A/N: Time jumps ahead! This chapter is the month of September all condensed into 2,700 wonderful words!
Also, the stuff with the will and money: I have no idea if that is actually how things work but I think it should so I'm using artistic license to make it happen!
Any questions, review or tweet me at SwanQueenUKFF.
September
"Knock knock."
Emma glanced up from the latest pregnancy book she was reading and grinned as she saw French stood in the archway.
"Hey, how are you?" Emma asked.
"I'm not too bad," French said with a little smile. Red had left FCI a week prior and her girlfriend had been down ever since. The blonde sympathised completely.
"Do you want to join me for lunch?" Emma asked, glancing at the alarm clock Red had left her and then over at the still vacant bunk.
"In a minute," French said. "I'm actually here for another reason."
"Oh yes?" Emma asked.
French nodded before ducking out of sight and returning seconds later with a box stacked high with possessions. "Hey roomie!"
Emma clambered to her feet, her eight month sized stomach making it a laborious effort. "You're moving into Red's old bed?"
French grinned. "I requested a transfer about a month ago. My bunkmate snores like crazy and I just got word this morning."
"Awesome!" Emma grinned, moving to help French with her things as the brunette dumped the box on her new bed. "Jeez you have a lot of books."
French laughed. "Occupational hazard."
"Well after we get you settled we can go and have a celebratory lunch. I'll get Snow and Boyd to join."
"Great. How was Regina at visitation this morning?" French asked as she began to unpack.
"Good, she showed me a load of photos of our new house."
"Urgh I'm so jealous!" French laughed. "Can I see?"
"Sure," Emma smiled, taking the photos from her cabinet and handing them over.
"Wow you two have got it made haven't you," French mused as she scanned the pictures of a large house, endless green fields and stable blocks, and various snapshots of different rooms, including a bedroom which looked like it could feature in any high end design magazine.
"Apart from the fact that I'm going to miss out on the first four months of my son's life and Regina and I only see each other once a week, yes."
"Emma, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," French began.
"It's ok," Emma assured. "It's always difficult just after I've seen her, knowing I have to wait another seven days for the next time and … and with the end of my pregnancy drawing closer, I wish she was here to look after me. I'm getting a little nervous."
"I understand," French said. "But you have me, Snow and Boyd. We're all here for you, whatever you need."
"Thanks," Emma smiled. "I appreciate that."
Regina closed the door of her rental car and took a deep breath. Slowly, she raised her eyes to look upon her childhood home for the first time in seven years.
It was exactly as she remembered it. The smart redbrick walls, the slick black door, the immaculate garden in the front with the apple tree she had nursed all her life bowing gracefully over the picket fence. Regina shivered and it had nothing to do with the autumnal winds Maine was experiencing. Steeling herself, she walked up to the door and slipped her key into the lock.
Despite having a four hour plane journey to prepare herself for coming back, Regina wasn't prepared for the assault of feelings and emotions that washed over her body as she stepped across the threshold. The entrance hall held the familiar clutter of muddy boots, endless coats and jackets hanging beside the door and the floor dappled with light from an old stained glass window her father had found at an auction and fitted into the kitchen beyond. Pausing for a moment to look around, Regina smiled slightly at being in her home and headed further into the house.
Five hours later, Regina looked around her old bedroom with an air of satisfaction. Seven boxes were neatly stacked against the wall while the shelves, walls, and closets were bare. Any larger items she wanted to take were labeled: she had always been particularly fond of a dressing table that had collected dust in the guest bedroom. Allowing herself a final walkthrough of the deserted house, Regina hesitated before she turned the handle leading to her parents' bedroom.
The familial, cloying scent of her mother's perfume still lingered in the air even though it had been over three months since Cora Mills was arrested and charged. Glancing around, Regina noted that none of her father's possessions remained. Frowning slightly, she moved across the room to the old chest at the foot of the bed. Prying the stiff lock open, she smiled as she saw stacks of her father's horse training books exactly where he had left them, along with a few of his cufflink boxes and a pile of framed photographs.
Picking up one of the frames, Regina recognised herself and Rocinante immediately. It was an image from one of their first competitions together and the photographer had captured the immaculate take off both horse and rider had executed over the final fence. Regina smiled at the memory before placing the photo on the bed and picking up a set of cufflinks. She knew her mother had thrown her father's clothes and most of his possessions away but the cufflinks had somehow escaped. Probably because many of them were unique, hand designed and very expensive. Regina traced the outline of a horse etched into a platinum setting before scooping up the rest and placing them on top of the photo. After a moment's hesitation, she left the room to find a spare cardboard box and loaded up the entire contents of the chest.
It took her little less than half an hour to stack the eight boxes just inside the front door. Her childhood, the first eighteen years of her life, compressed into a few feet of trinkets and possessions. Regina wiped her brow and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea while she waited for the removal van.
"You did what?" Emma asked, the following Saturday at visitation.
"I had to, Emma," Regina explained. "The real estate agent contacted me on Monday saying if I didn't come and take what I wanted, everything in the house would be sold, dumped or donated to charity."
"So you returned, alone, to the place where your mother abused you for eighteen years?" Emma asked.
"And where my father loved me more than anything in the world," Regina pointed out.
The blonde sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry," Emma nodded. "I just wish you hadn't had to go alone."
"Me too," Regina said. "But I didn't have a choice. There were things there I wanted to keep. And now I have them, the house sale is complete, and I don't have to ever go to Maine again."
"Good," Emma said. "Why did your mother sell up anyway?" she asked.
"She didn't," Regina replied. "I did."
"You sold your mother's house?" Emma asked.
"My house," she corrected. "The house was left to me by my father in his will and as soon as my mother was convicted of attempted murder and sentenced to twenty five years, everything was transferred to me. The money too."
"So when you said in court the other week that our house was bought with inheritance from your father, you weren't lying?"
"No, why would you think that?" Regina asked, frowning.
"I'm sorry," Emma said, hastily. "I just assumed the money was from, well from when you were dealing."
Regina shook her head. "I was going to use it," she admitted. "But then when my mother's sentence was decided, I didn't need to any more. Plus that money is tainted. I didn't want our family home to be associated with the mistakes of my past."
"So what has happened to that money?" Emma asked.
"Nothing, yet," Regina said. "It's just sat in the account, accruing interest."
Emma nodded. "So what did you get from your family home?" she asked, moving the topic on from drug money as she sensed that wasn't the smartest conversation to have in a prison visitation area.
"Some furniture, old clothes, my books, a few photo albums. I also cleared my old toys out of the attic. I though they'd be good for Shrimp. And a few things of my father's."
Emma smiled. "What things?" she asked.
"He had photos of every horse competition I ever entered," Regina grinned. "And some cufflinks he had specially made for race days. Oh and a few books about horse training he swore by."
"I'm glad you have some things to remember him by," Emma said.
"Me too," Regina grinned. "I can't wait to tell Shrimp all about his grandfather."
"I can," Emma said.
A hurt looked flashed across the brunette's face. "What do you mean?" Regina asked, confused.
"I'm scared," Emma admitted. "In less than three weeks there is going to be an entire person trying to squeeze their way out of a really tiny part of my body. I mean, seriously, are humans badly designed for childbirth or what?" Emma asked.
Regina smiled sympathetically. "You've been reading the pregnancy and birth books again haven't you."
"Worse," Emma said. "Doc showed me a video."
"Ew!" Regina exclaimed.
"Helpful," Emma snarked. "That's basically me you're 'ew-ing' at."
"No, no honey," Regina assured. "Childbirth is just a bit gross isn't it. It's messy and painful and no one wants to go through it. But every single second will be worth it because at the end, you're going to have Shrimp in your arms for the first time."
"For about five minutes," Emma pointed out.
"I know," Regina nodded. "And I wish it could be different but I promise you I will take such good care of him. And I will bring him up here to visit every weekend. Our new Mercedes is going to be reserved exclusively for these trips."
"Thank you," Emma smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Well luckily you'll never have to find out."
"Have you popped yet?"
"Ha ha, very funny," Emma deadpanned into the phone as Red's laugh reached her ear. "Still waiting on the little one to decide he wants to see more than just my insides. I'm two days away from my due date."
"Well tell him to hurry up. His Auntie Red wants to see him."
"I'll let him know," Emma grinned, sitting down on the chair she had dragged from the dining hall to the phones. "How's freedom going?"
"Great," Red said. "Granny gave me a few shifts last week and I've been helping Regina put the finishing touches to the nursery too."
"Yeah she mentioned you'd been helpful. Thanks," Emma replied.
"Not at all," Red said. "She's paying me way too much for my mediocre decorating skills and it's the least I can do for you since I've left you all alone in FCI."
"You've been replaced already," Emma teased.
"By French?" Red asked.
"Yep, she's an even better bunkmate than you were."
"How so?"
"Remember those foot rubs you teasingly offered me and then never delivered on? Well your lovely girlfriend has insisted on pampering me every night."
"Haha, well just because I don't want to touch your chubby feet doesn't mean I'm not a good friend," Red laughed.
"They're only chubby because of Shrimp," Emma argued. "And they really hurt. Seriously I'm the size of a house."
Red laughed again. "Well then I hope he decided to leave real soon and you can get your stomach and ankles back to normal again."
"Me too," Emma mused. "Me too."
It was a Monday lunch time and Emma settled herself more comfortably in the soft chair, her latest pregnancy book open on her lap. She had read almost all of the books French had directed her to but had deliberately avoided all those on the subject of early infancy. She couldn't bear to read about all the milestones she was going to miss out on whilst still locked up.
Her current chapter was explaining various birthing techniques, not that Emma had any say in how her child was delivered. The prison budget didn't extend to pools for water births. Doctor Fisher had talked Emma through all the drugs available to her the previous week and they had put together a comprehensive plan. Despite how tempting the epidural sounded, Emma decided the side effects related to the anaesthetic weren't worth the risk.
The blonde rubbed a hand over her rounded stomach as she turned the page. "You'd better have fully rotated in there Shrimp," she murmured. "I don't fancy a breach birth."
Her words were rewarded with a soft kick. Emma smiled. Her baby had become more and more responsive to her voice over the past month, even kicking a little when Regina had visited the previous weekend, to the delight of both women.
Shrimp kicked a little harder.
"Alright, buddy," Emma soothed. "I'm looking forward to- OUCH!" she cried, doubling over as a shooting pain was felt low in her abdomen.
The pain receded as fast as it had appeared but Emma knew exactly what was happening. Taking deep steadying breaths, the blonde heaved herself to her feet and walked slowly towards the library door.
"Belle?" she asked, leaning heavily on a bookshelf as another contraction began.
The brunette looked up immediately from the book inventory she was checking.
"Emma? Are you ok? Is it time?" French asked, jumping to her feet.
The blonde nodded through gritted teeth and the other woman rushed to her side.
"Has your water broken yet?" she asked, encouraging Emma to lean against her as they began to move towards the library door.
"Not yet," Emma said, breathing steadying as the contraction passed.
"Ok, good," French said, leading Emma towards the doorway. "At least the infirmary is right next door," she said as she held tightly to her friend and eased them both out into the corridor.
"True," Emma said, trying to move as fast as possible so she was in a bed before another contraction came. "Ah damn," she exclaimed as she felt a sudden tightening followed by a warm rush of fluid down her leg.
French looked down at the expanding puddle and then up at her friend. "At least the floors are tiled too," she said with a grin as she toed open the infirmary door and held it back for Emma.
"Fisher?" French called out into the deserted room.
The woman's head popped around her office door and quickly assessed the two women.
"It's time?" she asked, walking quickly to Emma's side.
The blonde nodded. "Three contractions so far and my waters broke outside the door, sorry," she added.
"No problem," Fisher assured. "Come with me, Emma, and we'll get you set up in our private room. French, thank you for your help but you'll have to leave now."
"Can't I stay with her?" French asked as she saw the panicked look in Emma's eyes.
"Sorry," Fisher replied. "But go and get counsellor Booth. He'll stay with Emma throughout the entire thing."
French nodded. "Good luck," she said to Emma with a reassuring squeeze of her arm before she turned and walked quickly from the room.
"Alright Emma," Fisher said, turning back to her patient. "Let's get ready to meet Shrimp."
P.S. I've never had a baby …