A/N: I adore my readers/reviewers, so in order to make up for the shortness of the previous chapter, I tried to make this one a doozy. (Hopefully) happy reading, and, as always, reviews are treasured!

The next morning, as he'd done every morning since he'd been clued in that he'd knocked her up, Daniel lay with his head against Betty's belly, listening for any sign of tiny little Rosa Claire Suarez-Meade. Betty's eyes opened a slit and marveled at how much they looked like that scene in Jurassic Park, where the paleontologists were lying against the rising and falling belly of the dyspeptic triceratops.

She glanced over at the clock. 3 am. Surprise, surprise. Her head whipped around as the baby aimed a kicked to the bladder (cheap shot, takes after her Auntie Hilda) and her husband's resulting whoop of joy.

"She kicked me in the head!" He looked like a kid at Christmas.

"That's SO going on your tombstone." Betty struggled to sit up and crawl across the damned ginormous four poster to get to the bathroom. She fancied that she looked like a sea turtle that, having laid her eggs and fulfilled her function in the life cycle, was painstakingly shuffling back towards the ocean.

Daniel propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, and made moon-eyes at her figure. He'd never quite lost the look of a spoiled young sultan perusing what was due him, especially when it came to her. Nowadays, rather than get supremely annoyed at his lustful smirks, Betty was quite flattered that he was still turned on by someone that, in her opinion, looked like the Michelin Man had had a sex change.

"So…" he said. "Glow achieved."

"We are glowing, yes…oh, stop preening, you. The downside is I'll be walking like John Wayne into the photo shoot. They'll know my glow isn't entirely maternal in nature."

Daniel didn't look sheepish in the least.

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It was with great reluctance that Vincent Bianchi and Beckett Scott agreed to collaborate on the photo shoot; Becks was responsible for the conceptual aspect and Vince was to work the camera. Unlike free agent Bianchi, Becks didn't mind sharing the glory, as long as there was someone in a thong within easy groping distance.

Betty knew that she didn't exactly fit the bill, but just the same, she wasn't surprised when hands covered her eyes from behind.

"Guess who."

Betty crossed her arms. "Hmm. Could it be the only man with the cajones to blatantly hit on me not three feet away from my husband? A Mr. Beckett Scott, if I had to venture a guess."

Becks uncovered her eyes and put his arm around her. "You win the prize. What's crackin', Luscious Suarez-Meade? I have some portfolio pictures I want you to take a peep at."

Betty looked at him dubiously. It was really the only way she had ever been able to look at Becks. "The last time you wanted me to look at your pictures, I deeply regretted it."

Becks appeared hurt. "They were the result of the majestic use of creative license, I'll have you know!"

"They were semi-pornographic."

"Oh, well. Tomato, tomahto."

Daniel walked up, pulled Betty into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. "Bianchi wants to see you for some last minute primping. You'd think you were being granted an audience with the Pope."

Betty laughed. For all their sniping, she knew Daniel and Vincent had become good friends.

"It's just as well that you run along," Becks said to her. "I have to tell Daniel about my date last night, and I can't do it with a lady present." He winked at her.

"I'll leave you to your manly posturing," Betty said over her shoulder.

Daniel and Becks watched her stride off. Daniel clapped an arm around Becks, just a squeeze away from being a headlock, after he noticed that Becks, too, was enjoying the back view of Betty.

"Becks," he said amiably, "You do realize that every time you hit on my wife, you come that much closer to winning a free vasectomy, courtesy of Meade Publications?"

Becks shot him a cocky yet knowing grin. "Jealous?"

"Of you? Have I ever been?"

"Jealousguysayswhat."

"What?"

Becks chuckled and answered his vibrating cell. "Gotta go, dude."

"Anyone I know?"

"First name's 'Booty,' last name's 'Call.' Yeah, I think you've met." He shouted over to Betty, "Bye, Betty-licious." She waggled her fingers in a tired farewell.

As Becks strode off to rendezvous with his next conquest, he had a rare thought of depth. Becks had known Daniel since the age of fourteen, and his friend had always been a suave, sweet, smooth lady-killer. While Daniel raised his fair share of hell, Becks was the raucous one, while Daniel worked the sensitive angle. Women adored it, and Daniel had taken full advantage.

Beck knew things about Daniel's past that could make one's toes curl, so his devotion to Betty and vice versa was something of a mystery at first. But Becks, upon spending time chatting and playing coffee-break poker with her, had gradually come to accept her as a permanent and healthy fixture in Daniel's life. Besides, she was actually quite cute, although the first time he'd said as much to Daniel, he was lucky to escape with all his important body parts intact. Once he'd been duly warned away, Becks had to admit, he'd felt a little wistful. She really was a great girl.

Despite calling Daniel "Pussy McWhipped" for two months after he started dating Betty, Becks had, in the end, no objections to the union, and had even been the best man at the wedding. Betty had the 'Beckett Scott Seal of Approval', a fact that, after he'd expressed as much in his wedding toast, caused Betty to sigh that she could now die happy.

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Daniel turned back to his wife, who was looking amazing in a simple, floaty, baby blue sun gown.

Vincent muttered, "If I can get these morons to MOVE THE FREAKING POOL, we can get started. Jesus H. Christ…"

They glanced over. Indeed, there was a massive above-ground swimming pool from the previous photo shoot, in which models had cavorted in semi-muddy water strewn with flower petals of all colors and varieties.

Betty's face assumed an innocent expression, but her eyes were sly. She approached the pool and, before anyone could stop her, had stepped in.

"Oh, for God's sake…Betty!!! Daniel, go get the little pain in the ass out of the pool. What the hell are you thinking?!"

Betty looked distressed, but not greatly so. "I have an idea, but, Daniel, you have to come closer to hear it." She held out her arms in supplication and her brows crinkled pleadingly.

Daniel leaned over the side of the pool and casually looked down at his wife, unperturbed. This was familiar territory. "Hey, gorgeous crazy pregnant lady. Bianchi's about to have a hernia." He didn't look too bothered by the fact.

Betty smiled, a gently impish expression. "He's about to have a hernia times two." She pulled Daniel in after her.

Bianchi, needless to say, flipped out. "OH CHRIST. You two have officially pissed me off…hey, wait a sec…" Husband and wife were completely ignoring him, tousling like kids in the water, splashing each other and nuzzling noses like two amorous seals. They were mugging and they didn't even know it. Well, maybe Betty did. That girl…

Bianchi's camera began working overtime, capturing Betty tugging Daniel's hair gently so that he leaned down and kissed her. Good, but not quite it.

But Daniel then picked her up and twirled her around, a soft collage of petals clinging to her equally soft, bare cool skin, wide dynamite grin, wet hair flying around her face and sending water droplets everywhere, running in rivulets down the skin of the man who held her in such reverence.

The camera immortalized this moment, the cover shot of the May issue of Mode. It was to be the highest selling issue thus far of the "Daniel Meade Era," topping even the "Fey's Sleigh Ride" tribute issue. The caption was to read: "The Power Behind the Throne."

"Beautiful, beautiful, so friggin' beautiful," Bianchi gushed at the laughing couple, still giving each other sexy little splashes.

A voice rang out in concurrence with Bianchi's statement, not a shout, but still echoing in the corridor:

"She was always beautiful."

The despite the shy overtones, the voice was clear and robust and strong; there was nothing aggressive whatsoever about the statement, but to Betty, each word flung into her damp, shivering form like an arrow.

It was Henry.

Ooooooh, look who's back. I knew I wanted to bring Grubstank back in some capacity, and now I need ideas on what to do with him. He still has a baby back in Tuscon, by the way, making this wonderfully trickier. I'm evil, I know. Please give me your suggestions, and I'll try to incorporate as many as I can into the next chapters. If you don't have any ideas, that's okay...neither do I. Thanks to one and all :)