Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 2 (One Hundred Proof)
Author: DianeB
Rating: PG-13 (K+)
Pairing: Martin/Louisa

See Chapter 1 for Summary, Author's Notes, and Disclaimer.


The next hour was spent getting Tommy to the nearest pub, four miles down the road. Louisa learned his illness was caused by his inhaling methanol fumes from the petrol he was making out of the chip fat sold to him by Bert Large, and that Tommy's wife, Tasha, was suffering the same ailment. Typical Bert Large shenanigans to make a quid without thinking about consequences.

Martin, however, wouldn't let her help haul Tommy, so most of the hour was spent either with Louisa chastising Martin for dropping the poor man so many times or Martin questioning her condition every other second. It was a wonder with all their sniping that Martin didn't drive his car into a boulder, but they managed to make it to the pub unscathed.

By the time Martin was successfully treating Tommy (with 100-proof vodka, no less), Louisa knew without doubt she was in labour and was hoping the ambulance would arrive soon. Arguing with Martin was doing her no good, but at least it kept her from thinking about what her body was up to. She really didn't want to have her baby in a pub.

Her baby, however, had other plans. She'd just finished snapping at Martin about people learning from their mistakes when the next twinge she felt was not a twinge, or even a spasm, but a bona fide, fully-fledged contraction, providing a magnificent pain that took her breath away. "I need a seat," she managed to squeeze out of lungs suddenly void of air, one hand pressing into her lower back, the other reaching for a nearby chair.

She'd read all the books. She'd watched all the DVD's – even the one the midwife had given her about giving birth under water. And none of them, none of them, ever said a word about how truly excruciating the pain could be. As if that weren't enough, accompanying this pain was an overwhelming urge to push, but Louisa thought it was too soon for that. It took another effort of will to blow instead – something she'd seen in one of the videos – and discovered that blowing did bring some relief.

It did not help when Martin, in panic mode but trying to help, pulled the chair right out from under her, resulting in her thudding heavily to the floor. Her first response was to continue pretending she wasn't in labour. "I'm fine, I'm fine." But as another contraction seized her, she realized there was no longer any sense in pretending. "But, no, I'm not."

Martin clearly didn't understand. "What's that?" He asked, helping her with exaggerated care into the chair. "Did you hurt your back?"

"No, no. I think the contractions are starting," she hissed through clenched teeth, knowing full well there was nothing "are starting" about it.

Martin had the gall to ask if she was sure, which did nothing to ease her pain or her indignation. "Of course I'm sure!" In fact, the contractions seemed to be coming with alarming speed now, and it scared her, because she was sure that labour was supposed to last hours, not minutes.

Martin, his panic making him more insufferable than ever, told her not to panic, and if she'd been in a better frame of mind, she would've laughed at him. Instead, she let her pain fuel her anger, raised her voice and snapped, "I'm not!"

But by this time, Martin was way beyond anything remotely resembling logical thought. "Okay," he shouted. "Just stay calm!"

"Don't shout at me to stay calm!" She knew his shouting was unintentional, but all it did was increase both her pain and her anxiety level. Another contraction slammed into her. "Ohh…ow…ow!"

The ambulance arrived at that moment, thank God, and Louisa entertained a thought that she might actually make it to the hospital in time. Martin, meanwhile, was totally beyond the pale with regard to his behaviour, far outside his comfort zone, roaring at the paramedics about proper supplies and trying desperately to take control of a situation that was wildly out of his control.

Louisa endured it for as long as she could before his yelling, coupled with her pain, finally became too much for her. In no uncertain terms, and at as high a volume as she could muster, she ordered him out of the pub. "Right. Enough! Martin, I want you to wait outside."

This stopped him cold. "What?" She gave him credit for at least hearing her.

Another contraction rendered her unable to voice anything but a loud moan, but she ground her teeth against the pain, determined to make sure he understood exactly what she meant. "I mean it, really. I really do. Please." It didn't come out as forcefully as she'd wanted and the "please" didn't help, but it served well enough for Martin to get the message. After stumbling over the words for a moment, he told her he'd be right outside.

Which was fine with her because she had other things to worry about besides the decidedly disagreeable Doctor Martin Ellingham.

End Chapter 2