A/N: (Anachronistically) set somewhere near the end of episode 7 (I think), presumably after Hobbs' death, this is how I imagine their first night together was spent.

The knocks on the door startled her, sending the needle with which she was darning one of the many small woolen socks that were piled up next to her straight through her skin. Yelping softly, she dropped sock and needle on the table next to her and made her way to the door with her thumb in her mouth. It was late and Deborah Goren could not imagine who would come to the orphanage at this hour. Suspicion made her hesitate, but as the knocks were repeated, she decided that anyone meaning her or the children any harm would hardly bother to be so polite.

She was surprised to recognize the familar tall physique of the Inspector as she opened the door and even though her logic had already ruled out the possibility of some evil-doer waiting on her threshold, she still felt relief rushing through her veins.

"Inspector...?" she said, uniting greeting and question in just one word while she moved aside to let him in. He stepped inside, leaving only the inky black of the night behind, and took off his hat. Clutching it almost nervously, he gave her a shaky smile. "Please, call me Edmund," he told her. "Aren't we past the stage of formalities by now?"

"Edmund then," testing the sound of his given name with a smile on her lips, she motioned him to follow her to the small room she had just left. Stacked with laundry and other chores, it was not a place she usually received guests in, but she always enjoyed the feeling of safety it gave her late at night. They would not disturb the children with the sound of their voices from here and it was not as personal as her private room would have been.

"Do sit down," were her words of encouragement when she noticed the awkwardness of his posture and the downcast eyes.

"I'm sorry, I should not have come - I'm disturbing your evening."

"There is no need to apologize, I always enjoy your company." Deborah felt the hints of a blush rising in her cheeks as she heard her own admission, but she quickly turned away from him in order to get another chair for herself, as well as the bottle of Vodka they had shared before. Placing this in front of him, his eyes flickered up to find hers. So many words were left unspoken between them, and they both were well aware of them; but there was no need to discuss the kiss - Deborah was ready to accept it as whatever he wanted it to be. Silence fell between them as she filled their glasses and slowly slid one of them across the table into Edmund's reach. There were deep shadows under his eyes that made her heart lurch a little. He looked lost; deeply unhappy and lost.

"You look tired," she told him, filling the empty space between them with words. "Has work been keeping you up?" As she probed carefully, her eyes met with his again. He nodded.

"Yes. I'm ..." A sigh replaced the sentence that might have been. Instead of talking, he swallowed the contents of his glass eagerly. As his glass hit the wooden table, Deborah reached out and touched his hand. Feeling her own small, cold fingers against his heated skin was a curious sensation; usually, she only felt the tiny fingers of her charges on her palm, but next to his hand her own looked rather childlike. She pushed the thoughts aside and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's get you to bed." Speaking as if she were talking to one of her orphans, the tone of her voice admitted no objection. Her confidence only began to falter as his eyes met her in question. Bed, of course, was in this context a term left open to interpretation, but she quickly added "Sleep. You do look like you need it." Having the matter thus clarified, Reid showed himself a lot more willing to be led by her, hands still clasped together, into the direction of her private chamber.

An air of consent had settled over them, and they remained silent while Deborah closed the door behind her, before self-consciously turning to face the wall as she worked the buttons of her dress. She was careful not to turn around, but her heart still beat faster as she listened to the sounds of rustling fabric that filled the space. Clad only in her corset and shift, she drew in a deep breath, feeling her chest rising. The sounds had stilled and her skin tingled. Was he watching her or had he averted his eyes? she wondered before closing her own and unhooking the corset at last. Placing it next to her dress, she unnecessarily smoothed out the white fabric of her undergarments before turning around at last.

He had taken a seat on the edge of her bed, eyes fixed to the wooden floor. As he looked up, she gave him a shaky smile and motioned him to lie down before she slid under the sheets next to him. Awkwardly lying on her back she dared not to breathe until she felt his arm wrap around her middle, holding her close. His head found a place on her shoulder and just like that any sense of discomfort left her. While he quickly fell into a deep slumber, Deborah was awake for quite some time, stroking his hair in an almost machanical motion as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened between them.

.

The next night she had almost anticipated his knock - although his greeting still came as a surprise: The moment she had opened the door, he had pulled her into a close embrace. Before she even had time to think, his mouth was on hers, kissing her with fierce passion; this time, there was no question about their purpose as they stumblingly made their way into her room.