25)

Labor Pains

Labor was nothing like Raven had expected it to be. Most of her perceptions about the process came from television and movies, where there were a lot of screaming mothers and fainting fathers. The process was always made to seem like a relatively quick and consistently painful one as well. None of this seemed to be true to life. Labor was not fast at all. It took hours. And at first it wasn't as painful as Raven had feared. She even managed to sleep for a little while during the early morning hours. As the sun rose the young mother found herself restless and she walked around the house, pausing and leaning heavily on Gar whenever a contraction overwhelmed her. The house was silent, both Rita and Starfire ready to assist, but staying a respectable distance away until they were needed. For several hours the empath walked aimlessly about the living room, until mid-afternoon when her contracts started to come more quickly. Sitting caused uncomfortable pressure and pain in her back, so she remained standing, her arms around Garfield's waist. They often swayed together, the side to side movement soothing. In the moment it didn't matter that one or both of the women occasionally came into the living room and saw her clinging desperately to the changeling. All thoughts of embarrassment had left her mind.

"You're doing great, just breathe," he encouraged softly, gentle fingers soothing through her tangled hair. "You're doing so great Rae."

"It's too quiet. I need something to focus on," she muttered, her head resting heavily on his chest.

"We can chant." They had repeated her mantra together for nearly three hours straight earlier.

"No . . . something new. Sing or read or something." Slowly the pair swayed, his arm moving to wrap around her shoulders in support as her arms tightened around his midsection again. By the time Raven's contraction ended Rita had appeared with a small book and had disappeared into the kitchen again. Gar's arm left her briefly as he opened the book and flipped through it.

"Here we go," he told her, his arm returning, the book in one hand and held out just behind her shoulder. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary . . ."

"Gar . . . not "The Raven" . . . it isn't funny."

"Sorry, Mpenzi." He hadn't meant for it to be funny, he honestly thought she would enjoy the poem. He flipped to the next poem in the book and began to read. "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee . . ." A contraction came and for a moment she could focus on nothing but the pain, but she struggled to tune into his soft voice again. "I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love . . ." On he read, the vibration of his chest soothing even when she couldn't focus quite enough to hear the words.

Time stopped making sense. The world was askew and spinning backwards, that had to be the only explanation. How else could a few short hours become a lifetime? Raven was beginning to feel rather certain that Bug was never going to be born and she would be stuck in this painful and exhausting limbo for eternity. The contractions never seemed to end now, the break in-between stupid Gar kept talking about practically nonexistent. He had no idea what he was talking about and if not for the fact he somehow managed to be the only solid and real thing that seemed to exist beyond the pain she would have told him to go away. She clutched at him harder, even as she hissed cruel things in his ear. It was her own language at least and he had no idea what she was saying. Standing had become too difficult, too tiring and she'd been forced to recline for a while. It made her back scream pain, but her legs were like jelly. So she sat in the changeling's lap for a couple hours, her arms and legs wrapped around him to ensure she didn't lose purchase and end up alone in her painful void. Though she couldn't recall the last time she'd actually eaten, she managed to vomit all over him just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. He was kind enough to at least pretend he didn't care, simply stripping off his shirt and giving the soiled garment to Rita, who brought a warm washcloth for him and a cool one for Raven's forehead. The empath instantly mistrusted the offered linen, or more so the woman who was offering it. The last time she had brought the washcloth she had made Raven move from her, if not comfortable, at least tolerable position. She made her lay down so she could check her progress. On a normal day Rita Farr was a fine enough woman, but Raven did not want her fiddling between her legs, necessary or not. And she had given the older woman her best four eyed death glare to ensure she knew it. If Rita had been afraid she certainly hadn't shown it, smiling instead and saying things that the emapth assumed were supposed to make her feel better. Things like eighty percent effaced and thinned cervix and six centimeters dilated.

"Rae, let's lay back for a minute so . . ." Just as she had suspected, she was going to have to endure the unreasonable expectations of moving, laying, and allowing this stranger to poke around in a place she didn't belong.

"No," she grumbled, tightening her hold, her finger nails biting into his skin.

"I'll be really quick Sweetie, I promise . . . we just need to . . ."

"Later," Raven insisted, hiding her face against the green neck before her.

"It'll be time to get a midwife soon. We don't wanna wait until it's too late. Come on Rae, just for a minute." She never actually gave her consent, she couldn't speak through the contraction that swelled a millisecond after the changeling had pleaded his case, but her lack of comment against the examination was apparently enough, for she found herself on her back a moment later. Rita was very quick, prodding about for only a handful of seconds before she pulled away again.

"Still six centimeters, but more like ninety-five percent effaced. It's some progress, but she's been in active labor for about five hours now."

"The book said active labor could take up to ten hours," Gar replied, gently helping Raven sit up again and gathering her into his arms.

"It can, but it usually doesn't. I think I saw a stethoscope in your dad's study. I'm going to grab it and see if I can get a fetal heart rate, just to make sure Bug is holding up well."

"Okay." He nodded slightly, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously.

Rita grabbed the Titan communicator she'd been given when she'd come to stay in the Tower full time, flipping it open as soon as she shut the door behind her. She pressed a couple buttons and the yellow communicator lit up, the screen filling with static for a moment before Cyborg's face appeared. He was wearing his holoring she noted, his face seemingly void of it electronic panels.

"This isn't the best time," he greeted, looking impatiently back at her.

"Raven's in labor."

"Great, and?" he prompted, his eyes darting away from the communicator to look at something in the distance.

"And it seems to have stalled somewhat. I'm not a doctor . . . but I'm concerned. What was Bug's heart rate during your last exam?"

"What?" His eyes had wondered away again, a frown creasing the corners of his mouth.

"Bug's heart rate?"

"It was one-forty-eight."

"Is everything alright Victor?" Rita asked after a moment, grabbing up the stethoscope that still sat on the desk.

"Fine," he clearly lied. "Just worry about Raven and Bug. Everything's fine."

Victor Stone stood on the street corner, hands shoved in his pockets, his left hand still clutching lightly at his Titan communicator. The crowd that had started to congregate was being pushed back by a simple police blockade. Downtown was bustling with the usual last minute shoppers and most paid little attention to the yellow police tape. There was little to grab their attention, with the twinkling Christmas lights and the flashing shop window displays everywhere. There was nothing particularly interesting about the slick tape or the rather boring looking metal box that sat upon the sidewalk. Even the police that guarded the strange electronic device didn't seem overly concerned. They were waiting on the K9 units to arrive on the scene and until then there seemed no real reason to be worried.

"Victor." A familiar voice greeted softly, a dark haired man coming to stand beside him, his blue eyes squinting to study the metal box that stood nearly five feet high. "What's happened so far?"

"A whole lot of nothing. They don't seem to realize it's a bomb yet," the taller man said the last few words in a whisper, shaking his head.

"Are you certain?"

"Seriously? Of course I'm sure Rich, I wouldn't have called you all the way out here if I wasn't."

"Is it on a timer?"

"No, I don't think so . . . a remote trigger probably. I'd have to get a closer look to know for sure," he sighed loudly. "Should we offer to help?"

"The authorities have made it abundantly clear that they don't want us around anymore. There's no point in revealing ourselves . . . they won't accept our assistance."

"We can't just stand here and do nothing, Man."

"Do you think it doesn't kill me? Do you think I want to just walk away? We don't have any choice Victor. They won't accept our help. We would have to fight against them to even have a chance to help." Richard pushed a hand through his hair, his blue eyes closing for a long minute.

"It's an option."

"What is?"

"Fighting them."

"We're going to fight the whole of JCPD? Just the two of us?"

"You know we could."

"At what cost? We'd be labeled criminals."

"We already are, aren't we?" Large shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Doing what's right . . . that's what matters. Downtown is overflowing with people and that's a big damn bomb. The loss of life . . . if we can stop that . . . we should."

"Doing what's right," he repeated softly, nodding. He had thought earnestly that he could spend his superhero career working with law enforcement. He didn't want to slink about in the shadows, labeled a nuisance despite the good he was doing. He didn't want to be like Bruce. Yet, doing what was right . . . it should always be the most important thing. And he knew what was right. "I guess we're fighting then."

"Hell yeah."

"Raven, did you hear me Sweetie?" Rita's voice was dripping with honey, the sound a sure sign she was feeling uncertain. The empath gave no indication she had heard the elder woman's soft words, the palms of her hands pressed over her closed eyes. The bare heels of her feet pressed firmly into the cushioned fabric beneath her. She wasn't sure if it was the couch or the bed anymore. There were vague memories of Gar carrying her to the bed some time ago, but she could have imagined it. Nothing seemed completely real anymore . . . other than the pain and pressure low in her midsection.

"Rae . . . it's about time now. Bug is gonna be here really soon." His voice was close to her ear.

"You . . . said that . . . an hour . . . ago." Raven accused breathlessly, moving one hand so she could glare at the face hovering over her own.

"I know, but you're practically fully dilated. You can start pushing anytime now. Rita and Star are going to get the midwife." The empath grunted and covered her eye again. She wanted to roll onto her side, but shifting made her back scream in pain, so she curled her toes and bit her lip until it bled instead.

"I have the map. Star and I will be as quick as we can."

"Sister, I am going to fetch your wife of the middle now, do you understand?" Starfire was leaning too close to her now and Raven grunted, not bothering to move. "I want most honestly not to leave your side, however Friend Rita does not speak the regional language. You do understand, correct?"

"Yes." Raven hissed, knowing Starfire wouldn't stop pestering until she received a response.

"And you do understand that the contact with Friend Garfield's lips that I am about to initiate is solely so that I can . . ."

"Yesss!" She wailed in frustration and pain. "Azar! Sleep with him if you have to! Just get the midwife now!"

"I do not believe we have the time to sleep, Raven." Star replied softly, Rita pulling her away as pale hands flailed out as if to hit the naïve woman that had been hovering above her. There was some muttering and a soft sound of the door closing and she and Gar were alone.

"It won't take long. Just hang in there," the changeling was saying as he settled on the edge of the bed.

"I don't want to do this Gar. I can't do this."

"You're doing so good Rae and you're almost done now."

"I don't want to do this anymore," she repeated around a sob, her arms moving to hug at her middle. Again her heels dug into the mattress. There was so much pressure now. It rivaled the pain in the forefront of her mind.

"I know Mpenzi. We're almost done now, I promise." He stroked a warm hand over her forehead, his fingers combing lightly through her hair. "Just a little longer and you won't ever have to do this again."

"I'm tired."

"Rest if you can." His lips were ghosting over her cheeks, each in turn before his nose touched her own lightly.

"I can't," she murmured, turning her face toward his touch, seeking out the comfort he offered.

"Sometimes there's a little lull between active labor and the urge to push. I bet that's going to happen any minute. The pain will let up a little and your gonna have a power nap. And then the midwife will be here and before you know it . . . you'll be holding our daughter."

"I'm not that lucky," but even as she said it the endless contractions seemed to relent slightly. Heavy eyes closed and she felt herself drifting.

"Looks like your luck's changing. I'm going to get our holorings, okay? Don't want to scare the midwife away, right?" He chuckled softly at the idea.

"Ummm," she sighed in agreement.

"I love you Raven." The words were muttered against her ear as sleep claimed her.

Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds was exactly how long Raven slept before she was jolted awake. Exhaustion had dulled her senses and it was a sudden, powerful contraction and the urge to push that woke her. The moment her eyes snapped open though, she was aware that something was wrong. Her nostrils were burning from the strong smell of gasoline and her awareness was suddenly full to overflowing with unfamiliar auras. Coughing, she forced herself into a sitting position, her teeth grinding loudly from the effort involved and the pain the movement caused low in her back.

"Garfield?" she choked, already certain she would receive no response. There were dozens of auras in and around the house, but not a single one even faintly resembled the changeling's. With tremendous effort she got to her feet and stumbled toward the closed bedroom door. Leaning heavily on the frame, wheezing from the fumes she pushed the door open. The house was dark and she staggered blindly into the hallway. She had to get outside before the toxic fumes overpowered her. Her head was spinning and she fumbled desperately forward, stumbling and falling to her hands and knees.

"It's so good to see you again, Raven," a male voice said from the darkness and a flashlight flicked on to illuminate a face that was leaning down to smile tauntingly at her. "Do you remember me?"

"Luke," she choked, her eyes burning and watering, but still able to recognize the man before her. "Why?"

"Why not?" His smile grew and he reach out a hand as if to help her up. "Midnight is only fifteen minutes away, Daughter of Trigon. Christmas Eve is nearly here."

"Please . . ." she tried to retreat from him, turning as if to crawl back into the house.

"Don't be foolish. You'd die in here. Let me help you." He reach down and grabbed her left ankle, beginning to drag her down the hallway and toward the beaded curtain that billowed slightly in the wind. She could see firelight behind it and could hear singing. "A new day is about to begin. A new day, a new world. We're all so lucky to be part of that."

"Trigon isn't . . . kind. He won't make the world better. All he does is destroy," Raven told him helplessly as she was dragged through the door and out onto the grass.

"Oh, I know. I know." He chuckled and shook his head, heading for the driftwood picnic table, hoisting her up and laying her upon it. It seemed it would be an alter in the end after all.