Every Breath You Take [RDJ Fanfic] - COMPLETED

One Hundred Sixty One

"Please tell me you're okay..." I ask warily.

After calling him 'Iron Dad', he hasn't said anything; he's just standing there with a half smile on his face and his jaw dropped and it's scary, because I can't read him.  He really did want a girl, didn't he?  Is he upset it's a boy?

"Rob, talk to me..." I beg after more silence and a deep breath from him.

"I thought you didn't want to know," Robert finally speaks, but it's softer than before, still, so that makes me feel better.

"I didn't," I admit quietly, fidgeting with my fingers in front of me.  "I don't know. I went to see what notes they'd written on the records they copied for us, and I didn't realize he slipped it in there and I...just needed to open it."

"But at the office you-"

"I know," I answer before he finishes.  "On the way home I started thinking about...what would happen if we lost it, and I knew I needed to know. Before I thought it would make it easier, but with this scare...  I just suddenly felt like they deserved that much...  They deserve to be remembered by their parents for exactly who and what they are, not...not just some pretend idea of a baby.  They exist.  They're alive.  They have a name."

"He has a name," Robert corrects.

"He does."

I finally smile slightly, hoping he returns it.  There's just something about knowing that has me invested even more so than before. I could swear they're already born with how protective I now feel I need to be, which only scares me for when they arrive.

Frowning, his brow presses together and he heaves a sigh, shaking his head as he looks off to the side.

"I don't know, Rach.  I really have no idea what the ever living fuck to say or do, here."

"Say you're on board with this," I plead.

"You know I was, and I am," he rushes to add. "But what about you?  What am I supposed to do knowing that you could just...anything could happen at any moment, and-"

"We're over thinking," I try, even though we're really not.  "Two weeks, I'll stay in the house, comfortable, rested..."

"Two weeks was a suggestion, not a 'do-it-and-it's-fixed' timeline."

"It's a starting point," I argue.  "Have Devin stay again while you're in New York, or Syd, or-"

"I'm not doing New York."

It's a statement, not a questions, not a suggestion.  It's in his newly adopted 'dad' tone, not open for debate.

Still, I protest. "What?  But all of those people are out there for you, and-"

"And my wife is in California on bed rest and a no fly list," he snaps, finally turning his head back to me, his dark eyes fiery with frustration. "Jim cancelled a few hours ago.  The others can go, but I'm here for the next four months, end of discussion."

Part of me wants to be so excited that I get to spend more time with him. The wedding and the honeymoon were phenomenal. But four months of Robert nonstop can be a lot.  One week or Robert nonstop was a lot.  Fun, but a lot.

"So if you cancelled, are you-"

"I don't know," he repeats, as he said earlier. "You know I love the idea of a family, but this is too big of a decision."

"We agreed," I remind him gently. "When I found out I was pregnant, we agreed that unless there's any immediate danger to me, we are having this baby."