A Plan Conceived
There were many things in life that David Rossi knew with certainty. Many things. He'd lived a long time and learned that just when you thought you had things figured out, circumstances changed. Fate was a fickle bitch that way. And she'd slapped him in the face yet again. Oh, she'd thrown a few favors his way. Namely, one Emily Prentiss. But he was still fairly certain that those fates hated his ass.
As happy as he'd been for the past five and a half months with his new life with a particular raven-haired profiler, it had still been wrought with changes and obstacles. The primary being Emily Prentiss' near obsession with having his child. His sex life with the determined woman had devolved into an endless parade of graphs and charts predicting the highs and lows of ovulation, acrobatic positions designed to increase their chances of conception and thermometers in every room of the house – the better to tell them conception time was nigh. Gone, were the days of impetuous sex against the kitchen table. There was now a calendar hanging on his refrigerator giving him notice of the evening's activities. David Rossi had become a stallion sent service his mare…and not in that real good way either.
He knew all of this was a small price to pay for being allowed to share her life…her space. Emily had never been one to yield her privacy easily and the knowledge that she'd lowered her barriers just enough to allow him inside to love her was a miracle in and of itself. He told himself to be grateful. She'd changed her almighty plans. For him. She'd say that she only delayed them. But he knew the truth. Emily Prentiss wanted his baby. Desperately.
He also knew a deeper truth. She was escalating. Rapidly. He'd received that message loud and clear this morning as he'd sat at his scarred kitchen table, paper in hand.
His focus had been on an editorial detailing the failings of the current administration. That was, until his newspaper was suddenly snapped out of his hand, thrown to the side, and replaced with a computer generated form. All within the space of five seconds.
Another thing David Rossi had learned….when Emily Prentiss wanted his attention, she didn't necessarily feel the necessity to follow societal norms at this time.
Glancing up, Rossi had merely raised his eyebrow as he stared into her set face. "Something you wanted to tell me, Cara?"
Nodding once, Emily had flicked the paper in his hands, her words brooking no argument, "You have an appointment. Don't be late."
His eyes instinctively went to the calendar on the fridge, wondering if he had forgotten an ovulation date. He hadn't. Glancing down at the form, he had scanned the print, his eyebrows wrinkling as he read out loud, "Fertility Specialists of Eastern Virginia." Looking back up at his brunette lover, he had asked, "Emily, I don't think you need me to go to your doctor's appointment with you, do you?"
Grabbing the orange juice out of the fridge, Emily had calmly filled two glasses as she said, "It's not an appointment for me, Rossi. Keep reading."
Feeling a sudden pull in his gut, Rossi had done as she said. And when his eyes found the words "semen analysis", he had yelled, "Oh bloody hell, no."
Emily merely handed him a glass of juice as she took a sip from hers, saying, "Yes, Dave. It is our next logical step."
"I really don't think that WE will be taking this test, do you?" Rossi had growled, continuing to read the form as he mumbled, "to measure volume…..liquefaction factor…." He then suddenly yelled, "And what the hell is morphology and motility methodology? This is not something that I think I want to be anywhere near, Emmy!"
Sitting down next to him, Emily had snatched the form from his hand as she said, simply, "If you want me to have your child, you will do this, Dave."
"Look, Cara," Rossi had said, trying to backpedal as he saw the frown settling on her face, "We've only been trying for less than six months and…"
"And in those six months, I should have already been pregnant, Rossi. My doctor says that I am ovulating on a regular schedule with appropriate egg shape and size, there are no problems with my fallopian tubes, and my body is hospitable to implantation. So it's time to check out your end of this deal," Emily had responded, eyes firmly meeting his.
"There's nothing wrong with my swimmers, woman," he had declared emphatically.
"Then prove it, Rossi. Show me they haven't drowned," Emily responded , flicking the paper back at him. "9:30 AM. Don't be late because this appointment was hard to get and I do NOT want to have to wait another two weeks to reschedule." Staring hard at the older man, she conveyed a wealth of meaning in a single look…her words were extraneous as she ordered, "I mean it, Dave. Not one minute late." As she reached the door, she called out, "And drink the juice. You'll need the vitamin C."
And then, in amazed shock, he had watched her stalk out their kitchen door.