Fourth chapter - reviews are loved and appreciated. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

It's quite dark outside. Gillian's palm is flat against the cold glass surface of the window. She should go home. However she is still here – lingering and – what she doesn't quite admit to herself – waiting for Cal. If anything, she doesn't want to worry him, even now when he's, in a way, entitled worry about her. (Cal never waited to be entitled.) Finally, when he walks inside her office, he finds her rearranging the books, and just watches her for a moment as he stands there.

"Thought you'd go home by now, love," he says softly and she turns to face him. "Didn't you say you were going to do that?"

She looks at him, long, before answering. She should just talk to him about it.

"I was looking for something here," she says, not looking at him, but then she turns around to face him. Cal observes her and she knows he won't miss anything. She never had a problem that he could read her, she was aware that he could, just as she could read him – and in all honesty, she was looking for something, here (just not on that bookshelf). "And I didn't want to go home," she says.

"Didn't want to go home alone," he adds fondly, and she can't argue with that. She looks at him for a moment before she nods, and then waits. Cal observes her a little bit longer.

"That's correct," she says and gives him a sad smile.

It's as simple as it should be, she thinks, when he walks up to her and wraps his arms around her and she relaxes. It feels like letting out a breath she's been holding in for way too long, for days. With his arms comes comfort, and she decides she should let this go, that it's just as he told her, not her fault.

"I'm sorry, love," he says, like it's him who somehow disappointed her.

"Don't be silly," she says. "It's not your fault. I – let myself get carried away. Should have -"

He holds her chin with his fingers.

"It was a normal reaction," he counters gently. That, and she was excited, and happy about the possibility.

"- should have checked," she replies, but he pulls her even closer and leans his cheek against her forehead.

"I know. I'm sorry, love," he says softly. After few moments of silence she moves to look at him – she wants to see his face when she asks this -

"Really? Do you really mean that?" she asks. His face is calm and completely honest, and she can see in his eyes what most people miss out when it comes to him. He nods, and even before he speaks, she knows he's telling the truth – and knowing he would have accepted it, the change that comes with it all, the parenthood. Something she admits herself as she looks at him - something she still wants. Cal's words, the way he says them, the inflection of his voice makes her feel a little better about her faux – pas.

He smiles, kisses her forehead.

"I really mean it," he says, and knowing him, he knows how much she needs to hear it. "Are we good now?" he asks warmly and she nods. It's been days, but this means that the last page of the book is closed. She has accepted the loss, even though it wasn't a real loss to begin with – but right now it feels she has gained something infinitely precious.

"We're very good," she says.

"Wanna go home now?" he offers as his fingers wrap around her hand, and yes, she likes that idea, because of all people in the world, Cal is her favorite company. She smiles. "Glad you didn't go to that party, eh?"

"Cal, you can barely call that a party."

"I know love. I almost feel sorry for Loker," he says (and doesn't really mean it), but she nudges him with her elbow.

"I'm sure he'll behave better than you usually do," she says.

They smile as they walk down the hall.

In the morning Ria can't stop thinking about it.

She's terrified and still in shock, even as she drives to work, trying to wrap her head around the notion. It's too big to fit in her mind, and part of her doesn't believe it – doesn't want to believe it. She thinks, it must be a mistake. It can't be real – but every now and then there's a mild wave of physical unease, tension in her breasts (it was there before, but now she notices it, and knows what it is) and she knows her own body doesn't lie. She hadn't made a test, yet, but she is certain. Her body is stubbornly punctual. She was never late, ever, not under amounts of stress, not when ill, never. It just can't be a coincidence.

The realization finds her unprepared and leaves her numb, and it's like watching her own life unfold in front of her eyes in slow motion. An eerie feeling, like that moment when you realize you're about to die – seeing the whole life you lived, like saying goodbye on a short notice, too quickly. She's not ready for this. She doesn't want this – a - she can't even finish the thought in her mind.

She sees the life she wouldn't be living, imagines responsibilities and taking care of someone helpless; shaping and forming and raising a person. She sees way and chances of ruining that him or her, something she'd never forgive herself. She's terrified. She can't do this, she can't do it right.

Sure, she can end it, right? It's still early enough, she still has time, ...

And for a short few moments she thinks about ending it, going to the doctor, right now terminating it while it's still early enough.

... but, she swallows thickly and thinks, it has the potential of becoming a person, a real boy or a girl, with dark hair and green eyes and perhaps, perhaps curly hair.

Oh God.

She can't just get rid of mental image in her mind - herself and Loker, and oh my God, that morning, and he was bruised and adorable, and how he smiled at her, how he kissed her - and she knew then, knew it was wrong, and that it was going to end badly. And just look how it turned out.

She arrives to work and runs past people, thanks the universe and God that Loker somehow isn't around or in the lab, while she's trying to catch breath. It goes okay at first, only people wear perfumes, the smell of coffee is too heavy, and when she sees food she feels ill. (When she thinks about it, she feels ill, and she can't stop thinking about it.)

Soon enough she feels dizzy and needs air and the floor is spinning under her feet. The bathroom seems too small, walls shrinking in. She holds onto something – the sink – and thinks it's supposed to happen, she's supposed to feel like this now -

Because she's pregnant. (She says the word in her own head. Pregnant. Pregnantpregnantpregnant.)

She can't stop it from repeating in her mind, and she closes her eyes, but it's still there, echoing in the silence.

Ria has no idea how much time has passed, but Anna gives her a weird look as she passes by with a stack of files in her hands. Ria touches her own cheek, realizing it's wet and then sees Loker on the other end of the hallway. He stops when he sees her, opening his mouth, about to call her and she just can't deal with him in any way. Like a ticking bomb, she thinks. He's like a mirror. She can see on him what he sees on her. Of course he spots it, he sees it all, right away. For a moment she feels like he knows everything with just one piercing gaze, and she automatically turns the other way. He, of course, follows.

"Torres?" he calls after her, then slightly more concerned, "Ria?"

"Not now, Loker," she says, and there, crossing the distance between Lightman's office to hers, she sees Gillian. Loker catches up, uses his hand to turn her around, and then they're standing face to face and she can barely look at him.

"You okay?" he asks, and all she can is stare into his eyes. He's not being annoying as he can be, there's just honest concern in his gaze. She swallows and wrecks her brain, searching for a lie he won't buy, just something to make him go away, but she comes up with nothing.

"Not now, Eli," she says, stares at his shirt and the ridiculous contrast of stripes and dots; the perpetual, never fully grown boy. How – how could he be -

"Ria?" Gillian is close enough to see it all, her face, and Loker's hand on her shoulder, and the way they're looking at each other. "Ria?" Gillian calls her again. She turns apologetic eyes to Loker and lets Gillian pull her away. When she turns to look at Loker once again, and knows he can see fear on her face, just as she can read resentment on his. That hurts her more than she expects.

The quiet of Gillian's office settles over her. Right now, it's a sanctuary, and unlike everyone else Gillian doesn't push. She doesn't want to know things right away. Gillian walks over to sit on the sofa, looking at Ria with worry and compassion that Ria knows are honest. She needs a moment, though, she needs to breathe. She knows she will tell Gillian what's going on.

"Ria?" the voice is soft, echoing, not really a question. It feels more like a calling home and Ria turns around. "Are you okay?"

Ria crosses her arms under her breasts, realizing they're sore, realizing that her body has already changed. Panic rises within her, because it's already slipping away from her control.

"No. Not really," she barely has a voice. "No."

"What happened?"

"I -" she looks around Gillian's office, fighting against detachment that's covering her like a shroud. She's here, but it feels like she's not really here, and then world comes back, or rather she comes back to world, crashing, when she looks at Gillian. "I – I'm – I'm pregnant," she says. "I think. Um, I'm pretty sure."

With a classic expression of surprise Gillian lets out a small breath. Then she is up on her feet, walking across the carpet, and Ria just wants to be held – just for a moment, and it scares her, and almost hurts, but not physically. But neither of them move, she just stares at Gillian's eyes before everything is a blur.

Ria feels hands pulling her to sit on the sofa, and there's Gillian's warm hand on her knee, and slowly, Ria calms enough to look at the other woman. There's something sad, almost dark in Gillian's eyes, but it goes away so quickly, and Ria wonders if she saw it right. The face in front of her is something familiar and safe and Ria tells herself to breathe.

"What do you want?" asks Gillian softly. The question rattles Ria so much, that she can't respond at first, because what she wants is contradicting and frightening, and she can't even think of it. "Do you want to keep -"

"No," Ria's answer is quick and immediate. It's panic, with fear beneath it, an irrational, completely emotional response; but that is just one layer. There are other emotions too, entirely more frightening. Ria takes a breath, looking at Gillian; she doesn't want a baby, not now. She had never planned this, it wasn't supposed to happen, but then her brain just follows the thoughts and emotions and new tears start to well up in her eyes.

"You don't want to terminate the pregnancy," says Gillian carefully. Ria swallows, it's a statement of what she feels beneath her fear and confusion. She frowns,

"I – I don't want it," she says, licking her dry lips. "I can't have it. It's -" the pitch of her voicen quivers in the quiet of the office, her short breaths between them, and her own thoughts sound ridiculous. "- it's wrong timing, I don't have space for a baby in my life, I don't have -" Ria stops, thinking, don't have a father for it, because she and Loker, it's just not -

She stops, looks up, catching that glimpse of something across Gillian's face and bites her lip. There's conversation beneath the conversation, there always is.

"No – no, Ria, don't feel guilty for me. It's not your fault."

"But you -"

Even if the story of the baby – photograph in Gillian's office was never told out loud, Ria knows about the adoption that didn't work out. It's hard keeping secrets in place like this one, and Gillian doesn't really treat it as a secret. (A secret would imply something shameful.)

"No," Gillian shakes head, her eyes following Ria's, toward the framed picture sitting on the desk. She looks back at Ria, "This is about you," says Gillian softly. "Stop apologizing."

"I'm not," Ria sniffs and Gillian smiles.

"Your face is," she says gently. It makes Ria smile in return.

Taking a deep breath, Ria lets one hand slide down onto her stomach. She leaves it there only a moment, and removes her palm before any connection can be established.

"I just – I can't just get rid of my baby."

"Your baby," Gillian repeats softly. Ria looks up. "Your baby."

Ria swallows. She knows all about voice inflections and words people use, knows what Gillian is trying to tell her. It's not just a mistake that happened by accident. It's a baby. It's, oh God, it's her baby.

There's short silence before Gillian asks,

"Are you in a relationship with someone?"

Ria gives her a startled look. She isn't, not technically, but it isn't the whole truth. There is no clear cut, black or white fact, because there's something, there's a connection and that night from five weeks ago. But then there's a work related issue and the fact that Eli is, technically, her superior, which makes all of this even more messed up.

"It's not – not really a relationship," Ria says and wonders what her face is saying, because Gillian leans forward. She trusts Gillian – she does – and doesn't want to say it, and at the same time feels she's going to explode. "God, this sucks," she says.

"Ria? Is it someone -"

Ria doesn't let her finish. If this job taught her something, it's the unforgiving nature of the truth, the way it always comes out, comes back to chase you. There's no point in hiding, there's no point in even trying.

"Eli, we -"

It barely comes out.

"Oh," Gillian takes her hand. There's nothing judgmental or negative on her face.

The silence is thick and perfect and it feels like snow. Under snow, all earth looks flawless. Ria feels her muscles relaxing, realizes that at some point Gillian grasped her hand and didn't let go.

"I don't want to tell him just yet. I can't -"

"- deal with it all at once. I understand," Gillian's hand is both firm and soft and all Ria wants is to stay here. She doesn't want to go beyond that door.

Gillian offers her something just as good.

"Let me take you home," she says.

Eli tries not to think about her, but it keeps coming back, the expression on Ria's face when Gillian lead her away. It's rare to see Torres like that, with open fear written all over her face.

He lasts until the evening. When she doesn't come back in the afternoon, when she doesn't even call – they were supposed to have a lunch date - he becomes worried. Ria might play hard to get with him, but when it comes to actual plans they've made, she respects them. The fact that she looked so bad and didn't call him, makes him worried. Worried enough to go and check on her.

He knocks and when she doesn't answer, he tries the door handle. To his surprise, the door opens. His heart speeds up, with all kinds of bad scenarios and he enters, calling for her. When she doesn't answer his throat tightens, and then he hears sounds coming from direction of her bathroom.

"Ria?" he calls. Before he can enter there – which he does hesitate, even though he saw her without anything on, twice – she opens the door, and he immediately sees the paleness of her face and the way she's holding onto the door frame.

"Loker," she swallows and stares at him, surprised and – scared?

"Ria, are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine. Peachy," she says and he doesn't have to be a walking lie detector to know that's a blunt lie. "Go away," her voice is harder than he expects, and there's underlying something that upsets him, which is why he doesn't move.

"You don't look peachy," he says. It sounds stupid. She rolls her eyes at him.

"Always good with compliments, are you?"

"I'm not cheap with compliments, when they're in order," he says softly. "You don't look good."

And last thing she wants is someone worried over her. That's just the way she is. But she looks really, really bad.

"Loker, just leave, I can take care -"

Before she finishes, she covers her mouth and runs back inside the bathroom. He's standing there dumbly, realizing that she's throwing up. He walks in, and stands beside her disregarding her requests to go away. The sight of her doubled over on the floor hits him in the chest; this is Ria, and he had never seen her look so frail. Before his better judgment kicks in, he's kneeling next to her, holding back her hair. He feels her body's attempt to protest and push him away, but she's too weak.

"Want me to call a doctor?" he asks. She leans back into him, heavily, and shakes her head.

"Goddamnit Loker," she says. He knows that she doesn't want him to see her like this, but he can't leave her.

"I don't care how you look like right now," he says.

"Such relief," she lifts her hand and he sees a glass of water on the sink. He moves to get it for her, but doesn't let her go; brings the glass to her lips. Her hands shake a little as she drinks.

"Glad we got that settled," he says. Her eyelids are closed. She looks tired. "Bed?"

She looks at him and he rolls his eyes at her. "I only meant to be a gentleman," he says.

"Lucky me," she answers, but when he starts lifting her, she doesn't protest any more.

"Come on," he knows where the bedroom is, guides her there, takes off her slippers when she settles on the bed.

"Go away," she asks, and there's something in her voice, in the way it cracks, that breaks his heart.

"You're sure?" he says and she nods. "Ria -"

"I won't die, Loker. I just need -"

"Okay," he agrees. He knows her well enough to know when not to push. After squeezing her hand just once he tells her to call him if she needs him, and she says a weak yes. He hopes she'd call him, if she was about to die, otherwise, he knows she'd rather crawl to the bathroom, if needed, but she would take care of herself.

Just before he leaves, Eli glances at her dining table. There's an object there that makes him stop in his tracks, immediately. He thinks, that it's none of his business, but his feet keep moving. The box is small, white and pink, and he can't read the name of the product, because thoughts in his head run into each other. However, he knows what that is. Pregnancy tests all over the world look alike. It's some bizarre way of the universe. As he opens the box he finds one package there, and enough space for another one; one that's missing.

He swallows. His throat goes dry within seconds and now he feels sick – because he can do math, even if he can't think straight. It's been – five weeks since he got beaten up. They – oh God – they didn't use any protection. It's – she is – oh God, is she?

When he comes to himself, she is standing across the room, staring at him. He stares back -

"Are you?"

"Loker -"

"Are you pregnant?" he whispers. He can barely speak. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes fill with tears, and then pieces fall together and line up – the hallway, the way she looked at him earlier today - and he can read the answer written all over her face.

"What do you want me to say now?" her anger hits him in waves, and the feel of it is almost physical. "That I'm happy?"

He feels beaten, like the air has been pushed out of his lungs. She sits next to him on the sofa, close, but at the same time, so far away.

"You're obviously not," he squeezes out. It's not like he knows what to say either. He can't say how he feels, he doesn't even know how he's feeling. She's staring emptily ahead and pressing her lips together. "I'm sorry," he says, and she looks at him. "Ria -"

"I don't want to talk about it," she closes her eyes, and she looks so tired, and he wants to hug her and run the hell away. Conflicting feelings leave him confused so he just sits there, because his legs refuse to move. That and he's pretty sure he'd be a bastard if he got up and left now.

"If you need anything -" he tires but that only seems to ignite her anger.

"Oh yeah? What will you do, drop by? Are you gonna -" before she can finish she is sick again. With a hand over her moth she runs for the bathroom, and Eli realizes that he's following her as if on autopilot.

He holds her this time, holds her, and keeps her hair away from her face, and feels his heart breaking. He feels scared and responsible for this and lost; he wants to help her, but he doesn't know how.

When she slumps against him, he can feel complete weight of her body and a realization settles within him. She is carrying their child.

It's quiet, and all he can hear is her breathing. Her heart beats fast and hard, he can feel it where her back is pressed against his chest, and it's so real, and it feels so painful, so tight in his own chest.

"Ria," he whispers, wiping her forehead with his hand. He expects her to lash out at him again, but instead she turns her face into his shirt and starts to cry, and for some reason, that feels even worse.

"Dad."

"What, love?"

"What is Loker doing in front of our house?"

Emily's voice makes Cal look up from newspaper. She's standing near the kitchen window, looking at their frozen driveway under the streetlights. Cal can't see Emily's face, but her entire posture reminds him of an anxious question mark.

"Loker?" Cal walks over and sees for himself – there's the lad, leaning against his car, staring into empty space. He doesn't look well.

Oh bloody hell

"Gillian! Would you come here, love?," he calls and waits for the sound of the feet on the stairs. He still needs to get accustomed to that – Gillian up there in his study, doing her paperwork and catching up on research papers. She walks into the kitchen, making the space her own with every move, and then they're all staring at Loker, who looks like a beaten dog.

"I think we may have an emergency," says Gillian. She and Cal are moving toward the door.

"Emergency?" asks Emily walking behind them.

"None of your business, Em," Cal turns around and starts pushing her in the direction of the stairway.

"But-" she protests.

"No, love," he says firmly. "I promise Loker isn't hurt," he adds but Emily doesn't seem convinced. "He will be okay. We just need to talk him through something."

She looks at Cal for a few moments.

"Okay dad."

The girl retreats, but Cal can see she's still suspicious (and she has every right to be. He's even proud, because that's his daughter, and she knows well when something is up). He can't deal with Emily now, he knows the following conversation won't be easy, and he's not entirely sure how to approach this.

Cal faces situations head on, and when he doesn't understand something, he just asks until it's all clear. It's a blunt kind of an approach. Luckily, Gillian saves his grace, she will know what to say. She hired both of them anyway.

Cal opens the door to find his young assistant not moving or reacting in any way. It's God damn cold – it's mid November – and Loker's breath is freezing around his face as he breathes, a sign that he's alive, not petrified.

"Oi, Loker," he calls loudly. Tloker looks up like he realized only then where he's been. "It's cold out there, lad. Come on in," Cal calls.

Cal usually wants to give the poor sod a good shake – right now more than ever. This outcome to the events is hardly unexpected – the part where Loker finally gets to hook up with Torres, but the pregnant part, now that was a surprise. Gillian told him after she took Ria home and came back. Right now Cal watches as Loker crumples in his kitchen chair.

"You talked to her?" his question is direct. Loker looks up and fails to say whatever he meant to. He's a bloody open book. "You talked to her."

"How do you know -" Loker looks between him and Gillian and figures it out. "Of course you know," he takes in Gillian's homey appearance with a little more scrutiny, but makes no remark.

"I think you need a drink," says Cal. Gillian takes a seat opposite to Loker and just sits, while Loker watches his hands on Cal's kitchen table.

"Eli," Gillian's voice is soft and firm at the same time. Cal searches through the cabinet and finds the bottle he was looking for. Now the glasses. Loker doesn't really look like someone who wants to celebrate his way into fatherhood. "Did you talk to Ria?"

He nods.

Cal puts the glass with scotch in front of Loker.

"Eli, what did she say?"

"That I should leave her alone," he says slowly, then takes the drink, takes a sip and frowns on a swallow. "That she needs space."

Gillian nods, "She does." her voice is soft and knowing and she's definitely got this.

"I – I want-" Loker starts.

"It's not about what you want right now," Cal points a finger at him. Wanting is bad. Being scared for one's own arse is bad. It comes out harsh, as it should. "Calm down, mate, that's what you should do. World isn't falling apart." Gillian gives him a half glare, and Loker just looks at him incredulously.

"You're incredible," he says and doesn't mean it as a compliment.

"And you could at least get angry like a man," Cal retorts. Loker opens his mouth to protest, but Gillian's hand on top of his stops him.

"We understand you're upset right now," she starts.

"That's bit of an understatement," Loker answers, sounding a little more like himself.

"What Cal wants to say is that you won't do any good by panicking," she continues patiently. "That if Ria says she needs space right now, it's best to do that, give her space." Gillian says. "She can't handle your panic right now," Gillian explains.

"And if you keep banging on her door, she might just leave them shut," adds Cal.

"I wasn't banging on her door, I went to see if she was fine," Loker needs to take it out on someone. Cal finds it amusing, how he and Torres are actually alike. Good grief, he thinks.

"I understand that," says Gillian. Cal is glad she's here to handle this. "But I think you should give her some breathing room right now. If you start to panic, it will be just an added pressure. She needs to see that you can handle yourself." It takes few moments before the words settle down like dust. Loker takes another swig on entirely too expensive scotch which Cal wouldn't offer him under any other circumstance.

She'll need to see he can handle her too, but Loker isn't ready for that piece of insight right now.

"Oi. You need to man up," says Cal. "Responsibilities come with making babies."

"Are you saying that I should leave her alone and be a responsible – father -" he stumbles over the word, "at the same time?"

"What he means to say is that you should be responsible and, for now, undemanding," says Gillian.

He swallows tightly. "Undemanding. Right," he nods, like it's a beginning of a to – do list Cal would give him on a particularly long case. "Goddamnit," he curses.

Cal sits next to Gillian. Loker is so wrapped up in his own problems and completely misses, or fails to care how close to her Cal is sitting.

"Look. I'm not sayin' it's easy," Cal drops the bravado and speaks calmly, which makes the younger man look up and listen. "But if you ask me, it's worth it," he says and feels Gillian tense slightly, then makes a mental note not to let this burden her too much, even if it means giving pep talks to Loker. Gillian is compassionate, and Cal knows she won't be able to put aside this situation, and what happened to her a week earlier, especially if it proves to be hard for Loker or Torres. He wants to protect her from that, no, he actually wants to make sure she won't go back and over her own failed attempts to have a child, because of this. He's also aware that it will be impossible for her not to think about that, at all.

"I know," says Loker. "I mean, I didn't think - " he stops and sighs, covers his face with his hands. "She doesn't want me there," he says.

"Right now, no, she doesn't," agrees Cal.

"How do you feel?" Gillian asks.

"I -," he removes his hands, shakes his head. "Shocked? I don't know."

"Exactly," cal continues. "She doesn't know either. Now, she's stubborn and she wants to figure it out herself, and you have to let her -"

"But he should show her she can count on him, too," Gillian cuts in.

"And how do I do that, if she pushes me away?" asks Loker.

"Time and patience," Cal says, and Gillian nods. "She will need your help. That's when you have to be a man," he points at him again, and Loker stares at his finger.

Loker lowers his head, but before he does, Cal can see self doubt mixed with fear. Gillian sees it too, because her reaction is flawless.

"She will need your help, Eli," her voice is soft and fragile, and Cal catches the sadness. Not really caring about Loker watching them, he takes Gillian's hand. "She will," she repeats, caring and convincing and perfect.

He nods and drinks the rest of his scotch in silence.

Some time later they both walk Loker to the door. Before he leaves he turns and gives them a curious look.

"Are you guys together? As in – "

Cal decides to ask him sometime if he's the guy who always gets the joke last.

"Goodnight Loker," says Cal and starts pushing him out of the door – if he caught up on this, then he's definitely feeling better.

TBC.