The Future Is Forever, So Smile.

Practicing patience has never been Jane's forte, and for some reason, today of all days, her patience is the one thing people seem insistent on trying. It's wearing thinner than usual, try as she might to portray the saint like kindness everyone seems to think she's so capable of.

Today a number of things are pushing her further and further to snapping at the next person who so much as looks at her funny, which, for her, is a regular occurrence given the tattoos. Her walk home from grabbing a few groceries at the store just a few blocks from the apartment has been a test, to say the least. People can't help but stare, and usually it wouldn't bother her, but there's something about being covered in tattoos and heavily pregnant that makes the gawking more aggravating than normal.

Add that to the fact that she can't go grocery shopping without every other random stranger asking her if she needs help with her bags, and that her bladder functions in intervals no longer than five minutes at a time.

"It's because I'm huge," Jane lamented one afternoon, while eating the ice cream she'd forced Kurt to retrieve from the corner store for her. "That's why people stare."

"Am I supposed to agree or disagree?" Kurt asked cautiously, failing terribly at trying not to smile while they ate out of the mint chocolate chip pint together.

She'd almost gouged him in the side with her spoon for that.

Her temper was short before, now it's practically non existent. The list of things that make her mad include—but are not limited to—New York City traffic, being regulated to analyst duties at the office, the fact that she can't bend over and touch her toes anymore, when Kurt won't leave her alone, and when Kurt leaves her alone too much. In addition to making her mad, they also, on occasion, make her cry for no apparent reason what so ever.

She hates hormones. Those make her mad too.

Kurt tries his best to be the supportive, doting husband by reminding her that there's just two weeks left, but despite his good intentions all it does is leave her with murderous thoughts as she plots her revenge against him. Her body has been subjected to nine months of torture by the tiny human inside of her and it is all his fault. Just two weeks, she thinks, shaking her head as she rides the elevator back to their floor. Two weeks is a lifetime when she's spent every single morning of those same nine months throwing her guts up. So yes, it's just two weeks, no big deal, they'll be over soon, they'll fly right by.

As if.

While most women only deal with morning sickness in the early weeks of pregnancy, it seems her body is determined to rob her of normalcy just as much as the other facets of her life have done, and she's been, at times, horribly sick. This pregnancy has been difficult, but she'd known it would be, it had been before, the first two times.

It was the miscarriages before that made this pregnancy high risk, that kept her at constant doctors appointments, that often robbed her of sleep at night because of the nightmares, and that had Kurt in a constant state of internalized panic.

Jane closes her eyes, wishing the elevator would move a little faster, worrying at her wedding ring where it hangs on a chain around her neck (swollen fingers be damned). She doesn't like being stagnant, being still, because her mind wanders to places she knows she shouldn't let it.

That's the other reason these last two weeks have gone by in slow, drawn out agony, almost as if time were trying to stop completely; she's terrified of all the things that could happen between now and then.

Jane manages to make it to the apartment door, and unlock it, all without removing the bags on her arms. She manages to swing it open, maneuvering her way through it with less grace and a lot more noise than usual. She somehow, blessedly, also manages to kick it shut with her foot.

"Jane?" Kurt's voice reaches her from somewhere in the depths of the apartment.

"It's me," she calls back, setting the bags on the kitchen counter with a sigh, and she turns to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of water from the side of the door.

When she turns around Kurt is there, walking into the kitchen, and he's got a smile on his face that immediately has her suspicious. However, before she can question him, he's taking the bottle of water from her and setting it on the counter, and he leans forward to kiss her, softly, but still eager, one hand gently tangling into the ends of her hair. She can't help the moan that rises up in her throat, just as soft as the kiss itself. Despite what blame she's laid on him for her suffering, she still wants him now just as much as she ever has, there's no hiding that.

"Missed you," Kurt grins, grabbing her hands in his, "missed both of you, actually."

"I was only gone for an hour," Jane teases, grinning at his amendment, leaning forward and kissing him once more, quickly, for good measure.

"I know," he shrugs, and Jane notices he's trying not to frown, but his blue eyes betray him like they always do. She's never understood the notion that eyes were windows to the soul until she realized that's exactly what Kurt's were, because that's the way he looks at her, with every piece of himself.

"What's wrong?" She asks, and she tries not to be sad when she wraps her arms around his neck and she can't get as close to him as she'd like to. It seems silly to be upset about that, given how much they've struggled to get this far, but she still wishes she could melt into him now like she's done so many times before. She could never, ever have him close enough.

"Nothing really," Kurt shakes his head, his hands resting carefully on either side of her stomach now, "You know I worry, you really should've let me come with you."

"I'm sorry," Jane says softly, brushing her thumbs alone the back of his neck, her fingers resting lightly in his hair. "Everything's fine though," she adds, moving her fingers to frame his face, appreciative of the fact that he hasn't shaved in over a week, "besides, I needed to get out, house arrest makes me crazy."

If Jane could have it her way, she'd still be at work, because even though she'd rather have her teeth and nails pulled before being forced to sit at a desk and do paper work, it'd be a better fate than being caged in her own home and forced to wait. However, Assistant Director Mayfair has hardly given them a choice in the matter, and so that's why they've begun their maternity leave early. It'd been a direct order, thanks to the influence of the doctors who'd suggested she be in a less stressful environment given the nature of her work with the FBI. Damn them.

"It's ok," Kurt smiles, and this time it's genuine, and there's something boyish and excitable about him, "I've been working on something while you were out. I've been working on it for a while, actually, but I wanted to wait…"

Kurt doesn't have to say anything else for Jane to know what he means, by wanting to wait. Even though the end is so close, he's just as afraid as she is, just as scared that something might still go wrong. Jane still thinks, in some ways, that the two loses they've already struggled through have been harder for him to come to terms with. The helplessness, his lack of control over what had happened, still haunts him, still hurts him. Jane's never wanted something so badly as she's wanted to take that pain away from him, and she has prayed and prayed, ceaselessly, desperately, that this time will be different—for his sake, and hers.

"Well?" Jane asks, head tilted, "are you going to show me or not?"

Kurt's smile broadens, and he grabs her hand, trying to be careful while still being giddy about whatever surprise he has waiting for her. He leads her form the kitchen and down the hall, pausing at the door that leads into Sarah and Sawyer's old bedroom—now the nursery.

"No peeking," Kurt comes up behind her, reaching his hands over her shoulders to cover her eyes.

"I'm going to humor you this once," Jane mutters, but her irritation with him is belied by the fact that she's still grinning, and she leans back into him, enjoying the familiar, solid way his body always forms to hers.

"Alright then," Kurt whispers in her ear, his chin resting against her shoulder, "reach out and open the door."

Jane obliges, finding the door frame and following it's length until her fingers reach the door knob. She pushes it open easily, and Kurt encourages her to shuffle forward a few feet before he stops her, and then removes his hands to her shoulders instead.

When she opens her eyes, her breath catches, her heart rising in her chest with the swell of emotion that threatens to overcome her.

"Well?" Kurt asks from behind her, hopeful, but also nervous. "What do you think?"

There on the wall above the crib, are three letters, a name.

Ava.

The letters are made of wood, carved into a beautiful, winding script, but upon closer inspection Jane realizes the material is far from ordinary. Not only that, but she recognizes it too, she knows it.

There in the rivulets and cracks of the wood's natural texture are slivers of iridescent teal and blue and indigo scattered throughout. Jane steps forward, reaching over the crib to touch the surface of the letters, smiling as the memories come back to her in vivid detail. During their honey moon, which they'd spent at Kurt's family cabin in Huntingdon, they'd been hiking through the woods when Jane had stumbled upon a piece of opalized wood. She'd begged Kurt to carry it back to the cabin for her, even though it'd been ridiculously heavy, but never being in the habit of denying her, he'd obliged.

It's the same piece of wood hanging on the wall, except now it's been transformed into something far more beautiful than Jane ever could have imagined, their daughter's name. The name they were finally brave enough to to give her after being so scared she might never hear them say it.

"Do you like it?" Kurt asks hopefully, coming to stand beside her.

"Oh, Kurt, it's perfect. It's beyond perfect."

"Jane—you're crying, it wasn't supposed to make you cry!"

She can't help it, the tears are already falling, and Kurt laughs a little, and so does she, as he pulls her toward him. For once they're happy tears, and she'll gladly take them, she'll gladly let them replace the trail of all the other tears that've been spent trying to get here, to this moment. Jane grabs his face in her hands, kissing him firmly, and Kurt smiles against her mouth, kissing her back with feverish, boyish glee.

"I love it, and I love you," Jane whispers against his mouth, "I love both of you, so very, very much."

"I'm glad you like it," Kurt leans his forehead against hers, "and I love you too."

Impulsively, like the child he sometimes is, Kurt kneels down in front of her, lifting her shirt over the swell of her belly, his hands on either side as he kisses the center of the flaming rose. It's almost as if Ava must have been listening, because she kicks in response, and the responding smile Kurt gives her, the complete adoration on his face not only for her, but for their child, reminds Jane why she fell in love with him in the first place.

In that moment all the fear, all the heartache, disappear as if they were never there.

For the first time in a long time Jane is excited, overcome and overwhelmed by the future in front of her, by this life they've created.

For the first time in a long time, she isn't scared anymore.

AN: So this was a prompt from one of my followers over on Tumblr! I just love domestic Jeller and married Jeller and BABY AVA DOE-WELLER. So yeah. That's where this came from. Let me know what you think in the reviews! Thanks as always for reading. xo

Edit: just wanted to add that this is pre "More Than Life." I might have to explore this futureverse s'more because I love writing for it so much.