So, what do you do when you are trying to make up for lost sleep and Elizabeth Prentiss starts talking in your head? Yep, I jumped out of bed and started putting her words down on paper! I know that she may seem a little OOC, but I want to think that deep down inside she really wants to be a grandmother. That is the second greatest gift...next to our children.
The Last Unbroken Heart
"Tell me again why you invited my mother over for brunch," Emily asked and placed a plate on the dining table.
"Because she is going to be a grandmother, and she has the right to know," Dave reasoned from his place at the doorway. "Or at least have time to prepare."
Emily sighed and laid the silverware beside the plate. "I can just see her reaction." Her task completed, she stood back and admired her handiwork. "We can wait a little longer," she suggested.
"Imagine her reaction at Thanksgiving when she finds out from the team that you have a bun in the oven," Dave said.
Emily crossed her arms defiantly. "Maybe we can cancel Thanksgiving. Nobody's been invited yet, so no one will be the wiser."
Dave cocked his head. "I wouldn't say nobody."
"You didn't. Who?"
"Hotch. We were talking and he mentioned something, so I told him what you and I planned."
"What you planned," Emily corrected. She stuck her hands on her hips and looked around. Something was missing. Glasses. I forgot the champagne glasses.
"Be that as it may, it's possible word has gotten out to the team, so we're stuck."
"Mother may want to go to Aspen." She opened the china cabinet and took out three fluted glasses and set them on the table.
"I would like to think the Ambassador has bigger goals planned for her holiday."
"You don't know the Ambassador." There, she thought proudly. Perfect.
"I'm hoping to get to know my mother-in-law better. After all, she is going to be my child's granny."
Emily's eyes widened with horror. "Oh, dear God, don't you dare say that word around her!"
Dave appeared flummoxed. "What word? Child?"
"Very funny. Granny. It will be Grand-mere."
Dave made a face. "Grand-mere? Will our child be speaking French?"
"No," Emily replied evenly. "But you'll be dead by the end of brunch if you use 'Granny' to address her. It's all about appearances, Rossi. Get used to it."
"I'm not liking the sound of this."
"Welcome to my world. I truly believe that we should cancel Thanksgiving," Emily stated firmly. "It's not too late."
"Sure," Dave nodded. "And while we're at it, let's cancel Christmas, too."
Emily's eyes narrowed. "You know what I mean."
"Maybe," Dave pondered the prospects, "we could just hope for a really big blizzard to hit the area and shut everything down."
"Really? And what can be gained from that happening?"
Dave walked over to stand in front of her. "Oh, I don't know, maybe stop traffic, lose power…"
"That's a little drastic, don't you think?" She rolled her eyes heavenward.
Dave wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. "How about it just hit here? You and me trapped by a large mound of snow blocking the doors and windows, no electricity, no heat, snuggled under blankets doing what we can to stay warm." His eyes twinkled with mischief.
"In your dreams, Agent Rossi," Emily returned with a snort, but she was smiling.
"That would be a reality." Dave's hands moved over her shoulders, up her neck, and cupped her face. "Now, what we did to stay warm…that is in my dreams."
"You're a dog."
"What can I say? I find pregnant women incredibly sexy." He lowered his head so his lips hovered just mere inches over hers.
"I'm also armed."
"Keep talking like that, sweetheart, and more than brunch is going to be served on the table," he growled.
"You are determined to shock Mother, aren't you?" Emily breathed.
"Emily –" The peal of the doorbell rang thru the house. Dave cursed under his breath. "Telephones, doorbells…what's next?"
Emily pulled back and tried to fix her hair. "Mother has perfect timing."
"You got lucky," he groused.
The doorbell sounded three times in succession.
"I'd better go answer that before Mother calls the police to break down the door."
"I'll go check on the food," Dave offered. "And get myself an ice-pack."
Emily's gaze focused on Dave's crotch. "Poor Mother."
"Poor Mother," Dave grumbled as he headed toward the kitchen. "Poor me."
*******
Replenished by the meal, Elizabeth dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the linen serviette. "That was delicious. My compliments to the chef," she said to Emily.
"Your compliment has been noted and received," Dave replied.
Elizabeth was surprised by the statement. "You-you made this?" she stammered.
Dave nodded with a smile. "Guilty."
"Well, Agent Rossi, aren't you a wealth of surprises," she returned with a sly smile, but her eyes were on Emily.
"Call me Dave," he corrected. "I would like to say that my ability to cook is in my blood, but I have to admit that I learned to cook out of necessity."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I had to do something to stay alive between marriages," his eyes twinkled. "But I can't take all the credit; Em did make the quiche." He reached over and gave his wife's hand a loving squeeze.
"I didn't know you could cook, Emily." Admiration was in Elizabeth's eyes.
"Necessity." Emily stood up. "Would you like anything else, Mother? Coffee, perhaps? Or maybe juice?"
Elizabeth waved her off. "I'm fine, Emily. Please sit." Emily obeyed the order. "I'm fine. But what I want to know is why this elaborate brunch in my honour. What's going on, Emily?"
"Would you like to, uh, come to Thanksgiving?" Emily blurted out.
Elizabeth laugh was short. "Thanksgiving?"
"Unless you have other plans."
"I don't have other plans. I would love to come over. Especially if my son-in-law is cooking."
"But I know that you do things for the holidays…" Emily rambled on, oblivious to the fact that Elizabeth had accepted the invite.
Elizabeth leveled her infamous 'Prentiss stare' at her daughter. "Emily, just spit it out. What is it that you need to tell me?"
"We're pregnant," Dave interjected quickly.
Elizabeth's mouth open and closed. "Pregnant?" she repeated.
"Which means that you are going to be a grandmother," Dave continued despite the warning look shot his way.
"Rossi!" Emily hissed under her breath. The urge to kick him under the table was almost too much to resist.
Elizabeth's eyes darted between her daughter and son-in-law. "I thought…you know…you only just got married….
"We couldn't wait. With me approaching sixty next year, and Emily… OW!" Dave grimaced.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Emily asked sweetly.
Dave rubbed his leg. "Just a slight cramp in my calf. It will pass."
"Still…a baby," Elizabeth whispered. "When?"
"The end of May/beginning of June." Emily held her breath. "Are you upset?"
The cool, collect expression was replaced by elation. "Upset?! Darling, I'm so happy for you," Elizabeth declared tearfully. Standing up, she held out her arms. "Oh, Emily, come here."
Before Emily could do as her mother asked, she found herself enveloped in a rib crushing embrace. "Mother," she gasped, surprised at the burst of unusual emotion from her distinguished, patrician parent. She tried to wiggle free.
"My little girl is going to have a baby," Elizabeth sniffled and rocked her daughter. "This is the best early Christmas gift I've ever gotten." She pulled back and looked at Emily. "There is so much we need to do to get ready. We've got shopping and shopping and more shopping. And you know I must host the baby shower. Oh, Emily." She hugged her daughter again.
It was official, Emily Prentiss was either in hell or having a really bad dream she couldn't wake up from. The bemused look on Dave's face and the tears on her shoulder told her it wasn't the latter.
God help me, she thought to herself, I'm in hell.
