I still don't own anything worthwhile. I could use a 'get out of jail free' card for this next week, though…

Part Eleven:

January 12, 2012

"Stupid manual doesn't even have all the parts in the fucking diagram," Penelope muttered, finally managing to put together the crib. It had been almost an hour in the works, but if she'd have waited for Rossi to help, it would've been more like five hours. Her father couldn't follow directions to save his life: which was probably why he had so many failed relationships under his belt.

She got up and stretched, easing some of the kinks out of her back and placating Peanut's desire to move around. "Yes, hello, sweetie," Penelope chuckled.

Once she got some feeling back into her legs, she left the room that would be the nursery and wandered around, picking up dirty clothes and putting them in hampers, and randomly cleaning as she went. It was too quiet in the house with Emma and Declan in school instead of running around and shouting like heathens. She didn't like it when it was so quiet.

Only one way to solve that problem. She plugged her iPod into the stereo in her room and cranked it up. She danced her way into the kids' bathroom to the manic beat of Muse's "Supermassive Black Hole" and proceeded to clean the toilet and scrub the shower – while singing off-key and shaking her booty more than maybe she should have.

She was still too antsy and jittery when she finished cleaning. Maybe a long bath and a nap would help. She danced her way into her bathroom to the end of the Rogue Traders' "Throw Your Arms Around Me" and started running the water, crumbling a bubble bar into the hot water. She watched as the bubbles frothed up and the scent of honey and chocolate wafted up to meet her nose, making her moan softly with hunger.

Damn it, she was already tired of being hungry all the time.

The song shifted to Duffy's "Mercy", and Penelope shook off her hunger pangs and began to sing along and dance, definitely doing more dips and twists than she should have with her way more than ample size. She didn't care, though, and she did a slow removal of her clothes as she sang and danced, leaving a trail of skirt, stockings, and blouse in her wake.

Dancing around in her lace hipsters and bra was so fulfilling and made her feel beautiful and sexy in a way that no man would ever understand. She was happy. She had a beautiful family, a beautiful house, and a good job. She had a good father, who tried so hard. She had friends who loved her and –

She felt someone watching her, so she whirled around. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, save a shriek that could have become a scream if she'd let it.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE?" she shouted over the music, grabbing for a bathtowel, only coming up with a tiny handtowel. It was so ridiculous that she flung it away and hid behind the shower curtain instead. She fumbled with the faucet and turned the water off.

"Your dad gave me the key," Derek said.

"What the fuck! Like hell he did!" she exclaimed. "Get the hell out before I call the police."

"Baby Girl, we need to talk –"

"Don't you DARE," Penelope snapped. "Don't you dare just waltz in here with your perfect looks and your perfect attitude and expect me to fucking forgive you for the hell you've put me through. Don't even fucking do it, Derek Morgan."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, you get the last word, Penelope – you always do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and tossed something her way. She dropped the shower curtain and grabbed the tiny glittering object with ninja-like reflexes. She looked down at it, her eyes widening as she saw Emily's engagement ring in her hand. "It means I made a mistake," Derek said. "And I'm going to do everything, including groveling, begging, pleading, and walking around on my goddamn knees to make it right."

She stepped out from behind the curtain, suddenly knowing that she held all the power in the world in her hands. It didn't matter that she was just in her underwear; all that mattered was that he was here. "I don't want you to be here because you pity me, or just because this is your Peanut," Penelope said, her voice low and dangerous. "I want you here because you want to be here. Because you can't stand to be without me. Because you love me. Because you want to be here more than anything else in the whole fucking world."

"Baby Girl –"

"Grovel harder, asshole," she growled, stalking over to him like a leopard aiming for its prey. She'd never felt bolder, more brazen, more in control of a situation in her entire life as she pushed him onto his knees and held him there. "You wanna be here? Prove it."

The music changed again, this time to "Howl" by Florence and the Machine. Derek reached for her, his hands clutching her hips gently, pulling her close enough that he could kiss her rounded abdomen. The tender gesture made her shiver, and her heart lurched when he whispered, "Hi, Peanut – I'm your daddy, and I'm sorry I made your Mama so mad."

"Don't be so precious," Penelope muttered. "I haven't decided if I'm going to take you back yet. I don't need you, you know. You're just like that gorgeous pair of six-inch purple stilettos I bought right before I found out I was pregnant: completely impractical and unnecessary, but so fucking hot I want to die."

"Mama –"

"I'm still pissed," she said. "You can't just play rough with this girl's heart and expect to –" Her mouth opened into a perfect 'o' when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. "Derek, don't you dare – I'm talking to you!"

He smirked up at her. "I thought you said you wanted me to prove I want to be here, Baby Girl," he teased. "This is the best way I can think of to do just that." He turned his face against her leg, nuzzling her thigh with his nose, then nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Her breath quickened, turning shallow and punctuated with tiny, soft moans. "Derek, please," she whimpered.

"Please what?"

"Please stop so we can have an adult conversation –"

"Oh, Mama, we can have a very… adult… conversation," he said. "And then we can really talk." He turned his attention inward, gently nudging her legs a little further apart so he could tease her with a little bit of five o'clock shadow.

Her hormones had been in overdrive for so long that the idea of an 'adult conversation' was overriding everything else. Like being pissed at him for being a jerk. Like being pissed at her father for giving him a key. Like being pissed at herself for giving in so easily. He needed to work for her forgiveness, not just have it handed to him because - OH, but that was so damn good and she hadn't been laid in so long…

"You're gonna give me road rash," she protested, giggling a little when he tickled behind her knee. "Derek, stop it – DEREK!" she shouted when he stood up and scooped her into his strong arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He carried her into her bedroom and dropped her on the bed before taking his shirt off and starting on his pants. "I'm showing you how much I want to be here, Penelope – I thought we were past this part of the conversation already," Derek said, rolling his eyes and sighing patiently.

"I can't just forgive you –"

"Why not?" he demanded. "I'm not going to do it again. Why not just forgive me and we can move on to finding a house for our family and –"

"I have a house for my family," Penelope shot back.

"That your father owns. Attached to his mansion."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled. "You seriously thought I was pregnant with Rossi's baby?"

"Mama, I was seeing red," Derek sighed, shaking his head. "You and him – you've gotten so cozy with him –"

"It's always only ever been you," Penelope admitted very, very quietly. "Since you threatened to tie me to the hospital bed with duct tape and stayed up all night with me, reading funny poems and watching movies. I didn't want to be the person that just… lost my head."

"Penelope, I think we're past that," Derek whispered, kissing her tenderly. "I'm fucking head over heels in love with you and every minute I was with Emily, I wanted to run away and find you."

"You were so mean, you big doodie-head," she pouted, earning another kiss for her efforts. "Is Emily really pissed off?"

Derek sighed and shook his head. "She's relieved, more than anything else," he said, not elaborating further. Instead, he let his fingers do the talking – running them over her most erogenous zones, expecting the pleased moans. "I missed you," he growled possessively. "My Baby Girl."

"Derek, don't be precious," Penelope breathed shakily when he reached around her to unhook her bra – instead winding up with his face in her cleavage. "You are such a goof –"

"Mama, your breasts are perfect," he said. "I'm absolutely a breast man now."

She laughed and shook her head, bending down to kiss the top of his head. "They're enormous," she commented. "That's the only part I absolutely loathe about being pregnant – the need to buy new bras every few weeks because they've grown again."

He looked up at her with glitteringly hopeful eyes. "Really? Can I come shopping with you?" he asked too eagerly.

"Someone has to carry all the shopping bags," she teased, kissing the tip of his nose. "Rossi helped me buy the baby furniture the other day… and you should have heard him bitch and moan about how much the boxes weighed."

A frown creased into Derek's face suddenly. "Is he really your dad?" he asked.

She felt the tenuous thread of their newly reformed relationship quaking under the strain of the question. "Derek, I will show you the paperwork later," she promised, "but I really am David Rossi's child. He met my mom in San Francisco and they had a pretty torrid affair – to the point he was going to leave Caroline. Until he found out that Mom was off her medicine and not exactly right in the head. He went back to his wife and my mom tried to kill herself. She found out she was pregnant while she was locked up in the looney bin. And here I am."

She didn't feel quite so much like sexy time now. Talking about her mother always made her feel like she should be looking out more for her own mental health, even though she'd gone out of her way to be her mother's polar opposite. When Cassandra had been on her meds, she'd been fine; when she went off them, she turned into a crazily manic abuser. Drugs, sex, stealing money – she'd never really been in control. And Penelope had been brought up in the thick of it all, learning very quickly how to dodge her mother's insanity.

But that didn't stop her from blaming herself for breaking curfew, trying to run away from her mother's worst manic phase, and finally returning home to find out that her parents had been killed by a drunk driver while out looking for her. Her mother had left a note on her pillow, begging forgiveness and swearing that she'd go to the doctor and get her lithium levels stabilized again.

She still replayed the fight in her nightmares, only her mother morphed into the drunk driver that killed her parents. Maybe a fitting picture, but not true.

Penelope only hoped that her mother had finally found peace in death.

She sat up abruptly, shrugging Derek off and collecting her discarded panties and bra off the floor. "The kids will be home soon," she said, feeling way more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. She put her underwear back on and dug around in the dresser for a pair of sweats. Something comfortable and like a warm blanket. She finally found some garishly plaid flannel lounge pants and a long sleeve striped t-shirt and threw them on, trying not to cry.

Derek, for his part, was still on the bed in only his boxer briefs and a worried look. "Baby Girl –"

"Don't," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm okay."

"No, you aren't." He got up and pulled her into his arms before she could get away. Being tucked up in his embrace after so long, tight against his warm body, gave her a sense of security and all being right with the world – but it wasn't right. It wasn't okay. "Please talk to me… what's going on in that hard head of yours, Penelope?"

"My kids will be home from school soon and the last thing they need is to see us naked," she said, laying her head on his chest. "I –"

"Goddess, that's not what's going on."

"I hate profilers, you know that?" she said grumpily. "You make it so damn hard."

"Make what so damn hard?" he asked, confused.

"You make it so hard to hide things. Like insecurities. And guilt. And… things."

"Like Peanut?"

"Peanut has a name," Penelope said firmly.

"Oh?"

"Brielle."

His forehead scrunched up. "Okay –"

"It's French: it means 'exalted goddess'," she murmured, her voice softening. "I figured it would always remind me of us. I haven't told Dad yet, because he'll get bent out of shape about it not being Italian." She glanced up at him. "What's that look for?"

"It's a girl?" he breathed.

"Yes, Brielle Peanut Garcia is very much a girl," Penelope said, laughing. "And she loves it when Mama dances. She calms down and goes to sleep if I dance for her."

"Brielle Peanut Morgan," he corrected.

She poked him in the chest. "I haven't decided yet if I'm going to take you back," she muttered.

"Yes, you have."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I have decided, but –"

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" he asked softly.

She leaned back into his chest, still half afraid if she blinked, he'd disappear and she'd be cuddled up with a drool-covered pillow again. "Because you were happy with Emily."

"Was I?"

"You seemed to be," she corrected herself with a sigh. "And because I didn't want to be that woman: the one that gets knocked up on purpose to keep her man and make him miserable. I wanted you to be able to make the choice for yourself and you chose Emily. It's okay. I knew it would happen. I was okay with it. Well, sort of."

"Crazy, silly girl," Derek whispered, "you shouldn't be so damn noble all the time."

"I didn't get pregnant on purpose," she said quickly.

"I know you didn't," Derek said. "But I can't say I'm not glad it happened. Because I'm pretty excited right now."

She chuckled. "Of course you are," she murmured.

She heard the door slamming downstairs and a shout of, "MAMA!" over the music.

Penelope kissed Derek's chest and said, "You should probably put clothes on. I'll go make the kids a snack. Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"Mama, I'll stay for the rest of my life if you'll have me."

She pulled out of his arms and said, "Let's start with dinner. I'll be downstairs."

She went down to the kitchen and saw Declan raiding the fridge while Emma stood on a stepstool to reach the plates, shaking her hips to the music, humming along. "Well, hello," Penelope said. Declan lurched in the fridge and banged his head on the shelf. Emma jumped and almost fell off the stool. "What's for snacks?"

"Cheese and pears," Declan said, rubbing the top of his head.

"Mama, did you know Mr. Morgan is up at Mr. Rossi's house?" Emma asked, finally getting down plastic saucers. "I miss Mr. Morgan. He's really nice, Declan."

"Actually, Mr. Morgan is upstairs," Penelope said. "He came over to talk to me."

Emma flailed in excitement, sending a saucer flying across the room, almost taking Derek out as he stepped into the kitchen. "MR. MORGAN!" Emma shouted. "I missed you!"

"You missed me so much you're throwing plates at me?" Derek asked wryly.

Declan came out of the fridge with a wedge of Brie and three pears. His face fell as he tried to balance all of the food, but he ended up dropping two of the pears. "Shoot!" he yelped.

Emma ran over and grabbed the fallen fruit. "We'll just wash 'em and cut out the bruises," she assured him with a smile. "It's okay." She glanced over at Derek. "You want some, Mr. Morgan?"

"Sure," Derek said. He crossed the kitchen and helped Declan balance the cheese and the remaining pear. "Let me get another – you get that stuff to the table," he instructed with a smile.

"Can I help?" Penelope asked, chuckling a little.

"Mama, we can do it ourselves," Emma sighed. "I'm ten now – you said I can use a real knife if I'm careful."

Declan put the food on the table. "Yeah, Mom," he said. "We can do it. You should sit down and chill."

Derek came out of the fridge with another pear and winked at her. "Yeah, Mama," he said teasingly. "You should sit down, put your feet up and chill."

"You, too, Mr. Morgan," Emma ordered, rushing up and grabbing the fruit from his hands and retreating just as quickly. "Sit down!"

Penelope started laughing and couldn't stop. "Oh, handsome," she gasped between chortles, "you got told!" She sat down and put her feet up on the chair across from her, watching Emma and the paring knife like a hawk.

Derek moved behind her and began rubbing her shoulders, leaning down once in a while to kiss the top of her head.

"Declan, gimme a saucer," Emma instructed, putting the halves of a pear, sans core, onto it. "Now, put some cheese in there," she ordered, pointing at the round spot where the core had been before she'd attacked it with a spoon. "And give it to Mama."

"Emma, don't be so bossy," Penelope scolded, but her heart wasn't really in it. Emma was a leader, not a follower, but she was borderline overkill on the dispatching of orders. She couldn't bear to nip it in the bud, though, because that was just who her daughter was – the future empress of the universe.

Declan came over and handed Penelope the saucer. "It's okay," he said. "It's nice to have a sister, even if she is kind of bossy sometimes."

Derek laughed. "Good way to look at it, my man. I have two sisters."

Emma headed toward them with a smile on her lips and another pear at the ready. "Mr. Morgan, this one is for you," she said.

Derek accepted the saucer and moved Penelope's feet off the chair long enough that he could sit down and put her feet in his lap. She chuckled and began to eat. "By the way, we haven't really met yet," he said to Declan. "I'm Derek Morgan. I work with your mom."

Declan nodded. "I know. Mr. Rossi told me about you."

"Declan, snack," Emma said, passing it over.

Penelope licked her fingers and smiled. "That was an excellent snack," she commented.

Emma gaped at her. "You ate it all already?" she asked.

"Your little sister was hungry," Penelope said defensively. "Sorry."

"It's really good if you eat it slowly," Declan explained patiently.

Derek chuckled and said, "I don't think Peanut cares."

"Not at all," Penelope admitted. "She just wants to be fed."

He finished eating one half of his pear, then got up and offered her the rest. She smiled and shook her head, gesturing for him to finish it. "Who has homework tonight?" Penelope asked, changing the subject.

"I have SO MUCH homework," Emma said.

"I don't have much," Declan replied. "Do you want me to help you make supper or do you want me to put away the dishes?"

"Well, I –"

"We're going out for supper," Derek said.

"We are?" Penelope challenged.

"My treat," he said firmly.

"But tonight's burrito night," Emma protested.

"Burrito night gives me the farts," Declan sighed.

"I wanna go to the place that makes that yummy soup," Emma said. "The French onion soup with all the cheese and stuff."

"You just like stirring up trouble," Penelope accused Derek. She had a pretty short leash when it came to the kids and food. She didn't need him encouraging them.

"I'm a troublemaker," Derek agreed with a smirk. "But we can go wherever you want."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but had to admit that a night of relaxation did sound nice. She hadn't had a night off in months. Not that it would really be a night off, but –

"Let's go to the diner," Penelope suggested. "That way, Emma can have her soup and Declan can get the ribs and you can have that runny egg thing you like. And I can have pancakes."

"Sounds good to me," Derek agreed.

"What about Mr. Rossi?" Emma asked. "Is he going to come with us?"

"Not tonight," Penelope said. "He needs a break from us."

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again when she thought better of it.

"Besides," Penelope added, "your grandpa is getting old and needs a night off once in a while."

Emma's eyes widened. "Oh. OH MY GOSH, MOM. Mr. Rossi is our grandpa?" she gasped.

"You should call him Grandpa Dave instead of Mr. Rossi," Penelope said with a smile. "He'll like that. You, too, Declan."

Declan smiled and nodded, still not saying much. She worried about him sometimes because he was too quiet – but his therapist kept congratulating her on how well-adjusted he was to his new family, considering his prior situation and everything he'd been through. It was a small victory, but she wanted him to be himself and be happy and stop hiding behind that shield of his.

"And you can call me Derek instead of Mr. Morgan," Derek spoke up. "Seriously, kiddo, you make me feel old."

"You are old," Emma shot back.

Penelope laughed. "Are you sure you want to do this, handsome?" She meant far more than just taking them out to dinner, and she hoped he understood that.

Derek paused, then smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

Her lingering worry began to dissipate a little bit more. He really did sound like he was committed to this; the only problem was that he had sounded that way before, and then he'd up and left.

She had to have faith in him.