Hello! As promised, I'm back with the conclusion to this little fic. There might be another chapter or two in the future, but for now this is it (although I'll be continuing with After All before long). Hope you enjoy and thank you in advance to everyone who reads. :D

A/N: warning for sexual content (and maybe a few spoilers for chapters of TG that I haven't written yet, if you read closely). Quotes once again from vindicated by dashboard confessional and almost home by mary chapin carpenter.

Note: I've got a 'deleted scene' from this chapter, a short bit with olivia, kathy, and noah that I liked but didn't really fit anywhere. I've never done this before, but if you're interested in reading it, leave a comment here and I'll send it to you. If you don't want to/don't have a login, let me know where I can hit you up on twitter :)

{I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself}

"So on a scale of one to ten, how ridiculous was I being? Honestly."

You can feel Elliot's chest rumbling against your back as he chuckles. "I'm not answering that question."

"Oh, come on," you say, splashing him a little, but he just wraps his arm around your waist a bit tighter from where he's sitting behind you in the bathtub.

"Like I told you. You're pregnant, so I'm giving you a pass. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"You told me that, yeah, but I don't think you expected me to break down sobbing when you did." Earlier in the day, when Kathy had already come for Eli and Noah was still taking his afternoon nap, you had summoned up the courage to approach Elliot and apologize for what had happened the night before.

"I'm sorry, you know. For the things I said and- you tried to talk to me, you knew somehow what I was thinking but I just...shut you out. Again."

He had nodded, reaching out for your hand. "You don't have to...you were listening. That was all I wanted. You needed time to sort through everything in your head, I get it."

"Yeah. But I..."

"But nothing," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile as he tries to pull you down on his lap. "We *do* need to talk. But trust me, I'd rather deal with a silent pregnant woman than an angry one. Know that for sure." He was attempting to set you at ease with a joke, unaware that he was on the verge of disaster when you didn't reply. "I'm giving you an out here, Liv, you'd better get as much mileage out of it as you can while it lasts- Liv?"

There's jokes that fall flat, and then there are the ones that send the audience into a hysterical mess of sobs. You'd chalked some of your strange moods up to hormones before, sure, but this was something altogether different. You didn't *want* to be bawling and you were fully aware that you were overreacting to- what? Something you couldn't even articulate. All you knew is that you felt completely stupid and hopeless and like you needed to crawl under the bed and hide there for at least the next six months.

To Elliot's credit, he didn't make a run for the front door or even threaten to if you didn't shut the fuck up right fucking now (that's what *you* were telling yourself). He started to say something as you stood up, wriggling out of his grasp when he tried to touch your arm, but you cut him off with a sharp "NO" and that was enough to get him to back off.

"It's not fair!" you blurted out when you finally had a modicum of control over your voice, using Eli's favorite phrase because- well, because it *wasn't*. And because you felt about as helpless as a seven year old right then. "Why are you the expert on *everything*? You even know more about being pregnant than I do and I'm fucking SICK of it!"

"It's okay. At least we can joke about it now...right?" he adds, because one can never be too sure around you these days.

"I can. Not you." He quickly agrees and the sound of your laughter echoes against the bathroom tiles. "That was a joke...or you know what? Maybe no more jokes, from either of us. At least until Little Bean is here."

"You think you're overemotional now? Wait until then! Kathy cried for hours on the day we brought Kathleen home because I got the wrong kind of diapers at the store. She was convinced it was some sort of bad omen and I'd cursed Katie for life...but. I mean. You could be different, I'm not saying that-"

"Elliot. Stop. Are you really that afraid of me?"

"Afraid? Of you?" He pauses. "Since the day we met."

"Will you...I'm trying to be serious here."

"Who said I was kidding?" You tilt your head back to frown at him and he relents. "All I meant is- this isn't a competition between you and Kathy. I don't expect you to be just like her. I don't even want that. Besides, if it was a competition...I'll let you in on a secret. You already won."

"Mmm, and I got a pretty good prize," you agree, letting your neck rest in the crook of his shoulder. You have to admit there were perks to being with someone who had so much experience in this department, like when you had gotten yourself under control enough to try apologizing again- this time for your apology turned meltdown- but before you could say anything he just hugged you and promised that the two of you were alright, that you would talk about it after dinner (which he made).

"Some of this is all new to me too, y'know. The only things I know about stepfamilies come from watching the Brady Bunch as a kid. Made it look so easy."

"That was my favorite show growing up...I used to wish my mom would meet someone with a ton of kids and we'd be this big happy family like that." Of course, for that to happen, your mother would've had to find a potential spouse in the first place. It would've been difficult considering that she rarely dated- and although you didn't realize it until much later, virtually all of her male 'friends' were already married to someone else.

You can hear and feel him let out a long exhale. "Listen, I was outta line for what I said last night, that you don't know how families work..."

"It's true, though."

"But I'm tellin' you, I'm not this expert. You know my...I pretty much had to figure it all out for myself as an adult."

"And you did. You've got four grown up kids who all turned out amazing, and I'm sure Eli will be the same, so you must have done something right." You gaze straight ahead, watching how your red toenails peek out from beneath the water. "Plus you had Kathy with you."

"What is it with you and Kathy all of a sudden, that-"

"You don't get it, Elliot! Other than stupid sitcoms...ever since I met you, Kathy's practically the only real life example I've ever had of what a wife or a mom is supposed to be. A good one, at least. Yours was the only family I was ever sorta part of."

"But you know better than anyone that our life wasn't perfect, not even close," he argues. "And Kathy's not some Martha Stewart supermom. That's no disrespect to her- she did a great job- but it's the truth."

"Your house was always clean. Cleaner than it is here, at least, and she had a lot more kids to clean up after. Plus she cooked, she did laundry, she-"

"Do you hear me complaining?" he asks.

"What?"

"Have you ever heard me complaining," he repeats, slower this time, "about any of these things since we moved in here?"

"Uh, no?" If anything, he complains about how he and Noah are banished to the couch on Friday afternoons so that they don't interrupt your cleaning frenzy before Kathy and Eli come.

"Well, there you go. Stop making an issue out of nothing."

"How do I know it's nothing? You're the one who ends up doing most of that stuff- and maybe you resent it and just aren't telling me."

"Then that would be on me, wouldn't it?" When you don't answer, he groans quietly. "Liv. I'm the mostly retired one here, so it just makes sense because I'm home more. It's not a big deal for me to take care of the laundry so that you have more time to spend with Noah when you're off work- that's what I want you to do. He needs that time with his mom. And once he goes to bed...I can think of a lot of things I'd rather have you doing than the dishes."

You duck your head and try to keep from smiling, but it proves impossible. "That would explain why this place looks the way it does."

"So neither of us are great at cleaning. We'll never have our apartment on the cover of a magazine, and that's fine. I don't give a shit about that. It'll get worse with a baby- might as well accept it now. Besides..."

"Hmm?"

"Nah. I shouldn't say it."

"Elliot..."

"I think we all can agree I'm the better cook of the two of us," he says.

You wish you could argue with that, but he's got you there- especially when it comes to making food a picky toddler will eat. Even in the early days when Noah wasn't Elliot's biggest fan, he would happily gobble down pureed carrots if they came from him (the same pureed carrots he would unceremoniously spit back in your face). "Yeah."

"Liv? I told you I shouldn't say it..."

"It's not that."

"Then what?"

"I might've been a little overdramatic about it before," (just maybe), "but I still feel like I'm playing catchup. Like I was finally starting to figure out how to be a mom to one kid...and now I know nothing about being pregnant, I know nothing about how I'm supposed to deal with a newborn and a toddler at once- what?"

He reaches for a piece of hair that's fallen out of your ponytail, pushing it behind your ear when you turn your head to face him. "I'm not making fun of you. I promise. But that's the nature of kids...they have a way of making you feel clueless over and over again."

"Oh really? Because you seem to have it figured out." It's not a compliment.

"And what am I supposed to say to that, Liv?"

"Say whatever you want. Isn't that how it goes? When I say the kids have spent enough time watching videos- 'no, they're fine'. When they start fighting- 'oh, you have to let them work it out on their own'. No matter what it is, you always have the answer."

"But what did I do when you said no more videos? I had Eli turn off the iPad. When they started fighting? I followed you in there to break it up. It's not that I don't listen to you."

He actually has a point there, but you're not quite ready to concede. "Well then. Thanks?"

"Hey. What are you doing?" he asks as you try to extricate yourself from his reach and stand up. It's not as simple as it once was- you may not have gained a lot of weight yet, but it's enough that your center of gravity has started to shift and you haven't yet adjusted to carrying around those extra pounds. "C'mon...talk to me."

You sit perched on the edge of the tub, giving yourself a momentary respite before you have to step out. "The water's getting cold."

"Look, I'm not gonna apologize for-"

"Of course you're not, you wouldn't-"

"Will you just listen? Please," he adds as an afterthought.

You purse your lips together in a straight line, turning around until your feet are flat on the bathroom rug. "I'm listening."

"I made a lot of mistakes with my kids, whether you think so or not. And I thought, with Eli, I was finally gonna be the dad I wanted to be. But things didn't turn out the way I expected."

"El-"

He holds up his hand to silence you. "Lemme finish."

"Fine, finish," you say, wrapping your bathrobe around yourself and watching him behind you in the reflection of the mirror.

"Somebody told me- as long as the mistakes you're making are new ones, then that's progress. It means you've learned from the old ones."

"And so I'm supposed to learn from your mistakes."

"No, I'm supposed to," he says, following you out of the tub and reaching for a towel. "That's why I said, I'm not gonna apologize for...I've learned to pick my battles, and I've learned that most of the things I used to get so pissed at the kids for didn't mean shit in the long run. But what I'm trying to tell you is, I don't have everything figured out. All I know's that I wanna do better this time, for this baby and for Noah." You tilt your head to the side, questioning. "Eli's already a lost cause, you've seen that kid."

"Stop that," you chide teasingly, hesitating for a moment until you let yourself be pulled in against him. "I know. I know. I just." The words come out mumbled with your forehead touching his chest. "I feel like we're going back to where we were when Noah first came home and..."

"No. Liv...no. It's not like that at all."

"But it could be," and you can't go through that again, out of control and completely dependent on someone else to get you (and your child) through the day, awake all night because you were convinced someone might not survive the next.

"Hey. Look at me. Liv?" When you don't move, you hear him acquiesce. "Okay. It's okay." You stand together, silent and nearly motionless for at least a solid minute before he tries again, gently hooking a finger under your chin to nudge it upward until you meet his eyes. "It's different. You know how I know that?"

"No."

"Because you're different. We're different. And yeah, it was rough in the beginning, but you got through it and you figured out how to make it work on your own. Just like I knew you would, and like you will this time. Only now- for one thing, we've got six more months to get ready. Stuff goes a lot more smoothly when you have some advance notice," and you chuckle at that, remembering a frantic text to Nick that went something like 'quick tell me everything babies need ASAP!' (He knew right away this was serious by the exclamation points, which you normally abhor). "I mean, there's gonna be a learning curve. For both of us. But you're in a completely different place mentally than you were then, and I'm...I'm here for good now."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because. I know we've been through this same conversation before, and..."

"And you never believe me?" he asks, hands rubbing your upper arms. "That's okay. Being a dad means you get really good at repeating yourself."

"It's not that I don't believe you. It's just. I don't know what it is." Or why, even when you were a terrible mother by anyone's standard, he never once even hinted that maybe you should admit defeat. He may have thought the whole situation was insane from the beginning, but he still willingly adopted your belief that this little boy was meant to be yours and there was no turning back.

"It's alright." He tosses you an old t-shirt of his. "Get dressed before the two of you get cold."

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, smiling at 'the two of you' as you pull the shirt on over your head. Your bedroom window is still partway up, and you sit down at the edge of the bed to enjoy the warm air- it's early October but summer seems determined not to give way to fall just yet.

"Nice night," Elliot comments, coming out of the bathroom in just his boxers.

"Do you think I'm afraid of being happy?"

"Do I- what? Ah. Is that...are you asking me what I think?"

"Yeah."

He stretches out on the mattress behind you. "That's a tough one. Are you happy right now?"

"Yes." Overwhelmingly, terrifyingly happy.

"And are you afraid of that?"

"Yes." Overwhelmingly, terrifyingly afraid.

"Well then, I guess that's your answer?"

Not quite satisfied with this, you lie down next to him and wait for his hand to reach toward your belly. You're not left waiting for long. "That was kinda halfassed."

"Too bad, it's my turn to ask the questions now. Do I make you feel like you're a bad mother? Honestly?"

"No," you say before you even have time to really think about it. Do you get annoyed with Know-It-All Dad? Yes, on a daily basis. But you also know that every morning, after you give Noah one last goodbye hug before heading out the door, Elliot kisses you and tells you to 'take good care of Little Bean.'

Every day your response is the same. "I always do."

And so is his. "I know you do."

"No," you repeat, turning your head to the side to look at him as you stroke his cheek with the back of your hand. "You don't. You piss me off, but the rest...it's not because of you."

"I meant what I said last night, you know. This is it for me. You're stuck, because I'm not going anywhere and I'm not changing my mind. There's nothing you, or anyone, can do that's gonna make me regret this...Liv?"

"I'm happy now," you say slowly, voice hushed.

"So'm I. But...?"

"You don't ever feel like you shouldn't be?"

He takes his hand off your stomach and wraps his whole arm around you until you're tucked into his side. "I'm Catholic, did you forget? Of course I do."

"It seems wrong sometimes, though, even now. I could've kept a lot of people from getting hurt if I hadn't...I guess it doesn't matter anymore, because I can't go back and change it."

"But you would if you could?" His face stays neutral but even in the dark, you can see a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

"No, God no. I wouldn't. Even though I know how selfish that is. It just feels like...I should be getting punished, but here I am living this life that I don't deserve."

"You do, though. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you. Making mistakes doesn't mean you should be miserable forever." You feel him kiss the top of your head, nuzzling your damp hair. "Like you said, can't change it now, so how is beating yourself up going to make things any better?"

"Sure you don't regret it?"

"I wish we would've gotten here in a different way, but I don't regret where we ended up. Especially not now."

"There's something I forgot to tell you last night," you say, one of your legs slipping in between his. It won't be much longer before your belly will stick out too far for you to be able to get this close to each other. "Well. Something other than 'I'm sorry'."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

You reach for his free hand and press your palms together, fingers clasped. "I love you."

{sometimes all that we can know is
there's no such thing as no regrets
but baby it's alright}

"Eli told me he wants you at his first communion," Elliot mentions casually. Well, as casually as he can considering that you just climbed into his lap and sank down onto his cock.

"Uh-huh," you hum, holding onto his shoulders for better leverage as you slowly lift yourself up until only the head of his dick is still inside you, then abruptly take all of him back in with one fluid motion. He better be appreciating this while it lasts because it sure as hell isn't gonna be happening with thirty extra pounds on you. "And we're talking about this now...why?"

The timing for this conversation is rather suspicious. You had gotten up to shut the windows when he went to check on Noah, and the second he came back in the room he had his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling your shirt off over your head and leaving you completely undressed once again. "Mmm. What're you doing?"

"Lie down and you'll see."

The answer to that question, apparently, was driving you out of your fucking mind. He worked his way down your body at an agonisingly slow pace, suckling and biting at your oversensitive nipples while you had one hand holding his head down to your breast and the other clapped over your mouth to keep yourself from waking Noah. You could've come from that alone and he knew it. But he wasn't going to let it happen, stopping when he could tell you were right on the verge and sitting back between your legs, placing a kiss atop your stomach as he went.

You thought this meant you were finally going to get some relief. You were wrong. He started kneading the muscles of your slick inner thighs with his thumbs, gradually moving further upward but being careful to never actually touch you there no matter how much you were writhing around. And then, just when you were about to succumb to insanity and start begging, he slid two fingers into you without warning.

"Fuck," you blurted out, your palm doing little to muffle the sounds you were making as he added a third finger and started fucking you with his thick digits. You were going to be sore all over tomorrow and the idea thrilled you- it'll give you the distraction you need when you're in a four hour meeting about budget paperwork and trying not to draw attention to yourself by getting up to pee every 20 minutes. "God...El, please, I'm gonna..."

Before you could say anything else, he pulled his hand back. "Gonna what? You're not coming until I do."

He laughed when you growled at him, announcing that you were in charge now and pushing him back against the headboard. But now you're beginning to wonder if he's already turned the tables on you.

"Why'm I- oh shit, yeah. Just like that- why'm I talking about it now? No reason, just came to mind-"

You bite at his lower lip, tugging it between your teeth. "Liar. You think you'll get me to agree with anything you say right now."

"Think I will? I know," he boasts, rolling you onto your back and pinning your wrists over your head. He leans down and nips at your earlobe. "I want you there with me and I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks. I want everyone to know you're mine."

"You mean you want everyone to see that you knocked me up, old man," you tease as he starts moving above you.

"Can you blame me? When you're this fucking sexy?"

"Pride's a sin," you remind him. He retaliates by tightening his grip on your wrists and you wonder what the Chief would think if you showed up to that meeting sporting obviously finger-shaped bruises. Better wear long sleeves. "And you're such a caveman."

"Don't hear you complaining." You dig your heels into his back to show your disapproval of such a stupid retort- even if it might be true, if there might be a tiny bit of you that likes the feeling of being owned. Not that you would ever admit it. You don't have to. He already knows, and nobody else needs to.

You lift your head slightly off the pillow to kiss him, the coarse hair of his newly grown beard tickling your face. It's not an entirely unpleasant sensation but you're going to have some issues if he follows through on his threat to let it grow until the baby comes. "El. I need..."

"Not yet," he warns you as he lets go of your wrists. He reaches down and starts rubbing on either side of you with two of his fingers, thrusting into you roughly a few more times and waiting until his own release has already begun before his thumb finally makes direct contact with your clit, sending you over the edge. "Now, baby, c'mon."

"Ohhhgod," you huff as soon as you're able, wanting him to stay inside you longer but also (and more pressingly) needing to get all the oxygen you can into your lungs. Fuck maternity zumba or whatever stupid class they always advertise at the gym, because this is all the workout you need right here. "You win, I'm- wait. What was that?"

Elliot hears the same rattling sound you do and jumps up, throwing on his boxers and opening the bedroom door to find Noah on the other side, unsuccessfully jiggling the doorknob. You let out a tiny yelp and pull the comforter over yourself as quickly as you can.

Noah doesn't take notice of your embarrassment, too proud of having mastered the fine art of climbing out of his crib. He gives you a big toothy grin and waves. "Hi guys!"

First item on the agenda for tomorrow: buy toddler bed/lock for bedroom door.

{I'm just resting in the arms of the great wide open
it's gonna pull my soul in
and I'm almost home}