A week had passed since Helen's death. At headquarters, everyone was working on finding the woman, but it wasn't easy since they didn't even know what she looked like. Meanwhile, a somber mood had settled in. Everyone just went about their work, but there was hardly any small talk, and no one entered the office with a smile. Steve and Catherine were, of course, the most affected. Catherine tried to distract herself, ensuring she was always busy so she wouldn't have to think about Helen's death.

Steve, however, struggled more. To be precise, he was not doing well at all. He barely slept, exercised excessively even by his own standards, and drank heavily in the evenings. Catherine had tried to talk to him, but he always avoided her or quickly changed the subject. Catherine, who understood him better than anyone, saw right through his behavior. He was working out so much because he was punishing himself. He was consumed by guilt, which was destroying him. And he drank at night to numb his feelings, to avoid the pain and grief. As a result, he was acting differently—more withdrawn and easily irritable. Whenever he and Danny argued, things escalated quickly and ended with one of them storming off to their office or home. Everything had changed, and everyone hoped that the saying, "Time heals all wounds," would prove true in this case because the current situation couldn't continue.

But two days ago, things had gotten even worse. Helen's funeral had taken place the day before. Naturally, Helen's godmother had been there, and she had been furious, placing all the blame on Steve. She had made her feelings very clear. Steve hadn't even argued, he simply endured it. Catherine hadn't left Steve's side all day and noticed how deeply the godmother's words had affected him.

Since then, he blamed himself even more for Helen's death.

When Catherine woke up the day after the funeral, she felt terrible. Steve hadn't even come to bed; he had slept on the couch downstairs. She didn't know what more she could do. She went downstairs and tried to talk to him, but he only looked at her with sad eyes, gave her a quick kiss, and disappeared out the door. Shortly after, she heard the Silverado's engine roar. Dejected, she stared at the closed door.

The smell of empty beer bottles suddenly made her gag, and she ran into the kitchen and threw up in the sink. Confused, she wiped her mouth. Where had this come from? Slowly, she went back upstairs and lay down for a while. Half an hour later, she woke up again and felt a little better. She considered going to headquarters, but the team's gloomy mood only made her feel worse, and today, she just couldn't handle it.

She had just made herself a coffee when the nausea hit her again. Damn it, what was wrong with her?

Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. Could it be?

She did the math in her head. Then she grabbed her car keys and drove to the nearest store.

Twenty minutes later, she was standing in the bathroom, holding a positive pregnancy test in her hand. Tears streamed down her face.

Why? Why now?

How was she supposed to tell Steve that he was going to be a father again, when he had just lost his daughter?

What would this do to him?

Catherine threw the test in the trash, deciding to ignore it for now. She couldn't do this to Steve right now. She just couldn't. On impulse, she drove to headquarters, hoping for a distraction from her grief and the baby growing inside her.

The next few days, things got even worse. Steve and Danny had gotten into such a bad argument that Steve stopped coming to headquarters altogether. He stayed home, sitting at his father's desk, trying to work on the investigation by himself. Catherine, meanwhile, struggled to hide her morning sickness, but since Steve hadn't been coming to bed since Helen's funeral, he didn't notice.

Catherine was torn between mourning Helen and the excitement of expecting a baby.

This morning, after Steve had retreated to the study as usual, Catherine drove to the doctor. When she held the first ultrasound image in her hands, she reconsidered her decision. Should she tell Steve after all? Just as she resolved to tell him, she drove home, only to see the Silverado disappear around the corner. Disappointed, she parked the Corvette and went inside. She climbed the stairs to Helen's room. Neither she nor Steve had been in there since Helen's death. They just couldn't bring themselves to do it.

Now Catherine stood in the middle of the room and looked around. It looked as if Helen had just stepped out. Her mascara and perfume, the one she wore when she met up with Leon, were still on the dressing table. Catherine felt a lump in her throat. On the nightstand, as always, lay Helen's mother's diary. Catherine picked it up and, in her mind, began telling Helen about her future sibling. She pulled the ultrasound photo out of her pocket, smoothed it, and placed it with the other pictures in the diary. Then she put the diary back in its place and left the room. She was on her way downstairs when her phone rang. Danny called her into headquarters for a case.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Okay, thanks. See you soon."

Steve had felt for a few days now that Catherine was avoiding him. She was staying in bed longer and spending less time with him. He knew he wasn't being a good husband right now, but he couldn't break out of his vicious cycle. Again, the thought crept in—he hadn't been able to save Helen, despite promising to always protect her. After Catherine had left for headquarters that morning, Steve sat at his desk again, brooding. He wasn't making any progress. The woman, whoever she was, seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Sadly, he stared at the photos on the dresser. Then he stood up and picked up the picture of their little family, taken not so long ago. He gently brushed his thumb over Helen's face in the photo. Then he set it back down.

Suddenly, he felt drawn upstairs to her room. He didn't know why, but the sight of her room, which looked as if she were still there, comforted him for a brief moment. He sat down on her bed, inhaling her lingering scent. The pictures of Liana, Catherine, and himself still stood on her nightstand, and recently, a picture of Leon had joined them.

Steve sighed and picked up Helen's mother's diary. When he opened it, a picture slipped out and fluttered to the floor. For a moment, he froze when he realized it was an ultrasound image. Had Helen been pregnant? But she would have told him that.

He picked up the image and gasped when he saw the name and date on it. Catherine was pregnant. His hand started to shake. How could this be? And why now? They had wanted a child together for so long, and now, with Helen gone, a sibling was on the way? And why hadn't Catherine told him? His heart began to race, and he struggled to breathe.

He put the picture back, left Helen's room, threw some clothes into his duffel bag, and closed the front door behind him. He disabled the Silverado's tracking and left his phone on the kitchen table. He needed to clear his head, try to make sense of this new reality, all while drowning in his grief and guilt...