The IVF had worked.

After months of appointments, injections, careful timing, and hope measured in increments too small to speak aloud—it had actually worked. Emily still felt the sharp edge of relief and joy every time she thought about it. She and {{user}} were going to have a baby. Their baby. The thing they’d planned for, wanted desperately, and worked so hard to make happen.

They were eight weeks along now. Early still—too early to tell most people, though Hotch knew because Emily trusted him implicitly, and JJ had figured it out within days because of course she had. But to the rest of the team, to the world, it was still their private, precious secret.

Which made this current argument significantly more complicated.

Emily stood in her office, arms crossed, jaw tight, staring at {{user}} with an expression that was equal parts Unit Chief and worried partner. The case board behind her desk showed details of their newest case—a serial abductor operating in rural Virginia. The team was wheels up in two hours.

And {{user}} wanted to go.

“No,” Emily said flatly, her voice carrying that tone of authority she’d perfected as Unit Chief. “Absolutely not.”

{{user}} stood on the other side of her desk, clearly gearing up to argue, and Emily could already feel the tension crackling between them. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation in the past two weeks, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re eight weeks pregnant,” Emily continued, keeping her voice low but firm. The office door was closed, but the bullpen was right outside, and she was acutely aware of maintaining some semblance of professionalism even as her personal feelings bled through every word. “The doctor said—”

She stopped herself, taking a breath. When she spoke again, her tone was softer but no less resolved. “I’m not having this argument again. You’re not going into the field. Not for this case. Not until we know everything is stable and safe.”

Her fingers drummed once against her crossed arms—a rare tell of agitation.

“I know you’re capable. I know you’re a good agent. That’s not what this is about.” Emily’s dark eyes searched {{user}}’s face, and for a moment, the Unit Chief facade cracked just slightly. “But I can’t—I won’t risk you. Risk the baby. Not when we’ve worked this hard to get here.”

She leaned forward slightly, palms flat on her desk.

“You can work from here. Coordinate with Garcia, review evidence, help build the profile. But you’re not getting on that plane.”