Chapter 7. See 1 for disclaimers, fine print, etc. I couldn't sleep last
night, so I wrote instead. I warned my body I had to work 12 hours today,
but it didn't listen. Guess I'll be ready to sleep by tonight.
I'll finish Complications out from here in one chapter, posted on Friday, Feb 27 (which is Rosalind's birthday), but it will be a very long chapter, even for me. You can always stop halfway and finish it Saturday if you like. ::grin::
A/N: For the first part of this chapter in particular, I am indebted to my mother for providing first-hand information. I have never had kids myself and never intend to, but I wanted a more personal picture than you get from a textbook or from typing medical records. My mother provided inside knowledge in this area, and some of the best images in this chapter ("shards of glass," "fountain of love," more) are hers. I wrote it, but she provided several building blocks. We finalized this opening scene together on a car trip back in early January. I would quote a paragraph, and she would make suggestions/additions and edit things. Made short work of a 3-hour drive. She doesn't watch CSIM, and she did appreciate my contribution of Horatio to this scene. ("Your father wasn't quite like that, Deb.") My own birth wouldn't fit the plot requirements of this story, though Rosalind is based on me (but not in appearance). Therefore, we borrowed my next older brother's arrival to use as a guideline. He made a much more precipitous entry. She also did, with him, have borderline high blood pressure the last few weeks, and her main symptom was tinnitus, so all of the descriptions of that for Calleigh are from her experience, too. Thanks, Mom.
***
"Our situation has not improved."
Henry Jones, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
***
They worked their painful way back to the bed. Calleigh flinched on seeing Otis lying in the corner.
"Another one starting?" Horatio asked. He rubbed her back soothingly.
"No. I just spotted Otis again. I know we need the bed, Horatio, but I'd hate to have Rosalind even see him."
"Good point. Enough to scar any child for life." He hauled himself around the room to the clothes pile and bent to pick up several pieces. Another contraction did start at that point, and Calleigh gasped and didn't notice that Horatio nearly fell over getting the clothes. He caught himself against the wall and cursed that stubborn whirlpool. "Breathe," he said. "Remember to breathe. Slow and easy." He was talking to both of them. Together, they survived their respective storms and emerged shakily on the other side. "Okay, Cal?"
"Hanging in there," she managed. He smiled at her and came back around the room, pausing to drop the clothes over Otis, burying the enemy in several of the modified shirts he had meticulously sewn himself. Horatio arrived back at the bed and half sat, half collapsed by Calleigh's feet. He smiled at her weakly, and she returned it, also weakly.
"I don't remember this situation being covered in those childbirth classes," he pointed out.
Calleigh's smile gained strength then, as he had hoped. "We'll have to suggest it to them. How to give birth when you've been abducted and held hostage for days."
"Something all parents should know," he agreed. "Let's see how you're doing. Not that I'm a doctor, but I actually have done this before." He helped her slip her pants off. "I'd say you're over halfway, Cal."
Another contraction seized her at that point, and she fumbled frantically for his hand. He caught it and held it tightly, letting her fingers close painfully around his. The contraction passed. "This shouldn't be happening this quickly," she protested. "It takes hours and hours. Everybody says that."
"You expect our child to be ordinary?" He smiled at her again.
"Good point. Besides, we need to get you to a doctor when this is over. Sooner the better." Another contraction was looming, blurring her focus on anything else, but it seemed to her, as she held his hand, that his fever was much higher than before. Or maybe it was just that she was sweating herself now. His voice seemed perfectly steady. He sounded absolutely like his usual self, better than he had earlier, actually.
"We'll all go to the doctor," he said smoothly. With his free hand, he rubbed her abdomen gently. "Family hospitalization, like you said. All three of us. And then, family life after that." The contraction gathered force, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. Her body wanted to retreat from the pain, but there was no escape. Finally, her muscles released.
"They're getting stronger," she said. "When have you delivered a child, Horatio?"
"On homicide. I was investigating a murder scene once, and the woman next door to the vic's house went into labor from the stress. That child didn't want to wait, either. There wasn't time for the ambulance to come." He continued rubbing her abdomen sympathetically, holding her hand tightly with his other one. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen on the job. Life and death, in two houses side by side. And life took precedence. It was stronger."
Another contraction assaulted her. She gripped his hand even more tightly, hoping on some level that she wasn't actually digging her fingernails into his skin. The spasms started around her womb but quickly swept through the rest of her body, leaving every muscle in her clenched. "I won," she realized, as her body slowly relaxed.
"What did you win?" he asked, not following her for once.
"That doctor. I insisted I didn't want any anesthesia for birth. He said it would be available, if I changed my mind, and gave me this smirk like he was sure I would. Condescending jerk. Like he knows what it feels like, anyway." She wadded some of the pain into a ball and threw it at the doctor mentally.
Horatio chuckled. "Well, I guess you showed him. No anesthesia in sight." He never released his grip on her hand. Calleigh sank back into the bed a little bit more, trembling now. She hoped that she could make it through this. No choice, Cal, she told herself firmly. Horatio squeezed her hand sympathetically. "It'll be over soon, Calleigh. And Rosalind will be here. Safe and sound. Then our future starts. Just imagine it, Cal. The first word. The first step."
Calleigh's body suddenly locked in another contraction, but she shook her voice free. "Keep talking, Horatio. It helps." He kept talking. That velvet voice wrapped around her, a soft blanket encasing the pain, helping just by the contrast, reminding her that there was a contrast. There was beauty and life and love, and they were stronger. The contractions intensified, making it harder to think about anything else. It was like shards of glass penetrating her soul, hurting to a level far deeper than she had expecting, shaking her to the core. Still, she had her verbal lifeline. The ringing in her ears was getting stronger, but that voice was stronger still. Horatio walked them in imagination through Rosalind's future, childhood clear to adulthood, with lingering, loving detail, and Calleigh's mind somehow, on a faint level, anyway, escaped the prison that was her body at the moment and walked joyfully through the future with him.
For Horatio, it was a dream and a nightmare locked in a tug-of-war. The anticipation of his daughter's birth was spiced by concern for Calleigh. He prayed fiercely that everything would be all right. The doctor isn't really needed on 90% of births, he reminded himself. But there were the 10%, and there was her blood pressure. He tried to keep his voice calm and steady, but his own soul was trembling in fear as well as wonder at the coming miracle of life. On a more immediate level, he was fighting intermittent spasms of dizziness that would crash into him like waves, and his heart was acting totally undisciplined, feeling like it wanted to leap clear out of his chest and take off on its own. Several times, he thought he saw multicolored things slinking around the corners of his vision, but he didn't turn to look. The only sight that mattered was Calleigh. At least the pain had retreated to a distant background hum. He heard his own voice at a distance, traveling effortlessly through the future, but it had left his body far behind. Every inch of his willpower was focused on the present. He had to stay strong for her and for Rosalind. He would not let her down in this. He fought the spinning of his own mind and held onto her hand desperately, wondering if she realized how much that physical contact was anchoring him as well as her, hoping that she did not. She had enough else to worry about now.
Time lost all meaning. For Calleigh, there was only the pain and Horatio's voice. Her mind hovered with him, over her body, both observing at a distance and feeling every nerve end on fire at the same time. The urge to push was getting overwhelming, and she resisted it stubbornly, making her body wait until it was ready. She could still have that much control over things, at least. Finally, down a long tunnel of pain, she heard Horatio's voice shift out of dreams of the future. "This is it, Calleigh. Push now. You're completely dilated."
She pushed, and the body that had wanted to push for so long now resisted it. There was a barrier in the way, and she hurled her strength against it time and time again, only to fall back. Horatio had let go of her hand, but his voice was still there, not meandering through the future now but fully rooted in the present, encouraging her. Tears of pain and frustration welled up in her eyes. Rosalind, she thought, make up your mind. Finally, she felt some progress, and Horatio confirmed it. "I can see the head. Come on, Calleigh. You're doing great." With renewed vigor, she hurled her strength against that wall, and block by tedious block it crumbled. "Almost there, Calleigh. Once more." She threw everything she had into it, the ringing in her ears surging like a fire alarm, threatening to split her mind. Then another sound took precedence, the sound of a baby crying.
Calleigh collapsed back against the bed in exhaustion. It was over. "Horatio, is she okay?"
His voice had a new warmth in the tone when he answered. "She's absolutely beautiful."
She had already stopped crying, which worried Calleigh a bit. "Is she breathing?"
"Nice and easy. She's just looking around. Welcome to the world, Rosalind. How are you doing, Cal? What about that ringing?"
"It's getting softer," Calleigh said in relief. "It was awful there at the end, but it's dying back down."
"One more push, if you can, Cal. We've got to get the placenta." That went much easier than the baby, and Calleigh just relaxed. She had expected to enjoy the feeling of no pain, but this wasn't an absence she was celebrating. The pain had not merely vanished but had been replaced by love. She wouldn't have cared if it had still been there. Only Rosalind mattered.
Horatio placed the baby on her abdomen. "I'll go get some of the towels and get her cleaned up." She looked beautiful to Calleigh, a tiny, squirming, vigorous bundle of life. Calleigh touched her in wonder, half afraid that it would all disappear. She hardly noticed Horatio's laborious progress to the bathroom and back, or how long that progress took. He returned finally, sat down, and picked Rosalind up again. "You doing okay, Calleigh?"
"Wonderful," she said. "Everything is wonderful."
"Yes," he agreed. "She's perfect. You're perfect."
Calleigh lay there tired but peaceful, listening to Horatio, who was talking to Rosalind as he gave her a quick bath. Calleigh's smile nearly split her cheeks. Horatio with his daughter. She had dreamed of this. Finally, he put the baby back into her arms. Calleigh looked down at her daughter, and her smile threatened to split her ears, too. Horatio had not only cleaned up Rosalind but had wrapped her in their last large clean towel, folding it into a bunting and tucking in the edges precisely, providing Calleigh with one neatly packaged daughter. Those careful folds with no loose ends even in this situation seemed so much like Horatio that she laughed.
"What's funny?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said. "You did a great job."
"So did you. You sure you're okay now?"
"I'm fine. I feel a lot better, Horatio."
"Good," he said. Calleigh was looking at Rosalind, but she registered on some secondary track in her mind that Horatio suddenly sounded even tireder than she did, poor man. He gave her hand a final squeeze, and then his fingers slipped free from hers. Calleigh's eyes never left the baby. Her own daughter. Safe and sound. Just like Horatio had promised. "Rosalind," she said contentedly.
***
Eric slammed his fist down onto the keyboard, and the computer gave an offended beep. "Give me something useful, then, or you'll get more," he threatened it. He sat back, thinking of Horatio when they hit a dead end on a case. Try to see other angles. Eric forced himself to try to consider this case objectively. What hadn't he tried? Where was the answer? Horatio had taught them above all else that the answer was there, somewhere, always. If they couldn't find it, they were looking in the wrong place.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Breeze entering the lab with a pizza. She waved at him and headed for Speed's table, where the trace expert sat staring at his computer in dogged frustration. "Come on, Eric. Come on, Tim. You guys have to eat."
Eric hauled himself reluctantly out of his chair and came over to join them. "Are you teaming up with Alexx?"
She half smiled at him, but the seriousness of the situation was written all over her face, no less than his, and no one laughed. "Anything?"
"Zilch." Speed pushed his chair back from the computer. "It's like this hideout doesn't even exist."
"It exists," Eric insisted. "We just aren't looking right."
"Well, enlighten me, then," Speed snapped, letting some of the frustration show.
Eric started to reply in kind, then broke off, his head coming up suddenly, his eyes refocusing. Breeze, who had been preparing to intervene before these two friends said something they would regret later, switched from feminine determination to puzzlement. "Eric? What is it?"
"Enlighten me," he repeated. "We haven't tried that."
"Haven't tried what?" Speed asked.
"What happens when you rent a place? You get the lights turned on. The utility companies."
"We tried that," Speed objected. "Lorenzo Rodriguez didn't have utilities for anything other than his house. Nothing under Stewart Otis, either."
"On that Crighton case, Otis rented a place using a fake first name but his own last name. We haven't tried all the Rodriguez's with new utilities in the area."
Speed groaned. "There have to be hundreds."
"We can narrow it down. After the newspaper article, before the parole hearing. It isn't that big a window."
"That's assuming that he got a hideout just for this. It may have been a building he already had anyway, Eric." Probably another dead end, like all of them were. Still, Speed followed him, taking a piece of pizza along.
Eric was already back at his computer. He picked a 100 mile circle, thinking of the total lack of city noise on the tapes, set the date range, and searched for all new utility customers named Rodriguez. It wasn't hundreds, but it was a complete screenful. Eric started skimming the addresses quickly, comparing each to what little he knew about the hideout, and came to a dead stop a third of the way down. "Look at that one. Carlos Rodriguez. Rented an old warehouse two weeks after that newspaper article."
Speed stared at the address. "That's 70 miles away."
"Right," Eric said. "Out in the middle of nowhere. That address wouldn't have any background city noise. No one likely to stumble into something going on there, either."
They stared at each other, afraid to hope, hoping anyway. Eric grabbed his cell phone and called Adele as Speed drummed his fingers. The pizza was completely forgotten.
***
Calleigh settled back against the bed, feeling more tired yet more fulfilled than she ever had in her life. The ringing in her ears gradually faded out completely as she lay there, and she only realized now in contrast how much it had bothered her. She positioned Rosalind at her breast and felt her daughter start tugging hungrily, and a fountain of love switched on inside her. Horatio's child. Her child. Their child. Utterly perfect. The pain was a distant memory that didn't even matter any more. She let herself lie there just resting in the feeling of feeding her daughter.
Horatio laboriously pulled himself around and lay down next to her. Sparks of light danced in his vision, giving his wife and his daughter shimmering halos as he watched them. Angels, he thought hazily. You're both angels. Forcing himself to hold focus, to be strong for Calleigh, had been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, calling on reserves of strength he didn't even know he had. It was over now, though. Otis was dead. Calleigh was safe. Rosalind was safe. Everything was fine now. He could feel the last dregs of his energy draining away like water from a bathtub, but at least he could rest now. He didn't have to fight anymore. Everyone was safe. His eyes fell closed.
Rosalind finished nursing, and Calleigh simply held her daughter close to her, resting in motherhood. The wisps of blonde hair, still damp, went every way in adorable chaos. Calleigh had often felt that way herself, spending uncounted hours and devices in her lifetime to try to tame her hair. She didn't bother as much anymore, though. Horatio preferred it untamed, unconfined. She felt a quick stab of sympathy for Rosalind, who faced all the same hours of effort ahead as a young woman. I'm sorry I gave you my hair, she thought, but maybe someday you'll meet someone who isn't afraid of you untamed. Rosalind opened her eyes for a minute and looked straight at her. The eyes were Horatio's. That same impossible blue with that same direct honesty met her, curious but unwavering. "Horatio," Calleigh said dreamily, "she's got your eyes."
He did not answer. She suddenly focused on Horatio for the first time in countless minutes. It was like lying in front of a roaring fire. It felt like his fever had actually gone up even higher somehow. She rolled over to look at him. His face was still gray underneath the flushed cheeks. He was sweating, yet she could feel him trembling, as if he were cold. The eyes were closed. "Horatio, don't go to sleep on me again. We still need to leave as soon as Rosalind is ready. You need a doctor." He didn't respond. She prodded his shoulder firmly, and he opened his eyes and slowly, with an effort, focused on her.
With a start, she realized that while Rosalind might have Horatio's eyes, Horatio himself did not at the moment. They looked distant, glazed, fragile somehow, like they might shatter under any slight strain. "Horatio, are you feeling worse?"
"No," came the slightly delayed response. "Just tired. Are you and Rosalind doing all right?"
"We're fine." Calleigh propped her daughter on the pillow between them and started to button her shirt. "Come on, I really think we need to get you to a doctor as soon as possible. They'll start you on antibiotics, and you'll feel a lot better then. They'll give you some painkillers for that leg, too. I know how much it must be hurting."
"Not as much now," said Horatio distantly, eyes falling shut again. "It feels better, actually."
Calleigh paused halfway in the act of standing up. "It feels better? After all that?" She couldn't believe it. She appreciated stoicism herself, but this was taking it to ridiculous lengths.
"Yes," he replied. "It's nice and numb now. Hardly hurts at all anymore."
A cacophony of alarm bells suddenly went off in Calleigh's brain, setting up a jangled clamor of fear. Desperately, all gentleness lost in worry, she scrambled back onto the bed beside him and reached for the left pants leg. It wouldn't come free, glued to the leg with a substance that wasn't blood. She fumbled for his fly and jerked his pants completely off. "Not just now, Cal," he protested faintly, but the eyes did not open. Calleigh stared at his leg in horror. It was swollen much more now, even beyond the area covered by her pitifully inadequate bandage. The towel was soaked in a sickly yellow fluid, and she untied the socks and unwound the towel, letting the dressing fall carelessly beside them on the bed. The ugly, gaping wound was completely filled with a thick, purulent material, and the edges were black-rimmed surrounded by red, the tissue inflamed beyond anything she had ever seen. Angry red streaks ran from the gash up the entire length of his leg.
"Dear God," she prayed aloud. The puzzle pieces snapped belatedly into place with a cold click of fear as she suddenly realized what had been happening with him all day long, right before her eyes, and she hadn't even noticed. She placed a hand on him, and the heat nearly seared her skin. She had never in her life known anyone to run a fever like this. She shoved herself off the bed, part of her shocked at how sore she was but most of her not even noticing. She grabbed two more pairs of pants, somehow scrambling into one herself as she ran around the foot of the bed, quickly stuffing Horatio into the other, no longer bothering to be careful with the leg, not taking time to rewrap it. He still didn't open his eyes. "Come on, Horatio, we're leaving now."
"Let's rest a bit first," he suggested distantly. He sounded like he was speaking from the bottom of a well.
"No! Get up, Horatio!" He didn't move. She understood suddenly, like a sledge hammer hitting her in the chest, that he would never get up again from that bed on his own. He had given the last of his strength to her and to Rosalind. Hating herself, Calleigh dragged him off the bed, hauling him with deliberate roughness to his feet and catching him as the leg immediately gave way. "Right now! Put your arm around my shoulders." Jolted by the return of pain, he complied. She balanced herself carefully under the load, Horatio on her right, then picked up Rosalind, cradling the baby against her with her left hand and arm, her right arm around his torso. His eyes were open again, at least. She wanted to apologize to him and forced herself into cheerleader mode instead. "Let's go, Horatio. I'll help you as much as I can. Move!"
They started out of the room, Horatio trying to use her as a human crutch. It was tediously painful progress for both of them. Calleigh's muscles trembled under the strain, but she forced herself to hold both of them up, her mind absolutely refusing to let her body fold. They somehow managed to get down the hall and toward the large open area where she had found the handcuff key. Calleigh kept up a running stream of encouragement, knowing that her voice was the only thing keeping him moving and afraid even it wouldn't be effective much longer. She was urging Horatio along as fast as she could, heading for the door, when he abruptly stiffened, becoming less like a 6-foot rag doll, and dragged them both to a halt. His head turned sharply. "What's that?"
"What?" She tried to pull him along another hopping step. He was as rooted as a tree.
"That noise. There it is again."
"I don't hear anything, Horatio." Nothing except those inner alarms ringing ever more loudly. "Come on, there's nothing there."
"I heard something." He took a halting step, pulling her toward one of the other aisles.
Calleigh shrank before a wave of panic that reared threateningly overhead. "Horatio, listen to me. You've got a very high fever. You're just imagining things that aren't there. I'm amazed you aren't seeing pink elephants at this point, but believe me, it isn't real."
"Yes, it is," he insisted stubbornly. "There's something back there." Seized with a surge of strength, he broke away from her and actually made it a step before he totally collapsed, the left leg giving way. Calleigh was barely in time to half catch him as he fell.
"Horatio, please," she begged. "Come on." If he turned uncooperative, she would never get him out to the car. She was still so weakened herself from giving birth that her own legs felt shaky. She pulled him back up, tucking his arm over her shoulders again. "Please. Let's go now. There's nothing there."
"Who is it?" Horatio shouted suddenly, the words echoing eerily off the ceiling and walls. Calleigh gave a sob of desperation as she pulled at him, then abruptly froze. It was a soft repeated thump, so close to the frantic beating of her heart that she had thought they were one and the same.
"I think you're right, Horatio," she admitted. "Somebody else is here. Come on." She pulled him toward the noise now, and he came willingly with her this time. She could have moved faster without him, but she wasn't about to leave him at this point, no matter who else needed her. They worked their painful way down another hall, following the always louder thumping until they reached a door. It quivered at the onslaught of kicks from the other side. Calleigh propped Horatio against the nearest wall and thrust Rosalind at him. "Hold her." She fumbled through Otis' keys. The third one she tried unlocked the door.
A child of no more than 6 years shrank back as she burst into the room. It was set up much like their own cell had been. The child's hands were tied, and a gag cut into his face. "Easy," Calleigh said, forcing herself to slow down. "I won't hurt you. Here, let me get that gag off." She gently worked it loose, feeling a surge of anger at the dark bruises around the mouth underneath it. She quickly started work on the knots that held the hands together. His child's wrists had been too small for handcuffs to work. "It's okay. We're friends. I'm Calleigh. What's your name?"
The large eyes tracked her every move, still frightened. "Aaron."
"Did he hurt you, Aaron?"
Slowly, he nodded. "Is he coming back?"
"No," Calleigh promised. "He's never coming back. Never." She freed the last knot, and the rope fell to the ground. "Would you like to leave now, Aaron?" He nodded. "Come on, then. I can't give you my hand, because I need both of them, but just come along with us, okay?"
They exited the room together, and Aaron stared at Horatio, who was slowly sliding down the wall, although Rosalind was still cradled securely in his arms. "What's wrong with him?"
Calleigh caught him, pulling his arm across her shoulders again as she took Rosalind from him. "He's sick. We've got to get him to a doctor, okay? Then we'll find your family, I promise. Come on, Aaron. Come on, Horatio."
They wound their way in increasingly slow motion back down the hall and out the building. Horatio was leaning more heavily on her with every step, and Calleigh bit back a groan. He heard it anyway. "You okay?"
"Fine," she lied. She was compared to him, anyway. They finally made it out the door and to Otis' car. "Aaron, get in the back seat." She propped Horatio on the side of the car long enough for her to open the passenger door. "Okay, this is going to be tough. Put the bad leg in first." He started to comply, then hesitated, staring at the road. "What is it?"
"I never saw a road with waves before. Looks like a river. Are you sure we don't need a boat?"
Calleigh gritted her teeth in worry. "Positive. It's a road, I swear. Come on, Horatio. Slide your left leg in." He got it into the car that time, and she saw his eyes flood with the sudden pain as he extended it. She tried to help him, taking some of his weight, continuing her cheerleader act. "Okay, get into the seat now. That's it. You're doing fine. Now get the other leg in." He finally was there, and she thrust Rosalind at him and pulled the seatbelt across both of them, fastening it securely. At least he was beyond arguing over who should drive now. She closed the door and sprinted around the car, launching herself into the driver's seat with only a quick glance back to make sure Aaron was safely in, turning the key almost before she had the door closed. The engine roared to life, and she peeled rubber in reverse as she backed away from the building, then swung around. She ground to a sudden halt at the road. "Now which way do you suppose is shorter to help? Right or left?" She had no idea where they were.
She had been asking herself, but Horatio answered. "Left."
Calleigh looked across at him, wondering if he saw a rhinoceros herd or something on the right. "Why left?"
"Left is east. Towns are all down the coast. We've got to find a town that way."
"Not bad." She swung the car left, hitting the accelerator instantly. The vehicle leaped down the road. Otis at least had appreciated reliable transportation. "Pretty good reasoning, Lieutenant." She was fishing for a response, trying to hold his attention on reality.
"I try," he replied. He looked at Rosalind, cuddled tightly in his arms, and she looked back at him. She did have his eyes. "Rosalind," he said lovingly. Calleigh smiled at him, then returned her full focus to the road, pushing the car as much as she could without risking a wreck. That wouldn't help them. About 20 miles down the road, it forked into another, and this time there was a mileage sign at the intersection. Miami 50 miles. She turned right. "50 miles to Miami, Horatio. We're heading the right direction. We'll get you some help as soon as we come to any place with a phone. Probably a lot less than 50 miles."
He did not answer. She wrenched her eyes off the road long enough to look over at him. His head had rolled sideways and was resting against the seatbelt. His eyes were closed, and his face didn't have a shred of color in it. "Horatio, stay with me." She reached across and prodded him. "Horatio." Rosalind started to cry. Calleigh grabbed his shoulder and shook him almost violently. "Horatio!"
There was absolutely no response.
I'll finish Complications out from here in one chapter, posted on Friday, Feb 27 (which is Rosalind's birthday), but it will be a very long chapter, even for me. You can always stop halfway and finish it Saturday if you like. ::grin::
A/N: For the first part of this chapter in particular, I am indebted to my mother for providing first-hand information. I have never had kids myself and never intend to, but I wanted a more personal picture than you get from a textbook or from typing medical records. My mother provided inside knowledge in this area, and some of the best images in this chapter ("shards of glass," "fountain of love," more) are hers. I wrote it, but she provided several building blocks. We finalized this opening scene together on a car trip back in early January. I would quote a paragraph, and she would make suggestions/additions and edit things. Made short work of a 3-hour drive. She doesn't watch CSIM, and she did appreciate my contribution of Horatio to this scene. ("Your father wasn't quite like that, Deb.") My own birth wouldn't fit the plot requirements of this story, though Rosalind is based on me (but not in appearance). Therefore, we borrowed my next older brother's arrival to use as a guideline. He made a much more precipitous entry. She also did, with him, have borderline high blood pressure the last few weeks, and her main symptom was tinnitus, so all of the descriptions of that for Calleigh are from her experience, too. Thanks, Mom.
***
"Our situation has not improved."
Henry Jones, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
***
They worked their painful way back to the bed. Calleigh flinched on seeing Otis lying in the corner.
"Another one starting?" Horatio asked. He rubbed her back soothingly.
"No. I just spotted Otis again. I know we need the bed, Horatio, but I'd hate to have Rosalind even see him."
"Good point. Enough to scar any child for life." He hauled himself around the room to the clothes pile and bent to pick up several pieces. Another contraction did start at that point, and Calleigh gasped and didn't notice that Horatio nearly fell over getting the clothes. He caught himself against the wall and cursed that stubborn whirlpool. "Breathe," he said. "Remember to breathe. Slow and easy." He was talking to both of them. Together, they survived their respective storms and emerged shakily on the other side. "Okay, Cal?"
"Hanging in there," she managed. He smiled at her and came back around the room, pausing to drop the clothes over Otis, burying the enemy in several of the modified shirts he had meticulously sewn himself. Horatio arrived back at the bed and half sat, half collapsed by Calleigh's feet. He smiled at her weakly, and she returned it, also weakly.
"I don't remember this situation being covered in those childbirth classes," he pointed out.
Calleigh's smile gained strength then, as he had hoped. "We'll have to suggest it to them. How to give birth when you've been abducted and held hostage for days."
"Something all parents should know," he agreed. "Let's see how you're doing. Not that I'm a doctor, but I actually have done this before." He helped her slip her pants off. "I'd say you're over halfway, Cal."
Another contraction seized her at that point, and she fumbled frantically for his hand. He caught it and held it tightly, letting her fingers close painfully around his. The contraction passed. "This shouldn't be happening this quickly," she protested. "It takes hours and hours. Everybody says that."
"You expect our child to be ordinary?" He smiled at her again.
"Good point. Besides, we need to get you to a doctor when this is over. Sooner the better." Another contraction was looming, blurring her focus on anything else, but it seemed to her, as she held his hand, that his fever was much higher than before. Or maybe it was just that she was sweating herself now. His voice seemed perfectly steady. He sounded absolutely like his usual self, better than he had earlier, actually.
"We'll all go to the doctor," he said smoothly. With his free hand, he rubbed her abdomen gently. "Family hospitalization, like you said. All three of us. And then, family life after that." The contraction gathered force, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. Her body wanted to retreat from the pain, but there was no escape. Finally, her muscles released.
"They're getting stronger," she said. "When have you delivered a child, Horatio?"
"On homicide. I was investigating a murder scene once, and the woman next door to the vic's house went into labor from the stress. That child didn't want to wait, either. There wasn't time for the ambulance to come." He continued rubbing her abdomen sympathetically, holding her hand tightly with his other one. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen on the job. Life and death, in two houses side by side. And life took precedence. It was stronger."
Another contraction assaulted her. She gripped his hand even more tightly, hoping on some level that she wasn't actually digging her fingernails into his skin. The spasms started around her womb but quickly swept through the rest of her body, leaving every muscle in her clenched. "I won," she realized, as her body slowly relaxed.
"What did you win?" he asked, not following her for once.
"That doctor. I insisted I didn't want any anesthesia for birth. He said it would be available, if I changed my mind, and gave me this smirk like he was sure I would. Condescending jerk. Like he knows what it feels like, anyway." She wadded some of the pain into a ball and threw it at the doctor mentally.
Horatio chuckled. "Well, I guess you showed him. No anesthesia in sight." He never released his grip on her hand. Calleigh sank back into the bed a little bit more, trembling now. She hoped that she could make it through this. No choice, Cal, she told herself firmly. Horatio squeezed her hand sympathetically. "It'll be over soon, Calleigh. And Rosalind will be here. Safe and sound. Then our future starts. Just imagine it, Cal. The first word. The first step."
Calleigh's body suddenly locked in another contraction, but she shook her voice free. "Keep talking, Horatio. It helps." He kept talking. That velvet voice wrapped around her, a soft blanket encasing the pain, helping just by the contrast, reminding her that there was a contrast. There was beauty and life and love, and they were stronger. The contractions intensified, making it harder to think about anything else. It was like shards of glass penetrating her soul, hurting to a level far deeper than she had expecting, shaking her to the core. Still, she had her verbal lifeline. The ringing in her ears was getting stronger, but that voice was stronger still. Horatio walked them in imagination through Rosalind's future, childhood clear to adulthood, with lingering, loving detail, and Calleigh's mind somehow, on a faint level, anyway, escaped the prison that was her body at the moment and walked joyfully through the future with him.
For Horatio, it was a dream and a nightmare locked in a tug-of-war. The anticipation of his daughter's birth was spiced by concern for Calleigh. He prayed fiercely that everything would be all right. The doctor isn't really needed on 90% of births, he reminded himself. But there were the 10%, and there was her blood pressure. He tried to keep his voice calm and steady, but his own soul was trembling in fear as well as wonder at the coming miracle of life. On a more immediate level, he was fighting intermittent spasms of dizziness that would crash into him like waves, and his heart was acting totally undisciplined, feeling like it wanted to leap clear out of his chest and take off on its own. Several times, he thought he saw multicolored things slinking around the corners of his vision, but he didn't turn to look. The only sight that mattered was Calleigh. At least the pain had retreated to a distant background hum. He heard his own voice at a distance, traveling effortlessly through the future, but it had left his body far behind. Every inch of his willpower was focused on the present. He had to stay strong for her and for Rosalind. He would not let her down in this. He fought the spinning of his own mind and held onto her hand desperately, wondering if she realized how much that physical contact was anchoring him as well as her, hoping that she did not. She had enough else to worry about now.
Time lost all meaning. For Calleigh, there was only the pain and Horatio's voice. Her mind hovered with him, over her body, both observing at a distance and feeling every nerve end on fire at the same time. The urge to push was getting overwhelming, and she resisted it stubbornly, making her body wait until it was ready. She could still have that much control over things, at least. Finally, down a long tunnel of pain, she heard Horatio's voice shift out of dreams of the future. "This is it, Calleigh. Push now. You're completely dilated."
She pushed, and the body that had wanted to push for so long now resisted it. There was a barrier in the way, and she hurled her strength against it time and time again, only to fall back. Horatio had let go of her hand, but his voice was still there, not meandering through the future now but fully rooted in the present, encouraging her. Tears of pain and frustration welled up in her eyes. Rosalind, she thought, make up your mind. Finally, she felt some progress, and Horatio confirmed it. "I can see the head. Come on, Calleigh. You're doing great." With renewed vigor, she hurled her strength against that wall, and block by tedious block it crumbled. "Almost there, Calleigh. Once more." She threw everything she had into it, the ringing in her ears surging like a fire alarm, threatening to split her mind. Then another sound took precedence, the sound of a baby crying.
Calleigh collapsed back against the bed in exhaustion. It was over. "Horatio, is she okay?"
His voice had a new warmth in the tone when he answered. "She's absolutely beautiful."
She had already stopped crying, which worried Calleigh a bit. "Is she breathing?"
"Nice and easy. She's just looking around. Welcome to the world, Rosalind. How are you doing, Cal? What about that ringing?"
"It's getting softer," Calleigh said in relief. "It was awful there at the end, but it's dying back down."
"One more push, if you can, Cal. We've got to get the placenta." That went much easier than the baby, and Calleigh just relaxed. She had expected to enjoy the feeling of no pain, but this wasn't an absence she was celebrating. The pain had not merely vanished but had been replaced by love. She wouldn't have cared if it had still been there. Only Rosalind mattered.
Horatio placed the baby on her abdomen. "I'll go get some of the towels and get her cleaned up." She looked beautiful to Calleigh, a tiny, squirming, vigorous bundle of life. Calleigh touched her in wonder, half afraid that it would all disappear. She hardly noticed Horatio's laborious progress to the bathroom and back, or how long that progress took. He returned finally, sat down, and picked Rosalind up again. "You doing okay, Calleigh?"
"Wonderful," she said. "Everything is wonderful."
"Yes," he agreed. "She's perfect. You're perfect."
Calleigh lay there tired but peaceful, listening to Horatio, who was talking to Rosalind as he gave her a quick bath. Calleigh's smile nearly split her cheeks. Horatio with his daughter. She had dreamed of this. Finally, he put the baby back into her arms. Calleigh looked down at her daughter, and her smile threatened to split her ears, too. Horatio had not only cleaned up Rosalind but had wrapped her in their last large clean towel, folding it into a bunting and tucking in the edges precisely, providing Calleigh with one neatly packaged daughter. Those careful folds with no loose ends even in this situation seemed so much like Horatio that she laughed.
"What's funny?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said. "You did a great job."
"So did you. You sure you're okay now?"
"I'm fine. I feel a lot better, Horatio."
"Good," he said. Calleigh was looking at Rosalind, but she registered on some secondary track in her mind that Horatio suddenly sounded even tireder than she did, poor man. He gave her hand a final squeeze, and then his fingers slipped free from hers. Calleigh's eyes never left the baby. Her own daughter. Safe and sound. Just like Horatio had promised. "Rosalind," she said contentedly.
***
Eric slammed his fist down onto the keyboard, and the computer gave an offended beep. "Give me something useful, then, or you'll get more," he threatened it. He sat back, thinking of Horatio when they hit a dead end on a case. Try to see other angles. Eric forced himself to try to consider this case objectively. What hadn't he tried? Where was the answer? Horatio had taught them above all else that the answer was there, somewhere, always. If they couldn't find it, they were looking in the wrong place.
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Breeze entering the lab with a pizza. She waved at him and headed for Speed's table, where the trace expert sat staring at his computer in dogged frustration. "Come on, Eric. Come on, Tim. You guys have to eat."
Eric hauled himself reluctantly out of his chair and came over to join them. "Are you teaming up with Alexx?"
She half smiled at him, but the seriousness of the situation was written all over her face, no less than his, and no one laughed. "Anything?"
"Zilch." Speed pushed his chair back from the computer. "It's like this hideout doesn't even exist."
"It exists," Eric insisted. "We just aren't looking right."
"Well, enlighten me, then," Speed snapped, letting some of the frustration show.
Eric started to reply in kind, then broke off, his head coming up suddenly, his eyes refocusing. Breeze, who had been preparing to intervene before these two friends said something they would regret later, switched from feminine determination to puzzlement. "Eric? What is it?"
"Enlighten me," he repeated. "We haven't tried that."
"Haven't tried what?" Speed asked.
"What happens when you rent a place? You get the lights turned on. The utility companies."
"We tried that," Speed objected. "Lorenzo Rodriguez didn't have utilities for anything other than his house. Nothing under Stewart Otis, either."
"On that Crighton case, Otis rented a place using a fake first name but his own last name. We haven't tried all the Rodriguez's with new utilities in the area."
Speed groaned. "There have to be hundreds."
"We can narrow it down. After the newspaper article, before the parole hearing. It isn't that big a window."
"That's assuming that he got a hideout just for this. It may have been a building he already had anyway, Eric." Probably another dead end, like all of them were. Still, Speed followed him, taking a piece of pizza along.
Eric was already back at his computer. He picked a 100 mile circle, thinking of the total lack of city noise on the tapes, set the date range, and searched for all new utility customers named Rodriguez. It wasn't hundreds, but it was a complete screenful. Eric started skimming the addresses quickly, comparing each to what little he knew about the hideout, and came to a dead stop a third of the way down. "Look at that one. Carlos Rodriguez. Rented an old warehouse two weeks after that newspaper article."
Speed stared at the address. "That's 70 miles away."
"Right," Eric said. "Out in the middle of nowhere. That address wouldn't have any background city noise. No one likely to stumble into something going on there, either."
They stared at each other, afraid to hope, hoping anyway. Eric grabbed his cell phone and called Adele as Speed drummed his fingers. The pizza was completely forgotten.
***
Calleigh settled back against the bed, feeling more tired yet more fulfilled than she ever had in her life. The ringing in her ears gradually faded out completely as she lay there, and she only realized now in contrast how much it had bothered her. She positioned Rosalind at her breast and felt her daughter start tugging hungrily, and a fountain of love switched on inside her. Horatio's child. Her child. Their child. Utterly perfect. The pain was a distant memory that didn't even matter any more. She let herself lie there just resting in the feeling of feeding her daughter.
Horatio laboriously pulled himself around and lay down next to her. Sparks of light danced in his vision, giving his wife and his daughter shimmering halos as he watched them. Angels, he thought hazily. You're both angels. Forcing himself to hold focus, to be strong for Calleigh, had been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, calling on reserves of strength he didn't even know he had. It was over now, though. Otis was dead. Calleigh was safe. Rosalind was safe. Everything was fine now. He could feel the last dregs of his energy draining away like water from a bathtub, but at least he could rest now. He didn't have to fight anymore. Everyone was safe. His eyes fell closed.
Rosalind finished nursing, and Calleigh simply held her daughter close to her, resting in motherhood. The wisps of blonde hair, still damp, went every way in adorable chaos. Calleigh had often felt that way herself, spending uncounted hours and devices in her lifetime to try to tame her hair. She didn't bother as much anymore, though. Horatio preferred it untamed, unconfined. She felt a quick stab of sympathy for Rosalind, who faced all the same hours of effort ahead as a young woman. I'm sorry I gave you my hair, she thought, but maybe someday you'll meet someone who isn't afraid of you untamed. Rosalind opened her eyes for a minute and looked straight at her. The eyes were Horatio's. That same impossible blue with that same direct honesty met her, curious but unwavering. "Horatio," Calleigh said dreamily, "she's got your eyes."
He did not answer. She suddenly focused on Horatio for the first time in countless minutes. It was like lying in front of a roaring fire. It felt like his fever had actually gone up even higher somehow. She rolled over to look at him. His face was still gray underneath the flushed cheeks. He was sweating, yet she could feel him trembling, as if he were cold. The eyes were closed. "Horatio, don't go to sleep on me again. We still need to leave as soon as Rosalind is ready. You need a doctor." He didn't respond. She prodded his shoulder firmly, and he opened his eyes and slowly, with an effort, focused on her.
With a start, she realized that while Rosalind might have Horatio's eyes, Horatio himself did not at the moment. They looked distant, glazed, fragile somehow, like they might shatter under any slight strain. "Horatio, are you feeling worse?"
"No," came the slightly delayed response. "Just tired. Are you and Rosalind doing all right?"
"We're fine." Calleigh propped her daughter on the pillow between them and started to button her shirt. "Come on, I really think we need to get you to a doctor as soon as possible. They'll start you on antibiotics, and you'll feel a lot better then. They'll give you some painkillers for that leg, too. I know how much it must be hurting."
"Not as much now," said Horatio distantly, eyes falling shut again. "It feels better, actually."
Calleigh paused halfway in the act of standing up. "It feels better? After all that?" She couldn't believe it. She appreciated stoicism herself, but this was taking it to ridiculous lengths.
"Yes," he replied. "It's nice and numb now. Hardly hurts at all anymore."
A cacophony of alarm bells suddenly went off in Calleigh's brain, setting up a jangled clamor of fear. Desperately, all gentleness lost in worry, she scrambled back onto the bed beside him and reached for the left pants leg. It wouldn't come free, glued to the leg with a substance that wasn't blood. She fumbled for his fly and jerked his pants completely off. "Not just now, Cal," he protested faintly, but the eyes did not open. Calleigh stared at his leg in horror. It was swollen much more now, even beyond the area covered by her pitifully inadequate bandage. The towel was soaked in a sickly yellow fluid, and she untied the socks and unwound the towel, letting the dressing fall carelessly beside them on the bed. The ugly, gaping wound was completely filled with a thick, purulent material, and the edges were black-rimmed surrounded by red, the tissue inflamed beyond anything she had ever seen. Angry red streaks ran from the gash up the entire length of his leg.
"Dear God," she prayed aloud. The puzzle pieces snapped belatedly into place with a cold click of fear as she suddenly realized what had been happening with him all day long, right before her eyes, and she hadn't even noticed. She placed a hand on him, and the heat nearly seared her skin. She had never in her life known anyone to run a fever like this. She shoved herself off the bed, part of her shocked at how sore she was but most of her not even noticing. She grabbed two more pairs of pants, somehow scrambling into one herself as she ran around the foot of the bed, quickly stuffing Horatio into the other, no longer bothering to be careful with the leg, not taking time to rewrap it. He still didn't open his eyes. "Come on, Horatio, we're leaving now."
"Let's rest a bit first," he suggested distantly. He sounded like he was speaking from the bottom of a well.
"No! Get up, Horatio!" He didn't move. She understood suddenly, like a sledge hammer hitting her in the chest, that he would never get up again from that bed on his own. He had given the last of his strength to her and to Rosalind. Hating herself, Calleigh dragged him off the bed, hauling him with deliberate roughness to his feet and catching him as the leg immediately gave way. "Right now! Put your arm around my shoulders." Jolted by the return of pain, he complied. She balanced herself carefully under the load, Horatio on her right, then picked up Rosalind, cradling the baby against her with her left hand and arm, her right arm around his torso. His eyes were open again, at least. She wanted to apologize to him and forced herself into cheerleader mode instead. "Let's go, Horatio. I'll help you as much as I can. Move!"
They started out of the room, Horatio trying to use her as a human crutch. It was tediously painful progress for both of them. Calleigh's muscles trembled under the strain, but she forced herself to hold both of them up, her mind absolutely refusing to let her body fold. They somehow managed to get down the hall and toward the large open area where she had found the handcuff key. Calleigh kept up a running stream of encouragement, knowing that her voice was the only thing keeping him moving and afraid even it wouldn't be effective much longer. She was urging Horatio along as fast as she could, heading for the door, when he abruptly stiffened, becoming less like a 6-foot rag doll, and dragged them both to a halt. His head turned sharply. "What's that?"
"What?" She tried to pull him along another hopping step. He was as rooted as a tree.
"That noise. There it is again."
"I don't hear anything, Horatio." Nothing except those inner alarms ringing ever more loudly. "Come on, there's nothing there."
"I heard something." He took a halting step, pulling her toward one of the other aisles.
Calleigh shrank before a wave of panic that reared threateningly overhead. "Horatio, listen to me. You've got a very high fever. You're just imagining things that aren't there. I'm amazed you aren't seeing pink elephants at this point, but believe me, it isn't real."
"Yes, it is," he insisted stubbornly. "There's something back there." Seized with a surge of strength, he broke away from her and actually made it a step before he totally collapsed, the left leg giving way. Calleigh was barely in time to half catch him as he fell.
"Horatio, please," she begged. "Come on." If he turned uncooperative, she would never get him out to the car. She was still so weakened herself from giving birth that her own legs felt shaky. She pulled him back up, tucking his arm over her shoulders again. "Please. Let's go now. There's nothing there."
"Who is it?" Horatio shouted suddenly, the words echoing eerily off the ceiling and walls. Calleigh gave a sob of desperation as she pulled at him, then abruptly froze. It was a soft repeated thump, so close to the frantic beating of her heart that she had thought they were one and the same.
"I think you're right, Horatio," she admitted. "Somebody else is here. Come on." She pulled him toward the noise now, and he came willingly with her this time. She could have moved faster without him, but she wasn't about to leave him at this point, no matter who else needed her. They worked their painful way down another hall, following the always louder thumping until they reached a door. It quivered at the onslaught of kicks from the other side. Calleigh propped Horatio against the nearest wall and thrust Rosalind at him. "Hold her." She fumbled through Otis' keys. The third one she tried unlocked the door.
A child of no more than 6 years shrank back as she burst into the room. It was set up much like their own cell had been. The child's hands were tied, and a gag cut into his face. "Easy," Calleigh said, forcing herself to slow down. "I won't hurt you. Here, let me get that gag off." She gently worked it loose, feeling a surge of anger at the dark bruises around the mouth underneath it. She quickly started work on the knots that held the hands together. His child's wrists had been too small for handcuffs to work. "It's okay. We're friends. I'm Calleigh. What's your name?"
The large eyes tracked her every move, still frightened. "Aaron."
"Did he hurt you, Aaron?"
Slowly, he nodded. "Is he coming back?"
"No," Calleigh promised. "He's never coming back. Never." She freed the last knot, and the rope fell to the ground. "Would you like to leave now, Aaron?" He nodded. "Come on, then. I can't give you my hand, because I need both of them, but just come along with us, okay?"
They exited the room together, and Aaron stared at Horatio, who was slowly sliding down the wall, although Rosalind was still cradled securely in his arms. "What's wrong with him?"
Calleigh caught him, pulling his arm across her shoulders again as she took Rosalind from him. "He's sick. We've got to get him to a doctor, okay? Then we'll find your family, I promise. Come on, Aaron. Come on, Horatio."
They wound their way in increasingly slow motion back down the hall and out the building. Horatio was leaning more heavily on her with every step, and Calleigh bit back a groan. He heard it anyway. "You okay?"
"Fine," she lied. She was compared to him, anyway. They finally made it out the door and to Otis' car. "Aaron, get in the back seat." She propped Horatio on the side of the car long enough for her to open the passenger door. "Okay, this is going to be tough. Put the bad leg in first." He started to comply, then hesitated, staring at the road. "What is it?"
"I never saw a road with waves before. Looks like a river. Are you sure we don't need a boat?"
Calleigh gritted her teeth in worry. "Positive. It's a road, I swear. Come on, Horatio. Slide your left leg in." He got it into the car that time, and she saw his eyes flood with the sudden pain as he extended it. She tried to help him, taking some of his weight, continuing her cheerleader act. "Okay, get into the seat now. That's it. You're doing fine. Now get the other leg in." He finally was there, and she thrust Rosalind at him and pulled the seatbelt across both of them, fastening it securely. At least he was beyond arguing over who should drive now. She closed the door and sprinted around the car, launching herself into the driver's seat with only a quick glance back to make sure Aaron was safely in, turning the key almost before she had the door closed. The engine roared to life, and she peeled rubber in reverse as she backed away from the building, then swung around. She ground to a sudden halt at the road. "Now which way do you suppose is shorter to help? Right or left?" She had no idea where they were.
She had been asking herself, but Horatio answered. "Left."
Calleigh looked across at him, wondering if he saw a rhinoceros herd or something on the right. "Why left?"
"Left is east. Towns are all down the coast. We've got to find a town that way."
"Not bad." She swung the car left, hitting the accelerator instantly. The vehicle leaped down the road. Otis at least had appreciated reliable transportation. "Pretty good reasoning, Lieutenant." She was fishing for a response, trying to hold his attention on reality.
"I try," he replied. He looked at Rosalind, cuddled tightly in his arms, and she looked back at him. She did have his eyes. "Rosalind," he said lovingly. Calleigh smiled at him, then returned her full focus to the road, pushing the car as much as she could without risking a wreck. That wouldn't help them. About 20 miles down the road, it forked into another, and this time there was a mileage sign at the intersection. Miami 50 miles. She turned right. "50 miles to Miami, Horatio. We're heading the right direction. We'll get you some help as soon as we come to any place with a phone. Probably a lot less than 50 miles."
He did not answer. She wrenched her eyes off the road long enough to look over at him. His head had rolled sideways and was resting against the seatbelt. His eyes were closed, and his face didn't have a shred of color in it. "Horatio, stay with me." She reached across and prodded him. "Horatio." Rosalind started to cry. Calleigh grabbed his shoulder and shook him almost violently. "Horatio!"
There was absolutely no response.
