Listening for the soft slam of her door, he took a deep breath and headed into the hallway, striding quickly towards the bathroom. He had waited exactly 22 minutes for Jess to return to her room. Twenty-two minutes of his ear straining at the door while he waited for the soft sound of her footsteps returning from her morning shower.

Normally, the morning dance of avoidance was not this complicated. Jess commonly left the loft before he even awoke, making it easy for him to almost pretend she didn't live torturously close to him across the hallway. Later it was even easier; a glut of late shifts had meant that in the three and a half weeks since that night they had barely spent ten minutes in the same room, exchanging perfunctory greetings only. However, today he needed to be at the bar early to take a delivery, so a little purposeful hiding was required.

He twisted the knob of the shower and shivered as the chilled water cascaded over his body – Jess must have used up all the hot water. His eyes rolled back as he imagined she stood in this exact spot only minutes earlier, naked. Thank God the water was cold. Rubbing the soap over his body he worked quickly, his mind resting on the topic that had occupied it so much recently. Her and what had happened. He had run the events of that night over and over in his head so many times it hurt. Still, his body ached at the memory of their last night together, but it was quickly overtaken by a different ache. An ache of longing, knowing she didn't want him, didn't see him as anything but- well, he wasn't even sure what they had, had been.

Reaching his face, he rubbed the thick stubble that coated it, he hadn't shaved in days; the scruff he normally sported was replaced with the beginnings of a thick beard. He made a mental note to shave at some point as he quickly stopped the flow of water and pushed back the curtain.

She knew he was avoiding her. It was subtle in a way, one that could be excused by work and other such commitments but when compared to his previous schedule the contrast was stark. It felt strange not seeing him – on the couch watching a game with Winston - drinking a Heisler, in the kitchen arguing with Schmidt; even at the bar. Yes, she too was playing the avoidance game. Invitations to come for a drink at Clyde's were rebuffed by protestations of too much work or plans with Cece.

Brushing out her hair, she sighed and looked into her dresser mirror. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. It was supposed to be fun, friends helping friends. But now it was just weird. She accepted that nothing more would happen – they had each admitted as much the night all those weeks ago. But it hurt that for some reason they couldn't move past this, couldn't be something other than whatever it was they were before.

Moving over to the bed, she picked up her black stockings and began to roll them over her slim, pale legs. Although she had changed her sheets since that night, her bed remained a vivid reminder of that final night. Never had she felt so passionate, so hot, so desired… A hot flush went through her. Pursing her lips she let the heat dissipate as she mused over how two people can come together so perfectly … and the disappointment that it can be nothing more.

Finally standing up, she slid on her shoes and gave herself one last look. Well Jessica Day, I guess you can't have everything, she thought as she left her room. Hoping, inside, that soon things might return to some semblance of normal.

The slam of the loft door was his signal the coast was clear; he buttoned his plaid shirt (only worn twice) and headed to the kitchen for a cup of strong, black coffee to chase away the remaining tired ache that filled his body. Flicking the kettle switch, he heaped a spoon of dark, intensely flavoured granules into the cafetiere on the countertop and waited for the water to boil.

"Nick, man, where have you been hiding?"

The sound of Winston's voice caused Nick to spin round on the spot, spoon in hand. "Hey, Winnie," he said with a small grimace. Although he had been avoiding Jess, it also meant he had been avoiding the other loft mates.

"Man, you look like crap," continued Winston as he pulled open a cupboard and grabbed his own cup.

"Thanks," replied Nick as he rubbed at his still unshaven face. "Workin' on the rugged look."

"More like hobo," Winston chuckled. The kettle clicked and Nick made a pot of coffee, pushing the plunger down slowly before filling the two cups with the black, silky liquid. Both men made their way over to the table and sat around the corner, Winston placing that day's newspaper in front of him.

"So, really, where have you been? I feel like I've barely seen you man."

"Just work, you know, long shifts," Nick replied weakly, taking a sip of his still too hot coffee, burning his mouth a little.

"So it has nothing to do with a certain brunette…"

"What? What do you mean-"

"Seriously, do you think I'm blind? I know about Jess."

"You do? Was it Schmidt?" Nick sighed, pushing his face into his hands.

"Of course I knew man, it's been so obvious. Schmidt, what does he know?"

Nick groaned a little. This wasn't exactly the conversation he wanted to have this morning; he'd hoped that he would only have Schmidt's disapproving stares to contend with. "It's over Winston; it was just sex, a rebound thing. Nothing is going on right now."

"What?!" Winston cried, crashing his cup onto the wooden table. Nick felt a cool stream of realization, no, he hadn't known.

"Uh-"

"YOU and JESS? Hooking up? Since when?" Winston asked, his voice high pitched, leaning over the table closer to Nick.

"A few weeks after she moved in-"

"A FEW WEEKS?" Winston was practically shouting now,

"But it's over, has been for-for a while now."

It went quiet and Winston began to display an expression of confusion and deep thought on his face. "I need a minute to process this," he began, "Man, I am your best friend, why didn't you tell me? And SCHMIDT knew?"

"Oh man," Nick said shaking his head, "It was never, you know-It wasn't," he struggled for the words, "It didn't mean anything, wasn't important."

"Don't lie to me Nick - I see the way you look at her! I thought all you were going to say was you had a thing for her."

They both locked eyes and he could see the disbelief in Winston's face. "Fine. You want the truth? I think she's amazing. It started out as just a thing, some fun. But stupid Nick Miller started to fall for her and guess what? That's not what she wants. So yes, I am avoiding her, thanks for asking." With that, Nick stomped away from the table and threw the rest of his coffee into the sick, feeling a wave of sickness after admitting what he hadn't admitted to anyone before.

"Wait," his friends' voice, came closer to him, "I'm sorry man, I didn't realize…"

"Well, thanks again Winnie," Nick said with a wry smile turning to face him, "I'll be fine. I just need to stay out of her hair for a little longer. It's a little torturous you know, seeing her around."

Winston felt a wave of sympathy for his friend and walked over and grabbed his shoulder, "Okay man, sorry again. If you need anything…"

Nick shook his head, "Nah, just to get to work," and with that he began to walk towards the loft door.

She slid into her car, feet aching and a long day of teaching behind her. All she wanted now was a glass of wine and to unwind. Thankfully, she had arranged to meet Cece for dinner and drinks at a bar near her house – no chance of heading to Clyde's, at least not anytime soon.

As much as she tried to keep thoughts of Nick separate in her mind, it was hard. Her car, for example, had been the site of more than one of their rendezvous – thanks to its large trunk. The bar, well that was obvious – it was where he worked, where they had first, decided. Even more than that, it was the chill of the wind on her skin that reminded her of his kisses, the rub of the rough material of her skirt against her waist – so similar to the feel of- She shook her head to scatter the thoughts.

Shifting the car into drive, she released the handbrake and coasted out of the school parking lot. A queasy feeling rose in her – hunger, most likely. The plate of wings Cece had promised her seeming more appetizing as the seconds ticked by.

The rose wine slid down her throat, filling her mouth with bursts of peach and strawberry as she lay back in the soft leather of the booth. Cece had watched in amusement as she wolfed down the chicken wings like she hadn't eaten in a month. "Whoa girl, slow down, you're going to give yourself indigestion!" she laughed as she took yet another spicy wing in her hands.

"Sorry," Jess said with a little smile, "I'm just soo hungry lately!"

"So I can see," Cece replied taking a sip of her own white wine, "But it's not a famine, you can take your time." Jess blushed and nodded. "So how are things in the loft then?"

"Oh, great," she lied, licking her lips a little and taking a stick of celery in her hand, "Fantastic even."

"Uh-huh," Cece nodded, eying her suspiciously, "And Nick?"

"What about him?" Jess asked, flipping her head to face her friends.

"How is that going?"

"Going? It's not going. I told you already."

"You said that you didn't think he wanted anything more, and that was weeks ago."

Jess played with the glass in her hand, twirling it back and forth before she faced her friend. "Okay, so we slept together again. But it was weeks ago, and it meant nothing!"

"Oh Jess," Cece said, shaking her head, "Sex never means nothing to you. Look how long it took for you to lose your virginity!"

Jess blushed at Cece's assertion, knowing she was right. Burying her face into her shoulder, she continued, "I was feeling twirly and he had said I made him happy."

"See, I knew it," Cece put a triumphant look on her face, "I KNEW he liked you. I can tell these things," she finished tearing into another wing.

"But then, we both realized it was a huge mistake, and that was like three, almost four weeks ago and we've not-" Jess stopped midsentence. Three weeks? Had it really been that long? But-

"Yeah right, you know-" she stopped when she saw the expression on her friends face, "You okay Jess?"

Jess waved her hand at her as she began to count in her head, using her fingers as markers. Finally she took a deep breath, "Oh crap."

"Oh crap what?" Cece asked, leaning closer to her friend, "What's wrong?" Jess felt the queasiness from earlier rise, unable to speak, her heart racing. No, no way, not possible, couldn't be, never, dammit….

Eventually her heart rate slowed enough for her to say, "I'm late."

"Late?" Cece asked quizzically, until she clocked the expression on Jess's face, "Ohhh," she finished slowly, reaching out and placing a hand on top of hers. "Are you sure?"

"I guess," she replied breathlessly, the room spinning now a little as a kind of panic set in, "I mean, it must be at least five, six weeks since… I'm never late Cece. Never," she gave Cece a pleading stare.

Silently Cece grabbed her purse, pulling her friend up from the table, "There's only one way to find out," she said, leading her to the door.

The line in Walgreens was long and Jess had fidgeted and twisted the whole time before practically running back to her car with Cece. They went to the models apartment – they couldn't really head back to the loft and Cece had left Jess in the bathroom with the all-important little white stick.

Finally, she had emerged, test in hand and slunk over to the sofa where her friend awaited. Thankfully, the other occupants of the apartment were out.

They sat next to each other as the seconds ticked by, each unsure really what to say.

Cece broke the silence, "Jess, I wouldn't worry, you're probably just stressed. That can make you period late."

"Yeah," she replied in a whisper, thankful for her friend's attempts at soothing her anxiety. "Stress, that's probably it. I'm worrying for nothing."

"And, in any case," he friend continued, "Would it be the end of the world? You want kids right? You're not getting any younger…"

"Cece, this wasn't really how I imagined it happening, you know, I wanted a relationship, a partner…"

"Well, things don't always turn out the way you want, but we make the best of it," she replied sagely as she pulled Jess closer to her and placed a kiss on her head.

A few more minutes passed before Jess spoke again, "Okay, it's time," she turned and held out the stick to Cece, "Can you, please?"

Cece nodded and took it from her hands, slowly turning it over, her expression unchanging until she lowered it and locked eyes with Jess. Pursing her lips, she spoke as she showed Jess the test, "Positive."

Jess's stomach dropped as she took in the two clear, blue lines standing starkly on the white background, another, heavier nauseous wave hitting her.

"Oh God, oh God…" she mumbled. Cece wrapped her arms around her friend and pulled her close, listening as Jess began to let out silent tears, her body gently shaking. Finally, she pulled back and with slightly reddened eyes spoke, "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know Jess," Cece spoke as she pushed the hair out of her friend's eyes, "But I know you need to speak to him. It's his child too."

Child. Oh that word, she was carrying a child. His child. How had this happened?

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, knowing her friend was right, but having no idea how to tell him.

So I went there. This has been the plan for a while now.

I know some of you won't be happy thinking -'oh another Jess gets pregnant fic' etc, but I'd like to think you all know me and my style well enough now to trust me. I know other people have done this but in completely different ways.

Please review and let me know what you think :)