When Carter woke up, she was laying half on top of John and half on top of the bed with her head almost fully tucked into his armpit. She inhaled and smelled the last of his deodorant, and its faint aroma woke her up. Her throat was dry, and her mouth felt like she'd been chewing on sandpaper all night. She rolled over onto her back, groaning, and rubbed her eyes.

The sun was up, beaming brightly through the bedroom window, and she could hear the sound of the surf outside. She sat up slowly, noting that her dress was bunched up around her waist in a tangle of yellow fabric. John was still asleep beside her, naked from the waist down. His shirt was unbuttoned and hung loosely off his shoulders.

"That was some…good tequila," she mumbled, and checked the time on her cell phone on the nightstand. It was just past noon. "Some really good tequila."

She fell back against the bedding, then sat up abruptly as her stomach lurched. It subsided. For two seconds, then hit her powerfully at once. She rolled off the bed quickly, and for the first time since she woke, she felt her head start to pound.

Oh God, she thought, running to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. It felt like it was miles away for some reason, and as soon as she got through the door she fell to her knees in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach.

When she was done, her stomach was sore, and she wiped at her mouth, weakly.

"Ugh."

She got up and walked over to the sink, looking for her toothbrush and toothpaste and began to scrub inside her mouth vigorously. Brushing her tongue stirred up another wave of nausea, and she held her stomach with a frown.

John's footsteps sounded behind her and he looked at her in the mirror after she gargled with some mouthwash.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kissing her neck. He slid his arm gently around her waist and she leaned into him.

"I think it was the tequila," she responded, quietly. "And don't think I don't feel you pushing up on me in the back there, I've got a headache too."

"Not even two years together and you have a headache already?"

She grinned as his hands moved over her thighs, and she looked at him in the huge bathroom mirror while he nibbled on her neck playfully.

"Just a little one."

"You didn't mind me pushing up on you last night."

She turned around in his arms. "No, I didn't mind at all. You do know how to throw that thing. Hit the right spots."

She put her arms around him and rested her face against his chest while he pulled her close. She liked to just stand in his embrace sometimes. She always felt safe and loved when he held her.

"You throw it back pretty good yourself," he responded. "You sure you're okay?"

"My stomach is queasy. I'm sure it's not something a little tea won't cure. Make me some?"

"Of course."

He gave her a soft peck on the mouth and disappeared. "Put some pants on first!" she screamed after him. She heard him reenter the bedroom; rummage through the drawers, then shortly after head for the kitchen.

She took the opportunity to jump in the shower, thinking about last night and how they basically tore up the place after they got home. She blushed, thinking about the sex, the way he took her and the way she took him. She felt like a teenager. John seemed to be the only man who could bring out the naughty, risqué side to her sexuality. Not that sex with Paul wasn't good, but for the majority of their marriage, Taylor was just a baby, and then there were the early childhood years where he needed all of her attention. Before she'd gone back on tour, he'd always wanted to sleep in between them, had to be cared for, and then Paul had ended up going back on tour too. There wasn't a whole lot of time - or places - to be adventurous or carefree. And then when he came home with PTSD, their love life became non-existent.

During her brief relationship with Cal, she enjoyed the touch and intimacy of being with someone again, but things with John were so starkly different from the both he and Paul. And she was enjoying it to the fullest. She liked that now, at her age, she could simply lie back and let John take his time while he made love to her. She could go over to his loft, hold him in her hand and have him beg her to put her lips on him. She could be the one in charge, ride him, buck up on him, tell him how she wanted it. And she also liked when they just went wild on each other like they had last night. She giggled, thinking of how he bent her over the countertop. She'd certainly been well fucked on their first night in the Hamptons.

They were good in bed together, but they were equally good outside of it.

He had his subtle ways of taking care of her. He had her back when she was battling office politics in her male dominated precinct. He'd help her out on her own cases when she needed a different perspective. He listened when she needed him to, and he had a way of understanding what she wanted without her having to say anything at all. He loved her. Fiercely, and completely, and with all that he had.

She knew his past with Jessica and all the shit the CIA put him through had left him feeling like he was damaged goods, but in her eyes, he wasn't. And she tried to make him feel special; let him know how much he meant to her. And to Taylor. His father was back in his life, but he also valued John as a friend, and as her man.

As she toweled off and slipped into her underwear, she realized that with the drama of HR behind her, her relationship with John and Taylor heading off to college in the fall, she was completely and utterly happy.

"Ooooh...damn."

Her stomach was aching again; she sat on the bed, flattening her palm over it. She decided to get back under the covers, just as he came walking through the bedroom door with a mug in his hand.

"Found some peppermint in the cupboard; it should settle your stomach." He held up a small bottle of pills in his hand, shaking it. "Take one of these too and your head should be better in a while."

He handed her the cup of tea and asked if she wanted food, but with her stomach still upset, the last thing she wanted to do was eat.

"No, thanks. I don't want anything, except for you in bed next to me."

"How could I say no to that?" he asked. "Just let me take a shower and I'll be back."

"Hmm, okay."

Carter took a few more sips of the tea, but apart from the upset stomach and the headache, she felt tired, sleepy. She rested the mug on the dresser next to the bed and closed her eyes listening to the faint sound of John singing as he showered. She lay back against the pillows, and by the time John got out of the shower and slipped into some boxer briefs, she was almost asleep. Instead of rousing her, he got in beside her and pulled her close to his chest. She snuggled up beside him, inhaling the smell of soap on his skin. His skin was warm, and she slid her arm around his waist.

She could feel him kissing her face, kissing her neck, rubbing her back, and she smiled.

"Get some sleep, Joss." He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

"I love you too."

After sleeping most of the morning away and afternoon away, they both woke up feeling hungry and relaxed. Neither wanted to go out, but Reese pulled her out of bed and fixed them something to eat. Music played in the background while he prepared their meal, and she sat on one of the bar stools and watched him. After he was done, she'd taken her first bite and insisted on 'kissing the cook' since he'd done such a good job.

Reese spooned the last of the pulled pork onto a Kaiser roll and put a little coleslaw on it before he placed it in front of him. He absently took a bite while he listened as Carter shared a story about her army days and how difficult she found training at first. Truthfully he missed a bit of the details. He was thinking of the last time he'd allowed himself to be this relaxed, this free and this open with a woman. He remembered Jessica and their weekend in Mexico. It was another long weekend just like this one, and he'd been happy thinking about their future together.

After she died, he never thought he'd feel anything close to what he felt for Jessica again. And he was right. What he had with Joss was so much different, stronger than anything he'd imagined. She knew everything about him - the good and the bad - and she still accepted him. Just as he was.

How did he get so lucky? he wondered. The straps of her yellow dress slipped off and he gazed at her skin, her beautiful eyes and her smile. With her hair up in a ponytail and her face free of makeup, she reminded him of how he'd once been young and open to love, and ready to give his heart to someone. What could he possibly have done in this lifetime to deserve someone like her? He wasn't sure if it was fate, luck, a miracle. But he was grateful for whatever it was that had caused their paths to cross.

He could get lost in her, in her touch, in her kiss. He was a different man around her, and here with no numbers, without being the Man In a Suit, he was in no rush to go back or leave.

"What are you looking so pensive over there for? Cause I know you're not listening to my story."

He didn't respond, but the smile on her face disappeared when he looked at her with all the love he felt. He took away the empty plates, silently loaded the dishwasher, and when he stood at the sink he felt her arms around his waist, her head resting on his back.

He turned round to kiss her, feel the softness of her mouth, and the softness of her heart. She had slowly become his everything and he hadn't even realized it. Her caress on his cheek, the touch of her hand on his chest as she stood on her toes to get closer to his lips – she was his everything and he didn't know what he'd do if he ever lost her.

It felt like hours, days, eons of time passed by as he kissed her, as he poured his heart into every nip, every slow movement of his tongue, every touch of his hand on her body. He heard the whisper of her breath, sensed her arousal, sensed that she was caught up in the moment just as much as he was.

"John," Carter said, catching her breath.

She wondered if something was wrong. Was he okay? But he continued to kiss her, didn't say a word, and before long, she was too weak to remember any questions that she might have had. His hands moved underneath her dress; they gently pulled her panties down, and she shivered as he touched her ever so softly between her legs. He lifted her up, put her on top of the island, and she felt the satin fabric dangle and fall from around her ankles.

He raised her knees up, rested the flat of her feet on top of the island, and she lay back as the feel of his tongue caused sparks of lightning to pass through her. He took his time, licked and sucked, and she felt the room spin as he slowly, expertly and sweetly brought her to orgasm. When he was done, when she was trembling and wet with pleasure, he took her upstairs to their room.

"You're not done?" she grinned, as he slowly removed the straps of her dress from her shoulders.

It fell to the ground in a heap, and after he undressed, he finally shook his head and answered.

"Not by a long shot."

Unlike the frenzy of the night before, he was unhurried, controlled, but strong. She thought that she would go crazy as he drew out his strokes, as he filled her up, and made her want him more and more. Whenever she came close to her peak, he would stop; make her come down, only to build up the anticipation and threshold of pleasure again. He took her underneath him, from the back and finally on her side, changing positions to increase her pleasure in as many ways as possible. And finally when she couldn't take it anymore, he brought them both to a roaring climax. One that left him gasping, crying out her name.

He was quiet for a while, and she sensed that whatever it was that had moved him so much he wasn't yet ready to share. So she just held him while they talked about nothing and everything at the same time. He knew what she needed without her saying the words, and right now she knew that he simply needed her to be near, to hold him until the feeling disappeared.

The next day they got up early, and he drove them out to one of the popular golf clubs. He was determined to teach her. She stood and listened to him as they entered the range and he told her the rules of the game and how to play. He looked incredibly serious as he told her about the different clubs in their bag, the 'woods' and what each of them were used for. He taught her how to swing, the right stance and how to make sure you got distance. He was very good. At teaching and at the game too. He didn't care that she started off slowly, or that she swung up instead of down, and he coached her on how not to swing too hard at the ball and how to let the club do its job of making sure the ball got as close to the hole as possible.

After a few hours on the course, they went onto the tennis court and got in a few sets. Admittedly she enjoyed playing tennis more, and unlike golf, she was better than John. At least she thought so, and didn't mind teasing him about it. After the sets were done and they handed in their rackets, a feeling of lethargy rest on her. She wrinkled her brow, wondering why she felt so tired, when she exercised regularly back in Brooklyn and went jogging several times a week.

She ran a towel over her face, wiping away the perspiration when suddenly she began to connect the dots in her head. An upset stomach for almost two days, vomiting, feeling tired yesterday after she got up, sleeping the whole afternoon, and now…after a few light rounds of exercise all she wanted to do was rest again.

"One…two…"

She started counting aloud, thinking about the date of her last period and realized that she was late! By about two weeks to be exact. She felt the hair on her arms stand up, a literal chill ran up her spine and she started to shake her head in denial.

John was walking toward her, rubbing a towel on the back of his neck.

"Where do you wanna eat tonight, Joss?"

Eat? she thought. Food was the last thing on her mind. What she needed was to get to a drug store. And quick.

"Um, I don't know, John. You pick the place."

"No."

It was the first word that popped into her head the moment she saw the two pink lines in front of her. She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"No," she repeated.

Outside the bathroom door, Carter heard John calling to her, telling her they were gonna be late. He'd chosen an Italian place about twenty minutes away. He was hungry. And she was pregnant apparently. At least that's what the test strip said, but it couldn't be right.

She shook her head again, putting the strip back into its box and into the plastic bag from the drug store. The door opened abruptly, and John poked his head into the bathroom.

"Hey."

She slipped it behind her back and turned towards him. John saw the swift movement, but didn't say anything, except to tell her again that it was time to go.

"Ok," she said, with a forced smile and walked past him quickly.

She disposed of it in the trash can, picked up her purse and headed out the front door. She squelched the panic that rose inside her and thoughts about what a pregnancy could mean for the both of them as he slid into the SUV beside her.

It was a full minute before she realized he had yet to start the vehicle and just sat quietly watching her. There's no way he could know, she thought.

"What?" she asked.

"You look beautiful."

He reached over to squeeze her hand. It was their last night in the Hamptons. Maybe for tonight at least she could pretend she hadn't taken the test and think about facing reality after they got back to Manhattan.

"Thanks."

Present Day

Reese let himself into Carter's apartment. She hadn't answered his calls all day, but he knew she was at home. Knew it like he knew she'd been avoiding him since they got back from the Hamptons. Their last night had been fun; they were filled with laughter, good food, and good sex, just like the previous two had been. But she was different, and he hadn't missed the slight change in her despite her attempts to hide it.

They'd only been back a week, but she seemed to have something on her mind. Something she needed to tell him, but hadn't yet come to terms with herself. He knew what it was. Knew she was pregnant, and he feared that her inability to tell him meant she was contemplating getting rid of it.

Getting rid of him, too.

He sought her out to hear the words he knew she was eventually going to say. No matter how painful they were going to be.

He found her upstairs in her bedroom, sitting at the foot of her bed. When he walked in she looked up, and he saw tears in her eyes. She sat up straight, wiping at her face, and he slowly walked toward her.

"I'm not gonna ask if you're okay; I can see that you're not."

She sniffled a little and he knelt in front of her, putting his arms around her hips. "How far along are you?"

She looked surprised, and a slight chuckle escaped her lips. "How'd you know?"

"I know you, Joss. I know how you smell. I know how you taste. I know how you feel in my arms. And last weekend…you were different. The change was small, but…you were different."

"You saw my pregnancy test in the garbage didn't you?"

"And I also saw your pregnancy test in the garbage."

She huffed out a small laugh, and he wondered with a little bit of hope if she hadn't made up her mind yet. Maybe he could still convince her.

"I had one long weekend with Jessica. We were happy for those few days, and then 9/11 happened and I knew the dreams I had for us to be together would never come true."

"John, I'm not Jessica. And you are not the same person you were all those years ago."

"I know, but if you could just give us a chance. I don't want to lose you."

"Wait," she said, cupping his face in her hands. "You don't think that I'm thinking about ending things do you? Because I'm not."

"I know who I am, Joss. I know what I've done, and I know that a child with me is a…complication that you might not want. A life with me," - he choked on the next words - "is something you might not need."

Now she knew why he'd behaved so strangely before they'd left, why he'd made love to her so desperately. Their weekend together reminded him of what he had, and what he could lose. He'd been happy with Jessica, and now he had been scared to lose the happiness he had with her.

"Except you're a complication that I've had for almost two years. Sometimes I think between me being a detective, and this life I have with somebody whose work lies on the opposite side of the law, I must be out of my mind thinking it could work. But, so far it has."

She slid her thumb over his brow, stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes, taking her words in.

"It's been far from easy, John, but I love you," she said, softly. "And out of the men I've dated, married, I've never had to be guarded with you. We had our trust issues in the beginning, but I know now that I can trust you no matter what."

She hugged him, and he slid his arms around her. Despite her reassurances about their relationship, she still felt terrified about having a baby when her only baby she'd had for almost eighteen years was graduating from high school in a few months.

She was terrified, and she decided to tell him so. "I'm scared, John."

He pulled away and kissed her. "I'm scared." He kissed her again, trying to dispel her panic, her misgivings and doubts, and she loved him for it.

"So am I."

"I can't raise this baby alone. This child is going to need both its parents."

She looked into his eyes, and he knew, like she did, that he'd have to make some changes.

"You're stuck with me remember? Both you and Taylor, and now so is this baby."

"Are we?" she asked, thinking about the dangers he faced every day.

She saw him fidget in his pocket, and when he took his hand out, her wedding ring was in his palm.

"You can if you want to be."

"Are you crazy?" she asked.

"We both are. We're crazy enough to make a relationship work, crazy enough to consider having a child together."

"And now you want us to go deeper into this rabbit hole?"

Reese knew what he was asking was near impossible. She was a cop, and he was legally dead. She'd be at a disadvantage saying yes. But years ago, he'd let Jessica walk out of his life without asking her to wait. He'd practically shoved her out of it. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he wanted this baby. He wanted Joss, and he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life; however long that was.

"Like you said, it's crazy."

He tentatively reached for her hand, sliding the ring onto it. She took a deep breath while she looked at it.

"Joss?" His lips were at her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her face.

"Okay, John," she said, nodding, and put her hand round the back of his neck. He smiled and got up from his knees, dragging her to the middle of the bed where he lay atop her. She giggled as he playfully nipped at her neck and put her arms around him.

"What is Finch gonna say?" she asked.

He tilted his head a little, contemplating the conversation they'd eventually have. "He's probably thinking of something right now. I'm sure he's listening."

"Is he now?"

She kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. She took her time tasting his mouth, teasing his lips apart and darting her tongue in and out of it. He pulled her on top of him, his hands moving under the waistband of her pants and she moaned.

"Always."

"Well, I'd suggest he tune out now. Things are about to get…heated," she said.

"Not that I'm complaining, but."

But, what?"

"Boy or girl?"

"It's way too soon to tell."

"I know but, do you want a boy or girl?"

"John?" she murmured against his lips. "Shut up and kiss me."