Nine months ago, you got pregnant.

Two months ago, Spencer went to jail.

Your relationship up until then had been picture perfect. Meeting the dorky, sweet guy that gave you the world, falling in love with him, moving in together.

You weren’t married yet, but that was the plan. You just… knew. You knew you were meant to be.

Finding out you were pregnant was scary. Of course it was — you weren’t married, it wasn’t planned. But Spencer was over the moon with the knowledge that he’d created something so beautiful with the woman he loved, with the woman he planned to marry.

Perfect. That was the one word you could use to describe it.

But now? Broken. Wrong. Painful.

How could this have happened? One moment, you were just reaching eight months of your pregnancy, happy and content and waiting to start a family with the man you loved.

And now you were bringing your newborn to a prison visitation room.

You’d given birth surrounded by your friends and family, namely those from the BAU. They loved that child as if she was their own, and they loved you too — you were family to them.

A week after giving birth, you were cleared to go to prison, to bring your baby girl to see her father. She wouldn’t be old enough to know where she was, what was happening… but you prayed that Spencer would be out before she learned what had happened to her dad. You never lost hope in Spencer.

This was one of many visitations you’d made to him, though this one was accompanied by the child you’d made together. The first time he’d meet the baby he fell in love with the moment she was conceived.

The prison walls are dull, the air cold as you stood in the small room, your daughter held tightly in your arms, sound asleep.

Spencer had no idea what was coming. On edge, unsure whether he’d be brought into a room where other inmates could hurt him or if it would be one of his teammates, his mom, you.

When he arrives at the room, the guard opens the door. And there you are.

Beautiful, perfect, his, despite what was happening. And then his eyes travel down… he had little sense of time in this place, and his eyes widen as he sees the bundle in your arms.

His child.

He’d expected to miss the birth, but seeing you, seeing her…

“You have ten minutes,” the guard states, before stepping out of the room. And then a quiet blanket, a solemn mix of longing and pain and love, casts over the three of you. Your child coos lightly in your arms, hand reaching up to grasp your chin, but your eyes are only on Spencer.

He’d hardened since prison. He had to, you know that. The bruises on his face were proof of that. But now… right now you could see that softness he reserved for you and only you — and now, for your daughter too.