Author's Note: I guess saying there's been a wait for this chapter would be an enormous understatement. I've had the first part written and on my computer for the better part of a year, but I just didn't know where to take it. That, and I had things to do- like graduate from college and get certified to teach- you know, little stuff. Anyway, I hope there are still some of you out there who've read this story who aren't so terribly angry at me that you wouldn't click the little link to continue (and maybe, just maybe, to review). There will be one more chapter after this one, and perhaps an epilogue after that. Since it's spring break and I don't have work, hopefully I can get those chapters up in a timely manner (read: not a year from now...yeesh, sorry about that one, folks).

Six Weeks

Chapter Twelve

Pam had seriously considered blowing off the last belly-tracing day. She had already started her maternity leave and would only be coming back, on her due date, because the office was on the way to the hospital where Pam would be induced (and also because Michael had begged, and agreeing was the only way she could get him off the floor). Her ankles were swollen and her back ached as she waddled and Jim walked into Dunder-Mifflin, and Pam was pleased to see that everyone in the office except Michael had already gathered at the reception desk, the butcher paper already in place.

And then she looked around.

The office was decorated with pink balloons and white streamers, and a stack of presents sat neatly on Jim's desk. She shot a look at Jim, who shook his head, and then at Phyllis and Angela, whose faces were purely apologetic. Michael had been behind this.

As if on cue, he burst from his office.

"WELCOME TO YOUR BABY SHOWAHHH!" he yelled, triggering a mass cringe from everybody else. "You didn't think we weren't going to throw one for you, did you?"

"Michael," Jim started. "We were just going to do the belly tracing and go to the hospital, we really can't stay."

"Not even for ice cream cake?"

"No, we should really-" Jim's sentence was interrupted by Pam, who all of a sudden looked a lot happier.

"We should really stay," Pam said. "For ice cream cake."

Everybody in the office, including Jim, stared at her in disbelief.

"What? I'm not in labor yet, and ice cream cake is delicious," she continued, incredulous.

The staring continued.

"Somebody get the pregnant lady some ice cream cake!"

Jim doubted Michael had ever been more smug in his life.

…

A short ten minutes later, it was time to open presents. Jim was insisting that they speed things along, because they were going to miss their appointment, despite arguments from Dwight that inducing birth was unnatural and the baby would come when it was ready. Angela had already explained, in surprising (and, frankly, disgusting) detail how she always waited patiently for Sprinkles to give birth through several litters of kittens, and offered only minimal assistance during the long, arduous process. She and Dwight were about to lecture Jim and Pam about the benefits of hiring a midwife and the joys of natural labor when the couple suddenly declared that it was about time to get to those presents.

So Pam sat in Jim's desk chair, trying to decide which present to open first, and apparently taking entirely too long, as seconds later a pink box was thrust into Pam's lap by her anxious fiancé. Pam grinned at its appearance. The box wasn't baby girl pink, it was hot pink. It was also covered entirely in glitter. Pam looked up to see Kelly clutching Ryan's arm and bouncing up and down, making a squealing noise so high pitched Pam was sure only pregnant women and dogs could hear. Judging from Ryan's face, though, he could hear it too. Pam had barely gotten the wrapping paper off before Kelly started talking.

"So the onesies are from Nicole Richie's baby line, and they'd been in my closet forever and then I was like, 'hey, Pam's having a girl!' and it just seemed too perfect, you know? It's a good thing you're not having a boy, though, because then I wouldn't have any Nicole Richie baby clothes left and they're just so cute they make me want to die."

Ryan's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

"Are you pregnant, Kelly?" Pam asked. She knew what the answer was going to be, but honestly she'd just wanted to see if Ryan's eyes could open even wider. They could.

Kelly shook her head as if the question had been entirely stupid.

"No, but I'm prepared!" She punctuated her answer with a kiss on an extremely relieved-looking Ryan's cheek.

The next box was wrapped all in white, from Stanley, and Pam let Jim open it. Inside was a toaster that Pam recognized instantly from her wedding registry. But before she or Jim could say thank you, Dwight let out a chuckle that was just loud enough to get Jim's attention. He tossed a glance in Pam's direction, and she nodded slightly, confirming Jim's suspicions.

"What's so funny, Dwight?" Pam asked as innocently as she could.

Dwight smirked in response, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's a toaster," Dwight started, as if what he was about to say was the most obvious thing in the world. "An appropriate gift considering the child's… unique heritage."

Met with only the blankest of stares, Dwight continued.

"A toaster for the toaster! Come on!"

Jim and Pam had to struggle to keep their faces straight.

"Dwight," Jim said seriously. "That is extremely insensitive."

Before Dwight could respond, Pam had moved on to another present, and his attempt at "outing" Jim as a Cylon had been effectively thwarted. From Meredith, they received a bottle of Jack Daniels, because "if you take a couple shots before you breast feed, the baby'll sleep straight through the night," a statement corroborated by Creed, whose name had been added hastily to the attached card. Phyllis knitted the baby two receiving blankets from soft, pastel yarn. Michael scoffed at the sight of Phyllis's knitting, but Pam and Jim thanked her warmly.

Angela gave them a long, bright white Christening gown with lace so delicate and beautiful that it brought tears to Pam's eyes. A rare smile graced Angela's face as the two women shared a little moment of sentiment and understanding (even though the understanding was that given the child's dubious legitimacy, it needed all the help it could get). Dwight's gift to the baby was a wooden bassinet, carved from a silver maple tree that had fallen on his beet farm. When Jim thanked him, Dwight insisted that "No thanks are necessary, Jim. The tree was dead, and I simply did not want good wood to go to waste," to which Michael responded, predictably, "That's what she said!"

…

Larissa Van Zandt Halpert had been sitting in the waiting room of the maternity ward of Mercy Hospital in Scranton for approximately one hour. She knew Pam and Jim were scheduled for a three o'clock inducement, so she had sensibly shown up at two-thirty that afternoon, after making the drive from Hartford. Well, if one wanted to get technical, she had been driven, but she had always found long drives to be harrowing endeavors whether behind the wheel or not. Despite her best efforts, Larissa's patience was beginning to wear thin.

Be reasonable, she told herself. They don't even know you're coming. Do not get angry, it will ruin everything you are trying to accomplish.

Though her friends in Hartford were kind enough to avoid the subject, Larissa was shamed by the fact that her pride had kept her from seeing or speaking to her eldest son in almost five years. But, she resolved, her stubborn pride would not prevent her from seeing her first grandchild, legitimate or not. For the first time since she married her late husband, Norman (who was at least three rungs lower on the social ladder than she was), she found herself not caring that her friends (old biddies, really) would have a field day if they knew.

So she made some minor adjustments to her hair, straightened her posture, and settled in.

…

It was an eventful thirty minutes before Pam and Jim could make their escape from Dunder-Mifflin. First, Michael had tried, unsuccessfully to get Pam to play several different baby shower games, most of which were either inappropriate or embarrassing. It wasn't until Pam's water broke as Michael traced her belly that Jim finally put his foot down and insisted that they leave for Mercy Hospital.

Pam had never seen Jim drive so fast. She could have sworn that Jim's sudden accelerations were having the same effect on her contractions; she had only just started having them and already they were within four minutes of each other and only getting closer together. She was pretty sure she'd broken Jim's hand, because he had insisted shortly after the first three bad ones that he should keep his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel.

"Hey," Jim said, trying to lighten the mood while speeding down the highway like a madman. "At least we know you're not going to spend all night doing this, right?"

Pam offered a weak smile, which turned quickly into a scowl when she saw the blue and red lights reflecting in Jim's rearview mirror.

Shit.

…

Dwight and Angela shared a look over their small victory; the baby was coming because she was ready, not because Western Medicine had decided it was so. If only they could supervise the delivery to make sure Pam didn't bow to the pain and accept an epidural. Oh well, Angela decided, her mouth settling into its usual thin line. She could only hope that some of her stories about Sprinkles had hit home with those two.