zoe frowned. She just didn't get him.
"No," she said, feeling unreasonably annoyed by his disinterest. "I didn't want to wake them up." He glanced dismissively at his sister.
"She'll fall back asleep," he said, crossing the room to open the fridge. "She hasn't been out of the Rangers that long." Not really seeing the connection between the two, Zoe followed him into the kitchen.
"Killjoy," she muttered. Daniel either didn't hear her, or chose to ignore her.
Now, an hour later, Zoe slumped onto the floor from her knees and sighed. Her back was starting to ache, and she'd switched the brush from hand to hand more times than she could count. She shook an arm experimentally.
"This isn't really what I'd expected," she said mournfully. Daniel gave her a wry look.
"Were you expecting more dancing to the radio and playful, cinematic paint fights?" He asked, dryly. Zoe narrowed her eyes at him.
"Maybe I was," she said, annoyed. He looked more than a little amused.
"You've, ah, got a little - " He gestured at his own cheek, miming with wiping motions.
"Paint?" Zoe said, icily, and rubbed at the spot in question, which really only served to turn the dot of paint into a white streak.
"Well... yeah. Um, you probably shouldn't - I mean - there's more now." Zoe glared at him. Cinematic paint fights, my ass. Then she smirked.
Splat.
"Seriously?" Daniel protested, the entire right side of his jaw now decorated in a delicate spray of tiny white dots where she'd flicked the thick hairs of the brush at him. Zoe batted her long, dark eyelashes at him.
"Now we match," she said, her voice saccharine-sweet. He stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly agape. It was a good look on him, Zoe decided - at least, until he snapped the wrist holding his paintbrush at her, sending a streak of paint across her overalls, Jackson Pollock-style. Zoe looked at him, then her paintbrush.
She lunged.
And so it was that Jo and Zane awoke, about five minutes later, to shrieks of laughter (Zoe's) and Daniel's typical forbidding expression made somewhat less forbidding by a pair of eyebrows painted a delicate, snowy white.
Jo, for her part, just stared.
"Seriously?" She said, when she finally found her voice. "What are you? Five?" She addressed her brother, whose expression was frankly sheepish and a bit goofy.
"Um," he said eloquently, though his attempts at dignity were not at all assisted by the fluffy white dashes that were his eyebrows. "So. I think the room should be done in… maybe two days?" Behind him, Zoe snorted softly as she tried to hold in a stray giggle. Daniel bit his lip and closed his eyes, struggling to hold in his own laughter.
When he opened them again, Jo was still staring at him. Her lips twitched as if she were holding back a smile.
"Ah," she said. "Well then. By all means," she waved expansively at the white and beige walls, "carry on." She turned and walked out of the room, followed by Zane. It wasn't until they were both out of sight that the sound of Jo's laughter drifted back to the two painters.
Daniel sighed.
Disclaimer: Eureka - not mine. The use of 'your worship' inspired by Star Wars, though I feel like it would be a stretch for them to sue over it. Finally, and most amusingly, I'd like to note that the phrase "Don't you look at me in that tone of voice" was actually a line, of Zane's, on Eureka, and I totally wrote it in without remembering where it came from. So I guess he must be in character.
A/N: One more chapter, delicious friends. (Have you been playing Echo Bazaar? You should. Felicia Day told me so.) Therefore, this is the time at which I must exhort my lurkers (you and I both know you are there) to speak up so I know who's actually reading - the fandom is in a precarious position at the moment, and I would really like to know whether there will be readers if I write A SEQUEL.
That's right, A SEQUEL. Are you attending to my words yet, delicious friends?
Really though, if readership is going to evaporate the minute the last episode closes, it might not be worth it. So speak up. I'm leaning towards writing the sequel, but between certain missteps with Jo and Zane onscreen and the imminent end of new episodes, I'm a little worried that nobody would show up to read it.
I think that covers it! Until next chapter!