Author's note: After 4 years, 5 months, and 68 chapters- FINALLY!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Horror swept through Paige as she listened as Collins revealed his twisted plan of stealing the baby to raise himself and what he would do if he wasn't a genius.
"Like hell you're taking my baby," she said, an edge of hysteria in her voice. There was no way she was going to let him. She had to get out of here. Rolling onto her side, she tried to push herself upright. Pain ripped through her before she could even get her feet underneath her.
"You're not going to be able to stop me," Mark drawled, his mouth curling into a sneer.
"Over my dead body," she hissed as she rode out the contraction.
"Your choice." Collins laughed coldly as he started to walk away.
"Coward!" she yelled at his retreating back. "How are you going to raise a child if you don't even have the guts to watch it be born? You're nothing but a fucking coward!"
Walter looked shocked by her outburst but she didn't care. "Why didn't you just kidnap Ralph if you wanted a genius child so bad?" she asked. "He has an IQ of over 200. And he's potty trained."
Collins turned around to face her and she thought she glimpsed a bit of anger under his composed facade. "It's too late," he scoffed. "He's already been by tainted by Walter's influence."
"You sick bastard. Walter. . . You can't let. . ." Her words were swallowed up by a gasp as another labor pain tore through her.
"This is all Walter's fault," Collins said. "He replaced me with you. It's inevitable he'll replace you with someone else someday. I'm doing you a service by removing his child from your life."
"You son of a bitch. . ."
"Speaking of which. . ." Mark glanced around the barn. "Where is that stupid woman anyway?"
"You mean Yolondra?" Walter asked, speaking for the first time in several minutes.
"Yes, her. She should have been back by now with the water."
Paige looked at Walter and saw her fear reflected in his dark eyes. Collins must have picked up on their exchange because he stepped toward them.
"What did you do, Walter? I should have. . . You can't stop playing the hero, can you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Walter replied unconvincingly. "She's probably just had to prime the pump and that can take awhile. The one we had on the farm in Ireland. . ."
"I don't want to hear about your bucolic childhood," Mark snarled. "What the hell did you do? Where is she? Tell me or I'll toss your brat into the first dumpster I find."
Walter's guilty gaze met hers and she could see his indecision. "Tell him," she whispered, afraid Collins would make good on his threat.
"I told her to take my car and go get help," Walter stated as he bowed his head.
"You thought you could outsmart me?" Collins screamed as he came at Walter, and even though she was in the middle of yet another contraction, Paige flinched at the uncontrolled fury in his tone. His face had turned a bright red and there was something unhinged in his expression. Oh, God.
Then, as if someone flicked a switch, Collins's demeanor changed and he came to an abrupt halt. "You're so predictable, Walter," he said with calm contempt as he took a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and began to dial.
"Who are you calling?" Walter asked. The fact he didn't appear fazed by the other man's sudden mood swing scared her almost as much as Collins's behavior. What kind of hell had Walter gone through dealing with his ex-friend's mental illness to accept it so easily?
"I'm calling the police and reporting your car as stolen," Mark declared coolly. "They'll hardly believe the wild claims of kidnapping and babies being born in barns by a suspected car thief who looks like an illegal immigrant, will they?" He turned his back on them again and began to walk away.
Walter, who had been crouching by Paige's side, started to get up, intending to stop the other man. Her groan drew his attention and he saw her face contorted with pain once again.
"Oh, God, Walter," she said between sharp intakes of breath as she grasped his hand while encircling her belly with the other. "You can't let. . .let him do this. You can't. . .let him take Nicky. Promise me. . . Promise me, Walter. . . Don't let him. . ."
"I won't let him take the ba. . .N-Nicky," he said. Calling their son by his nickname. . . It made the reality of their already grim situation seem even more dire. The pressure of her hand squeezing his made his eyes water but he didn't let go, not even when a something snapped in his right pinky finger.
Walter raised his eyes to glare in Mark's direction, unable to hear the other man's conversation due to his lowered voice and Paige's moans. Collins must have sensed his gaze upon him because he looked in his direction, a smug smirk gracing his bearded face. Knowing what he had to do, he placed his hand on Paige's stomach.
"He will not take Nico. . .Nicky," Walter vowed through gritted teeth. "I promise."
ooooo
"I'm beginning to wonder if this stupid farm even exists," Toby said as he, Happy, and Sylvester hurtled down a narrow two-lane road. At least this one was paved. He'd been jostled enough speeding down rutted and washboarded dirt roads in the past few hours to last him a lifetime.
"What's that?" Sly yelped from the back seat.
Turning his head to look out of the windshield, Toby's hope the human calculator had at last spotted the farm's driveway was dashed at the sight of flashing lights and headlights aimed at them from the opposite side of the road.
"Shit." Happy immediately tapped her brakes, slowing her truck to a crawl as they approached the cop car. "Good thing they're hassling someone else. Last thing we need is a speeding ticket."
"Stop!" Sly's shout made Toby jump in his seat. "That's Walter's car!"
"Are you are?" the doc asked, whipping his head around to get look.
"Yes, that's his license plate," the younger genius confirmed. "But that's not Walter."
He was right. A small frightened-looking woman was pressed face down against the hood of a county sheriff's department patrol car as she was being cuffed.
"Hang on!" Happy's warning had barely left her mouth when she whipped the truck into a U-turn. Gravel flew from under the tires as she pulled up behind the other vehicle before screeching to a halt.
Toby took a deep breath to regain his composure and he noticed Happy and Sly did the same. The mechanic then turned off the engine and reached into her jeans. "Get out your wallet," she ordered.
"Why?" Sylvester seemed perplexed. Tossing a glance over his shoulder as he yanked out his own billfold, Toby grinned at the younger man.
"Just do it," the mechanic growled before adding, "and oh yeah, raise your hands when you get out."
"What? The human calculator's query was drowned out as Happy opened her door and stepped out, her arms in the air, her wallet flipped open to show her ID.
"Rookie," Toby snickered under his breath as he copied her actions. "You've never been pulled over by a cop before, have you?"
"Technically, no, but. . . Gun!" Sly's arms flew into the air, his billfold falling to the ground as the officer approached, his firearm aimed directly at them.
"That's our friend's car," Toby said, deciding he would be the spokesperson for the trio. Happy was too hot headed and Sylvester was too distraught.
"Sure it is," the cop replied as he gathered their wallets, quickly scanning their info.
"Humor me, Officer Shea," the shrink said as he peered at the man's name tag over his left breast pocket. "It's registered to Walter O'Brien of 909 Aculeus Street, Los Angeles California, zip code 90013.* And the woman you have cuffed is named Yolondra and she's originally from Guatemala."
"How did you. . .?" The officer strode back to the Malibu and reached inside to grab what was probably Walter's registration and the midwife's driver's license. He read one then the other before turning to stare at Toby. Throwing the documents back into the car, he stepped toward him, his expression one of disbelief.
"Okay, it checks out. So how do you know this woman?" Shea asked, pointing at the still handcuffed Yolondra.
"We've never met her before but she's an employee at the Atascadero State Hospital, from which earlier today an inmate named Mark Collins escaped."
"Collins? I think I remember seeing an APB with that name."
"I'm not surprised," said the doc. "He's had a busy day. Escaping from an institution for the criminally insane, threatening a nurse's aide slash midwife with blackmail, kidnapping her and another woman who's due to give birth in three weeks, and holding them hostage at an abandoned farm. And since she has his car, I'm guessing our friend who is also the baby's father is there as well."
Toby had to suppress a smirk at the cop's confused countenance. "I thought she was just talking crazy," Shea said. "So where is this farm at anyway?"
"Good question," Sylvester muttered.
"It's called Ponder Creek Farm," said Happy, shooting the younger genius a dirty look.
"Never heard of it," said the officer.
"Well, she knows where it is," Toby said, jerking his thumb in Yolondra's direction. "Why don't we ask her?"
"Okay," the officer agreed. "Ms Nayal, can you lead us back to where this Collins person is holding the other hostages?
"Maybe she could answer quicker if she wasn't handcuffed," the mechanic snarled when Yolondra didn't immediately reply.
"But. . ."
"We're wasting time," Happy snapped at the cop's reluctance. "We need to find Walter and Paige now."
"I can't just let her go," Shea argued. "She was driving a car which was reported stolen."
"God damn Collins." Happy looked like she was about to hit someone. Toby slipped into between her and the officer.
"It has to be a misunderstanding," he suggested. "I'm sure Walter let her take it."
"That's a pretty big assumption," the cop said.
Happy let out a sigh. "Walter is my husband," she said, causing Toby to wince at her technically true statement. They hadn't had time yet to file the divorce papers. "And I say it's okay for her to have it."
The officer narrowed his eyes at her. "Your last name isn't O'Brien."
"Damn right, it's not. Happy O'Brien. I'd sound like a fucking leprechaun."
A guffaw burst from Toby's mouth, followed by an attack of the giggles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mechanic making a fist and aiming it his way.
"Not in front of a cop." Sly's whispered admonishment and fleeting touch of Happy's arm had her dropping her hand and giving both him and Sylvester the stink eye.
Shea glanced at each one of them. "This story is so convoluted, it has to be true," he began with a shake of his head. "Take Ms Nayal and go find the farm and your friends. I'll be right behind you."
They all piled into Happy's pickup and she made another U-turn and headed off in their original direction. "How far away is it?" the mechanic asked Yolondra, who now sat in the front passenger seat.
"I don't remember," the woman said. "I got lost before the police man pulled me over."
Toby's groans of frustration joined those of Happy and Sly.
ooooo
Walter glared into the darkness where he knew Collins lurked. A grunt of pain drew his attention back to Paige. Her features contorted as another contraction racked her body. They were coming so close together she only had the time to take a short breath before the next one hit.
"I need to check again," he said, more to himself than to her. Girding against his irrational squeamishness, he lifted the towel draped across her knees.
"Oh, God. . . I need to. . .to push. . ." she panted between pains. "Oh, God. . . It's too soon."
"No, you can start pushing. You're at ten centimeters," he replied as he dropped the towel back into place.
"Already? Damn you. . . He's inherited. . .inherited. . .your damn efficiency."
Walter chuckled, albeit a little nervously. He, too, was surprised at how quickly the baby was being born.
"Oh, God, it hurts. . .it hurts so. . . Oh, God. . ." Sweat soaked her whole body as she bucked and writhed.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish I had something to ease the pain, but I don't. I'm sorry." And he truly was. Sorry he couldn't give her an epidural. Sorry she was giving birth in a barn. Sorry he ever met Mark Collins. But acknowledging this was all his fault did little to dispel his guilt or his fear.
He doubted she'd even heard him, the contractions were only seconds apart and her cries grew louder. As much as he wanted to be able to comfort her, he knew it was impossible. Not only because she was beyond any reassurance he could give, he needed to assist their child make his way into the world. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer, waiting and watching as the baby's head crowned.
"One more push," he said with what he hoped was encouragement.
"Whadda ya mean? One more push. . ." Paige went limp for a moment and panic surged through him. "I just pushed out someone your size."** She waved her hand vaguely in his direction
Walter wisely didn't say anything as she pushed again and the head emerged. "Hold up," he said. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's neck. Hooking a finger under the cord, he uncoiled it. "Okay, you can push now."
"Like I need your permission," he heard her mutter. With a loud groan, she bore down again as first one shoulder, then the other slipped out. A second later, the rest of their son's body slid into Walter's hands. He marveled as the infant's little purple face pinkened as his tiny mouth opened and let out a wail. A thatch of dark hair covered his head, he had ten fingers and ten toes, two ears, one nose, and everything else he was supposed to have, plus a little dimple in his tiny chin.
Walter couldn't name most of the emotions flooding through him as he held his newborn son in his hands, but he did recognize the two most important ones. . .
Happiness and Love.
Monday, October 3, 2016, 10:00 pm
ooooo
* From the episode "Single Point of Failure" (Season 1 Episode 2). This address is from the letter Walter received updating him about Megan's worsening MS (and not from my bum!)
** Actual words spoken and gestures made by me when giving birth to my second child (at age 40) in July 2000. My husband can verify them if necessary.