Chapter Text
She tells Rosa first.
After rushing to the nearest bathroom available, hastily grabbing the pregnancy test from the tent as she goes, panic rising in her chest. After peeing an extremely unhealthy amount, foot tapping erratically, desperately pushing down her sudden nicotine craving. After setting the timer, hovering over Jake’s contact information in her phone and staring at the little instruction leaflet until her vision blurs.
After the test comes back negative. After she feels an all-too-familiar discomfort squirming in her lower stomach, telling her that her period is here. After she’s meant to feel relief but all she can feel is a bitter, ugly sadness sitting heavy in her stomach instead of a future child.
After all of that, after she’s been to hell and back in a tiny gross public bathroom, she tells Rosa.
To her credit, Rosa grimaces sympathetically in the exact way she needs right now, gritting her teeth and awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. “Damn. You okay?”
“Yeah.” She says, sorely lacking any kind of conviction. Rosa raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and Amy tries to look less like she’s two seconds away from crumbling completely and more like the rational, organised person she wants to be.
This isn’t – wasn’t ever - the plan. The plan has been meticulously crafted and mutually agreed during late-night pillow talk and on sleepy mornings over coffee and on long drives back home from visits to her ever-growing family.
The plan is to wait a year, to give Jake the time he needs to feel ready and to give her a chance to compare preschools and research multivitamins and invest in a family-friendly car and the 1001 other things you need to think about before you start trying for a baby. The plan is to decide this together. The plan is to figure this out together.
The plan is for everything to be planned.
And yes, her heart lights up whenever she watches Jake playing with their nieces and nephews, excited choruses of “Tio Jake!” bursting through the air as he’s immediately overwhelmed by a swarm of raven-haired, impossibly cute children. And yes, it swells with joy when he always takes it in his stride, grinning brightly as they show him their toys and he bends down to give them all high fives.
Yes, her stomach flips when he texts her pictures of Die Hard themed onesies in his targeted ads peppered with the heart-eyes emoji. Or when they babysit Terry’s girls and he lets them put endless butterfly clips and ribbons in his hair. Or when they share a secretive knowing smile at a happy giggling toddler on the subway.
Yes, she wants this, more than anything, and she’s so glad that he’s working so hard to feel ready to make a beautiful little baby of their own.
But yes, a positive test result today would have made her really happy, no matter how selfish and guilty she feels for admitting that. And now, fear that this might set them back creeps and twists around her, lodging in her throat and preying on her existing anxieties about motherhood like a feasting parasite.
“Yeah. I’m fine. We have a plan, and this…wasn’t the plan.” She twists her wedding ring, pointedly avoiding Rosa’s searing gaze, desperately wishing things were ever that simple. She wants to feel fine but all she can feel is heavy, heavy, heavy. Like she could sink to the ground at any moment and never get back up again.
“Amy.” She says with a rare softness, nudging her with the toe of her boot. “It’s okay to feel weird and conflicted about this. It’s a big deal.”
“I just need some time to process this. And now I have to tell Jake and…I’m worried that it might freak him out.” Rosa hums thoughtfully, following her gaze to where Charles is currently loudly singing a reprise of his “Boyhunter” theme song as Jake instructs the patrol officers. The idea that this could hinder or harm the progress they’ve both made in any way is a devastating one.
“You want me to do my babbling brook noise again?” She asks, breaking a heavily weighted silence, and for the first time all day, the ghost of a smile flickers on Amy’s face.
“I’m okay, but thanks. I would have really spiralled without you today.”
Rosa shrugs non-committedly in a way Amy thinks means you’re welcome. “You spiralled anyway.”
“Yeah, but at least I got to spiral with a friend who’ll cover for me like you did.” Rosa’s lips tug upwards at that, and the weight lessens.
They watch Jake and Charles for a minute more in a comfortable, contemplative silence Amy has come to value over the years of their friendship. She’s fondly reminded that no matter what, Rosa will always have her back, whether she just needs advice, a good cry, or someplace to hide a body. What’s more, she’d do the same for her in a heartbeat.
“Just talk to him. You guys will work it out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You always do. Besides, when was the last time you two stuck to a plan?”
Amy muses on that and thinks of screw light and breezy and orange soda and bomb scares and sharing their honeymoon with their boss. She thinks of how she never planned for Jake to coming crashing headfirst eyes closed can’t lose into her life and how that ended up being the best thing that’s ever happened to her. She thinks of his impulsive crippling spending habit and the post-it notes filled with positive affirmations he leaves around the apartment for her to find.
She thinks of all the times he’s done something spontaneous and unexpected and stupidly romantic and she does what she thought was impossible five minutes ago – she laughs.
“Low blow, Diaz.”
Rosa just snorts, shakes her head, and lets Amy hug her.
Jake’s there when she finally collects herself enough to return to the tent, chatting animatedly to Gary about his upcoming press appearance. He quickly excuses himself to join her, gently bumping his shoulder with her own and giving her his best concerned husband look.
It’s his low-key, work-appropriate way of asking if she’s okay – truthfully not all that lowkey, but she didn’t marry Jake Peralta for his subtlety.
“Hey, I was just looking for you. Are you okay?”
She sighs, bone-tired, taking his hand and squeezing tightly. It’s tempting to blurt it out there and then, especially with her cramps now in full force, but Amy knows that this is a conversation they need to have privately. Ideally without Charles in earshot.
So instead she smiles reassuringly, murmurs something semi-scripted about it being a long day, that she’s just tired, that she’ll be okay. The way he softly presses a kiss to her forehead and runs off before she can protest tells her that they’ll be okay, too. Whatever happens. Even if the plan gets crumpled up and thrown out the window.
They’ll deal with it how they always deal with it – together.
And then the next day, she tells Rosa first, smiling so wide that her face hurts when she recalls the events of the previous night. Rosa boos them for coming back from lunch holding hands but pulls Amy in for a split-second, bone-crushing hug at the end of the day – and when they pull apart, she feels lighter than air.