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"Plenty of time, my ass," Vega grumbled.

She marched toward her car, pushing the cart with the wiggly wheel that had been driving her crazy for the past forty minutes. Stopping a few feet shy of her trunk, she fished for her keys and popped it open. Her other hand ran over her stomach. "You're really gonna do this now, huh small thing?"

She was four weeks early, but there was no doubt that the two contractions she'd had the past hour, one in the dairy aisle and one barely a minute before, were no longer of the Braxton Hicks variety.

The conversation with her husband just two nights before, after the lunch with Rigsby and Grace, was still fresh in her mind.

"We still don't have any names picked out. Is that weird?"

"I don't think so. I mean, when Lisbon first told us she was pregnant she said she already had a name in mind if it was a girl, but they never did pick out a boy name. So if Mimi had been a boy, they'd have been really stuck."

"Yeah, but once I got back into the loop, we kinda trash talked how behind the eight ball they were. And now we're still doing the same thing."

"Yeah, but baby isn't due for another month. We have time. We have plenty of time."

Vega loaded the groceries into the car in the painstaking one bag at a time method that she'd been told in a very firm manner to resort to in these late stages. It was stupid. Inefficient. She pushed the cart in the general direction of the rack and silently cheered when it slid neatly into place. She glanced behind her one more time, just to make sure it actually wasn't anywhere in the way, then awkwardly maneuvered herself into the car.

Grabbing her phone, Vega selected Wylie's name and hit the call button. Three rings later she was listening to his voicemail recording.

"Hey Jay. I'm leaving the grocery store right now and I've started having some real contractions. I'm just gonna head home. They're far apart and they could always stop, but I'll keep you posted. Love you."

Tossing her phone onto the passenger seat, Vega put the car in gear and turned out of the parking lot. Her heart wasn't exactly racing, but it had definitely picked up the pace. Should she go home? Or should she go to the doctor's and see if she needed to go on medication to stop labor? Thirty – six weeks wasn't unheard of early by any means, but there was a reason she wasn't due for another month. Babies needed the last month, or else pregnancy wouldn't last nine months, right?

Vega made a right at the light instead of left. The doctor's office was about eight miles away and the FBI building was on the way. If Wylie wasn't out, she could pick him up on the way.


"Sorry Michelle," Theo said, "Wylie is out with Jane and Lisbon, somewhere north of Round Rock. Have you tried his phone?"

"Yeah, twice. It just goes to voicemail."

"Is something wrong?"

Vega was going to smile and say nothing, but Agent Kemper was a mother. "I don't think so. I've just had a couple contractions and I just wanted to let him know I was going to the doctor to see if they wanted to try and stop them."

She was surprised when the younger woman threw her arms around her. "Ah, how exciting!"

Vega tentatively hugged her back. "Am I being paranoid that something might be wrong?"

"Nah. I mean, I don't know if they want you to go at thirty – six weeks. You are at thirty – six, right?"

"Thirty – seven weeks in three days."

"Due dates are usually off by at least a little, sometimes up to a week. So you could be close to thirty – eight weeks instead."

"Or thirty five."

"Yeah but you've been measuring on the large side, right? So this is probably just a gigantic baby or you're closer to full term than you think."

"Okay. So I shouldn't go to the hospital?"

"Whoa," Theo said, taking a step back and holding her hands up as if she was surrendering. "I'm not a doctor, Vega. You do what you feel you should do."

"I guess I'll just go home and…see?" Vega shrugged, then tipped her head as she felt the dull ache in her back again. "Ugh."

"How far apart?"

She pulled out her phone and glanced at the time on the display. "About a half hour since the last one."

"Has that been consistent?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Theo nodded. "I would go in, then."

"Yeah? They don't really hurt. They're just uncomfortable and definitely different than the Braxtons." Vega wondered at herself. Just minutes ago she'd wanted to go in and make sure everything was okay, and now she desperately wanted Theo to tell her to just go home. She was torn between her dread of hospitals and paranoia about the health of the baby.

"You know they don't always hurt horribly right away," Theo said. "If they're regular, just go in and they'll tell you if they want you to go home and wait or if they want to try and stop them. But with your, er…"

She trailed off, but Vega knew what was meant. She had no end of medical issues. They would want to see her early on.

"Alright." Vega nodded. "Let me try to call Wylie one more time."

She noticed Cho coming into view just as Wylie's voicemail recording reached her ear again. She sighed in frustration as she hung up. "Vega," he said, looking surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Cho," she said, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. "Just stopped by to see if Wylie was around. Baby is thinking about making his or her appearance."

"That so?" Cho said, looking as if he was concentrating on something. "It's a little early. Are you going in?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I was about to head out for some lunch. I'll drive you."

"Oh, you don't have to – " Vega started.

"I insist. That way if Wylie calls back you'll be able to answer the phone."

Vega hadn't thought about it like that. "Good point, sir."

The elevator was just letting someone off on their floor as they reached it. Vega and Cho stepped inside and he selected the button for the ground floor. "I do appreciate this," Vega said.

"It's no problem. Wylie would probably feel better too, knowing you weren't alone."

Vega grunted in response, biting the inside of her cheek. The last time she relied on Cho, Wylie had gotten upset with himself, fearing that he wasn't being enough for her. Of course that was nonsense, and it felt like so long ago now. Yet, here she was again, for the third time in her life, getting assistance from Cho in a potential medical crisis.

Crisis is a little dramatic. She chided herself as they exited the elevator and headed toward the car. This was no problem. She would see her doctor, they would evaluate the situation, then decide if it was better to allow labor to progress or if the contractions should be stopped. This happened fairly often. There was nothing to worry about.

Less than ten paces from the car, Vega stopped, placing both hands on the sides of her bump as her eyes widened.

Cho looked concerned. "Contraction?"

Vega shook her head. "Nope."

"Good. If they're not coming quickly it's not active labor yet, so they can stop them if necessary."

"Uh – uh," Vega said, shaking her head. She was no stranger to the occasional bladder leak in this final trimester. She knew what that felt like, and this wasn't it. "My water broke. It's go time."