Without another peep he rises from his seat. He wraps his arms around her, and hugs her tightly.
"I'm sorry." Like a gentleman he waits for her to release him. She eventually does. He takes a step back.
"So, now you know."
"I appreciate you letting me know. I do wish you had told me earlier though. You shouldn't have had to carry this around all this time on your own."
"I had to have evidence before I said anything."
"What are you planning on doing with the evidence that you gathered?"
"Struggling," she quips.
He smirks, "Aside from riding the struggle bus?"
"Deep down I know it isn't something I was built for."
"Not everyone is."
"With the work that we do, and the things that we have seen I just don't feel qualified to be responsible for the entirety of someone else's happiness, and well-being."
"It's daunting," he rubs the back of his neck.
"There are so many things that can go wrong before it would even materialize, you know. The nurse listed off about one point two million facts on risks."
"I think they were probably just trying to ensure whatever decision you make is informed."
"It was judgy. At least that is the way I perceived it."
"So, what can I do to support you?"
"Firstly, not tell anyone," Penelope insists.
"Obviously, I am adept at keeping secrets."
"Secondly, just be patient, I guess."
"Okay."
A week later Luke is at home, in bed late one Saturday night. He tosses, and he turns from side to side. He flips on the lamp, and reaches for his phone. He hesitates for a moment, but then recalls that Garcia will have her phone on do not disturb if she's sleeping. He shoots her a text. Within a few moments he finds himself driving to her place.
The door is unlocked by the time he gets there. He closes it, and finds her sitting at the kitchen counter. Next to her is a clear glass full of liquid. He slides onto the barstool next to her.
"What are you drinking?"
"Not the wine I would like to be drinking."
His face puckers, "What is that, Bailey's?"
"No." She grimaces. "It's Ovaltine."
"Why, are you drinking Ovaltine?" His brow arches.
Her seat swivels in his direction. She searches his face as she sits in front of him in her robe. No words tumble out. Her glasses slide onto the counter as she wipes her tears with the sleeve of her terrycloth robe.
"Don't cry. It's going to be okay," he hugs her to his side.
"Is it? This world is a mess, Luke."
"I know."
"I'm a total wreck."
"It's okay."
"I don't want to talk to anyone, not even you."
"You don't have to."
"I'm just so sad."
"I hear you."
"I don't even know why I'm sad. I started crying during a toilet paper ad today."
"Penelope, it doesn't have to make sense. You've had a lot on your plate."
"The plate never gets lighter, you know?"
"Yeah, but I could help you carry it."
"You're going to have to. I can't carry it on my own."
"Why are you up at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday morning when we don't have a case?" Luke prods.
She offers a heavy exhale, "Because I'm terrified."
"Of what, specifically?"
"That I'm making the wrong choice."
He remains silent. He waits for her to fill the silence between them. She puts her hand against his leg. He pats her hand in reassurance.
"I'm just worried that I'm going to let you down. I never wanted this," she rambles.
"I had zero expectations," he points out.
"Luke, I've gone over the scenarios a hundred times. I keep weighing all the pros and cons over, and over again. I keep coming up with the same conclusion."
"Then, that is your answer."
"Are you ready for that? Are you okay with that?"
"At the end of the day I respect that you are always going to make a well-informed decision."
"I just didn't expect the facts, and feelings to get me here," Penelope admits.
"That is understandable," he answers flatly.
"Are you ready for this? I mean I just don't know what it means moving forward for the two of us."
"I'm not sure I can answer that yet."
"Are you going to be ready to answer that in a few months?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you in, or are you out?"
His brow furrows, "What?!"
"Are you team dad, or not? Luke, I just need to know where you stand. I am in this thing either way. I just need to mentally prepare myself."
"What are you asking me?"
"I guess it doesn't really matter if you are ready, or not. It is going to happen either way, and…" she rambles.
He waves his hand in the air, and cuts her off, "What do you mean, it is going to happen either way?"
"The little critter shoots out, and they send it home whether anyone is ready or not."
He scoots her glass away from her. "I think you've had enough Ovaltine. I'm not sure you're making any sense."
"When the baby is born it is discharged from the hospital whether the parental units are mentally prepared or not."
He scratches his head, "You said that you had no desire to have a child."
"I did say that."
"Is that not what you're saying now?'
"I am not sure that I'm up for the challenge."
"Penelope! Quit beating around the bush! Are you telling me that you're planning on having a baby?"
"I didn't plan on it, but I believe that is what is happening."
"Oh," Luke responds as if the air has been sucked out of his lungs.
"That isn't what you wanted to hear?" She assumes.
"What made you change your mind?" He probes.
"I dreamt about a cactus."
"What?!"
"I dreamt that I had a cactus sitting on the kitchen counter. I would care for it tenderly, but it wouldn't grow. It started dying. Day after day it wilted more, and more until one day it was gone. I was so sad that I woke up crying."
"That doesn't make any sense to me."
"It doesn't have to."
He smirks, "Penelope?"
"Yes?"
"I know it's late, and this is kind of out of nowhere," he smirks, "and your list of reasons not to is extensive, but would you like to go halves on a kid with me?"
"Apparently, one hundred percent, yes."