When she heard the scream, Emily Prentiss checked her watch.

4:27am.

He was getting better.

'Dave,' she grunted, before remembering that Rossi was in Los Angeles with the rest of the team. Two days ago, she had assured him that she would be fine. Now, after two days with no sleep, an incessantly pooping machine, and a couple of animals that thought they should have full run of the house, she was regretting that fact.

The cries continued as she pulled herself out of bed, and flipped the bedside light on. Sergio, who had apparently been lurking in the shadows, immediately jumped to her lap and started meowing, as though she had woken up at stupid o'clock specifically to feed him.

The moment she flicked the light switch in the nursery, the cries stopped.

'I'm trying to sleep,' she told her son pointedly. He was smiling, which was clearly a sign that he took after his father. Nathaniel Lucas Rossi was, admittedly, a name she had picked whilst still suffering from the effects of the epidural, but it could have been a lot worse. If Dave were to be believed, he'd almost ended up as Ezekiel Lucifer, but then, Dave liked to mess with her.

Emily bent down, and lifted Nathaniel from the crib. He gurgled happily. Apparently, he wasn't hungry, and wasn't poopy. He just wanted some company.

Holding him to her chest, she made her way back to the master bedroom. Thanks to Dave's idea of luxury, they had an exorbitant number of pillows on the bed. One-handed, she pulled the sheets back, and stuffed the pillows under to form a makeshift barrier. The last thing she needed was him rolling over for the first time, while she slept on, oblivious.

She didn't even remember falling asleep.