"Mike." The sound comes as a small gasp, not loud enough to wake her sleeping husband. She doesn't dare move for fear of worsening the war being waged inside of her. The pain is intensifying, each burst coming closer and closer together, pushing her to her breaking point. At first, she had ignored the stabbing sensation, but after exactly two hours and thirty-four minutes of on and off simulated death, Paige is ready to do something about it.
"Mike," She tries again, carefully nudging his shin with her big toe. When he doesn't even stir, she is slightly less gentle. She twists her foot and calculatedly digs her nail into his skin, willing him to wake up. Mike's form is still and relaxed, without a care in the world as his wife's body is slowly murdering itself. Well, not really my body, Paige thinks sardonically.
Unenthused, Paige drapes her arm over his face. Staring straight at the ceiling, she flicks his eye. Paige smirks at the immediate response she receives. Federal agents are normally light sleepers. The idea is to wake up before there's a bullet in your head, but her husband apparently hasn't caught on to that one yet.
"Ow! Shit! What the hell, Paige?" Mike curses, sitting up. He's about to rip into her about the proper etiquette for waking sleeping people but stops himself when he notices the rigidity of her body. Her eyes are wide in concentration, her jaw is clenched, and she's grabbing at the sheets with tight fists. "Paige? Are you ok?"
"Peachy," She bites out between barely parted lips. The pain is turning her inside out, attacking at full force. She has her eyes wide open but she sees nothing. She is literally being blinded by pain.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know, Dr. Mike. Wanna trade places and figure it out?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm. Paige lets out a gasp of breath she didn't realize she'd been holding when the pain subsides. Mike still looks confused and concerned, and since she knows how hard it is to be lucid at one something in the morning, she decides to slow it down. "Let's put two and two together, honey. I'm in pain, it's coming in short bursts every few minutes, and it's about fifty percent your fault."
The color drains from Mike's face as realization finally dawns. Paige takes a moment to feel bad for him—he looks like he's going to be sick—but can't be concerned for long. She knows they need to move and move now.
"Food poisoning?" Mike jokes tentatively. Humor is his defense mechanism, and right now he's scared to death. "I mean, I did cook dinner last night…" He trails off after receiving a look from Paige that tells him now isn't the time to fool around. She's right, He thinks. She's in pain and I'm being insensitive. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—
"Get the stuff, Mike!" She shouts, interrupting his internal scolding. Mike jumps at the sound, sitting up straighter.
"Right." Realizing he must have been sitting idle for a moment too long, he shoots her a nervous smile and dashes out of the room. Paige lies there marveling at her husband and his idiocy. She's in labor and he's making jokes! Why did she marry him, again? Oh yeah. Because he's a great guy and she loves him. But still. Mike is back about eight minutes later with a satisfied smile on his face.
"The suitcases are in the car. The car seat is in the car. The snacks are in the car. It's officially time to get the baby momma in the car." Paige sits up carefully with a hand from Mike and he helps her put on her coat. She smiles a little because he probably already had the stuff in his car, and just did nothing for eight minutes to cover up that he was being Mr. Always Prepared for Anything. Damn him. She knew what she was getting into when they got married; he shouldn't be embarrassed by being himself. Besides, that's eight minutes they could have spent getting to the hospital.
"Get the birth plan. It's in the second drawer down on the left side of my desk. My phone's connected to the charger by the nightstand," Paige states in a forced tone as she sits back on the bed to face another contraction.
"How far apart are the contractions right now, babe?" A slightly muffled tone calls out to her. Paige can't really tell and she doesn't really care. She hurts.
Not getting a response, Mike quickly grabs the birth plan and rushes back to the bedroom. Slightly out of breath, he walks in to see his wife hunched over on the edge of the bed. He cautiously sits down and begins rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on her lower back. When Paige sits back up and releases a puff of air, Mike is relieved that the contraction is over. He grabs her cell and slips it into his pocket. He helps her into her boots and lays a quick peck on her belly.
Helping Paige stand up, the two hobble out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. After double checking that the door is locked, Mike leads his wife to the landing before the stairs.
"No." Paige is putting her foot down. Stairs are completely out of the question. "There is no way in hell that is happening."
"But walking stimulates labor. We want that right? I mean the more you walk, the less time you're in labor and the less time you're in pain! It just makes sense and it puts less strain on the baby and—"
"We are taking theelevator, or I am not having this baby!" Paige shouts in frustration. Doesn't he understand what it's like? Wait…
"I don't think you really get a choice on that one," Mike ventures.
"Elevator. Now." Paige's voice is low and menacing and Mike takes that as his cue to call the elevator. He leads her in and the doors close.
"Mike?" Paige asks in a matter of fact tone.
"Yeah?" He responds in a completely oblivious manner, eager to help her in any way possible.
"We aren't moving," She says after a long pause. "Did you press the button?"
"Of course I pressed the button," Mike scoffs, reaching behind his back to hit the button for the lobby. He'd like to blame it on the current time of day and a lack of sleep, but his all-over-the-place behavior is actually due to his internal panic. He can feel his hands shaking at his sides, so he clasps them together. "Ah. Here we go," He mumbles as the elevator starts to move.
Get it together, Warren, Mike thinks to himself. He's been under with incredibly dangerous people, seen the ins and outs of the underground drug rings, hell, he was even stabbed. And somehow he can't handle the woman he loves being in pain. She's just your wife. This is just the birth of your child. Nothing to be afraid of. He almost laughs at the last thought. Nothing to be afraid of? He has everything to fear.
The elevator lets them out at the lobby and Mike leaves Paige on a bench outside the building to go get his car. He almost sprints to the car, not wanting to leave Paige alone for long. He climbs into his black Kia and races around to the front of the building to fetch his wife and unborn child. Paige is patiently waiting for him, holding her purse with one arm and protectively wrapping one arm around her bump. Mike smiles before helping her get in and driving off.