I've tried to keep this as non-icky as possible, and in case anyone is wondering, the word Eliot struggles with is 'cervix.'
Eliot settled himself into the passenger seat and peered desperately through the windscreen, looking for anything that might remotely resemble a place where Hardison could park Lucille. There was nothing. Nothing. And the traffic was becoming even more nose-to-tail, so even if they did find somewhere, it would be difficult to ease through the tail-back – wait …
The hitter squinted through the rain-smeared glass.
"Can you speed the wipers up a bit, Hardison? Clear the screen a little better?"
Hardison, puzzled, nodded and increased the speed.
"What's up? What can you see?"
Eliot pointed at a distant white smear at the side of the road.
"There! Over there!"
Hardison peered hard while still trying to keep an eye on traffic. Lucille was a big van, and he had no intentions of her even getting a whiff of a dent.
"That a sign or somethin'?"
"Yeah … yeah, it is," Eliot said, hope rising in his heart. "We gotta get over there. Any way we can wangle our way through this traffic?"
Hardison tried to inch his way in front of a truck, his turn signal blinking, but the driver crawled forward to prevent it.
"Asshole," Hardison muttered under his breath. "Don't think we're gonna make it, even if I pushed my way into traffic. All we'd get is a whole lotta dents an' hassle, an' with Soph on board I don't wanna chance an accident," he added.
Eliot saw Hardison's point. He ran the scenario through his mind, and came up with the only solution he could think of. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and eased through the little doorway.
Parker and Nate were busy trying to get Sophie more comfortable, her suitcase now unshipped from the overhead bin and being sorted through by Nate for something loose, clean and dry for her to wear. Sophie leaned forward for a moment, another contraction hitting her, and Nate held out his hand for her to grip. Parker continued cleaning up the damp patch on Lucille's carpet, grimacing with distaste.
Nate looked at his watch as Sophie whined softly through the pain.
"Seven minutes," he said, his voice strained and desperate. "Hospital?"
Eliot shook his head.
"Not an option. We gotta park up, Nate, find a safe place to stop." He crouched down beside Sophie. "Hey, sweetheart, how's it goin'? Just keep breathin' just like they told you at the classes."
Sophie glared at him for a moment, her face red with effort and pain, and then she began slowing her breathing, each breath becoming more controlled, and her face relaxed into it.
Nate began breathing in time with Sophie, murmuring words of encouragement, and slowly the contraction eased, Sophie slumping sideways against Nate, who rubbed her back and shifted the heat pads back into place.
Eliot smiled at his friends.
"That's great, guys … you're doin' just fine. Soph, listen … you're gonna have this baby pretty soon. It's gonna have to be here in Lucille, 'cause we're stuck in traffic an' we can't get to a hospital in time because you're doin' this so fast, but don't you worry – it'll be fine. We got you an' Bump. Nothin's gonna happen to either of you, I promise."
Sophie, her hair damp against her brow, looked at the hitter doubtfully.
"Yeah?"
Eliot nodded, far more confidently than he felt.
"Yeah. You got Nate, an' you got us. We're family. Okay?"
Sophie smiled at him through the pain and weariness.
"Whatever you need to do, Eliot. I trust you. Nate trusts you."
"Good girl," Eliot smiled. "So I think I got someplace for us to hole up, but I gotta go outside to do it. Hardison and me, we'll get you there, so do you think you guys can hold on just a little bit? Parker will watch out for ya, and she'll come get me if you need me, alright?
Nate dropped a hand on Eliot's arm, his blue eyes warm despite his fears for his wife and child.
"Go. We'll be fine." He didn't mention the whole thing about who the hell was actually going to help deliver this baby, but Nate knew that they would figure that out when it happened. Right now, Sophie had to be still and settled, with her family around her to help, so Eliot had to go and do his thing.
Eliot turned to Parker.
"When we stop, you heat some water in the microwave, okay? An' dig out the first aid kit. Then you help Nate put the sofa seat cushion on the floor an' find all the towels and sheets we got. Oh, and pillows. If you need me, stick your head outta the back and yell as loud as you can, y'hear me?"
Seeing Parker nod with excitement, he knew he could leave Nate and Sophie in her somewhat overbearing care for a little while. He headed to a cupboard and dug out a flashlight, and then wriggled into his jacket and slipped on his beanie.
Opening one of Lucille's big rear doors, Eliot stepped down onto the road into torrential rain and a fast-encroaching night, as lightning ripped through the heavens and the thunder sounded as though the ending of the world was upon them.
"What the hell is he doin'?" Hardison said to himself, peering through the windscreen, watching Eliot jog between the almost-stationary mass of vehicles, flashlight bobbing and weaving in the rain as he headed towards the white sign in the distance.
"Hardison?" Parker appeared beside him. "Are we gonna stop soon? I think Bump's in a hurry."
The hacker turned to Parker and shook his head.
"Sure hope so, babe. I have no idea what Eliot has in mind, but he seems to have some sort of plan worked out in that antsy, Oscar-the-Grouch mind of his. He's over there, doin' god-knows-what."
Parker leaned over and peered into the distance. Her sharp eyes could see the flashlight beam in the dark, scoping something out, and then the light turned back towards them.
"He's coming back! Goody!"
"Why 'goody'? Is Sophie okay? I mean, the baby … is it comin' yet?" Hardison's eyes grew round with worry.
Parker snorked, smiling.
"No, silly! Not yet. I just want to meet whoever's in there."
Hardison shook his head in despair.
"Y'know, Parker – there really is somethin' very, very wrong with you!"
Parker's smile turned into an eerie grin.
"Yeah, I know! I'm special!"
And then she was off back to Sophie and Nate, ready to do what she could to help.
Sighing, Hardison turned back to Eliot-watching, and saw the flashlight get nearer and nearer, Eliot's sturdy frame shadowed behind the light. Hardison prepared to let Eliot back into Lucille, but he was surprised when Eliot stopped and stood right in front of the huge truck creeping slowly forwards beside the big van. Turning the flashlight on the driver, he stood, straight and solid, rain pelting the world around him as he prevented the vehicle from moving.
Hardison could see the driver begin to gesticulate in anger at this idiot standing in front of a truck that could squash Eliot like a bug, but the hitter took no notice. Eliot had a sinister smile on his face that just shouted C'mon, man, just try an' push me around, an' I'll turn you an' your goddamn truck into landfill. As the cars in front moved forward, Hardison suddenly understood what Eliot was up to.
He was creating a gap so that Hardison could move Lucille and her precious cargo into the inside lane and towards the distant … whatever it was … that Eliot had found.
As the gap widened enough for Hardison to ease Lucille into it, Eliot turned and checked out the width of the shoulder just off the asphalt. It wasn't quite roomy enough for Lucille to travel along it safely, and the water runoff was making the slight slope treacherous, but it was the only way to reach their destination.
Hardison watched Eliot head off down the rough surface, banging on car windows yelling at the occupants, Lucille's headlights and Eliot's flashlight making the whole scenario surreal … the teeming rain with this crazy, angry, drenched human being flashing what appeared to be a police badge at the drivers, and cars began to nervously move a little to the side, giving Hardison as much room as they could under the circumstances.
Sophie let out a hearty yelp, and Hardison could hear Nate talking her through the contraction, Sophie's breathing slowing and evening out as she tried to deal with the pain.
Taking a deep breath and marshalling his wits, Hardison went for it.
Slowly moving Lucille onto the shoulder, he managed to straighten her up and inch forward, keeping Eliot's gesticulating figure in the beams of the headlights. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the truck driver in his side mirror, ranting and yelling what could only have been some unkind words in his direction, and he was thankful Eliot couldn't hear the moron. He was still pretty sensitive about bad language around Bump, who, apparently, had the ears of a bat and could hear cussin' from a mile away.
He could feel the slip and slide of Lucille's tires on the sodden surface, gravel shifting loosely as the water ran unimpeded from the road, and it took all of Hardison's concentration to keep Lucille straight while keeping an eye on Eliot, now waving him on and pointing out narrower sections and where the water was especially treacherous. At one point Eliot was ankle-deep in running water, his boots and jeans waterlogged, and Hardison knew Eliot must be freezing in the driving rain.
But just ahead he saw the white sign, a tattered remnant of an old gas station advertisement, and then Eliot was guiding him through the overgrown driveway into what remained of the service area.
The pumps were long gone and the gas station itself was nothing but four walls, but at least they were off the main highway.
Turning off the engine, Hardison unbuckled his safety belt and was out of the driver's seat in an instant, heading into the work and living space he had created for his team.
Nate and Sophie were working through another contraction, Nate not even acknowledging Hardison's presence. He was wholly focused on Sophie, her pain, her discomfort, and the fact that he loved her more than life itself.
Parker was busy hauling the sofa seat onto the floor and dragging sheets and towelling out of the storage container below, readying a comfortable place for Sophie if she felt like lying down, although there really wasn't any room in Lucille for walking around, so their options were limited. It would have to do.
Hardison moved to the rear doors and opened one, letting in a blast of cold air, rain and a very, very wet Eliot Spencer. The hacker helped his friend into the van and slammed the door behind him.
"Man, Eliot, you're freezin'!"
Eliot stood, dripping and shaking and his teeth chattering, and Hardison had to pry the flashlight out of nerveless fingers.
Nate took in the state of the younger man in a second.
"Parker, go help Eliot – get him out of that wet jacket, will you, and try and warm him up. We can't afford to have him get sick, okay?"
"M-m'alright," Eliot stammered, "Jus' … Jus' cold is all … how's Soph?"
Sophie, tired, sore and, though she would never admit it, utterly terrified, smiled wearily at Eliot as he stood, worried, soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, as Hardison pulled the sodden jacket and beanie off him and wrapped him in a thick, warm blanket while Parker went to re-heat a couple of pads.
"My, aren't we a pair?" she said, humour rife in her voice despite everything happening to her. "I'm feeling happier now I have all of you here – oh … oh god, here comes another one –"
And Nate held her as the contraction, far stronger than any that had come before, ripped through her.
"Bloody HELL!" she yelled, her hand in Nate's and squeezing as hard as she could. "Hardison! Get over here!"
"Wha –" Hardison's mouth dropped open.
"NOW!" Sophie ranted, and as Hardison dropped down beside her and opposite Nate, Sophie reached out for his hand and grasped it like a lifeline. The resulting vise-like grip around his fingers had Hardison thinking he would never be able to use a keyboard again.
As Sophie worked through the contraction and Nate and Hardison both took the punishment, Parker dragged the two heat pads out of the microwave and shoved them unceremoniously under Eliot's armpits, knowing she had to raise his core body temperature.
She led him to a chair and sat Eliot down, and slowly his teeth stopped chattering and a little colour returned to his face. Parker found a towel and dried off his hair, and then wiped his face and his hands, rubbing his fingers hard to restore circulation. Eliot, never one for all of this fussin', manned up and took it.
Sophie relaxed a little as the contraction eased off.
"I think … I think I want to push …" she murmured tiredly.
"What? Already?" Nate was nonplussed. Maggie had been in labour with Sam for seventeen hours.
"Yes, already!" Sophie grated, and tensed as another contraction followed almost immediately. "And if … if you ever … ever … come near me for sex again I will cut your man-bits off, because I am never doing this again, Nate! Hear me?"
"Ouch," Hardison said under his breath, and then winced as Sophie gripped his hand like grim death.
"She doesn't mean it," Nate whispered apologetically and then grunted with pain as Sophie mangled his hand.
Sophie, red in the face, perspiring and with her dark hair hanging in damp ringlets, glared at Nate with pure mayhem in her eyes.
"Wanna bet?" she hissed, and bared her teeth as the contraction intensified. "I WANT TO PUSH!"
Parker, getting more and more distressed by Sophie's pain, shoved Eliot's shoulder.
"Do something!" she demanded, her voice shaky.
Eliot, still chilled, clothed as he was in a wet shirt and jeans, finally realised he had to face the fact that he was probably the only person in Lucille who had any idea how to deal with this.
"You can do it, Eliot! You have a book and everything!" Parker urged.
Hardison, gritting his teeth against the crushing grip around his hand, raised an eyebrow.
"A … a book?"
"Shut up, Parker!" Eliot rumbled. The thieving little pain-in-the-ass had been rummaging through his apartment again. Damn, he'd have to up his security. He was getting pretty tired of trying to keep her out of his home. Boundaries weren't Parker's strong point.
He looked at the expectant faces and the equally expectant woman now in the throes of childbirth.
"You've been reading up, Eliot?" Nate said, his own eyebrows raised, hope in his eyes.
Oh hell.
"Yeah, okay?" He ranted defensively. "I've done my homework 'cause it didn't look as if any of you idiots were gonna do it, so I got a book, alright?" He paused for a moment. "An' … an' maybe I watched a documentary. Man, I never want to ever do that again …" he added, embarrassed all to hell and back.
Nate smiled, gave a bad-tempered and antsy Sophie a kiss, and made a decision.
"Okay, Eliot, you're up. You're going to deliver this baby, right here, right now, in Lucille, and if you make another comment about Lucille's carpets, Hardison, I will skin you, do you understand?"
Hardison did try to look ashamed for a moment or two, then he grinned.
"Lucille … she gonna be an Auntie!"
Eliot and Sophie gazed at one another for a heartbeat, and then Sophie, eyes suddenly serene and clear, nodded.
"It's alright …" she whispered.
And Eliot knew then that he could do this.
Dumping the two heat pads and nervously running fingers through his riot of damp hair, he worked through the process in his head.
"Okay … okay, I got this … Parker, get me a teeshirt from my stash, will, ya? I gotta get out of this wet shirt or I'll seize up. Oh, an' heat the water like I asked. Nate … Hardison, can you help Soph onto the bed here … Soph, it ain't perfect, but we ain't got much room here an' I gotta be able to see what I'm doin' …" and he winced as he said it.
Within a minute Sophie was settled onto the sofa seat on the floor and Nate sat behind her, propping her up with his body and a few cushions. Hardison had to move with them as Sophie had absolutely no intention of letting go of his hand.
Parker set some water to heat in the microwave and then dug out a warm teeshirt for Eliot, helping him peel off the soaking shirt and wrangle him into the tee, the hitter hissing with pain as his shoulder objected to the stretch over his head. But he immediately felt warmer, and he could cope now with working in wet jeans and boots swilling with water. He didn't have time to change.
Sophie let out a keening cry of pain and her knees began to draw reflexively up to her chest, and Eliot realised that the baby was well on its way. Dropping to his knees, he touched Sophie's arm, and her screwed-up eyes blinked open.
"Hey Soph … gonna take a look, okay? Is that alright?" His voice was that soft, gruff tone he reserved for children and animals, and Sophie was very, very glad to hear it.
"Y … yeah …"
Eliot dug around for a blanket he could drape over Sophie to preserve a little of her modesty. And then, to everyone's surprise, he began talking to himself.
"C'mon, man, you've done this sort of thing before back home … calves … foals … how different can it be …" Steeling himself, he took a good look. His eyes widened. "Ohhhhh boy … this ain't the same … okay … think where we're at …" he looked at Sophie, who was in-between contractions and trying to save her strength, Nate wiping her face with a damp cloth. Hardison had that fish-slapped expression back on his face.
Parker dropped down beside Eliot with a bowl of hot water, and peered around his shoulder, having a good look.
"Where's Bump?" She asked, confused.
Eliot snapped out of his temporary paralysis and scowled, gently but firmly pushing her out of the way.
"Darn it, Parker, move! I gotta think!"
Parker sat back and offered Eliot the bowl and a bar of soap and he scrubbed his hands and arms until they stung, and then he took a deep, deep breath and had another look.
"Well, Sophie-girl," he commented, trying not to let his voice shake, "I think we're waaaay past worryin' about dilation of the thingy," he muttered. "When you feel like you gotta push, just go for it."
"Thingy?" Parker asked. "What thingy?"
Eliot closed his eyes for a moment and Parker could tell by the controlled tremble of his lower lip that Eliot's temper was taking quite a beating. Muscles jumped along his jawline, and his lip curled.
"Parker … so help me –"
"Ohgodherecomesanotherone!" Sophie bawled.
Eliot gulped then crouched, looking for all the world like a quarterback waiting to take the snap.
"Okay, Soph, I know you're tired, but just … just bear down when you need to, and I'll take care of Bump at this end."
Sophie's whole body clenched, and her whole being was intent on one thing, and that was getting this baby out of her. She let out a wrenching scream, and Parker squeaked with excitement as Eliot leaned forward to support the wrinkled, dark-haired head that appeared, and he couldn't stop a whoop of delight.
"HEAD! BUMP'S GOT A HEAD!" Parker yelled, "Sophie, you've had a head!"
Sophie, slumping back in Nate's arms, smiled, and she could see Nate, his face rapt with anticipation, and she couldn't have loved him more than she did at that moment.
Hardison just couldn't stop smiling.
Eliot was on a roll.
"Soph! One more push, gal, an' I think we got it, okay? Take a deep breath, an' I – whoa … wait a minute … don't push, Soph, y'hear me? Do not push – not until I tell you!"
"What … what's wrong –" Nate's voice broke. He could see Eliot working on something, his face taut with concentration. Not again … dear god, not again …
"Nate!" Sophie wailed, and then Eliot's face, gaunt with tension, cleared and he wiped sweat from his brow with his arm.
"We're clear! Sophie … now … one more push!"
And feeling as though her whole body was being ripped apart, Sophie gathered every ounce of strength she had left, and pushed.
A minute later, the loud, complaining bawl of a very angry baby filled the air, and Eliot's face broke into the biggest, loopiest grin anyone could ever remember having seen on his face as Parker handed him a towel, and he lifted the wriggling newborn in big, gentle hands and laid the child on Sophie's stomach.
"BUMP'S HERE!" Parker shrieked.
"Man, she's got a set of lungs on her," Eliot rasped, his voice giving away his emotion despite himself.
Nate felt Sophie's body relax and heard her sob as she let go of Hardison's hand and reached out for the baby, and he felt the tears run down his own cheeks as the ache of the lost years of his life eased.
A daughter. They had a daughter.
To be continued …
