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Francis frowned walking into the house and seeing the whole place dark other than the guest room. He quickly shed his jacket and set his briefcase aside. "Claire?"

"In the spare bedroom." Claire called out.

Francis quickly undid his cuffs as he walked back to the bedroom, pushing the door open more so he could step inside. He smiled finding Claire sitting on the floor in the middle of the room with baby items all around her and a protective hand on her six month baby belly. Leaning against the doorframe, he enjoyed the view considering he would only have a few more months to enjoy it. "Hey there."

"Hey," Claire grinned up at him, stroking her stomach as she reached for a stack of baby clothes, "how did it go today? Do you think we can get them on our side?"

"I like our chances." Francis nodded before jutting his chin towards her task. "What are you up to in here?"

Claire hummed softly. "I know that there's a good chance we won't even use this as a nursery since we'll have to move once you win, but my hormones are telling me to nest. I can't seem to ignore them. Considering we don't have a crib or any basic baby furniture, I figured going through the gifts we received would be a start. Plus," she held up a thick paperback that he couldn't make out the title of, "still haven't thought of a name for her.

Francis grinned, stepping inside and taking a seat on the floor to 'nest' with her. "Ah, there's a true issue we need to discuss."

Claire gave him a soft smile when he started going through some cuddle toys they'd been gifted. "You don't have to help if you don't want to. I know you've had your moments of pride with this, but I know you. You still don't want her."

"She's just as much mine as she is yours. We do things as a team, and I'm not asking to help. I want to help. Against all better judgement and years of convincing myself otherwise, you have me in love with a little girl who I've never met." Francis admitted with a chuckle. "I know there will be days I regret having her, subjecting her to the pain of the world. But, that doesn't mean I don't want her."

Claire studied him, saw him taking in the small trinkets and clothes around him. She reached out, taking his hand into hers. "I didn't know him, Francis, but you aren't your father."

"I just wonder sometimes." Francis breathed, shaking his head as he picked up a light yellow onesie that fit in the palm of his hand. "If he ever had the feelings I'm having now. And if he did, how did he turn into what he did? How did you do what he did?" He shook his head. "He used to beat my mother and I. Did I ever tell you that?" He gazed up at Claire, watching her shake her own head with glazed over eyes. "I remember him being so violent. He was so angry, so filled with hate. And, I think to myself that I could never possibly get to that point. I would burn down the world for you two, but I'd rather die than lay a hand on you. I just worry that the day will come when my feelings change, and I'm not me anymore. I don't ever want to be what my father was to my mother and I."

"Francis, I promise you. You are not him." Claire whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "I don't know what happened to him or what drove him to do those horrible things, but you won't end up like him." She leaned forward as best she could and kissed his forehead, smiling gently when he lifted the onesie up to his face. "I won't lie. We're going to fuck up our child like all parents," she was happy to get a laugh out of him, "but she will only know love from us. That I know."

Francis kissed her palm in a silent thank before glancing back down at the onesie. "Hard to believe something so tiny could be so powerful." He caught the confusion on Claire's face. "Her kicking. I feel her every night when she starts kicking."

"You don't feel her every night." Claire scoffed as she started folding clothes.

"I do though." Francis grinned. "I wake up every time she moves against my hand on your belly."

Claire's jaw dropped. "No wonder you aren't sleeping, Francis." She shook her head and she ran a hand down her belly again, aware of the kicking going on as they spoke. "I didn't know she was doing that. I've gotten so used to her. I only wake up if she kicks my bladder or my ribs really hard. Why do you put your hand on my belly if you know it's going to wake you up at some point?"

"I look forward to it." Francis shrugged before picking up a pair of baby boots that looked far girlier than anything he even imagined Claire would allow on their daughter. "As tired as I am, it's reassurance. Reassurance that she's there; she's real. It's hard to grasp the idea we're having a baby when I can't really do anything."

"Well, for the reassurance you get from her kicks, I think you do the same for her. It doesn't matter when you get home. She starts kicking the moment you walk through the door." Claire giggled, glancing down at her belly. "Feels like a river dance in there sometimes."

Francis smiled before shaking his head. "She probably sense danger. I was a threat to her, Claire." He thought back to the conversation he and Claire had before he had called to schedule an abortion. While neither of them disagreed it wasn't for the best, he knew something felt off about it. It wasn't just Claire. He felt wrong about it. She was just the one who refused to go through with it.

"Not anymore." Claire's voice broke him out of his self-loathing memory. She reached out for his hand, waiting until he placed it in hers before pressing his hand against her stomach where their baby was kicking. "It may scare you that you love her, not having seen her or met her or that we don't even know her name yet. But, she loves you. She wouldn't get this excited at the sound of your voice if she didn't."

Francis smiled feeling the movements, smirking when he met Claire's eyes. "We could call her America." He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. "What? It's good enough for fifty states. Besides, it would mean more to us than naming her after one of our mothers, and people eat that shit up."

"God, no." Claire laughed, tossing a teething toy at him. "We are not naming our baby Elizabeth."

"Or Catherine." Francis added with a pointed look before observing the toy she threw at him.

Claire nodded. "Agreed." She set the book down in his lap. "Maybe you'll have more luck than I did. Every name felt like I knew somebody I didn't like with the same name, or it was too girly, or felt like a stripper's name."

Francis laughed as he started paging through the book. "Well, at least we'd know she'd get the male demographic. Hey!" He snorted when she smacked his leg. "Alright, alright. There's gotta be something in here that we can agree will work."

"I kept leaning towards the boy names, trying to think of some girl name close to it." Claire sighed, running a hand through her hair and pushing it back away from her face. "I came up with Adrian, Samantha, and Jane. I thought about playing off your name with Francine, but I'd rather not have her grow up with the nickname Franny or something like that."

Francis chuckled. "We can cross off my name. "So, Samantha is Samuel. I'm drawing a blank on the others."

"Abraham or Abram got me to Adrian." Claire explained. "Otherwise, Jane I got from James."

"I like James better than Jane. A lot of Presidents have been named James." Francis pointed out with a smirk, grinning when Claire yet again rolled her eyes. He closed the book, tossing it aside. "When we see her, we'll know. If we don't, we'll bring the book. In any case, we've got America on the back burner."

Claire laughed, shaking her head. "We are not naming her after the country. That just screams privilege. I don't think it would look good for either of us if we end up taking her to a park and have to call for her or tell her no. Telling 'America' she can't do things doesn't bode well for a politician trying to become its leader." She picked up a white onesie and held it against her stomach, showing off the American flag printed on the front of it. "But, my father and you are thinking along the same lines."

Francis grinned before peeling the onesie off her belly. "That's perfect. You said he wants to come out when we go to the hospital?"

"Yeah, he wants to be sure someone comes to see us. Said something about his mom coming to the hospital when I was born." Claire murmured. "He was terrified he was doing everything all wrong being a first time father. My mother was. . .well, she was my mother. But, my grandma came to the hospital, showed her support, told him he was doing just fine, and he said it made him feel better even if she didn't really do anything. She just gave him the confidence to be a father." She bit her lip. "He figures we could both use that assurance after the baby comes."

"He's probably not wrong." Francis breathed. "I'll be with you though, Claire. Every step of the way. I'll be in the delivery room, hold your hand during contractions, entertain you when we're waiting for something to happen. I know I haven't been the most supportive through this whole thing, but that doesn't mean I can't be going forward."

Claire smiled. "Is this you not asking again?"

"Yeah," Francis grinned, "I want this."

Please review! Shorter chapter, but it felt like we needed another pregnancy snip it.