The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.
Theodore Hesburgh
Every instinct in Erin's body wanted to throw David's cell phone out the window and back over it. Amanda's name flashed across the screen for the fourth time in a row.
"Don't answer it," Carmelina instructed, as Dave's phone continued to ring. "My son can manage his publicist-"
"Your son is MIA-" Erin bit out, handing over the phone. "I need to find him."
"You need to relax- he'll be here."
"Relax?" Erin raised an eyebrow, "yeah… I'm working on it." She checked her watch; the contractions were coming around seven minutes apart. Her labor with Paul was a nightmare, the epidural failed, and he was shoved against her spine, grinding on her tailbone for over 18 hours. From the intense burning in her lower back, she knew Carlo was following in his brother's footsteps.
"Just calm down," Carmelina said, "this is nothing, I had all my babies at home-"
"Bully for you-" She wasn't that brave, "I need doctors, a Plan B if my plan has to go out the window."
"And drugs," Carmelina clicked her tongue with disapproval.
"Your judgmental tone is not helping. If you must know, every single minute of this pregnancy has been screwed up. I would do anything to keep this baby safe, but every time I get a handle on it-"
"Something goes wrong," Carmelina finished the thought. "David told me."
"What exactly did he tell you?"
"All good things, I promise."
Erin's response was cut off by the ringing phone. "Hello?"
"Erin-"
"Pete?" She never thought she would feel so relieved to hear her ex-husband's voice.
"I tried calling your phone, but I got your voicemail. I saw you on T.V-"
"Dave mixed them up. I-I don't know where he is. We had an argument and I left. Peter, I'm in my car and I'm in labor."
"Where are you? How far apart are the contractions?"
"I don't know, I lost track." She admitted, staring at her watch. "Pete-" She stopped as another contraction built, radiating through her back.
"I'm going to talk you through it and establish a pattern. Then you're going to call Dave."
"We're coming to you," Derek said, over the car's stereo system. The sound of Morgan's diesel engine, revving, sounded over the speakers. Dave jabbed the screen to end the call, then dialed his own number.
"Erin!"
"Davie," His mother called out, "I don't know where in the world you are, but you need to get here. We're about a block from the hotel-"
"I'm looking for you," He assured her, looking back and forth on both sides of the road for Erin's car. "How's it going?"
"Just peachy," Erin snapped, shifting in her seat to take the pressure off her back. "How do you think it's going?"
"I'm sorry." He was. "What do you need?"
"You were right, we should have left last night when my blood pressure was high. I want to get this baby on the monitors-" There was an edge to her voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She always called their son by his name.
He wanted to reassure her that he was on top of it. She could trust him. "I already called the hospital, and you're pre-registered. Saint Sebastian's is waiting for us."
"I don't have my birth plan-" The anxious edge was back, "Dave-I don't want to do this here." Not back in New York, where she was attacked and woke up from a coma. The same hospital where the ultrasound scan was several months behind. "My doctor isn't here-"
"It'll be okay," He soothed as best he could. "I have your birth plan."
"You do?" He wrote it down, but they never thought they would have to use it.
On instinct, he reached for his pocket. "Dammit, it's my jacket."
"Don't swear at me-" she said, wiping back her tears with her fingertips, feeling more out of control by the minute.
"Not you. I locked my jacket in the room."
"So you don't have it-"
"I typed it on my phone. You have it. "I see you!" Dave called out, jabbing a finger at the windshield. Catching sight of the white Lexus idling in a parallel parking space on the side of the street. He yanked the door handle, barreling out of the car, with Garcia and Morgan pulling up behind them. Ignoring the car horns blaring as passing cars sped around them through the intersection. Dave made a beeline for Erin's door, when the traffic subsided, he pulled the door handle and helped her in the backseat.
"I'll drive," Hotch threw out, climbing out of his car.
"We'll follow behind you," Morgan called out, as Penelope got out of the truck.
"We can't take a dog to the hospital," Erin nudged Bridget towards the other side of the leather bench.
"Garcia," Dave called out, waving her over. "Can you take-"
"I got her," Penelope assured them, grabbing Bridget's leash. "I got your jacket-" she passed it to him, and relief spread across his face. "There was a cell phone on your bed-"
"Thanks."
"Are you sure you don't mind taking her?" Erin asked, "we could drop her off at a vet-"
"Nope," Penelope objected, "I don't want our precious Mudgie to be lonely so, I'm on puppy-watch, you guys go have a baby."
"This wasn't in the plan-" Erin complained, nails biting half-moon marks into the leather armrest as another contraction hit. "Ow!" The seat belt tightened against her hips in time with the contraction. As the car rattled against another pothole. "Agent Hotchner!" She yelled, clutching the 'oh shit,' handle for dear life. "We're having a baby back here, don't turn it into a funeral!"
"Precious cargo, back here!" Dave grouched as Hotch ran over yet another pothole in the road. "Dammit Hotch, slow down."
"The speed limit is just a suggestion," Hotch countered, barely stalling at the red light.
"Where's-a that kid with the perfect driving record?" Carmelina bit out. "Use your brakes!"
"Sorry-" he was, he brought the speedometer down in line with the posted speed limit. "How much time between contractions?"
Dave checked the timer on his phone, "Around six minutes." He reached over his shoulder for the cooler sitting in the back of the car and pulled out a bottle of water. "That's no excuse for driving like an idiot." He bit out, unscrewing the cap, he pulled out his handkerchief and wet it. Then laid it against the back of her neck.
"What made you think of that?" She sighed against the momentary comfort it offered.
"Your hand is warm." He answered, adjusting the vents so the chilly air from the air conditioner was aimed at her. "Here," he offered the bottle. "There's a long way to go, you gotta keep your strength up."
"Thanks," She took a hesitant sip, knowing that the hospital wouldn't let her eat or drink until the baby was born. "You've been holding out on me."
She paled as the hospital came into view. "Dave-"
"I know, it's not ideal, but hear me out."
"I'm listening," She squeezed his hand, to stop hers from shaking.
"They took really good care of you when we were here before…. They brought you back to me in record time." It wasn't perfect, but she wouldn't have made it out of the coma without this hospital. "I can't think of a better place for our son to enter the world."
"Okay," she nodded, "but there are plenty of other hospitals around us-"
"We don't need them." He assured her, "I promise."
When Hotch pulled into the ambulance bay to drop them off, people quickly surrounded the vehicle.
"Back off!" Dave demanded as the paparazzi swarmed the car, banging on the windows, yanking the door handles. "Lock the doors!" Hotch hit the button, locking them inside the vehicle.
"Your publicist is a dead woman when I get ahold of her," Erin threatened between contractions.
"I'll handle her," Carmelina bit out, cursing under her breath in Italian. "Focus on my grandson."
"What the hell did you do?" Dave didn't bother holding back his temper for the woman on the other end of the phone. "Call off your dogs, Amanda." Erin didn't need the stress of walking through a press mob. He put the phone on speaker to give himself witnesses.
"You're missing your last signing, what was I supposed to do? You need to put out a statement explaining-"
"I appreciate the effort." He barked, "But I'm not explaining myself to anyone. Call them off and let us have our baby in peace." He'd fire her later, right now he needed her help. The only alternative was to call the police. He didn't want to get them involved and create more unnecessary excitement before their son was born.
"I'll put out a public statement later!"
"Fine. Hang on, I'll make the call." A minute later the chaos stopped when one of the photographers reached for their phone.
Dave breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd dissipated, slinking back to their vehicles. "Thank you." He ended the call; all eyes were on him.
"Do you plan on firing her any time soon?" Erin asked, narrowing her eyes on him.
"Don't you think we have enough going on right now?"
"Good point," Her head dropped and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Don't forget to breathe," he made a fist and pressed into her sacrum.
"I didn't forget," she blinked back at the spots floating in her vision. "I just-"
"You just held your breath." He got out of the car, and grabbed her hospital bag from the trunk before holding open her door. "I promise to keep my smartass remarks to a minimum."
"You get three more," Erin warned him, holding up one finger. "Use them wisely."
"Fifty dollars says he'll run out in an hour," Carmelina deadpanned.
"I give him twenty minutes," Hotch countered, putting the car in gear.
"You're on."
Erin pretended not to notice the sly smiles between her partner's best friend and her future mother-in-law as they shook hands.
"How about another walk around the room," Dave offered Erin his arm.
"Already did that," she threw out. Standing up from the chair beside the hospital bed.
"So we'll do it again." That's what the books recommended, he stood behind her, helping her move into a squatting position.
"I need a break," Erin whined, she stood up and studied her watch for the fortieth time. Her contractions came to a screeching halt as soon as they were checked into the room. "We could have driven home by now." A nurse had come in an hour ago and determined that Carlo was handling labor well, but they still had a long way to go. Erin's birth plan hung on the door and on the whiteboard across the room. Dictating that she wanted as little intervention as possible since her blood pressure was stable and Carlo's stats were fine, the nurses put Erin on a portable fetal monitor and left them to their own devices.
"Do you really want to spend your labor in the car?" He didn't know if the hospital would let them leave, but he could try and talk her out of it before it became a problem.
"No." She huffed, frustrated. "Of course not."
"I don't want to be worried that I'll have to deliver a baby on the side of the highway," he agreed, cautiously leading them around the room. When Erin wasn't looking, he'd consulted his well-worn copy of 'What to Expect.' When he didn't find the answer he wanted, he consulted Dr. Google. He'd come to the conclusion that the anxiety from the paparazzi caused her labor to stall. If they didn't start making progress, the doctors would start pushing for a C-section as a last resort.
"What happens when he gets here?" She bit out, squeezing his hand as another contraction reached its peak.
"What do you mean?" He stood in front of her, with his hands on her waist. "Hold me." He offered, guiding her hands to his shoulders, while he squeezed her hips during contractions.
"Are we going to be accosted by the press?" If she wasn't being stalked by an UNSUB, the paparazzi wasn't too far away. "Do we have to make a statement? I'd like to keep him to ourselves-"
"I'm firing Amanda," he decided without delay that getting rid of her would be the only way to get rid of the press. "I wouldn't mind putting the books on the back burner for a while."
"You'll be up to your neck in diapers before you know it-" Her head dropped against his chest
"Breathe…" he reminded her, rubbing her back in smooth, slow circles.
She winced, the black spots were back, clouding her vision. "You'll be begging to go on tour-"
"Never." He would be happy to leave the touring life behind if it meant he could spend his days catching UNSUBS and being a husband to Erin and a father to their son. "Breathe, Tesoro…." They swayed to a melody that he heard in his head.
"I'm breathing," she huffed, lifting her head off his chest. "I forgot how much it hurts."
"You're good at having babies."
"I'm terrible at having babies," she countered. "They don't want to come out."
"They do eventually, happy and healthy and that is all that really matters," Dave whispered in a comforting tone. "But who can blame them?" He shrugged, lightly trailing his fingers on her stomach. "It's warm and cozy and the food is unlimited."
"Cute," she chuckled, letting him guide her back towards her bed when there was a quick cursory knock on the door.
"Come in," Dave called out as a doctor on call poked his head in. Dave immediately didn't trust him, he couldn't put his finger on it, but if he had to make a comparison, he'd say this guy looked like Colonel Sanders, the way he strutted into the room, with his Rolex shining in the light, told Dave that this guy wasn't going to be the doctor Erin needed. "How are we doing?" He pulled up a rolling stool in front of the computer monitor, without a glance in Erin's direction.
"Not great," Erin answered, puffing out her cheeks. "I'm getting tired and seeing spots."
"I'm worried about her blood pressure," Dave threw in. "She's exhausted, how long is this going to go on?"
"Uh huh…If I break your water, it will help move things along."
Erin shook her head, "I've had three kids. My water always breaks on its own."
"Let me check your cervix, just to give you an idea of progress?" The doctor offered, pulling on a pair of gloves. Erin scooted to the edge of the bed, with her knees apart, wincing as he inserted his fingers.
"You're about four centimeters and you've been stalled there for several hours. If we break your water now things will pick up." He reached for the instrument tray.
"Can it wait a little bit longer?" Erin paled at the thought of something that looked like a plastic crochet hook coming near her. She never needed a doctor to break her water before. "It'll break on its own."
"You're looking at a C-Section if it doesn't break-" The doctor argued, reaching for his tools, for the third time. "For a woman your age…"
"She said no," Dave said harshly, coming around to Erin's side, taking her hand in a united front.
The doctor checked his Rolex and reached for the instrument tray again. "Do you want to have a baby before midnight?" He pulled back the sterile packaging on the tool that looked like a crochet hook.
"Get that thing away from me!" Erin demanded, squeezing her knees closed. "Do you know who I am? Don't touch me and stay away from my baby."
Dave stepped between Erin and the doctor before she kicked him in the face. "Is the baby handling the labor?" He didn't leave room for argument.
"He is."
"And Erin's blood pressure is stable?"
"Well…it's a little higher than I'd like but she's stable."
"Then it won't hurt to give her another thirty minutes, to change positions and wait for her water to break, unless something changes."
"Thank you." Erin said, when the door swung closed. She shifted to her side, with pillows between her knees. "He wasn't listening to me… I just don't want to rush the baby, he'll get here when he's ready."
"I overheard him when we were checking in, he's pissy because he had to leave a Mets game."
"I'm glad to know that our child is such an inconvenience. I'd like to tell him that this wasn't in my five-year plan either!" She bit out, through clenched teeth as another contraction rolled over her.
"Don't worry about that," he ducked into the bathroom and came back with a cool cloth. "I'm going to turn down the lights and find you a popsicle." It was one of the few things the hospital dictated she was allowed to have.
"I don't need a popsicle-" she said, in a tone that said she definitely needed something.
He checked his watch. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and it was well past dinnertime; his stomach rumbled at the thought. "You need to keep your energy up."
"Just come sit with me."
"Humor me," he said, passing her a cup of ice chips.
"Go get yourself something," she offered as a compromise, "I'm fine."
There was another knock at the door before he could respond.
"Davie…" Carmelina stuck her head in just enough to see inside.
"What is it, Ma?" he barked, harsher than he intended, but he didn't need her sticking her nose where it wasn't needed.
"Father Davidson is here to see you."
"Jimmy?"
"Who called the priest?" Erin sat to attention, suddenly annoyed. "Why would you call a priest?"
"Just come say hello," Carmelina insisted, waving him over, unphased by Erin's tone. "He found me in the waiting room, and I told him-"
"Get the priest out of here, are you out of your mind?" Erin demanded. A priest in the delivery room was like wearing black to a wedding. They had enough outside forces against them, the superstitions weren't helping. "Nobody's dying or getting married. We don't need a priest!"
"Yes, Ma'am." He dropped a tender kiss to her cheek and turned on his heel. Then lowered the lights on the dimmer switch before stepping into the hallway. "Jimmy!" Dave clapped his friend on the back. "I'm under strict orders to kick you out."
"I'll take this over the last time I saw you in a hospital." Jimmy replied, with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.
"What are you doing here, anyway? Did you need a new hospital to haunt?"
"I'm on loan, until Father Duncan gets back from Retreat." He answered, reaching into his jacket pocket, offering Dave a cellophane wrapped bundle of candy cigars.
"I'm the one who's supposed to be handing out the cigars," Dave chuckled, accepting the package.
"I thought I'd save you a trip to the gift shop."
"Thanks," he stuck the bundle in his pocket and pulled out his wallet and offered him some cash. "Take my mom down to the cafeteria. Consider it a part of your pastoral duties. I'm having my dinner from the vending machine."
"I'll bring you something," Carmelina patted his arm.
"Nah," Dave brushed her off. "I don't think we'll be waiting too much longer."
"Let me leave you with a professional tip," Jimmy offered, "around that corner is a machine that sells little cups of ice cream."
Dave chuckled. "Is that another perk of the job, Jim?"
"Some say it is." Father Jimmy laughed, leading Mrs. Rossi down the opposite end of the hall, towards the elevator.
"I hit the vending machine lottery," Dave declared, stepping back into the room. He dropped his bounty of ice cream bars and popsicles onto the rolling table. "Try this one," he held out a coconut cream bar, unwrapping the cellophane. He wanted to give her something more substantial than flavored water. Even if it went against hospital policy.
"Did you get rid of the priest?"
"I sent him to the cafeteria with my mom."
"You're good at this," She took the bar and tasted it.
"I'm not making a career out of this." He peeled back the paper top of his ice cream cup, digging in with the wooden paddle it came with. "But if I only get one shot at something, I want to do it right."
"Are you okay?" She knew he was probably thinking about James and whatever fear he felt, he covered up by keeping busy.
"This isn't about me, right now," He dropped the plastic cup in the trash can and the mattress dipped as he rested his weight beside her and went to work on her back, squeezing her hips together applying counterpressure across her back.
"What's on your mind?" She asked, sinking into the mattress. Relaxing, into the cool and well- worn hospital sheets. "Tell me now, before things get exciting."
"Well," he blew out a breath, thinking it over. "I'm nervous… I keep thinking about when he gets here."
"Tell me…" she paused as another; stronger contraction reached its peak. "What you're excited for."
"I told you," His voice turned wistful. "I want to read to him… take him to baseball games… teach him to play catch." He thought back to his childhood, the way his father taught him how to tie a tie before Sunday Mass and how to change the oil in the family car. "I learned practical skills from my dad, but we never really talked." When he thought back on it, Dave couldn't remember sitting with his dad over a beer and talking about the big important things in life.
"I don't think talking to our son is where you'll fall short-"
"I'm 58 years old, Erin. By the time he's in college, talking is all I'll be able to do."
"Remember what I said about smart-ass remarks? You're down to one more. Make it count."
"Who put you in charge of my smart-ass remarks?" He teased, using up his quota.
"My labor, my rules. Aaron owes your mother $50."
"You set me up!" He grouched, planting a kiss on the small of her back.
"Sure did. Don't tell her."
"What are you excited about?" She waivered so much throughout this pregnancy, that he never thought to ask her what she was hoping for.
"I like the newborn stage… the way they smell after a bath… but mostly- I want to see him with you."
That wasn't a tall order, not at all. "I don't think I know that smell…" he didn't spend a lot of time with babies. Having a child at this phase of his life wasn't something he'd considered. He held himself back, after James' death, convinced that he wasn't cut out to be a father. Telling himself that he kept his distance because he didn't even like kids. Oh, the lies we tell ourselves to avoid being hurt.
"Stop, Dave!" She demanded, yanking away from him. The pain in her back radiated down her legs, his touch, no matter how tender, was suddenly too intense. "Stop!"
"What's wrong?" He paused his hands on her back but didn't pull away.
She leaned forward, curling in on herself as the pressure between her legs started to build, she felt an internal pop and warm liquid dripped down her legs. "My water just broke. Stop touching me-" She demanded as the pain ratcheted up several notches with each contraction, squeezing her lower half in a vice.
"Talk to me, Bella," he jumped to his feet, spinning the dial on the wall, lighting up the room.
"Turn it off!" her hands flew to her face, blocking her eyes. "My head-"
"The doctors need the lights to examine you," he slapped the call button on the wall. "We need help in here!"
The room filled with people, rushing around checking the numbers on the fetal monitor.
"Are they okay?" Dave asked, hurrying out of the way.
"Baby's stable," a nurse called out, addressing the medical team.
"Erin?" His heart went to his throat, "what's wrong with her?"
"I want drugs," Erin demanded as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm.
"Your blood pressure is elevated-"
"Of course, it's elevated," Erin bit out, her eyes widened and panicked. "I'm being ripped in half!"
"We told you an hour ago that she was seeing spots," Dave barked, "why didn't you do something then? Give her something-" Dave was stuck, rooted to the spot. All he could do is watch helplessly as the medical team buzzed around the room, "give her something for the pain. Help her!"
"The anesthesiologist is an hour away," the OB said. "I need to see where you are."
Erin moved into position, wincing at the pressure as the doctor played his part. "Okay, you're around six centimeters and the anesthesiologist is an hour away."
"Give her something in her IV," Dave barked, gesturing to the cannula in her hand. "Isn't that what it's for?"
"No," Erin violently shook her head, her face contorted in pain. "I don't want to drug the baby-"
"Either way," Doctor Douche cut in, checking her blood pressure again. "We need to get your blood pressure down, or you're both in trouble."
"I think you should consider the pain medication," Dave cut in, stepping to her side. "You'll be able to rest-" To him, getting rid of the pain was the first step in bringing their son into the world. Whatever side effects he may or may not have, were worth it in the end. Talking Erin into it, was a whole other ballgame.
The second half is coming soon.
