This is the end. The final chapter. That being said, I'd like to remind everyone that this behemoth was originally intended to be a one-shot. Three hundred pages later...well, that was a poorly thought out intention.

And...I managed to get this published before the beginning of season 8. Yes, it's only a few hours before, but it's still before.

The room's usually full of people-prisoners, and family members alike, each trying to ignore the stark white walls and uniformed guards stationed every so many feet in an effort to pretend that they aren't on a time limit, patiently waiting for visiting hours to end. The room's usually loud and hectic, like a middle school cafeteria. But today it's quiet, Morgan's tired sigh the only sound echoing against the metallic tabletop.

"It figures this would be a huge waste of time." Morgan's voice is soft, not really directed at anyone in particular, but Reid can still hear the anger present in his friend's words. It's always there when kids are involved, always has been.

"We knew there was a chance he wasn't going to talk," Reid tells him, once again looking at the notes Morgan had hastily taken throughout the interview. "I kind of wish he had chosen not to say anything." A small grunt of agreement is Morgan's only response.

They had driven the nearly five hour drive from Quantico to Bunn, North Carolina early Sunday morning, arriving in time to get settled into their motel before meeting with the Director of Affairs for the Franklin Correctional Center, the current home for one Tyler Winstead, former fugitive and suspected serial killer-kidnapper-pedophile.

The fact that Franklin Correctional Center is normally used as a processing center or to house minimum-security prisoners and offending youth also makes it Winstead's temporary home. Wanted for the deaths of six people in Oklahoma and the kidnapping of his last victim's son, Timothy Winstead is not classified as a minimum-security prisoner, especially since he killed the two state troopers that tried to arrest him in Fort Worth the first time he had been caught.

Fort Worth's police department suspected that he was making his way to the border when he was captured by two unlucky patrolmen. By the time back up arrived, the troopers were dead, both with their throats slit, Winstead long gone. There was never any sign of the missing boy, and after two years, he was unofficially presumed dead.

When a rookie cop called in a drunk and disorderly Friday night outside the city limits of Bunn, North Carolina, he had no idea that the man he was picking up off the side of the road would make him the local hero for the next few months, earning a spot on the front page of the local paper and a visit from two FBI profilers intent on questioning Winstead about the location of the missing boy.

Winstead, despite the years on the run and apparent attempts to avoid imprisonment, had been more than happy to talk to the two agents, eagerly retelling accounts of the Oklahoma murders in vivid detail, proudly taking claim for the double homicide in Texas. However, after hours of tiring questions and overlooking perverse jokes, Reid and Morgan had not been able to convince Winstead to tell them about the missing little boy.

"I need a shower. I feel like I need to wash out my brain." Morgan tosses his empty styrofoam cup at the trashcan, frowning when it bounces off the rim and lands on the floor. He looks to Reid, half expecting a spiel about the impossibility of literally washing out the brain, which would undoubtedly lead to a lecture on actual brainwashing. Instead, Reid slowly gathers all of the papers and photos off the table, lining up the edges perfectly, as though he had suddenly developed a severe case of OCD.

"Penny for your thoughts, Pretty Boy?" Morgan leans against the white, metal column next to their table, crossing one leg over the other before folding his arms across his chest.

Reid doesn't look up from the ever-neatening stack in front of him. "Do you know where that saying originated?"

"No, and right now, that's not what I want to know. Right now, I want you to tell me what's got you playing the silent, brooding type."

Reid keeps his head down but turns his eyes up to look at Morgan. Seeing that his friend isn't likely to let it go, and having almost a decade's worth of experience knowing that he won't, Reid raises his eyebrows in defeat and presses his mouth into a thin line.

"I just wish this hadn't been a complete waste of time," he admits, desperately hoping it will be enough to convince Morgan. He doesn't want to have to acknowledge his discomfort with leaving Emily behind when she's so close to coming to term. The Braxton Hicks contractions she'd felt the week before coupled with whatever pain she was trying to hide from him Saturday night definitely has him worried.

Morgan tilts his head in understanding, buying Reid's half-truthful confession. "I might have over exaggerated when I said it was a huge waste of time. The bastard might not have told us what he did with James, but he gave a full and detailed confession to the other eight murders. Both Oklahoma and Texas have the death penalty. Winstead isn't getting away with anything." Morgan tries to smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come on, Kid. Lets get out of here, we've got a long drive in the morning." He slaps Reid on the shoulder before helping clear away the last of the file.

It's late in the evening, and the prison's population is in the yard, passing the time before dinner. Reid and Morgan follow the guard through the small passageway along the fencerow separating the prison's yard from the main building.

Social norm dictates that when you're spoken to, you respond—a give and take. Social norm doesn't exist within prison walls, no matter how small the prison is.

From the moment the large metal door opened and Reid and Morgan stepped out, they became the center of attention for every inmate within eyesight. They both keep their eyes forward, focusing on the back of the guard's uniform instead of the nasty comments being thrown their way. Threats, insults, and a few questionable remarks that make even Morgan's face burn with embarrassment are ignored as they walk the short distance to the gate's main entrance.

They stop at the truck stop near their motel and grab a couple of sandwiches before heading back to their rooms, each too tired and mentally drained to bother with anything outside of getting ready for bed despite the sun having just gone down.

Reid showers before sitting at the small table near the motel's window. He picks up his phone and hits speed dial before unwrapping his sandwich, picking at stray pieces of shredded lettuce that refused to stay in place.

"Hey, you." Reid smiles at Emily's now familiar greeting. Anytime more than a couple of hours pass without them seeing one another, she greets him with a short and simple 'hey, you." He's come to expect it.

Morgan and Garcia might have more elaborate and creative ways of speaking to one another, but Emily and Reid are capable of saying a lot more in a lot less words.

"Hey," he tells her, trying to decide if the meat on his sandwich is turkey or chicken, frowning when he can't honestly tell if it's even either. "How's your day been?"

"I finished putting everything away, and before you freak, JJ came over and helped."

He laughs a little. He knew the moment he woke up the next morning to find her asleep on the couch, her feet propped up on the arm rest and the remaining baby supplies untouched on the coffee table and second couch that she would get to work putting it all away the moment he was gone.

"I wasn't going to freak out."

"Whatever," she says playfully, and Reid can imagine the smile over the phone. "Just admit you're at least happy everything's officially ready for when she gets here."

At the mention of their baby, Reid immediately feels some of the tension brought on by Winstead's smugness ease away from his shoulders. After conceding his mystery sandwich is at least edible, Reid and Emily spend the next hour discussing anything and everything not related to psychotic Okies and missing little boys.

Reid tells her about Morgan's road rage and inability to follow directions, even ones clearly outlined on a map. Emily talks about the fact that their linen closet has been taken over by elephant covered nursing blankets and the spare shelf in the utilities room now holds a giant box of diapers. Reid tries to convince Emily to admit to any pre-labor pains. She only confesses to a few minor back aches, trying her best to convince not only him, but herself as well that it's nothing more than her body practicing for the real thing—never mind the doctor's warning that the practicing will only last so long before the real thing kicks in.

Reid ends the call after hearing Emily yawn, promising her he'll call when he and Morgan are on their way the next morning. Looking at the clock, seeing that it isn't even nine o'clock yet, Reid decides to try and watch some TV. He falls asleep before the first commercial break.

Emily's slowly getting used to not sleeping at night. She figures it's nature's way of preparing her for when the baby actually gets here, especially since it's the baby that's keeping her up now.

She pulls out the biggest t-shirt she can find and heads to the bathroom, turning on her iPod as she waits for the shower water to heat up. The pain in her back has decided to be more frequent, and much more annoying. Seemingly not satisfied with torturing her lower back, the pain has spread to encircle her abdomen, mainly the area right below her navel. Period cramps have nothing on these suckers.

She'd like to take a bath instead of a shower, give her tired body a chance to relax with a nice hot soak, but the truth of the matter is she's too big to get out of the bathtub without help, something she had been mortified to learn a few weeks back when she was forced to call Reid to help her out.

As she undresses for her shower, she looks at her reflection in the mirror, studying the now steep rise of her stomach. Running her hand from the top to her belly button, she realizes that the baby's dropped. Her stomach used to come to a point, causing her belly button to stick out embarrassingly through her shirts. But over the last week, since the not-really-contractions contractions began, the 'point' has rounded off, slowly dropping lower. The baby getting into position.

Stepping into the shower, she knows she probably won't make it the next few weeks to her expected due date. The doctor had told her that there was a probability that she would have to be induced, forcing her water to break and sending her into labor. Emily had almost been prepared for that, thinking if anything, her baby would be stubborn and not want to come out. But feeling the way her body's been changing, especially over the last week and a half, she knows that inducing labor probably won't be a reality.

The water's hot, turning her skin a nice shade of pink as she works the conditioner through her hair, wincing when she feels another not-contraction attack her body. It's worse than the last ones, closer to what she felt in Mason County, and she has to grab hold of the small shelf designated for holding soap in order to keep her standing.

She waits for the pain to pass, and hurriedly finishes rinsing out her hair. She turns off the water, hating the immediate feel of coolness associated with the lack of hot water and pulls back the curtain in order to reach for her towel.

She feels something shift inside of her, but it's not the baby moving, and she probably wouldn't have noticed it were it not for the sudden feeling of something wet rushing down her legs. At first, she's confused, looking down to see the not quite clear liquid pooling at the bottom of the shower, before she feels a slight bit of embarrassment.

She frowns then, knowing she hadn't felt like she needed to use the bathroom, and the stuff slowly going down the drain definitely doesn't look like urine. Besides, people don't pee that fast, do they?

Confusion and embarrassment fly away, taking the frown with it as shock and a definite deer in the headlight look take their place.

Wouldn't you know her water would break when Reid's not even in the freaking state?

Turning the shower back on to quickly rinse off her thighs and between her legs, she forces herself to take a few calming breaths, determined not to freak out. She can do this. Back-up plans and all that.

Wrapping a too-small towel around her, she quickly walks to the bedroom, water running down her back and shoulder from her soaking wet hair. She grabs the phone and pauses, wondering who she should call first. Realizing that time is definitely a factor, she puts aside emotion and decides to let logic take over. She scrolls through her recent calls until she finds the name she's looking for. Pressing send, she puts the phone to her ear and sits on the edge of the bed, remembering to breathe and not freak out.

"Emily, you know I love you to pieces, but you better have a really good reason for waking me up, Love. I, unlike you, actually have to be at work in the morning."

"Penelope, I think my water broke."

Silence.

"I'm on my way." Emily can hear Garcia knocking things over as she reaches for the bedside lamp. "Are you having contractions? How long ago did it break? What do you mean you think it broke?"

The questions are jumbled and hurried, each one tapering off as though she thought of the next before even finishing the first. Emily brings her wet hair over one shoulder in order to keep the coldness off her back before answering.

"I've been having contractions on and off for the last week, you know that. I was getting out of the shower and it just broke… I think."

"You think."

"Garcia, I'm pretty certain I didn't just pee on myself, but I've never actually experienced my water breaking so I can't say it was definitely that." Emily hears the slight panic in her own voice, feels the shaking of her hands, and knows the goose bumps she sees on her arms aren't entirely because she's sitting on her bed, wet, wearing nothing but a towel that won't even wrap all the way around her anymore.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Oh, we're gonna have a baby!" Emily can't help smiling at Garcia's happiness. "You get everything you're gonna need together and I'll call you when I'm outside."

Emily hangs up the phone and hurriedly gets dressed, towel drying her hair the best she can. As she reaches for her go-bag, she feels the beginnings of another contraction, and frowns. She hadn't looked at the clock when the last one happened, she had been in the shower.

She knows it had taken her a few minutes to finish washing her hair, and then there was the whole water breaking thing, followed by a small not-freak out moment. She had called Garcia, and then gotten dressed. How long had that been? Ten minutes, maybe fifteen?

She reaches for her phone, looking at the time. It's a few minutes from midnight, almost Monday. Her baby's going to be born on a Monday.

Scrolling back through her recent calls, she looks for Reid's number knowing it's right below Garcia's.

Reid jumps when his phone rings, waking him from a welcomingly dreamless sleep. He looks to the nightstand, his hand searching blindly for the loud intrusion, frowning when he doesn't find it. As the confusion associated with being suddenly awoken during REM sleep dissipates, he realizes the ringing is coming from the other side of the room. He turns over and sees the pale, blue light of his cell phone on the small table where he had left it after talking with Emily.

It stops ringing before he can throw the covers back and climb out of bed. It starts ringing again almost immediately after, forcing him to move faster, made all the more difficult by the cast on his foot, the boot abandoned near the bed.

Not even looking at the caller-ID, he flips the phone open and presses it to his ear. "Reid," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. He uses his finger and thumb to wipe at his eyes as he waits for whoever is on the other line to speak.

"Reid, my water broke. Garcia's on her way, and we're going to the hospital."

It takes a moment for his normally rapid brain to catch up with the words and translate their meaning. As soon as his brain starts to function enough to compute that Emily's the one on the phone telling him that she's in labor and on the way to the hospital, it immediately shuts down again, enough to cause him to be at a loss for words.

"Reid?"

"I'm here," he manages to say after a few moments. He clears his throat and once again rubs at his eyes, more as something to do than anything else. He's not there, and she's going into labor. Figures.

At least he's not too far, and the way Morgan drives…

"I'll be there as soon as I can. How long ago did it break?" He tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he hurriedly tries to get his feet to cooperate and go into the right pant leg.

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes ago."

Alright, ten minutes isn't that long. She could be in labor for a long time, he might be able to make it before the baby gets here.

"Only if you hurry," she says, and he realizes he said the last bit out loud.

"I'm already out the door." He grabs his bags and the motel's key before heading towards the door.

"Garcia's on the other line, we'll call you when we get to the hospital." She hangs up before he has a chance to respond. He walks down towards the opposite end of the motel, a silent mantra of "don't freak out" playing through his head.

He bangs on Morgan's door, not caring that it's midnight and he's likely to wake up anyone in the surrounding rooms.

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

"Morgan, open up!"

Reid tries not to look surprised when a rumpled Morgan pulls the door open, his gun clenched at his side, his eyes wide in alarm.

"What the hell, Reid?"

"Emily's in labor." Reid's secretly pleased to see that he's not the only one who took a moment to fully register the meaning of those words.

"Damn," Morgan runs a tired hand over his face. He turns and sets the gun on the nightstand before tossing Reid his room key. "Here, go check us out. I'll meet you at the car."

Reid just nods as he turns to hurry to the front office. Less than ten minutes later, they're on the road, Reid thankful that Morgan's never been able to grasp the concept of driving slow.

She said it once, and she'll say it again: Being pregnant is the equivalent of being a human pincushion. The first thing the doctors do after confirming she is, in fact in active labor is put an IV line in her hand.

She's wearing a thin hospital gown and Garcia's helped her put on a robe. They tell her it will still be a while before the baby gets here, but she's too far along to go back home. When they suggest she walk around to help move things along, she wants to laugh at them. There's no way she feels like walking around.

But then the contractions pick up again, more intense than before and it hurts to even sit down. Maybe walking it out will help.

As soon as Emily was in the care of the nurses, Garcia had started dialing, calling everyone who'd want to know about the upcoming arrival of Baby Reid, never mind the fact that it was nearing one in the morning. Almost everyone they know is used to late nights anyway.

"Did you call Reid?" Emily asks, trying her best to put on the pair of slippers she had packed in her bag.

"Yeah, they're on their way. How you feeling?"

Emily looks up from her stubborn slipper, a friendly glare on her face. Garcia smiles sympathetically, moving to help Emily put on the second shoe. "Just think, it's all for your baby. In a couple of hours time, you'll have a little bundle of joy, a whole new someone that's never been here before."

Emily smiles, but it quickly morphs into a grimace as the now familiar pain makes a come back. She can only nod as Garcia rubs her back, squeezing her hand for support. It's over after a few seconds, but the residual pain is still there. They're getting worse with each one, and she really doesn't want to know how bad it's going to be when it comes time to push.

"You ready to strut your stuff?" Garcia's smiling, clearly not the least bit put off by the doctor's warning that it could still be a while before the baby's born. She was the same way when Henry was being born. Twelve hours of a grumpy JJ hadn't once affected Garcia. Apparently, she's able to focus on the fact that her friend's are in ill moods because they're having a baby instead of focusing solely on the 'ill mood' part.

"If it'll move things along, then yeah. Did Reid say where they were?" Emily tries to tie the robe around her but settles for leaving it open when she sees how ridiculously high the knot rests on her stomach.

"They're still a couple of hours out." Garcia holds the door open as Emily waddles towards her. "But don't worry. Morgan'll get 'em here in time." She steers her friend down the long hallway towards the nurses' station, keeping a close eye to see if another contraction will show up. They're still about ten minutes apart, but she doesn't want to be caught off guard.

As they start to approach the elevators, the doors open allowing a slightly flustered looking JJ to step out. She has on no make up and she's wearing a dark grey T-shirt with the letters NOPD printed across the front, but she still looks pretty, her blue eyes shining with happiness when she sees her two friends.

She walks the short distance to meet them, tucking her hair behind her ears before holding her palms out, patting the air. "Are Reid and Morgan on their way?"

"Already done," Garcia assures her as JJ moves to Emily's other side.

"So, are you excited?" JJ asks as they reach the end of the hall and turn before they pass the seating area reserved for family members.

"Yes, but mostly a little bit nervous." Emily had thought a lot about giving birth over the last few months, especially as the weeks slowly ticked away, steadily bringing her closer to the actual event. At first, she wasn't nervous, not until she started to read the books and made the mistake of watching that video that was supposed to help prepare expecting mothers. Since then, her normally cool composure has taken a lot more effort to keep in place.

"It'll be over before you know it," JJ promises. "And it will totally be worth it."

Emily has no doubt.

Reid was seven years old when he first discovered his love for statistics. He was three when his parents realized he had an excellent memory. At thirteen, he learned how to drive a car, and at twenty, he lost his virginity. When he was twelve, he began mismatching his socks.

His entire life is cataloged in his mind—sorted and filed away in self-made categories.

There's a file for all of the firsts, and a separate for the lasts. The first time he kissed a girl, played chess, or met Jason Gideon. The last time he competed in a spelling bee or science fair, the last time he stepped foot in his childhood home, or the last time he touched Dilaudid.

Then there are the files for the things he wants to remember, and things he wishes he didn't.

At some point the files begin to overlap, but at the end of the day, Spencer Reid is still capable of distinguishing the different components of each individual file—he's still capable of sorting it all out.

Or at least he could until now.

Right now, he isn't sure he's capable of anything beyond this moment, but he knows for a fact that he wants to remember every single second. And for the first time in a while, he's actually thankful he has the ability to do just that.

Truthfully, he doesn't think he needs an eidetic memory to remember what's happening. This entire day will be ingrained in his psyche for the rest of his life. Today's the day he's finally going to meet his daughter. Another for the first file. He just wishes the stupid vending machine would cooperate with his need for this day to perfect.

They made it to the hospital almost five hours after Emily had. Rossi had met them in the waiting room. Well, 'met' isn't exactly the right word, but he was in the waiting room. His head was resting against the wall, his feet propped on the small coffee table, wrinkling the cover page of an outdated magazine. A book laid forgotten in his lap and his mouth was slightly open. They heard him snoring the moment they stepped off the elevator.

JJ showed up before they had a chance to wake him.

"Don't worry," she had said. "Garcia took pictures and video before you got here." They laughed as they followed her to Emily's room.

Now, Reid's trying to decide if the candy bar is worth another dollar, seeing how the stupid treat got stuck and refused to fall the first time he put in four quarters.

"I think you have to do more than stare at it." Rossi walks up behind him, the squeak of his tennis shoes echoing through the wide hallway. Reid had been surprised to see the man so laid back and casually dressed. Blue jeans and tennis shoes weren't exactly something Reid thought Rossi owned.

Then again, the whole team looks like they just rolled out of bed. Odds are when Hotch shows up within the next hour after dropping Jack off at school, he'll be in a suit and tie, making him stick out like a sore thumb among the tired and sleep deprived agents.

"It stole my dollar," Reid says gently kicking his booted foot against the bottom of the machine before turning to face Rossi. He smiles when he's presented with a cup of steaming coffee. "Thanks."

Rossi just smiles in return and takes a sip of his own coffee. "I figured you could use this. You look like you're about ready to drop."

Reid nods, knowing he looks ragged despite having been up for nearly eight hours already. "I honestly think I'm going on adrenaline."

"Yeah, well that won't last forever. If she doesn't hurry up and pop, you'll be crashed in one of those damn plastic chairs. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience here."

"They say it shouldn't be much longer. They've already done the epidural. Pretty soon they'll be moving her to the delivery room." Reid had been relieved when he arrived to find out he hadn't missed anything. As scared as he is, he knows he wants to be in the room, by Emily's side when Hannah's born.

"She's getting restless, epidural be damned." Rossi laughs at the memory of Emily sleepily declaring she wished everything would just hurry the hell up. The epidural might have helped with the pain, but it also loosened her up enough to voice her opinion. Needless to say, she is not happy having spent the last eight hours in a hospital.

She's been in labor just under twelve hours if you count from when the first major contractions started—not the not-really-contractions contractions, but the painful, made-her-stop-and-reach-out-for-support contractions.

Five hours of worrying whether or not Reid would get there before the baby did and a few hours of actually begging a stranger to stab her in the back with a freaking needle, Emily is ready for this whole experience to end. Baby Reid needs to hurry and make her grand entrance, because mamma can't take much more.

"Good news," Dr. Pate had shown up shortly after Reid did, all smiles and excitement. "It's time. We're gonna wheel you down now, we'll get everyone suited up, and get the show on the road."

Emily just smiles, thinking it's about freaking time, and oh God, it's actually fixing to happen all at once.

The door opens and Reid walks in, looking slightly more alert thanks to the cup of coffee in his hands. When Dr. Pate tells him it's time to make their way down to the delivery room, his eyes instantly widen, all traces of exhaustion instantly disappear. Take that coffee.

The team meets them outside, each wishing them good luck as the gurney's maneuvered down the hall. And then it's all switching beds, and paper gowns and paper booties, and stirrups that would be awkwardly embarrassing if she wasn't in so much pain, and then a small moment of panic, because no one can compartmentalize what she's actually getting ready to do.

And then she's pushing, Reid holding her hand the entire time.

People are telling her she's doing great, that it's almost over. They remind her to breathe and tell her to push before telling her not to push, and wouldn't you know that'd be all she wants to do when she's told not to.

The whole time, Reid is there. He doesn't say a lot, or at least she doesn't hear him say anything. She feels him though. Feels his hand squeezing against hers, feels him push the loose strands of hair out of her face, feels him watching her when the pain isn't clouding her every thought, feels him just being there, not making her do this alone.

She's done a lot in her forty-odd years. Most of it with an extensive amount of training backing her up, but this isn't something you can prepare for. Not really. No amount of reading and videos can get you ready for this. Essentially, she came in here blind, and he followed her.

"Come on, Emily. One more push, on three…"

Reid's listening to the doctor instructing Emily on what to do. He vaguely recognizes the nurses talking amongst themselves, preparing to take the baby. But he hears Emily. Her small cries of pain, grunts, harsh breathing, and whimpers. He hears her say his name as she readjusts her grip on his now numb hand.

And then he hears Hannah.

All screams, decibels, and changing octaves. Something sounding more like an animal than a baby, and it's the most fascinating sound Reid's ever heard. And then he hears Emily say his name again, and when he looks at her, she isn't looking at him. All her attention focused on the squirming, red-faced baby rebelling against the cool air, bright lights, and offending hands.

Emily's hair is all messed up, most of it having fallen from the braid. Fly-aways stick out, forming a frizzy halo, while sweat traps the rest against her face and neck. Her eyes are wide and bright, her face flushed, and her breathing still heavy. She looks exhausted, but Reid can see the pure joy. He feels it too, and he can't help wondering at how beautiful she looks.

The baby's wrapped in a blanket and handed to Emily, who takes a shaky finger and runs it along the baby's cheek, marveling at the bright, blue eyes.

"Look at her," Emily whispers, meant only for Reid to hear. "She's beautiful." The doctor and nurses smile as Emily grins happily, finally taking her eyes off the baby when Reid leans down and kisses her messed up hair.

When Reid walks out of the delivery room, he's still wearing the paper gown, and his purple-specked boot is still covered in a blue paper bootie. Garcia meets him half way, bringing him into a spine-crushing hug when she sees the smile on his face. She pulls away, kissing him on either cheek like she had so many months ago when they first learned about the baby.

"Well?" Hotch asks, already smiling. Reid runs his knuckles along the palm of the opposite hand, grinning as he relays the information he's just been given. "Hannah Marie Reid. Seven pounds, eleven ounces, seventeen inches long."

A little over an hour later, Garcia snaps the very first family photos, adding the images to the now pretty impressive baby book. Reid keeps looking from Emily to the baby in his arms.

Everything about her is small and tiny, and she's got a head full of hair that's soft and fine, and she's so incredibly theirs. Emily and Reid's. A little girl.

And Emily doesn't care whether or not she grows up to be a runway model, genius, super spy, because she absolutely loves the little girl. As she watches Reid sit Indian style on the foot of the bed, Hannah swaddled in a receiving blanket in his arms, she agrees that yes, all that pain and frustration, all the little moments of freaking out, and months of hiding their relationship, and being forced to have movie nights to fight off nightmares was completely worth it.

Three Weeks Later…

"Should we wake him up?"

"Don't you dare! He's got a newborn at home. He needs the sleep."

"Yeah, but Baby Girl, the boy's standing up."

"All the more proof that he needs the sleep."

"Well, he can sleep at home." JJ walks towards the break room, slowly approaching the man leaning against the wall, an empty coffee cup resting loosely in his hands. She had seen Reid starting a fresh pot to brew a little while ago. When she didn't see him return to his desk, she went to find him. And find him she did, only to search out Morgan and Garcia shortly afterwards.

"Spence…" She barely touches his shoulder before he jerks his head up, looking around the room wide-eyed.

"What time is it?" he asks, pressing a palm into his eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep.

"Just after four. You kinda fell asleep." She smiles when he turns and looks at the wall, seemingly confused on how he had ended up leaning against it.

He looks down and reaches for the coffee pot to hide his embarrassment. Emily's insisted on her being the one to get up with the baby at night, seeing how she doesn't have to be in at work the next morning and she's the baby's food source. It doesn't matter, though. He's up anyway, if nothing more than to watch the baby girl fall back asleep.

He's tried rolling back over and letting Emily deal with it on her own. Each time he's ended up staring at the ceiling or the wall, waiting for Emily to come back only for her to ask why he's still awake. He never has a good excuse.

"It took Henry a good while to sleep through the night, too." JJ rubs his arm, flashing him a sympathetic look.

"I think I'm just going to start sleeping through my lunch hour." Reid nods his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he truly considers the possibility of lounging on the conference room's small couch.

"It's better than passing out next to the coffee machine," she tells him, turning to see if Garcia and Morgan waited around. When she's certain they're no longer there, JJ turns back and whispers conspiratorially, "By the way, Garcia might have taken some pictures of you zonked out."

Reid just rolls his eyes as he reaches for the sugar. "I don't doubt it. All she's done the last few months is take pictures."

"She did the same with Henry. I've got the baby book put up for when he's older." Whatever Reid was about to say in response is cut off by a yawn that he tries to hide behind his hand.

"Drink your coffee, Spence. We still got a couple of hours, then you can go home."

"Look! Daddy's home. Do you know what that means?" Reid hears Emily as soon as he walks through the door, promptly stepping over Sergio on his way to the bedroom. "It means he can watch you while I take a bath, that's what it means." He doesn't even bother trying to hide his smile at Emily's softer inflection, the higher tone reserved for when adults speak to babies.

"Hey, you," she says when he steps into the room, her voice once more its normal tenor. She's sitting on the bed, Hannah lying in front of her, both surrounded by several stacks of recently folded laundry. "She's changed, fed, and happy."

"Hey, Hannah. Are you happy?" An attentive blink of blue eyes is all he receives for an answer as he reaches and lifts her off the bed, carefully bracing her head. Turning his attention to Emily who's already begun putting up the laundry, he asks, "How was your day?" It's a question he really isn't used to asking her, having spent so many years having her 'day' be the same as his.

"Well," she begins, "She's decided she likes to grab a hold of my hair and pull, and she spit up all over the couch, that's why the cover's off the cushion." The words make it sound as though she's complaining, but the smile and the soft tone tell Reid she's really just relaying different events from the day. Not a lot can happen throughout the day when your only companion spends most of her time eating, sleeping, or using the bathroom. "After that little incident, we took a nap."

Reid laughs, "Me, too." When Emily looks at him questioningly, he tells her about falling asleep waiting for coffee. "Garcia might have taken a picture or two."

"Gotta love her," Emily tells him, rubbing her hand through the baby's fine curls before walking towards the bathroom. "Just give me half an hour, I want to soak."

"Take your time. We've got this." He looks down at the baby in his hands. "Don't we Hannah?"

He walks into the living room, kicking his shoes off before sitting down on the couch, stretching his now boot free leg out across the uncovered cushion. He looks around the room, noticing the differences that have slowly taken place since bringing the baby home. Emily's always kept a clean place, mostly due to the fact that she's hardly ever home. After the redecorating and moving all of Reid's things over to her place, the apartment had become slightly less spacious, but still borderline immaculate—at least after all of the baby supplies were put away.

Now, just a mere three weeks after bringing home Baby Hannah, the apartment looks completely different. It's still clean, but it has a definite 'lived in' feel to it.

There's a pacifier sitting on the entertainment center, a pack of baby wipes on the coffee table, an extra diaper sitting on top. There's a burping rag on the arm of the couch, and a small blanket thrown over the back of the same couch, small elephants printed on one side.

The car seat and stroller are resting near the doorway, the diaper bag's on the kitchen counter, next to the dish rack holding a few drying bottles.

"You've kinda taken over the place, haven't you?" He rubs his thumb along the baby's small fist currently wrapped around his finger, once again marveling at how small she is. Her hair, while still dark, has lightened the last few weeks, curling in a soft mess atop her head. "That's okay," he tells her. "I don't mind."

He spends the next half hour talking to her, telling her random facts and watching as she stares at him, all her concentration focusing on his face just inches from hers. He knows she doesn't understand him, but he loves that he can capture her attention. He could probably just make incoherent noises and she'd still watch him with those big, blue eyes.

When those same eyes start to droop, he lifts her and holds her to his chest, rubbing her back until she falls asleep.

"Where's Garcia's camera when you need it?" Emily's leaning against the doorframe, running a towel through her hair as she watches Reid and their baby. "Don't move," she says, before crossing to the diaper bag. She reaches in and pulls out her phone, Reid's attention going back to the baby.

He hears the digitized shutter of the phone, telling him Emily's taken the picture already. When he looks up, he sees her smiling, thumbs moving across the phone's screen as she sends the picture to Garcia—possibly to JJ, as well.

"I'm gonna put her down." He stands carefully so as not to wake her, holding her to him as he walks to her bedroom, laying her down before pulling the hand-made quilt up to her waist.

Emily walks up beside him, laying her cheek on his shoulder. "You know what we should do?" she whispers.

"What's that?" he asks, still watching the baby.

"We should watch a movie." She's still looking at their sleeping daughter, but she feels him turn his head to look at her.

Instead of asking why, or acting as though it were a ridiculous idea, he turns back to the baby and asks in an identical whisper, "What do you want to watch?"

"I've got the old Dracula movie."

"With Bela Lugosi?"

"Yep," she says, reaching for the baby monitor on the dresser. "I'm thinking popcorn, and Oreos, and a few hours of just you and me."

"Sounds like a plan."

The popcorn's popped, Oreos divided, and opening credits rolling when the light on the baby monitor lights up, Hannah's flustered cry easily heard from the other room despite the help of the small device.

"I got her," Emily says, not even waiting for Reid to get up. He pauses the movie and follows her anyway.

"You know little lady, you're kinda messing up me and Daddy's movie night." Emily picks up the squirming baby, bringing the quilt with her as she moves towards the rocking chair, carefully keeping her voice light. "We haven't had one of those in a long time."

Reid walks in and leans his weight against the dresser, keeping quiet as Emily continues her one-sided conversation. "You know, you should appreciate movie night. It's what got this whole ball rolling."

Emily looks up, capturing Reid's eye as she smiles, remembering that tight feeling she felt in her chest the first time she asked Reid if he'd like to watch a movie. The feeling had only increased as their relationship developed, moving from friends to inevitably something more. Looking at the little girl fisting a hand around her still drying hair, Emily finds it hard to believe that there was a time she looked at Reid as nothing more than just a friend, that there was ever a time when she didn't want what she has now.

When she looks back up, Reid whispers, "I love you," and she just smiles, knowing he's speaking to them both, her and Hannah.

Eventually, Hannah goes back to sleep, Reid and Emily sneak back to finish the movie but fall asleep before Lugosi can entrance Helen Chandler out onto the balcony.

One day, the baby will sleep through the night, Emily will go back to work, and things will resume as normal—the new normal, because things won't ever be like they were before. Things won't be like a fairy tale, everything wrapping up nice and neat in a pretend happily-ever after bow. It'll be hard working around the baby, dealing with teething, and worrying about fevers, cross-country flights, school plays, and the tooth fairy. Some days will be easier than others, but at the end of the day, they'll be together and happy. Just like they should be.

The End.

I really want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this. I now it wasn't exactly a smooth ride, but most of you (emphasis on the 'most') were patient and understanding. I can honestly say that I am completely blown away by the reaction this story has gotten. I never thought it would generate as many reviews and collect as many favorites and followers as it has. So, once again I thank each and every one of you, if for nothing more than for sticking with it through all 29 disjointed chapters, and as always reviews are more than appreciated.