Elizabeth had always found surprises to be particularly loathsome. Her organic craving for security could not thrive on the fear of the unknown and that was that. She'd always been one to plan, ever since she was a toothless, yet admittedly charming six-year-old with golden locks. Her dolls had to be tucked in bed by eight o'clock every evening. Their curfew was not to be disputed. She always placed her pristine notebooks on the right side of her desk; it was easier for her to organize her school bag in the morning that way.

The pattern continued well into her adulthood – no surprise birthday parties, no unplanned trips, not even with Tom. Their engagement was no surprise either. Everything, from her modest diamond ring to the tablecloths for the engagement party, was chosen by her. Her desire to adopt a child had been a consistent life goal for years prior to meeting her husband.

Becoming a mother was something she had always wanted to plan as thoroughly as humanly possible. No child of hers would ever be an accident. Motherhood was no accident. She was a grown woman and she had always planned to do her knowledge and education justice by being responsible. Decent. Sound. She was always one to choose the right thing.

Yet, there she was betrayed by her good intentions and immaculate judgment, agonizing over the possibility of being pregnant with Reddington's child.

It was going to be a stormy night, it seemed. Not one for romance; not at all. The severe flashes of lightning outside brought nothing but thunder. And thunder only ever promised nothing but fear and more electric anxiety. Thunderstorms and the unknown had to be related somehow, she thought. There was no other explanation for the similar ways in which they caught their prey by surprise, making it deaf and helpless.

Nothing was cooperating with her that evening. Because of the upcoming storm, electricity had parted ways with her entire neighborhood two hours ago. She was going to have to wait until the next day to buy a pregnancy test. He wouldn't let her leave the apartment in weather so horrendous. More importantly, he'd question her; he would want to know what could possibly be so urgent.

She couldn't even curl up next to what seemed to be a particularly cheerful Red with a book in her lap, in an attempt to conceal the weight of her secret. Only, the secret was not simply hers to keep and protect. If she was indeed pregnant, that same secret was his as much as it was hers and he had to know.

His daughter had always been the creature he loved the most. Liz was not jealous. It was how it should be. He was a father. Fathers loved their children more than they did their lovers. She had no right to singlehandedly take away his chance at that kind of blessed love again.

She was going to tell him as soon as he joined her on her sofa, right before his skilled, erotic ministrations could distract her. Together, they were going to do the right thing.

"I hope you aren't too fond of this Jo Malone candle, Lizzie. It was the only one I could find. Which reminds me, your drawers need an urgent rearrangement," he spoke happily. His merriment was a wonderful feast. One she wanted to indulge in. But first she had to set herself free by telling him the truth first.

"Something on your mind, sweetheart?" He asked, and his question made her look up at him. He had lit up the enormous scented candle she was secretly saving for special occasions, the essence of which she had yet to decide upon. He was concerned. He knew something was up; it was done. He placed the candle on her coffee table, the one they chose together and joined her on the couch. He took her left hand, freeing it from the obligation to rub her temple and kissed the knuckles of it, looking at her with kind eyes; there was no hurry in them at all. Just concern.

"I might be pregnant. Haven't done a test yet but it's a very realistic possibility," she finally told him, trying not to break down in tears too soon into that dreadful conversation. His hands continued to hold hers but the gentle ministrations of his thumbs against her flesh came to an abrupt end.

"When did you become aware of this possibility?" he asked. He was dead serious.

"Today. Sometime in the afternoon. It occurred to me I was late," she told him truthfully. She was not going to lie to her protector, lover and best friend. "I considered waiting till tomorrow when I would've known for sure and tell you then. I'm scared,", she said and the first sequence of transparent, glittering tears left her eyes. He kissed her palm and breathed in, then out, three times.

"I love you," she told him, not wanting to interrupt his silence. "And I want a future with you. But I also didn't plan for this to happen. Not that I know if it has happened. I'm not sure how I feel about this," she breathed out, cutting off her own ramblings.

The scent of the ostentatious candle was starting to kick in with delicious, refined force. Its softness, as well as the warmth of his lips on her palm, caused for her anxiety to give way to happiness so grand, she was rendered speechless. Her entire world was narrowed down to their sacred union and a candle's blessing. It was enough. The love they had for one another was going to be enough to sustain their life together, even if that life included a child.

"We'll get you a test tomorrow and then go from there, okay, sweetheart?" He told her warmly, touching her forehead with his. "It'll be fine either way. You know that, right?" He confirmed all of her hopes in a single string of simple sentences.

"I know. I love you," she told him confidently.

"I love you way more. Shall we go to bed?" He suggested and stood up, taking the candle in one hand and her palm in the other.

"Let's go," she said happily and followed his lead on their way to her bedroom.

"The apartment will get cold in half an hour," she said regretfully as she undressed. What she said suddenly nudged her to envision a routine settling in; not one that promised boredom and predictability, but rather one that meant he was in her life. Permanently.

"Well, it's a good thing we can count on body heat then," he smiled at her as he folded his clothes with care. He lifted the covers and got into bed first, watching her as she removed her underwear. She joined him soon after, laying her head where his belly and chest met.

"Let me blow out the candle, darling," he said, and she enjoyed the way the sound vibrated its way to her ears and left cheek.

Maybe their baby would be just like her. Maybe he or she would love to rest on Red's stomach as his gentle hands caressed their little, perfect back. She waited for him to return to his position in bed. When he did, he pulled her to him, their bellies and thighs touching. Their hands found their way to her flat stomach and remained there, locked.

"We'll be fine either way," he told her and kissed her on the mouth. That was going to be their final night together before discovering the truth.

"Yeah." Not an agreement.

A promise.