Derek chased Emily out into the parking lot, calling after her, "Em, will you just wait a damn minute?" He wasn't sure whether he was still pissed off or not, but mostly he was just exhausted. Arguing with Emily had always been like going ten rounds in a prize fight...

"I want to go home, Derek!" she hollered back, stopping beside the car and whirling around, pointing an indignant finger at him. "I don't want to be a public spectacle – more people were watching us than the movie!"

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't drive off without me," he said, joking weakly. (He didn't think she'd actually up and leave him there with no way to get home...or at least that's what he told himself.)

She huffed, put her hands on her hips. "Then hurry the fuck up!" she snapped. "And stop shouting at me!"

"I'm not..." he started to yell...then, upon realizing that he was, in fact, shouting, jogged the last several feet and in his normal voice said, "...shouting." He offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, okay?" A beat. "Forgive me?"

"No."

His brows leapt up his forehead as he hadn't expected that answer – he'd thought she was going to be the bigger person and concede defeat. "No?" When she remained resolute in her answer, he asked, "Well, why not?"

"Because..." she started to say, then stalled, wincing. "Because..." Again, she faltered, wincing. "Because...fuck." She growled. "I'm having this baby!"

His eyes went even wider. "What?"

She reached out to clasp his bicep to help keep her upright as she doubled over in pain, clutching her belly. "Like right now."

"Now?" he repeated dumbly. Her nails dug into his arm, hard enough to break the skin, but he wasn't about to complain and risk getting back on her bad side.

"Yes, fucking now!" she snapped.

Upon arriving at the hospital, it was to find that she was already four centimetres dilated and ninety percent effaced, with the baby's head engaged. Once they'd admitted her, though, she made no more progress for the next three hours.

They were talking about sending her home to wait for her labour to start up again, but she was very stubborn and insistent, begging them to give her more time to make progress. And, for whatever reason, they'd allowed her the time.

As the nurse changed her IV, she whispered conspiratorially to her, "I think you need to finish your fight."

"What?" Emily asked, breathless and surprised that the nurse seemed to know more than she'd been privy to.

She nodded. "You're holding your baby in because you're still upset," she said with a sage nod. "Trust me – I was a midwife in Guatemala... I've seen this before."

Emily smiled tightly, but said nothing until the nurse departed. She turned to watch Derek while he prepared the cot to spend the night on and was suddenly struck by just how much he'd willingly endured – and was still enduring for the sake of her comfort and happiness. "Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly before she knew she was going to say anything.

He turned to her, surprised by the sudden question. "No... Should I be?" he asked, almost as if he suspected it were a trap...

She shrugged. "Have I been a bitch?" She knew the answer to that question already, but wanted to see if he'd tell her the truth.

That was a trap and he knew it. "Of course not. A little prickly, maybe, but certainly not a bitch," he said, doing his best to phrase it nicely.

She surprised him then by bursting into tears. "I'm so sorry!" she sobbed, surprising even herself by her reaction. "I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, Princess! No, no, no!" Derek effused, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He clasped her hand tightly. "I'm not mad!" He smiled softly as if to prove the point.

"Yes, you are!" she insisted, sobbing louder. "And you should be! You should hate me!"

He brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "I could never hate you, Em, no matter how grumpy you may have been lately. It's not like you've been doing it intentionally."

She shook her head fervently. "That's no excuse!" She choked on a sob. "I've been awful to you and I'd understand if you wanted..."

He cut her off before she could say something crazy. "Enough, Emily. I think you're just scared about giving birth and it's making you say things you'll regret."

"Regret?" she repeated, sniffled.

"Well, it sounded as if you wanted me to leave you..."

She shrugged sheepishly, shoulders up near her ears. "Well..." she mumbled. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment at her words, now that he'd said them aloud like they were absolutely nuts.

His expression hardened and he suddenly seemed angry with her. "No, Em. Absolutely not. I'm not leaving you because you were in a bad mood for a little while. And I'm certainly not leaving my son. Get that through your thick skull, okay? I am not going anywhere."

She pouted a little, though she was unsure why. "Are you sure?" she persisted, never one to resist poking at an open wound.

"Incredibly so."

Breath hitching, she mumbled an apology.

"Don't be sorry, Princess," he insisted. "I could never stay angry at you for long. Not when you're about to make me a father."

She gave a half laugh, half sob. "Sometimes, I forget what a good guy you are," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "You make the people around you feel good." A beat. "Mainly me." She smiled up at him. "And definitely our son...as soon as he gets here."

He laughed. "Any idea when that will be?" he asked playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "Did you miss the part where the nurse said I'm still four centimetres?"

"How big is four centimetres?" he asked

"Think lime," she said with a weary sigh. "I need to be cantaloupe..."

"Oh..." A beat. "That's a long way to go."