Disclaimer: Things I don't own include handsome Mounties, dashing police detectives, Cats, the Musical, anything else Andrew Lloyd Webber ever touched, the phenomenal poetry of T. S. Eliot, and Godzilla. Things I do own include a rotten sense of humor and a whole lot of sugary treats that someone sent for Christmas. Run away. Or else, read and review. You pick!
Chapter 4 - The Curtain Comes Down
Fraser had already moved himself between where Gainsborough stood and Marian, as if he could shield her with his body should the man really be about to attack the group. He had his back to Gainsborough and was holding Marian's hand as she gasped her way through another contraction. The last contraction had only been four minutes ago, and the one before that five. Her labor was progressing quickly.
Bob said. "Mike, no!" then turned to Ray. "Those are some of the charges used in the scenes where Godzilla is destroying the city. They're small, but they can still do a lot of damage to a person. I've seen accidents - you don't want anyone near them when they go off."
Ray looked at Fraser. Fraser jerked his head toward Marian as if to say "I have more important things to take care of." Ray sighed. That left him to deal with the irrational investor who was trying to cut his losses by getting the show closed before it had a chance to bomb at the box office. Bomb. Irony. The strongest probability if the financier did try to set off the small stage-effect pyrotechnics was that he'd blow himself up. But that was bad enough, and worse was the risk of injury or fire that would be a danger to the others. Normally Ray would leave the sensitive 'talk-the-guy-around-to-a-reasonable-position' stuff to his partner, and in any other case he'd have been slightly annoyed that Fraser wasn't playing ball, but this was an exceptional situation.
"Mr. Gainsborough, as I said, if you surrender now, you'll be facing really minor charges."
Roger interrupted, full of self-important bafflement. "But, say, I don't understand, if Mike was responsible, why would he call you in?"
Ray smirked sardonically. "I'm sure Mr. Gainsborough thought he was smarter than the police, and calling us in would legitimize his position with the insurance company that rehearsals should be closed down and the whole thing called off."
"That's right, I underestimated you." Michael Gainsborough said. He had a wild gleam in his eye. "But I'll see to it that I get my money back, you irresponsible fool!"
This he addressed to Roger, who looked offended.
"Look, damn it all, the show is going to be a hit. I mean to say, Bob talks down every show I've worked with him on. Damn good stage manager, but he's a pessimist."
Ray added, "And if you were listening to Selene too, well, no offense, but she might have a bit of a grudge."
Selene folded her arms over her chest, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she scolded Ray. "Now don't you go telling tales on me, honey."
She turned to address Mike. "He's right, though. I mean, it's not a certainty that we'll hit the big time, but I don't doubt the show would make your money back. Who doesn't love Cats? Who doesn't love Godzilla? Sugar, if I'd known you were going to get this worked up, I wouldn't have run my mouth about Roger. It was never business, just personal." She looked suitably feline as she said it.
Gainsborough's shoulders slumped. The gleam went out of his eyes. Ray saw a man who was competitive enough to risk anything rather than face a business loss if he could avoid it, who knew now that he'd backed the wrong horse.
"Come on." Ray said. "Give it up. You really haven't done anything that qualifies as more than a misguided prank right now. Come down from there." He hoped the tone of impatience was not completely obvious in his voice.
Not that it mattered after Roger Crook decided to put his oar in with an unhelpful, "I'm going to sue you for all you're worth for what you've put me through." There was a universal wince from the others in the room at his cluelessly self-centered comment to a man who was already unstable and angry.
Michael Gainsborough suddenly looked energized and enraged. "That's it!" he said. "I've had enough of you, Crook. You lead me on with all sorts of fancy bullshit about how your little show is going to run, change everything along the way - it was supposed to be Miss Saigon on the Starlight Express when I signed on to support the project - the budget projections kept going up, you have no respect for me, no respect for me or my money!" He took a lighter from the pocket of his suit. "Fine. I'm going to burn the whole place down. With you in it."
"Now, Mr. Gainsborough." Ray said, stepping forward, "I'm going to have to ask you to set down the explosive charges."
"Ha!" Gainsborough said. Ray could see in his eyes that he wasn't really committed to any rash action yet. He was, after all, a canny businessman, just one tired of being jerked around by one of his partners. Ray wondered if there was something about hanging around in theaters that turned ordinarily reasonable people into total drama queens.
Ray could sympathize with Gainsborough's frustration when Roger Crook gloated. "Oh, like you've got the balls to do that, Mike. Stop making an ass of yourself and come down here and let the police deal with you."
Ray turned to Crook, scowling and pointing. "You. You just keep your mouth shut." When he turned back, Gainsborough had lit the fuse on one of the small explosive charges and was lobbing it over the edge of the scaffolding, more or less in Crook's direction. Before Ray could move, Fraser was diving toward its trajectory, pulling his winter coat off. They all watched as the Mountie caught the lit explosive in his coat and rolled away from them, thrusting the coat off the edge of the stage. He covered his head with his arms as the charge went off with a small blast, thankfully hurting no-one.
Gainsborough's throw had put him off balance. As the explosive went over, he went with it, grabbing hold of the scaffolding and dangling from it. Ray and Bob ran back stage and up into the lighting rig, hauling Gainsborough up bodily. Ray turned him around and slapped cuffs on him.
Down on the stage, Benton got to his feet and looked down mournfully at his perfectly good uniform coat, ruined. But at least none of the people present were hurt. Selene rushed over beside him, looking down at it. "Well, sugar," she said, "thank the lord for your reflexes, it was just like being at a ball game."
Marian let out a cry of pain. Benton turned to Selene. "I think it's time to move Marian back into the privacy of your dressing room." he said, the calm of his face broken by a slight crease of worry across his forehead. "The contractions are coming rather close together and I want her comfortable and private when she goes from active labor to transitional labor."
Selene looked baffled. "I have no idea what you're talking about, honey," she said, "no way I'm throwing away my figure having a baby, but I'll take your word for it."
They each took one of Marian's arms and helped her back to Selene's dressing room. Benton laid the couch cushions out on the floor and helped her down onto her back.
Roger bustled into the room. "Well now, what's going on?" he demanded. Benton looked up, astonished that the man could be so self-absorbed and clueless. "Unless I'm much mistaken, sir, Marian is going to deliver her baby here, within the next few hours."
By the time another contraction had passed, Marian gripping tightly to Selene on one side and Benton on the other side, and breathing hard through gritted teeth, Ray was done reading Gainsborough his rights and locking him in the office, and came looking for them.
Ray put his head around the door, his eyes glancing over Marian and then finding a safe place to look on the opposite wall. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yes, please, Ray. If you could find lots of towels, hot water, and an ice pack, that would be most helpful."
Ray said "I get the towels and hot water, but why an ice pack?"
Benton gestured with his free hand to where Roger had slid down the wall in a faint at the news that Marian would be delivering her baby in his theater. "I think he might have a headache when he wakes up." Benton said tersely.
Ray returned with the required supplies and hustled Roger off to wait with him and Bob. Benton washed his hands and had Selene wash hers, and spread the towels out. Childbirth was a messy business. Selene looked put off by the entire process, but the Mountie was brisk and no-nonsense, seeking most of all to reassure the poor woman who was stuck with only them to help her baby into the world.
In one of the brief breaks between the now intense contractions, Benton brushed Marian's hair off her sweaty face and asked "How are you doing?"
She attempted a smile. "This is rotten. I'm fine. I hate men." she spat out. She hadn't let go of Selene's hand since the last contraction, and the singer winced as the next one hit and Marian squeezed.
"Shouldn't she be pushing?" Selene asked.
"Not yet." Benton said. "She's doing very well." He didn't want the expectant mother worrying about what she should be doing, what she had to do now was concentrate on getting through an involuntarily natural childbirth.
"How can I help, sugar?" Selene asked.
"Coach her to breathe rhythmically." Benton answered.
"Oh, now, breathing exercises I can do." Selene beamed. Through the next contraction and the ones following it, she lead Marian in a selection of vocal exercises that would have done a soprano at the Metropolitan Opera proud. This was interspersed with the sort of language that one might have heard from a stevedore.
Marian tried to apologize between contractions. "I'm sorry... it just hurts so much."
"There's no need to apologize." Benton said soothingly. "You're doing fine." Although he didn't tend to use such strong language, he didn't begrudge it at all in the situation. And it was certainly very creative, calling down vengeance on her husband and anyone else even remotely responsible for getting her into the situation.
Ray paced outside the dressing room, for all the world like an expectant father. He wasn't used to situations in which he just couldn't help his partner at all. This was out of his league and he had to trust that Benton would be okay, in there with the life of the mother and child in his hands. Facing down hardened criminals? That was daily routine. Shepherding an understandably terrified woman through an experience that, though natural, was most usually these days handled in a fully prepared medical facility? Now, that was something Ray wasn't sure he could do. But Benny, he'd done it before, Ray thought, that was something. On a makeshift bed in a theater? It was hardly the worst place. It was no arctic hut, nor was it a bed of hay. Somehow he believed it would all come out fine.
A couple more hours passed, although inside the dressing room it seemed like much, much longer. Marian was becoming frustrated waiting for her body to be ready to push. She refused to let Benton out of her sight, so he had Selene running to bring her water, and damp cloths to wipe the sweat off her face and neck and help make her more comfortable. The steady calm in Benton's eyes was the one thing keeping Marian from panicking. He couldn't do much for her in this stage but encourage her, and be there for her - like Selene, he was getting a nice bruise on his wrist from her surprisingly strong grip.
The steady calm was largely a facade. From all that Marian had told Benton, he had no reason to think that there would be complications with the birth. But all the same, there were many things that could go wrong, and he was acutely aware of the responsibility that he'd shouldered. If things did begin to look tricky, the best help he'd be able to get was advice over the phone. Benton took deep breaths of his own.
Once the transition into the second stage of labor happened, things started happening faster. Marian was relieved to be able to push, not just breathe through the contractions. The hour that passed seemed like no time at all to Benton before the crown of the baby's head appeared.
"Nearly there." he said encouragingly to Marian. Selene was still sitting up by Marian's side, carefully avoiding looking down past the artfully draped towels over Marian's midsection.
"All right, take it easy now." Benton said as the baby's head started to emerge. "Push nice and slowly Marian."
The exhausted woman glared down at him, but complied. As the baby's head appeared, Benton washed his hands again and gently wiped the nose and mouth to help clear the airways.
"That's good." he said. "Keep pushing with the contractions."
It didn't take many more contractions for Marian's baby to enter fully into the outside world. Benton cradled her gently, drying her with one towel and wrapping her in another. He lifted her up to Marian's chest, draping his uniform jacket over mother and daughter, to give Marian some privacy and the baby some warmth as she nursed for the first time.
Marian and Selene both looked shell-shocked, but with a tender joy. Benton himself felt an incredible sense of love and happiness looking at the tiny pink fingers and toes, perfect, and the sleepy eyes that opened onto the world for the first time.
"Congratulations." he said to Marian. She still had to push out the placenta, and outside of the sterility of the hospital, there was no point cutting the cord yet, but the hardest work was over.
"Can I have another cushion?" Marian asked. "I want to sit up."
Selene and Benton arranged her more comfortably leaning against the couch, baby still grasped firmly to her chest.
"She's beautiful." Selene said. "Oh my lord, Marian, she's just beautiful."
Marian looked dazed. "Yes, she is. Selene, could you tell the others that everything went okay?"
Selene nodded and pushed herself to her feet, ready to make a grand birth announcement.
"Would you sit beside me?" Marian said to Benton. He was hovering, waiting to see if she needed anything or if he could do anything else to help. He sat down at her request, leaning against the couch too. He wasn't nearly as tired as she was, of course, but it had still been quite an effort.
"I wanted to say thank you, Ben." She had picked that as the shortest syllable to scream at him earlier during the labor when she was frustrated and in pain.
Benton ducked his head. "Really, it was ... anyone would have done the same thing."
Marian snorted. "Uh, right. You know that's not true. I don't know what I'd have done without you."
"You would have managed. You're strong, Marian."
"I'm going to need to be. It's going to be tough doing this without my husband John, until he comes home." she said. "But really. Ben, I want to let you know how much your help meant, to me, to my whole family." she looked down at the baby with an expression of the most tender maternal care. "I want you to tell me, what was your mother's name?"
Benton took a deep breath. He hadn't been expecting that question. "It was Caroline." he finally said, with a slight catch in his voice.
Marian ran her hand over the fine drift of hair atop her daughter's tiny head. "John and I had already decided that if we had a boy, we were going to name him Franklin, after my father, but, well, we hadn't agreed on a girl's name. I would love to name her Caroline, if you wouldn't mind?"
She watched the emotions that passed across his face, a long-held grief and the deepest love. Finally he nodded, biting his lip, and said in a voice that vibrated with all the unspoken things held in a few simple words, "I'd be greatly honored if you did."
"I promise you, Ben," Marian said, "Caroline will be surrounded by light and love and warmth. I promise."
Benton smiled, his eyes lighting up. "I know she will." He was inwardly delighted that his mother's name would be carried on in a family so obviously full of the kind of outward affection he'd missed out on after his mother's death.
The sweet moment was soon interrupted. Ray knocked on the door and cleared his throat. Marian said, "It's all right, you can come in."
Ray said "I brought my phone, thought you might want to call your mom."
Roger followed him into the room with a bundle of fabric. "I was looking through the costume storage, don't want you and the baby catching cold, do we?" He laid down a cloak of purple velvet over her, something worn by a Lady MacBeth or Goneril in productions past. Bob was the final visitor, with the pudding that Marian had refused earlier. "I thought you ought to eat now. You're going to need your strength."
Selene slipped into the room. She might not want children herself but she couldn't help but be affected by the scene in front of her. She showed her feelings in the most natural way to her, lifting her voice to sing, "Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night, guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night..."
Marian looked up with grateful tears in her eyes as the sweet lullaby continued. There might have been a snowstorm raging outside, a raging businessman locked in the producer's office, and a delivery on a wing and a prayer, but she felt like there could have been no-one more fortunate than her. She was surrounded by angels, an angel half in uniform, his shirt sleeves rolled up and jacket wrapped around her babe, a tough guy angel in Armani, a diva singing her baby's first lullaby.
Ray turned to Fraser, speaking quietly so as not to interrupt the pretty song. "I thought it was going to be a waste of time coming here on this small-potatoes case, but I guess it was really worth it." His blase words didn't disguise that he, too, was moved by the sheer force of love in the room.
Benton nodded, weary but elated by the feeling of having helped bring this new life into the world.
The snow cleared very, very early the next morning, and an ambulance came to take mother and baby to the nearest hospital to cut the cord and make sure that Caroline was thriving. As Ray and Benton stood outside seeing the ambulance off before they took Gainsborough to the station for processing, Benton looked around at the white, crisp scene under the bright stars. He still couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and joy from his dream of angels from what was now yesterday morning. He smiled up at the sky. "Mom, where ever you are, I love you. Merry Christmas."
Author's Note: There now. That's the story that wanted to get itself told for Christmas, and I hope you enjoyed it. I wish everyone happy holidays and a joyous New Year ahead. The shortest, darkest day is passed for those of us in the Northern hemisphere, and the light is coming back. May you all be safe and with the ones you love during these holidays. I'm off to bake cookies, having depleted all the sugary treats during the writing of this story!