A/N: This is the fruit of many many conversations with a friend about all the cute baby stuff we could get. I literally just incorporated all of our cute headcanons in this. Now, it's not all fluff, but it's pretty close. (it's definitely happier than my last fic, sorry about that and thank you for not hating me!)
I also think I should point out this is the first part of a series (you'll know why when you get to the end).
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and cherished and I just love it when you send me words, thank you!
It's late when she realizes she's—well—late. At first, she thinks it's because of the stress. The aftermath of leaving behind her family, her job, Jay. But the uneasy feeling in her stomach, and the second time she gets sick has her buying one of those home pregnancy tests. She even splurges on the one that's the most expensive, but also has the highest accuracy rate.
It's a good thing this is New York, she thinks. In Chicago, she would risk running into someone she knows at literally every corner. But here, she's barely made a friend in the month since she moved. She's mostly been working anyway.
She doesn't worry about the test. She literally only does it to put her mind at ease, being 90 % sure that she can't possibly be pregnant. Because how?
But there was that one night—after Jay had already left. One night when they'd stumble into their apartment after one too many drinks at Molly's. When it was too hard to maintain that distance that he put between them, and their bodies decided to act on their own. After they'd been apart for two weeks. After she'd forgotten to take her pill, because it didn't matter anyway, because Jay was gone, and it's not like she was going to sleep with somebody else.
That night only comes back to her when the two lines on the stick flash at her. They might as well be neon, she thinks, as she stares at the thing. They hurt her eyes just as much.
With a loud thump, she throws the test to the trash, her mind reeling. Tears sting her eyes, and she doesn't know what to do with the mixture of sorrow, happiness and confusion that overwhelm her. But she knows one thing for sure.
Her life is about to change forever.
There are a lot of nights of tossing and turning. She calls in sick to buy herself some time, scheduling an appointment at the doctor's office, to make sure this isn't some sort of false alarm. When she knows that this is real—that it isn't going away, she puts on her brave face on Monday, asking for a sit down with her boss. It goes as well as it can, and she walks away with a clear conscience, and an offer to come back anytime she likes.
Agent Spencer seems surprised when Erin mentions she is moving back, but she gives her a number of her friend at the branch in Chicago. She'll need to call them for any jobs available. It still baffles her that FBI wants her so badly. All she's ever done is her job—bringing justice to her streets. And since she can't continue doing that with the CPD, she's happy she has another option. Especially because rumour has it that baby stuff is expensive.
Moving is something she has to do. Not because it's the right thing to do—even though it is. She has to do this for two reasons. Because she once swore to herself that if she ever had children, she would do everything in her power to make sure they would never have the same childhood as her. And she won't, in her good conscience, let her baby grow up without a father.
The second reason makes her smile without even knowing it. Jay. She has to at least tell him. He can decide for himself whether he wants to be a part of this (even though she doesn't insult his character by thinking he wouldn't want to raise his kid). She knows what his answer will be. But even if she didn't, she can't take that choice away from him. It's what she owes him, after everything they have been through together.
And that is what has her knocking on the door of his new place, swallowing nervously as she waits for him to open. She knows he's home, because she has spent the last couple of hours sitting in front of the building, almost freezing to death while she tried to gather the courage to go upstairs. The spring days can be warm, but this particular one chills her to the bones and she foolishly didn't bring her jacket.
She hears the footsteps, and there is a momentary pause and she imagines he's looking to see who it is, wondering if he'll even open. After what she did to him, she's not sure she would've opened the door to herself.
But she hears the lock, and then the door swings open, and he's there. It all comes rushing back—the longing, the love. She wants to touch him, hold him, kiss the pain behind those baby blues away, and tell him everything will be alright, but it's not her job anymore. She lost that right, when she left without saying a word of goodbye.
"Hi," she manages to get out, her heart giving out like crazy. "Can we talk?"
She can't imagine what he must be thinking. It's funny, because she used to be really good at knowing what's going on in that beautiful head of his, but now, as she stands there on his doorstep, she has no idea.
The door moves, and she's starting to think he is going to slam the door in her face after all, but he grabs his jacket and steps outside. Guarded, she thinks, protecting his personal space. It doesn't come as a surprise.
She doesn't mention the fact that she's freezing, because she's been sitting on that bench for far too long. Can cold be bad for the baby? She scolds herself. If she gets sick, it will be bad for the baby. She's already terrible at this, and it's only day one.
"It's best if we go somewhere else," he murmurs. "I'm living with Will, and he's not a big fan of you right now."
That would explain it. He heads for his car, and she follows, biting her lip in anticipation. The conversation they're about to have is not only going to be the hardest thing she's ever had to do (and she's beaten her addiction twice), but it will also alter their lives for good. Every choice they make from now on will be affected by it.
She's happy when he blasts the heat in the car, catching a concerned glance from him. He drives to the park, but when they get out of the car, she has warmed up enough that she no longer minds the cold. Even the opposite, it makes her mind clearer.
"I know you have no reason to talk to me," she starts, when he looks at her expectantly. To avoid eye contact (which she never used to do before), she starts walking slowly. He follows suit, walking alongside of her. "You probably hate me, and maybe after I tell you this, you'll hate me even more."
"I don't hate you."
"That'll make things easier," she replies. Her cheeks burn bright with relief.
"I just can't take you out of this. I can't not tell you. What you do with it, is your choice. If you want nothing to do with it, just say so. But I know you, and I know you'd want to know."
"You're babbling," he notices, and he nods.
"I'm nervous."
"Erin, whatever it is. I'm sure we can fix it."
It the use of we that makes a tear roll down her cheek, and she blurts the words out for him and the world around to hear.
"I'm pregnant."
"What?"
She repeats the words, and then everything stands still for a second. He looks confused. Baffled. Surprised. Then a sliver of hope. A hint of a smile tugs the corners of his lips up, and she stares at him.
Then, to her amazement, he pulls her into a hug. It must have been the look in her eyes, she thinks, that made him pull her body against his like they used to do. The relief comes rushing in, because she finally told him, and her body shakes with long-supressed sobs as they stand there, in the middle of the park. The world around them goes on, but they're caught in a time bubble for a few minutes.
"You must've been so scared," he whispers, and she wonders how is it that he can still get her so perfectly.
"You're thinking about how I felt?"
"Old habits," he says, and her heart breaks a little. "I don't know how yet, but we'll figure this out. You're not alone in this."
And just like that, everything falls into place. She's still terrified, but this is her partner, her best friend. She knows if there is one person she can do this with, it's him.
"I had a feeling you'd say that."
"Shit, let's get you out of this cold. You could get sick," he almost spits the words out with hurry, muttering something about the coldest spring he remembers, and he's already leading her toward a little bistro where they often had breakfast when they were together. The last time, if memory serves her, was the morning after the night that changed everything. When they had the conversation about "ideal situations". This is anything but ideal, she thinks as she devours her stack of pancakes while he watches her with an amused expression. But things in life rarely are.
"I want to be a part of this. A dad to this baby."
"I didn't doubt that for a second, Jay. And I would never take that away from you." She finally sets the fork down. It's time to talk this through.
"Thank you. I realize that you could've kept this to yourself, and I never would've known. I wouldn't have known I have a son, or a daughter, and I just… Thank you."
"I wouldn't do that."
"I think I just need to sleep on it," he admits. He still looks amazed, and she can't blame him, when she hasn't even wrapped her mind around it yet. "It still seems so surreal."
"Of course," she murmurs. "There is time. Seven months to be exact."
"We'll talk more," he promises, waving the waitress for the check. "I just need to process."
"That's understandable," she says with a nod. "It's a big complication."
He shakes his head. "Not complication. Adjustment. Surprise. But never complication. Don't you dare call our baby that."
Their baby. Their baby that's just a blip on the monitor for now, but in a few months, it will be a little pink blue-eyed baby. With his freckles, she decides, as she instinctively places her hand on her belly. There is nothing there yet, of course.
"Listen, this might not have happened the most traditional way, intentionally and all. But I can't help but being happy about it. I just think about it, and it just feels right."
It's not as she lays awake at night, battling with the same happiness at the thought of their unborn child.
"Erin, hey! I was surprised when you called for an appointment." Natalie's cheerful voice makes her headache even worse. She closes her eyes and takes a breath.
"Nobody was more surprised than I was," she admits with a smile. Just because her head is about to split open, it doesn't mean she has a right to be a bitch.
"You ready?"
"Would you mind waiting just a second?" She glances at her phone, biting her lip. Then rushed footsteps on the hospital floor announce that Jay hasn't forgotten about their "date".
"Sorry, Voight was a pain about me leaving."
She shrugs. "It's okay. You're here now."
"You guys ready?" Natalie asks and they nod, following her to the exam room. She explains the procedure while getting the ultrasound ready. Jay stands next to Erin the whole time, and she gets this insane feeling that he's fighting an urge to hold her hand.
"There it is. Everything looks good. I would say you're about 8 weeks along." Erin nods, her mind invaded with a memory of Jay making love to her that night. You were made out of love. So much love. And even though they're not together anymore, it doesn't make all that love evaporate. It's still there, and it just means this baby will be all the more loved for it. "That means we should be able to hear the heartbeat."
Natalie turns the monitor towards them, and Erin knows, from the moment she sees her baby—from the moment a knot forms in her throat, and she is lost for words—that this baby will never feel shortage of love. She finally gets that feeling that everyone describes—unconditional love of a mother. And as she hears her baby's heart beat for the first time, and her eyes meet Jay's, she knows she's not alone in this. He swallows hard, letting a tear escape his eye as he smiles at her.
Their hands reach out simultaneously, as if drawn together by something bigger than them. It's almost as if that little bump wants them to hold each other's hand as they experience this special moment together.
Natalie gives Erin some tips and advice to make some of symptoms more bearable. Jay listens as well, trying to catch anything useful to alleviate the suffering she's been going through almost every morning.
They leave the room with an ultrasound picture each, and their hearts fuller than ever.
"Jay, man, what are you doing here?"
He's not fast enough, covert enough to hide the ultrasound scan he was just gazing at, and he sees his brother's eyes widen with surprise as he sees it. He opens his mouth—probably to ask about it—when Erin catches up with Jay after staying to chat with Natalie. He sees Will put two and two together. It was not how he was going to tell him, but lately nothing is going according to his plans.
"Really? First you leave without a goodbye, leaving the guy with a ring in his hand and a ton of broken promises and shattered dreams, and now you're playing family?"
He closes his mouth quickly after realizing what he said, and they both look at Erin, wondering if she caught it. She did. Her instincts of a detective are still there, intact, and perhaps sharper since she joined the FBI.
She looks like she's just gotten slapped in the face, and before either of them can say anything, she turns and she's rushing out of the hospital so fast, he has to actually try to keep up.
"Erin, please wait—"
But nothing he says or does is enough to stop her from getting into her car and leaving him, yet again.
He plots the murder of his brother in his mind, but first he has to find Erin, so he can explain everything, before she jumps to her own conclusions.
"I need a new hiding spot," she mutters, when he sits down on the bench right next to her. She should have known he would have found her here. After all, how many times did they sit here together, talking when things were rough, or simply sitting in silence—just being.
"Is it true?" She asks quietly. "You were going to propose?"
He just nods.
"But we weren't even in a good place. You were staying at Will's."
"It didn't matter. I wanted you to know that no matter how rough it gets, I still wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."
"But you didn't say anything," she says, her voice breaking a little. Even the thought of it, of how happy they could have been together if she hadn't left makes her slightly nauseous.
"Because when I saw you that last time, I realized you deserve better than some half-assed proposal. I was going to do it that night, the right way, but I never got a chance." He doesn't say it as an accusation, but it pierces her heart as one anyway. Because she never gave him a chance.
"I'm sorry." She finds his eyes. It's important that she looks at him when she says that, because she knows that if words fail her, their silent communication would not. "What I did was cruel and I have no good reason for it, except I'm terrible at goodbyes. I figured it would hurt less if I just made a clean cut."
"Did it? Hurt less?"
"No. If anything, knowing what I did to you, hurt even more." He nods, because yes, he imagined it did. "This is all so messed up," she admits. "I don't want to get back together just for the sake of the baby. That kind of relationship will never hold, and the fallout will be even worse this time. But whatever our past, we'll work it out for the sake of this baby."
"While we're talking about it, I have my own apology to make." He pushes away the thought of the ring he still hasn't returned to the vault. The thought of his heart jumping up and down with joy when she showed up on his doorstep.
"You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. Pretending you're the only one to blame is just stupid, and you deserve to know why I left. I met with Abby that night. We agreed she would bring me the divorce papers. She didn't. I'm guessing she thought there was something between us. It's why she didn't sign the papers all those years ago. She believed in an illusion. But I couldn't just go home to you, and pretend like I wasn't married to someone else. It was like my past and my present collided and I couldn't handle it. And you, Erin, and us, it was the one pure thing I ever had in my life. And in not wanting to ruin it, I did exactly that. I ruined it. I made you think you had nothing left to stay for, and I'm sorry."
She cries. Maybe it's the hormones, or the fact that this feels like a funeral for their dead relationship; a wake for the love they felt for each other—the love they still feel for each other; a eulogy of their story. She cries for a future they could have had under different circumstances.
And when there are no more tears, and no more pain, and all she feels is a huge void inside her chest, he's still there, and she prays to the God she never believed in, that he always will be.
"Lindsay! Yo girl, what were you thinking, leaving without a goodbye?" The guys surround her, and it brings a smile to her lips against her will. It's family, she thinks, as she receives bear hugs from the guys, including Al. Only family can forgive you something so cruel in a blink of an eye.
Their eyes travel to Jay then, as in wondering how this magical return is affecting him, but he doesn't give anything away. His lips also spread wide when he sees her, remembering the morning appointment. It was then that they decided to tell Voight that same day. This baby was real all of the sudden, and the seven months seemed like not enough time for everything they needed to get done before he arrived to this world.
Jay follows her to Voight's office, both of them knowing that they just spread a curious wave around the bullpen. He finds Erin in Voight's hug, though his eyes flicker curiously to Jay when he closes the office door behind him.
"Something wrong?"
"Not really," Erin starts. Jay knows this is hard for her. Though he has seen her growing enthusiasm and love for the baby, he knows this feels a little bit like admitting a failure to Voight. He wishes he could do more to help. "I'm moving back to Chicago." Then the flood of words comes out, and she says it so quickly that Jay doesn't even know if the man heard her at first. But the expression on his face tells a different story.
"Hmmm." It's all he gives them both. Non-comital shrug and a hmm. Jay sees the exact moment when Erin's anger bubbles to the surface, and it's why he knows she'll storm out of there, and she does not disappoint. It leaves him trying to catch up with her, unwillingly wondering what this anger and this running is doing to the baby.
"You know what, I don't care. It's our baby, who cares what he thinks. He doesn't even have to see it."
She's been saying the same thing for the past half an hour, and Jay wishes he could make this better for her, but instead he has to take the cup of coffee she so diligently prepared for herself away from her.
She glares at him. "I get to have one cup a day."
"I just happen to know you've already had one cup today," he says, pointing to the sink, where an unwashed empty cup with traces of the desired beverage lies. She glares again, but this time, she doesn't protest.
Instead, she sprints to the bathroom, nearly knocking him to the floor with the force. He lets out a sigh. It makes him feel helpless that he can't help her with Hank, and he can't help with pregnancy symptoms, including morning sickness that has been more like an all-day sickness. He read that it was supposed to get better in the second trimester, and for her sake, he hopes that's true.
"Jay, what are you doing here?" She looks mildly annoyed, and the first thought that crosses his mind is that she maybe has a guy inside, and he's interrupting a date—or worse.
He looks at her with an open mouth. "I was in the neighbourhood, I thought I could see how my son is doing. What do you have in your hair?"
"How do you know it won't be a daughter? Huh?" She reaches up, feeling something sticky, so she retracts her hand. "I need to clean up."
"What's going on?"
"You're going to laugh at me," she pouts.
"I won't."
"I'm learning to cook," she mumbles so unclearly, he has to ask her to repeat it. "I need to eat healthier. At some point I have to stop living off of take out. And the baby is going to eat something other than milk at some point, though luckily for me, not for a while, because I'm terrible at it." She points at her hair. "Hence, the sticky stuff in my hair."
He laughs, even though he promised he wouldn't, earning himself a glare, and an almost slammed door in his face. But she looks so adorable with her hair a mess, an unknown substance on her shirt, and her lips forming a pout. He feels an overwhelming wave of love for her, for how she's already trying to be the best mom, and their little treasure hasn't even been born yet.
"Wait." He stops the door with his arm. "Since I think we can both agree that you being healthy is in both of our interests, why don't you let me help you? I can give you lessons."
"You sure that's how you want to be spending your free time?"
There is something behind that question, even though she doesn't want it to be. But she hasn't seen Jay even make attempt at dating or moving on, and the painful ache in her chest makes sure to remind her that's her fault.
"I'm sure."
"It's Friday night, no hot date?" She almost hates herself for asking that, and it makes it even worse when he flinches at the question.
"It's kind of hard to find someone with our hours," he murmurs, but she can tell he's not telling her the truth. At least not the whole truth. And despite she doesn't deserve it, for the first time she feels hope.
"Come in then. I'll get you an apron."
There is a missed opportunity somewhere in there, she thinks, for a househusband comment, but somehow, she doesn't feel like she has the right to make those anymore. So instead she closes the door, and tries not to get too excited at the prospect of them cooking together.
A call wakes him up at 2am. Two weeks ago, he would've panicked when seeing Erin's name flash on the screen, but this little minx has gotten quite used to calling her new personal delivery guy.
"Hey," he answers, keeping his voice down so he doesn't wake up his brother.
"You baby wants a cheeseburger," she whines as a greeting, and he has to smile against his will. Even though she just woke him up, even though he will not be rested tomorrow, the words your baby make everything okay for Jay.
"I'm on my way."
He has a feeling these cravings won't go away anytime soon.
"Now add salt, but not too much. Not like the last time."
She rolls her eyes, remembering how they had to throw out the entire dish because she put so much salt on it, it burned their mouths. She doesn't tell him that she spilled too much salt on it, because he was standing too close, and she could smell his orange scent, and it felt just like old times until her hand slipped.
This time, she actually manages to produce something edible under his supervision, and after, he stays to eat. It feels too much like it used to, when he'd cook and they'd eat together and talk about their days.
"So, what's your plan? Are you gonna go back to CPD?"
"I don't think that's an option for me," she murmurs. She has taken some time to process, to move again, so she hasn't been thinking about work that much, but last week, she finally gave a call to Spencer's contact at the Chicago branch of the FBI, and he assured her that they have a position for her, starting with desk job when she wants it. Erin suspects Spencer must've called in some big favour, because it seems too good to be true. Who wants to hire a pregnant woman who is going on leave in a couple of months?
"I'm going back to the FBI," she says. "Don't worry, desk job for now."
"Not worried," he replies. He means it. She has given up most of unhealthy foods in the past two weeks (except cravings cause that's the baby's fault), and she hasn't even touched alcohol, though he knows she keeps a six-pack in her fridge for him that neither of them have touched. She sleeps enough, or at least tries to. She is doing everything she possibly can to make sure this baby is as healthy as it can be. He doesn't worry about her taking any risks, because she has proven to him that she's taking this seriously.
They both look up when the bell rings, and he raises his eyebrows. "You expecting someone?"
"No. Nobody comes here, except you." She hasn't given out her new address to many people. She looks through the peep hole and opens the door with a sigh.
"Hank. What do you want?"
"I want to apologize." She sees the exact moment when he sees Jay in the background, and his confidence falters a little. Erin tries very hard not to enjoy it too hard.
"Well come on in then."
She doesn't know why she gives in so easily. Why half an hour later she has smudged mascara on her cheeks, but they are sitting and eating together, already as a family—maybe for the first time as one.
And Hank isn't scowling at Jay, and Jay isn't acting weird, and they're talking about everything that needs to get done before the birth. It seems good. Solid.
A solid foundation for her baby—their baby to be born into. For the first time in months, she's overcome with a real sense of peace.
Peace doesn't last long.
She wakes up that night with a sharp pain in her stomach, accompanied by a sense of sheer panic. It's excruciating. She knows right away that something must be wrong. Changing her position, she waits for the pain to go away, but it doesn't. The fear doubles. It's not like she's been pregnant before. She doesn't know what normal is, but she thinks this pain can't be it.
She can barely manage to get to her phone to call Jay. Because he's still the one person she calls when there is trouble, and this is as bad as it gets.
"Hello? What does the baby want to eat now?"
"Jay, something is wrong. It hurts. Please come," she all but sobs into the phone. She hears him rush to his feet, and he stays on his phone while waking his brother in a hurry. He tells her to calm down, that it's gonna be alright, but a sense of dread fills her whole being.
This can't be happening. She can't be losing this baby. Not now when she wants it so badly. When she already loves him more than anything or anyone.
She is curled up on the floor of the bathroom when they come. Will and Natalie following a Jay she's never seen before. So worried, he almost seems angry.
He has to break the door, because he doesn't have a key, and she can't manage to get up. But that's the least of their problems right now. She's crying when he falls to his knees, cupping her wet face gently. The two doctors behind him surround her.
"Where does it hurt, Erin?"
She points to the approximate location of pain. Will nods, and Jay squeezes her hand, brushing her damp her off of her face. He looks as scared as she feels.
"On a scale of 1—10, how bad is the pain? Does it come and go, or is it constant?"
"10," she whispers. "Please make it stop. Please. My baby. It's constant. Sharp."
"Okay, we need to get her to the hospital. I can help you carry—" He stops in the middle of the sentence, because by the time he finishes, Jay already scoops her into his arms as gently as he possibly can. Every weep and cry break his heart as he carries her down the stairs to the car.
"It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmurs—his voice soft and like a balm to her ears. He wishes he could tell her it's going to be alright, but he's as scared as she is. And he doesn't know if it is going to be alright or not.
He stays on the backseat with her, knowing he's unfit to drive. The last thing they need is him causing an accident on the way to the hospital. He tries to cushion the vibrations and movements of the car for her, but he knows it's only making her pain worse. "We should've waited for an ambulance."
"We're almost there," Will reassures him, pulling into the emergency drive-up.
Natalie has called ahead, so the gurney is waiting for them. They load Erin and take her in, and at some point, he has to stay behind, and let them take her to be examined. He sees his fear reflected in her eyes, and until that very moment he didn't realize how much he already loves this unborn child.
But he puts on the brave face, because this is the moment she needs him the most. She needs him to be strong for all of them.
"It's gonna be okay." He presses a light kiss on top of her head. They must've given her something, because her pain is slightly less severe. But her forehead is still damp, and so is her hand when she slips it into hers.
"Hey, guys. The ultrasound showed that Erin is most likely experiencing an ovarian torsion. It means that your ovary has sort of wrapped around, and it's cutting off the blood flow. She is going to need surgery," Natalie explains.
"Surgery?"
"We will go in laparoscopically, making a small incision under your bellybutton, and to put it simply, untwist it, and release the torsion."
"And the baby?"
"There are risks, but those risks are the smallest in the first trimester. I'm gonna need you to sign a consent form, and then we'll get you prepped. The sooner we do the surgery the better."
"Okay," she all but whispers. Jay's hand still hasn't left hers, and she feels some of his strength transferring to her. She can't imagine doing this alone.
Natalie leaves, and they get a minute to themselves. "Did you call Hank?" He nods.
"He's dealing with a case, but he's gonna drop by as soon as possible."
She nods again, feeling so helpless. "Tell me something," she pleads. "A secret."
"I'm scared."
"I'm scared too."
They come to prepare her for surgery, and he has to let go. "I love you," he murmurs, before they wheel her off to the OR. He's not sure if she heard it, or if she's going to remember it after the surgery, but he has to tell her.