A/N: I don't own Criminal Minds or make money off this.
"According to your symptoms, your blood pressure, and your urine test, you have preeclampsia," Dr. Howard informs clinically; her usually cheerful voice gone.
Emily loses the air in her lungs and makes a choked sound, Spencer worries his lip between his teeth, and Derek drops the tough exterior, looking nervous and vulnerable.
"What does that mean for her and the baby; what can we do?" Derek finally asks; his voice is softer and more unguarded than Emily has ever heard it. Her eyes snap to him and she tries to smile at him. Spencer squeezes his hand.
"Well, the only cure is the birth of the baby; however, obviously, it's too early for that. I'd rather not put Emily on medication, though there are medicinal options; I don't want it to come to that. The best way to proceed from here, I think, would be bed rest. Of course, I understand if you want to get a second opinion."
"What was her blood pressure?" Spencer asks softly.
"147 over 93; at her last appointment it was 125 over 76 and her records show that at her last physical it was 118 over 76. Typically, we consider it preeclampsia when it reaches above 140 over 90."
"You're not a second opinion, Spencer," Emily tries to joke.
"I would say the numbers speak for themselves; there's no need for a second opinion," Spencer replies with conviction, and Derek and Emily nod their weary agreement.
"Preeclampsia is dangerous both to the mother and the child; it can cause stroke, issues with the placenta, low birth weight, liver problems, and bleeding. With your active lifestyle, Emily, this is going to be a difficult adjustment. You're going to have to stay resting in bed or in a reclined position on your left side for most of the day. You'll have to severely limit activity to only the necessities. I'll want you here at least once a week, if not more, and you will have to check your blood pressure regularly. If it doesn't lower a little or there starts to be more complications, we'll have to admit you and go from there. I'd rather not have it come to that; you have around 12 weeks before I'd feel comfortable delivering the baby and I think that's far too long for anyone to spend in the hospital. This is serious, though, Emily. I know you're typically very active, but this is not the time to push through it."
"I understand."
"You, two, will make sure she stays in bed?"
"Absolutely," they respond resolutely.
"Alright, there's not much else; I'm going to send you home with a few pamphlets and some instructions, but I don't want to overwhelm you. It's a difficult diagnosis to hear, but it is something you can overcome. I want you to be cautious without worrying too much, because worrying will raise your blood pressure and be counterproductive. How about we take a look at the little one?"
They nod and she moves to get the ultrasound equipment.
"I usually have the technicians do this, but to ease your mind, I'll perform the ultrasound."
She applies the warm gel to Emily's protruding stomach and runs the wand over it. The fluttering pounding of the heartbeat fills the room. They let out a collective sigh and Doctor Howard smiles indulgently at them.
"I know you didn't want to know last time, but I could tell you the sex if you want to know." The three look at each other.
"I do; I want to know…I need to know," Emily rushes and looks shamefacedly at Derek and Spencer. Spencer squeezes her hand and Derek kisses the top of her head; both accepting her decision.
"Well, it looks like you'll be having a little girl," Dr. Howard informs, "I'll leave you three for a moment and get that information packet ready for you."
"Thank you," they whisper in unison; it makes Dr. Howard grin as she exits.
"A little girl," Emily sighs as she wipes off the gel and pulls down her shirt.
"My baby girl," Derek says, resting his hand on the bump.
"A little girl," Spencer says apprehensively, "I've never been good with girls."
"You've always been good with me," Emily replies.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," Derek reminds, patting Spencer's chest.
"It's all become so real, so scary," Spencer says.
"We've got this," Derek says with bravado, but the worry is evident.
BREAK
Bed rest is not agreeing with Emily. It makes the days and weeks seem far longer than they are. She's itching to do something, but Derek's agitation and Spencer's anxiety keeps her firmly in their bed. They're being as accommodating, understanding, and loving as possible, but Emily is still itching to do things for herself. It's hard to rely on other people; she loves them, but she's fiercely independent. She wants something to do, but Spencer and Derek have refused to allow Hotch to give her consultations. Her boredom level is killing her. It especially agitates her when Spencer and Derek leave for cases; she wants to be in the field with them and misses their presence at home. Garcia checks on her while they're out of town, but she's also working cases and can't spend a lot of time with her. She's not sure how the bed rest is helping her blood pressure, since it agitates her so much to be on it. It's the fifth day Derek has come home from work to find her doing something she shouldn't be. There's a bang and a muffled curse; when Derek walks into the kitchen, she's lifting the heavy stock pot onto the only shelf in the pantry it fits on.
"Son of a bitch," he laments and then lifts the pot onto the shelf, "Emily, you need to stay in bed. Do you know what this could do to you or the baby?" His voice is loud, but it quivers ever so slightly, "It could mean death for either or both of you, stroke, placental or liver rupture, low birth weight, and bleeding problems. I've read the pamphlets, Emily; this is serious."
She looks at him guiltily and she's distressed by the tears forming in both of their eyes; she doesn't want to cry or watch him cry.
"I can't do this, Derek, I'm already a shitty mother," she laughs self-deprecatingly; she shakes with pent-up emotion.
"Fuck, sweetheart, that's not true."
"I'm sorry, Derek, I really am; I just can't do this."
"Sweetheart, you can, I know you can," he sighs and pulls her to him, "I'm sorry I lost it, but I can't lose you. And you're not the only one who has fallen in love with our baby girl; I would hate to lose her, too."
She buries her face in his collar for a few seconds, regaining her composure. She knows he's right and it makes her guilt sky-rocket. He helps her back to the bedroom, kissing her forehead after she's settled under the blankets with remote in hand.
An hour later, Clooney barks, the front door closes lightly, and she knows Spencer's home, dinner will be ready soon and she starts to head downstairs. As she walks towards the dining area, she hears them talking in the living room.
"I yelled at her, Spence, I fucking yelled at her," he says gravelly.
"Why? What happened?"
"She was doing dishes, again, and it scares the shit out of me; I just flipped. I never wanted to yell at her like that. Shit," he takes a staggering breath, "Shit."
"What did you say?"
"I reminded her of all the things Dr. Howard told us and then I told her that I couldn't lose them."
"Maybe, it's something she needed to hear; she's been fighting this and she can't."
"What if I made it worse, Spencer; God, Pretty Boy, what did I do?" Derek whispers and this time his voice is muffled. Emily peers around the corner to see his cheek is pressed into Spencer's shirtfront. Spencer has Derek's head cupped in his hand and he kisses the top of his head. Derek's openness and worry makes Emily's remorse rise.
"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, Derek," he says as he kisses his head again, "I'll go get her for dinner." Derek nods into his shirt, "Are you going to be all right?"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to worry about me."
"I always worry about you," Spencer says seriously, pulling Derek back to kiss his mouth gently, "I worry about the ones I love."
Spencer gets up to go out and Emily scurries back. He finds her in the hallway and smiles at her softly.
"Ready for dinner?" He asks and she nods. He places a hand on the small of her back, sighs, and continues, "Emily, I know bed rest is and will be difficult for you; I've always loved how autonomous you are, but you have to do this. For my peace of mind, for Derek's peace of mind, for Penelope's peace of mind, for everyone's peace of mind, but especially for yourself and the fetus, you have to do this. If you cannot, we might have to reconsider having you admitted."
She looks crossly at him for a second, but his face is somber and not assertive; he truly feels like they're out of options.
"'M sorry."
"I know, Emily, let's sit down tonight and reconsider our plan."
"Okay."
They can't come to a decision, other than Emily is going to take bed rest more seriously and allow them to take care of her. They do a fantastic job; the shelves in the kitchen are filled with the strangest ingredients and freezer with tub after tub of ice cream. They make an effort, for at least one of them, to be home every evening early so Emily can avoid the itch of being alone all day. They rotate: Derek goes home for lunch, Spencer comes home early to make dinner, and the next day it's the opposite; it's working out well both for the BAU and their relationship. Derek and Spencer also become neurotic about having the chores done, so there's nothing for Emily to do around the house. They don't want to give her an excuse to do something, so they finish the dishes, take out the trash, vacuum, and dust regularly. They clean to the point of distraction.
Emily still wants things to do, but she tries to enjoy the rest and time she's getting. And when that can't be accomplished, she thinks about her daughter; the daughter who feels realer every moment. The flutters can be felt now on the outside of her body, it awes Derek, and it kind of still freaks Spencer out. Yet, he's getting more comfortable. More and more now Spencer can be found with a hand placed over Emily's protruding stomach; his nimble fingers draw patterns over Emily's shirts. Emily is already intrigued by their parental interactions; Spencer introduces the baby to classical music and explains development, while Derek croons off-key jazz tunes into her belly-button and narrates hockey games. Spencer recites stories and Derek tells them. And Emily, well, she talks to the baby like she's her closest friend, because, after all, she is literally the closest person to her. She talks all day about anything and everything. It keeps her sane to remember who she's doing this for.
She whirls through the library and the Netflix queue which leave her wishing for a hobby. She tries to learn how to knit, but anytime she drops a loop, she pulls the whole thing apart, and she has to start over. The project is futile. She's absolutely stir-crazy, but the bed rest is helping; her blood pressure is down, but not enough for Dr. Howard to release her from the prison of boredom.
Derek and Spencer are on another case and that makes her want to climb out of bed even more; the rebellious stage hasn't ever left her system. She's surprised when the doorbell rings in the middle of the day; she knows it's not Garcia who promised to stop by with dinner tonight, if nothing urgent came up. She slowly meanders to the door; she smiles when she sees Fran standing on the doorstep. She throws the door open and is immediately engulfed in a hug.
"Derek sent you to babysit."
"Spencer," she laughs, "I hope you don't mind; I thought you might want the company."
"Might as well stay, you're already here."
"I would've called, but I knew you'd never let me come."
"That's probably true."
"You remind me a lot of myself, Emily. Now, let's go sit down, I brought photo albums."
"I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes." ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
A/N: I love feedback! Thanks! Thanks to dcatt, Daisyangel, MarineLvr84, KeepCalmandKissDrSpencerReid, Cinnamonfa (good guessing), kascrash, LadyZahara22, and amyprentiss-reid.
