She takes a breath, releases it slowly, and he's watching her with concern, eyes fixed on hers. "Emily," he urges.
"I did a pregnancy test," she says, and her hand finds its way up, settles below her belly button as tears start to pool in her eyes. "And then I saw a doctor. And I still can't believe it."
"Emily," he repeats, barely above a breath. He reaches for her, pulls her into him and wraps his arms tight around her as she clings to him. He feels the damp spread on his shoulder and rubs up and down her back. "I love you," he whispers, and she nods, holds him tighter.
Because she's terrified, that's the thing. The odds were getting slimmer before Doyle, and the doctors had told her outright she had very little chance of becoming pregnant after that injury. She's all scar tissue in there, Doyle's final revenge for taking Declan. She slides a hand down from his back, around to her stomach again, slides it up under her shirt and wonders if she's imagining a new firmness there.
To his surprise and relief, she agrees almost immediately to come out of the field. She doesn't want to tell the team anything yet – when they get pulled away on a case she says something vague about doctor's orders and from the looks on their faces she knows they've assumed she means her therapist. JJ hugs her hard before they leave, tells her to focus on herself. She consults from DC under Penelope's watchful eye and spends a lot of her time in the bathroom, discovering for herself what a misnomer morning sickness really is.
After a couple of drops of blood and a sleepless night spent at the hospital, Hotch wipes her tears and holds her hand as they watch their baby's heart beating on the ultrasound. They tell her there's a chance it's something from the old injury, that the baby is safe but they want to do frequent scans, make sure everything is going right in there. She nods, tries to reconstruct her brave face.
By the time she gets to twelve weeks, she is so ready to tell people. The team are worried for her, she knows, still assuming it's PTSD keeping her out of the field, and Jack is picking up on her concern too. They tell him first. "A baby?" he repeats, a smile spreading over his face. "For real?"
They're at Rossi's when the team find out, reunited after a case, and she doesn't have much choice, really. She doesn't catch him in time to quietly ask him not to pour her wine, and when she refuses the glass he offers her she can feel their eyes on her. "More for you, right?" she tries, and his eyebrows creep toward his hairline.
"Something you're not telling us, Emily?" JJ guesses, and Penelope's eyes go wide and hopeful.
Suddenly she feels like the air has been knocked out of her, can only manage a breathless, "I'm pregnant," before she's tearing up again. They descend on her, Penelope first, hugging long and hard and tearful. Rossi kisses her dramatically on both cheeks. Morgan pulls her in next, kisses the top of her head and congratulates her, then Reid wraps her in one of those hugs where she feels like his arms could go all the way around her twice. She can't stop the tears, and by the time JJ gets to her, pulls her out of the crowd a little with her hands on her shoulders, she's actually sobbing. "Hey," JJ whispers. "Congratulations."
"I am so scared," she chokes, staring down at the floor. "It's so risky. What if -"
"Emily," JJ says firmly, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length and craning to catch her eyes. She's tearing up now too, fighting hard to keep her voice steady. "Try not to worry about what if, okay? Just take care of yourself. Stay out of the field. Promise."
Emily nods, the intensity in JJ's voice bringing her tears to a halt.
She leans into hospital pillows with Hotch's arm around her shoulder and her daughter in her arms. She's small and – as the doctors put it – needed a little help with breathing to start with. But she's here now just a few hours later, bundled up in blankets and a stupidly tiny hat, and breathing all by herself. "You made it," Emily whispers, and Hotch's hand tightens on her shoulder.