Author's note: I've done a lot of head hopping (a big no-no, I know) between Walter and Paige in this chapter. Hopefully your neck won't get too sore from watching the ping pong ball bounce from one to the other. Lol.

And oh yeah, baby name reveal. Finally.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"Walter. . . Oh God, Walter."

Happiness warred with pain and terror within Paige as Walter knelt beside her. She knew she had to be squeezing the hell out of his hand but only he grimaced as she rode out the contraction.

"Is everything all right?" he asked before flinching and adding, "I mean, with the labor and. . ."

"It's progressing normally from what I can remember," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Oh, yeah, this is Yolondra, by the way." She waved her hand at the frightened woman crouched about a foot away. "She's a midwife. Collins kidnapped her too."

"I know." He turned to the other woman. "It's okay, we know you're being forced to be here."

Some of the tension visibly left Yolondra's body. "Is this the baby's father?" she asked.

"Yes." Paige smiled as Walter's face flushed.

"I didn't want to do the Caesarean," the midwife said in her accented English. "I've never done one by myself before. I tried to tell Meester Mark but he won't listen."

"My water broke about an hour ago," Paige told Walter. "And I've been having contractions ever. . . Oh, God. . ." Her grip on his hand tightened once more as cramping rippled through her belly.

"They're a minute and forty-two seconds apart," he stated when she could breathe normally again. "We don't have much time."

"What are you talking about? I was in labor with Ralph for over thirty hours,".

She was little pissed he ignored her protest, glancing from her to Yolondra. "How far dilated is she? Have you check the baby's position?" he asked the other woman.

"That son of a bitch won't let her check," Paige said. "Told me women had been giving birth for millennia without assistance."

Walter nodded although he didn't seem pleased. "Do either of you have a cell phone?"

The midwife shook her head. "Meester Mark took mine."

"I never had mine," Paige replied, not liking the expression on his face. It was his 'I'm plotting to do something effective yet reckless' face. "Walter, what are you thinking?"

"Do you have any sterilized equipment?" he asked Yolondra, once again dodging her question.

"I. . .I took some things from the hospital," the midwife answered as she crawled a few feet away to grab a large canvas bag.

"Oh, damn. . ." Paige groaned as another contraction hit.

"Deep breaths, focus on me." Walter stared into her eyes, and the pain was momentarily forgotten as she gazed back at him until it subsided.

She just laid there as Walter and Yolondra went over the supplies the other woman had brought. A blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, scissors, towels, gloves, and a couple of wicked looking scalpels. She closed her eyes, thankful the last items weren't going to be used on her.

Walter frowned as he surveyed the basic items in the midwife's satchel. One small bottle of isopropyl alcohol wouldn't be enough to disinfect the scissors, let alone everything else which needed cleansing. He let go of Paige's hand as he jumped to his feet.

"Collins! Where are you?" he shouted, scanning the dim interior of the barn.

"What do you want?" came the lackadaisical reply. Collins appeared a few moments later, coming to a halt just outside the stall.

"She needs to go to the hospital," Walter declared through gritted teeth. "She can't give birth here. It's too unsanitary and. . ."

"No, no hospital." Collins's placid face graced with a tiny bit of a smirk made Walter's hands curl into fists. "Mary gave birth in a stable. And if that was good enough for the mother of our so-called Savior, it's certainly good enough for your wanton slut."

Walter closed his eyes, taking several deliberate breaths as Paige gasped behind him. "At least let the midwife examine her. Let her have something for the pain," he pleaded, hating the fact he'd been forced into the position of having to beg from the man he'd once thought of as his friend. A friend he knew was an atheist, but who had been raised by overly zealous religious parents. It was a symptom of Mark's twisted mentality he couldn't totally escape from his warped upbringing.

"No," said Collins. "The pangs and suffering of childbirth are the curse of Eve, the price women have to bear for being wicked temptresses."

Frustration tore through Walter, the impulse to punch the other man almost too strong to resist. But he couldn't let his anger get the better of him. Not if he wanted his plan to work.

"Fine," he snarled, spinning on his heel and kneeling back down at Paige's side. "Do you need anything? A more comfortable position? Uh, some water?"

"Water sounds good," she said. "I'm thirsty. I haven't had anything to eat or drink since before that bastard kidnapped me. And I know I'm not supposed to eat," she cut in before he could remind her.

Walter turned to glare at Collins. "She's dehydrated. . ."

"So? Is it a problem?"

"Yes, it's probably why she went into labor," Walter said, seething at Mark's callous attitude. "It can affect the baby. She needs water."

"There isn't any potable water in here," Collins said. "I have a thermos of coffee. . ."

"She can't have that," Walter said. "Plain water, nothing else. . ." Bowing his head, he sighed as if in defeat. "Is there any water in the house?"

"I have no idea." Collins shrugged. "I never went in there."

"It probably has a well this far out into the country. Let me go find out if. . ."

"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere," the other man interrupted before pointing to Yolondra. "You may as well make yourself useful. Go see if there's any water in the house."

"Okay." The midwife got to her feet as Mark moved away from the stall.

Walter stood up and grabbed the woman's arm. Keeping his voice low, he started speaking to her in Spanish. "Ve a mi carro. Hay una llave debajo del alfombrilla. Ve a buscar ayuda,"* he instructed before slipping her the piece of paper with the farm's address on it. "Todo estará bien. Ve, por favor."**

Yolondra stared at him, her whole body trembling with terror. "But. . ." she began, glancing over her shoulder at Collins. She turned back to look at him and nodded.

"What are you two whispering about?" Collins's voice boomed out.

"Just telling her to look for a heat source," lied Walter. "We may need to boil the water."

Mark's mouth twisted with disgust as he pointed at the frightened woman. "Just go fetch the water. And be quick about it."

At his barked order, Yolondra scurried out of the barn. Walter turned his attention back to Paige as he calculated the time it would take for the midwife to get to his car and find the key before starting it.

"Groan as loud as you can," he murmured to Paige.

"What? Why?"

"I'll explain later. Do it now."

With a puzzled expression, she let out a scream which morphed into the real thing. If he hadn't been listening for it, he wouldn't have heard the barely audible sound of Yolondra getting into his car and driving off.

"Get away from her."

Walter whipped around at Collins's words. "No. I'm going to deliver the baby," he snapped as he jumped up to confront the other man. "I'm not going to let her do it alone."

"God, you're pathetic." The other man shook his head. "It's a sad day when someone with your genius wastes his time with such inferior beings. I almost hope your son is an imbecile."

Mark spun around and began walking away. Walter's heart caught in his throat, worried he would go outside and notice the missing car. He exhaled with relief as Collins stopped next to a white van, the name of the mental institution he'd escaped from emblazoned on its side, and leaned against it.

"What was that about?" Paige asked. He dropped down beside her again, taking her hand.

"Mark being an ass," he fibbed, not wanting her to learn what his former friend had planned. The less she knew the better. Changing the subject, he announced, "I need to get your vital signs."

"Shouldn't you wait until Yolondra gets ba. . ." Her fingers crushed his as she moaned. One hundred and sixteen seconds since the last one.

"She's not coming back," he said after it has passed. "I sent her to get help."

"You did what? Walter. . ." She stared at him, a mixture of exasperation and fear on her face.

"It was the only way," he said a bit defensively as he reached for the bag of supplies. "I'm sorry about the water."

"The water. . .? Oh, right. . . Never mind that. Isn't he going to suspicious when she doesn't come back?"

"It'll be all right," Walter said as he unrolled the sphygmomanometer. "Now, relax."

She rolled her eyes. "You try relaxing while squeezing a bowling ball out of your hoohah, mister."

After he check her blood pressure (which was a little high), her heart rate (also a little elevated), and the baby's (a normal 135 beats per minute), and ascertaining the baby had descended head first, he cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm. . .I need. . .um. . ." He gestured toward her belly as heat swept through him. It was stupid to be squeamish. It wasn't as if he'd never seen her. . .her intimate parts before. . . Of course, it was under vastly different circumstances. "I need to check to see how far you're dilated," he said in one breath.

"Okay," Paige said as she tried to sit up. "Help me take these off." She started pulling on her yoga pants. Once they'd wrestled them off, Walter's face grew even redder. "How do you know what to look for?" she asked, reasoning if he took a more scientific approach, his discomfort would lessen.

It worked. He glanced up at her with a smug grin. "I watched YouTube videos, remember? When I was trying to get out of going to childbirth classes."

Her laughter turned into a moan as another pang tore through her. Oh, God, she'd barely recovered from the last one.

"So, you're about eight centimeters," Walter announced as he put his gloved hands on her knees. "You need to resist the urge to push and. . ."

"I've done this before," she cut in. "I was in labor with Ralph for over thirty hours. It hasn't even been two hours. I won't need to push for a long. . ." A gasp swallowed the rest of her sentence as another contraction hit.

"Uh, do you want to move to another position," he asked when it was over.

"Yeah, I'd like to sit up." She doubted she'd be comfortable no matter what, but lying on her back was making her dizzy.

Walter helped her into a sitting position before darting out of the stall. He came back carrying two full burlap bags. "Here," he said as he let them drop behind her. "You can lean against these. They're not pillows but. . ."

"No, it's okay." Having something to lie on felt heavenly.

"I know this is not ideal," he said as he placed towels underneath her and one across her lap before doing another examination. "Nine centimeters."

Helplessness swept through Walter as he watched her face contort with pain yet again. Another day's worth of this. . .this agony. . . He didn't want her to suffer another minute. He fumed inside, unable to imagine Drew allowing her go through it by herself. "Is it okay if I rub your back?" he asked, needing to do something, anything to ease her distress .

"Sure. Hey, we need to name this kid," she said as her muscles softened under his fingers.

"It's up to you," he replied, worried it wouldn't matter what they called him if Collins's plan succeeded..

"No, I'm never having another baby," she said. "I got to name Ralph, you should get to name this one." She barely got her words out before she cried out. "Oh, God. . ." When it was over, she gasped out, "Who's. . . Who's your favorite scientist?"

He was taken off guard by the seemingly random question. Guessing she needed a distraction, he took her hand as he brushed her sweaty hair off her face. "My favorite scientist? It'd have to be Nikola Tesla. It's because of him we have alternating current and there are aspects of my life which are similar to his, although falling in love with a pigeon was. . ."

"A pigeon?" Paige figured she must have misheard. Her brain was a bit fuzzy. "I don't need a history lesson," she snapped before another pain rippled through her.

"What about Nikolas instead of Nikola?" Paige asked when it had passed. "Nikola sounds like a cough drop."

"What?"

"The cough drops. . . Oh, never mind," she said, realizing he had never seen the commercials. "Okay, Nikola. We can call him Nick or Nicky. What about a middle name?"

"I'd like to use my father's name."

"Okay, Nikola Sean."

"No, not Sean," he corrected her. "I mean Cabe. He's been more of a father to me than. . .."

Oh, God. "Nikola Cabe," she said, although saying it aloud didn't make it any less absurd. "It sounds like Nicholas Cage."

"Who?" By the way she said it, Walter figured it must be someone famous. Not anyone he'd ever heard of, so obviously not a scientist or mathematician.

"He's an act. . ." She didn't have a chance to finish her explanation. He ticked off the seconds, determining her contractions were growing longer and closer together. "Fine," she said between breaths. "Nikola Cabe O'Brien. I just hope he doesn't hate us for this."

"Why would he. . .?"

"You two are pitiful." Collins's sneered words proceeded him as he stepped into the stall. "Naming a child you'll never raise. And such a stupid sentimental name."

"What is he talking about?" Paige stared wide eyed at Walter. "What does he mean? A child we'll never raise?"

"He didn't tell you?" Mark asked. She shook her head as bile rose in Walter's throat. "Of course not. He still believes he can thwart me. But he won't." Collins chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm going to take your son and raise him to be the genius his father failed to be."

ooooo

* "Go to my car. There's a key under the floor mat. Go get help."

** "Everything will be fine. Go, please."

(I believe these are good translations. I used Google Translate and had its translations verified by a Spanish speaking friend (she's a native of Spain who works in England). If not, please let me know and I'll fix it.)