Chapter 20: Test

“I can't tell the difference.” Warren grumbled, looking over Brooklyn's shoulder.

“That's because you're just looking at the picture.” Brooklyn told him as she looked over the two pregnancy test boxes in her hands.

It was Mr. Ozera's and, therefor, their day off. They had decided to spend it together. They had stopped by the post office that morning to mail his painting and her sculpture back home. After that, there had been a rather fun lunch where they spent more time laughing than eating. Then Brooklyn had decided to cook that night in their hotel room and they walked around until they found this supermarket to go shopping.

In the basket on Warren's arm was all the makings for spaghetti including the noodles, sauce, cheese, and a loaf of garlic bread. Instead of wine, which neither of them could enjoy, they had opted instead for tea. Warren had thrown in a bag of beef jerky and a six pack of soda that Brooklyn had clucked over but let him have. They had stopped before this to grab some paper plates and plastic forks.

All that was left was to buy the pregnancy test.

Brooklyn had been looking over her options for the last five minutes with Warren giving completely unhelpful comments over her shoulder.

“That blue end looks darker on that one.” Warren continued, pointing to the left one. “I don't think that makes much of a difference.”

“I think I'll just buy them both.” Brooklyn decided, ignoring him and placing the two tests into the basket on his shoulder.

“Why?” Warren asked as he looked them over. It wasn't an objection, just a question.

“They're different brands, they're different batches from different companies. I want to confirm the results of the first one with the second one.” she told him as she led him away from the personal care section of the supermarket.

“Logical.” Warren sighed. “I miss the romance. The days when you weren't sure until-”

“Until I start throwing up and getting fat?” Brooklyn cut him off, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Oh, yes, that's very romantic.”

“You're soul is all logic, my love.” Warren told her with a grin. “Can we at least keep the gender a surprise until it's born?”

“How will we know what to buy and in what colors if we do that?” Brooklyn countered.

“Easy,” Warren smirked at having already thought of that counter argument, “we buy everything in gender neutral. I'm not a big fan of baby pink or blue anyway. I like yellow.”

“Yellow's pretty.” Brooklyn agreed, smiling at the thought. In her mind, she had already built up the structure for the room she was mentally adding onto her house. She could already see the wide window that she would put flowers under so her child could wake every day to their sweet scent. There would be hardwood floors with a soft rug, a beamed ceiling with plenty of white lace all around. The colors should be bright, she decided. Something different from the pale colors she painted her life with.

She was going to have to call a contractor soon she realized. Such things weren't made over night. Tomorrow, she decided and made a mental note to do so, she would call.

“Where'd you go?” Warren asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I was thinking of the baby's room.” Brooklyn said, putting her hands over her stomach lovingly. She didn't even have proof that there was a baby yet but part of her dearly wanted to believe there was. “I like yellow. Yellow and spring green with plenty of wood coloring. Something natural.”

“I can already see it.” Warren told her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulled her closer as they walked. “It'll go great with you're little fairytale cottage.”

“It's our little fairytale cottage now.” Brooklyn told him happily.

Warren smiled at the thought.

Brooklyn got them through checkout relatively quickly. Being such a practical, level headed woman, she didn't have to dig through her modest purse. Being such a shy, introverted woman, she didn't make inane chitchat with the lady behind the register.

Warren watched the smooth transaction and picked up the newly bought groceries without comment.

As they walked back to the hotel, neither of them really speaking, Warren watched her move.

She had on a pair of sensible brown shoes, darker brown leggings, and a lighter brown dress under a darker brown coat. The brown of her hair and the brown of her eyes matched her outfit perfectly. She was a perfectly unremarkable woman when looked at objectively.

So why was it, he wondered to himself, everything seemed so much more vibrant when she was around? She was completely practical, totally logical, with the ability to sort and store information without mistake in that amazing mind of hers. And, he smiled, she had bought a glass statue of a knight. Practical women didn't do that. Was this romantic streak of hers new or had it always been there?

Under his smile, tucked away from her, was a bundled mass of nerves.

At Eisenhower's party, he had practically run her out of the mansion. At the time, he had wanted to say it was because Brooklyn was being flirtatious and he couldn't wait to get her alone. Later, when he had been able to sit back and examine the emotions that had been running through him all night, he knew that wasn't true.

The truth was he had been looking for any excuse to get Brooklyn out of that mansion. Almost from the moment her feet had crossed the threshold, he had wanted her away from there. He had been nervous, anxious, and hid it very well. There was no reason, he knew, for him to have felt that way. The night had been uneventful. Nothing had happened, there wasn't any danger he had been able to detect. Still, he knew that there had been a danger. Every instinct he had told him that she hadn't been safe there. When she had given him an excuse to get out, he had grabbed it with both hands and ran.

“Where did you go?” he heard Brooklyn ask. He blinked and returned to himself.

He grinned quickly, not quickly enough, and lied, “Nowhere. I've been right here.”

Brooklyn stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked him over, her eyes sharp and observant. Warren almost felt uncomfortable under it.

“You said you would be honest with me.” she reminded him without any accusation in her voice.

Warren couldn't stop the flinch. “Yeah, you're right. Sorry.”

Brooklyn made a sound in the back of her throat and turned to continue her walk.

Warren was both happy and disappointed that she hadn't pressed the issue. She had every right to, but she wasn't doing so. It made him feel even more guilty than if she had straight out called him a liar.

He wanted to save the words he had for her for after their investigation. There would be time and more for honesty and they were hardly in the situation to focus on a romantic relationship. But, if he was going to be honest with himself, he knew that wasn't why he was hesitating.

He just didn't want her to know his weakness. He didn't want to see her disappointed in him when he told her of his shame and guilt. He didn't want her to think that he only loved her because she was his vaki. He didn't want her to judge him because he was judging himself so harshly.

Even knowing and trusting that she wouldn't didn't ease the fears. He knew, intellectually, that she wouldn't do any of those things. However, she was the intellectual one in this relationship, he worked more on his feelings and his feelings told him to hide those darker sides of him.

Which was, he knew, all the more reason to tell her. She had every right and more to know. He took a steadying breath as they walked into the lobby of their hotel and headed right for the elevators.

A quick, quiet, and suddenly much less comfortable trip up then they were back in their hotel room and Brooklyn was pulling everything from the bags and setting it on their limited counter space.

She didn't say a word and Warren found himself sitting on the couch feeling very much like a naughty kid waiting for the principle to call him into her office. Which was ridiculous. He was a grown man and Brooklyn didn't look the least bit displeased with him. That, of course, did nothing to alleviate his guilt.

“Brook...” he started.

“Should I take the test before or after I make dinner?” Brooklyn asked as she looked over the makings of dinner. “The boxes said it should only take five to ten minutes so it's not like we'll have to wait long. What do you think?”

“Whatever you want.” Warren found himself saying with a smile on his face.

“Hmm...” Brooklyn thought over her two option. She might have been deciding between two pairs of pants to put on that day. “I suppose I'll take the test first.”

“Brook.” Warren mumbled quietly. Either she didn't hear him or she was ignoring him as she gathered the two tests and excused herself to the bathroom. He had a feeling it was the former rather than the latter. Brooklyn wasn't the type to ignore someone just because they made her mad. Not that she was mad, she looked exactly as she had been to him.

Warren groaned and felt his phone go off in his pocket.

Without bother to check who it was, Warren answered it quickly. As guilty as he felt, he didn't want to stay on the phone too long. He wanted to find out the results of the pregnancy tests as soon as he could. When he heard Jack's voice come through, he was grateful. His boss wasn't one for idle chatter.

“I have some news for you two.” he said without preamble.

“You've caught the traitor, collapsed Intrebari, and are giving me and Brooklyn a month long vacation?” Warren asked immediately.

“I've got proof that Eisenhower has been embezzling funds from MCRC..” he told him without bothering to respond to his sarcasm.

Warren smiled. Not because he thought it was funny that Eisenhower stole money but because he couldn't wait to see Jack deal with the problem. It would be, he decided, legendary. “Then he's more stupid than he looks. I imagine you can't wait to take him down?”

“It will be a genuine pleasure.” Jack told him, his voice dark and cold. “I'm going to wait until your investigation is done first though. I want to know if I can pin 'traitor' onto him as well.”

“Without any proof, I'd say it probably isn't him.” Warren leaned back onto the sofa, letting his head fall onto the back and closing his eyes comfortably as he heard the water start in the bathroom as Brooklyn washed her hands. “He's stupid, so I don't think he has the subterfuge to pull the wool over everyone's eyes.”

“And if I were to give you proof otherwise?” Jack asked softly.

Warren's eyes opened slowly but he didn't respond.

“Not just embezzling.” Jack told him. “Crispin found that Eisenhower has been using MCRC to launder money.”

“Wow...” Warren couldn't stop the soft exclamation. “Didn't think the idiot would have it in him to do that.”

As he spoke, Brooklyn left the bathroom. She took a glance at him and set the tests onto a side table, face down, and went to the kitchen to begin preparing the food.

“I've had Crispin try to trace the money.” Jack told him. “However, he's not getting very far. I've asked Ilia to try to follow it but she's stonewalled me.”

“Of course she did.” Warren laughed at her good naturedly.

“I've asked Dallas to try to get through to her but I think she's mad at me.” Jack didn't sound all that put out by the information. “Thought you two might want to know. Also, Crispin looked into Kenneth Holt. His background is clean, his records are clean, he hasn't gotten so much as a parking ticket in ten years.”

“Lucky bastard.” Warren swore without heat. “I'll tell Brooklyn.”

Brooklyn listened without comment as Warren ended the call. She remained silent as he told her what Jack told him. By the time she had the water on their small oven and was putting the sauce on, he was finishing his story and joining her in their kitchen.

“Money laundering, huh?” she said at last as she stirred the sauce. “I guess, one way or the other, he won't be head for much longer.”

“I imagine Kenneth will be taking his place.” Warren agreed, watching her cook. “Jack was furious. I wonder if he told Mr. Ozera yet?”

“I doubt it.” Brooklyn smiled at the thought. “But he'll have to eventually. It doesn't prove that he's the traitor.”

“That's still up to us to prove or not.” Warren looked her over. “Has it been ten minutes yet?”

“Six.” Brooklyn answered. The immediacy of her answer told Warren that she was just as anxious as he was. That comforted him a bit.

“Listen, Brook...” Warren hesitated.

Still not pressuring him, Brooklyn turned from the stove and gave her attention to the garlic bread. She wasn't ignoring him, she was giving him time to gather himself together.

“I wanted to tell you something.” he said at last.

“Did you figure out how to say it?” Brooklyn asked.

It took Warren a second to remember what she was referring to. He smiled without humor, “No. Then again, I don't think I ever will. So, I might as well just blurt it out and hope you understand.”

“Okay.” Brooklyn turned down the temperature on the sauce then gave him her full attention.

Warren took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out in a rush. “I guess I should start by saying how much I love you.”

“I know.” Brooklyn told him easily.

“I think I've loved you from the first moment I set my eyes on you.” Warren continued, abandoning his pride and shame all at once. If he was going to talk, he might as well tell everything. “I remember walking into that library, thinking how much I didn't like the smell of old paper. Then, as I was leaving, all I could think was that you smelled like old paper and I loved it. I still do. I love the smell of old paper and leather and dust. It smells like you, it's comfortable.”

Not sure what that had to do with anything, Warren cut himself off and forced himself back on topic. “Anyway, then, you know, I failed Josh.”

“You didn't fail anyone.” Brooklyn told him immediately. “Josh chose his own fate. He must have known when he left your protection what he was getting himself into. You can't be blamed for that.”

“Thanks.” Warren smiled at her sadly. “I got over it. When you brought me to the cemetery, I realized some things. Which, I guess, was your purpose in dragging me there.”

Brooklyn smiled at him but didn't respond otherwise.

They fell silent again. Brooklyn waited, stirred the sauce, then turned back to him again prepared to wait until he spoke up. After a moment, Warren took another deep breath and started again.

“I don't know how to say this without it sounding lame or exaggerated.” he said softly, looking at the ceiling. “Can you believe I'm nervous?”

“I love you.” Brooklyn told him, turning his eyes down to her. “You can tell me anything.”

“You are...” Warren hesitated. He wondered if a human would ever really understand the bond that connected him to her. “You are my vaki, Brook. You are my everything, you're the center of my universe.”

“Warren...” Brooklyn looked stunned. “But...what...?”

“I think it might have happened that day in the library.” Warren reached out for her and pulled her in close to him. She went without protest, leaning against him. He could practically see the gears in her brain turning as she digested this new information. “I tried to deny it, for a while. When you took me to Josh's grave, that's when I realized it. I had been fighting it because I felt so guilty.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Brook asked softly. It wasn't an accusation, it was just a question.

“I wasn't sure how.” Warren admitted. It sounded like a weak excuse. “I just...had to let you know now. I didn't want to keep it to myself any longer.”

They fell silent again as Brooklyn thought over his words.

Warren supposed he should feel nervous again waiting for her response. But, for some reason, all he felt was relief. It felt so good, so right, to be able to just say it. To finally have it all out in the open for her to know was freeing.

Warren bundled her closer, surprising her. He just wanted to have her close to him, he couldn't get enough of her. He doubted he ever would.

“Warren?” she asked.

He beamed, confusing her. “Nothing. I'm just...happy.”

Brooklyn looked his face over for a moment. He wasn't sure what she was looking for but she must have found it because she smiled back at him.

“So what does this mean for us?” she asked. She wasn't good at things like this, she just needed to know what would happen next so she could prepare for it accordingly.

“Nothing.” he shrugged. “Things are just as they've always been just now you know.”

Brooklyn fell silent again. Then she snuggled back into him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Warren repeated. “That's all you have to say?”

“Am I supposed to say something else?” Brooklyn looked up at him. The words weren't sarcastic, she was genuinely concerned that her reply wasn't good enough or that she had insulted him somehow.

Warren laughed out loud. “No. No, that's perfect.”

Brooklyn pulled herself away from him and turned her attention back to the stove. He watched happily as she stirred the sauce, added the noodles to the boiling water, and put the garlic bread into the oven.

When she finished, she returned to his arms.

“I think it's been ten minutes.” Warren said softly. He was no longer nervous about looking at the results. He wanted to see them now, he was eager.

“It's been longer than ten minutes.” Brooklyn told him. However, she didn't move to go grab the two tests from the side table.

After a moment, Warren asked, “Are you scared?”

Brooklyn hesitated. “I think...I am.”

“The sooner we find out, the better it will be.” Warren grinned. “Then we can either try again or you can start planning out all those unromantic, practical steps that come with pregnancy.”

Brooklyn smiled as he knew she would. “I like practicality.”

“I'm aware.” Warren said as she leaned back and looked up at him.

“But, sometimes,” she continued, “I get this weird romantic streak.”

“I've noticed.” Warren smiled.

“Did you know that you remind me of a knight?” she asked him.

Warren's eyebrow rose. “Like that dream of yours?”

“Before that.” Brooklyn shook her head gently. “You've always made me think of a knight in shinning armor.”

“That would make you my princess, wouldn't it?” Warren asked. Before she could answer, he shook his head at himself. “No, not a princess. You're more like a queen. All regal and elegant. You serve your country without question and I am your loyal knight.”

“Your romantic streak is wider than mine.” Brooklyn laughed but her cheeks were tinged pink at the comparison.

“I am a romantic.” he corrected. “My streak is practicality. And, right now, that streak says we need to check that test. Standing here not looking at it isn't going to do anything.”

Brooklyn smiled. “I love it when you're all practical. So, be practical for another minute while I finish the food.”

“Oh, come on.” Warren pouted as she turned back to the stove. “I'm going crazy not knowing over here.”