Allegro

Chapter 14

Rated R for medical squick.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lloyd, Moore and others.

Evey clutched at his wrist. The green light from the dial of his watch illuminated his hand and hers. Day had come, but the storm's overcast remained and the sun barely penetrated the murk under the bridge. She could see the hairs of his arms and they bent and disappeared under the band. When she thought to look up, she could see his face bent over hers, worry wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

But she did not look up often. The dial was her beacon. She rubbed her thumb over the crystal, smearing the bead of sweat that had fallen on the clear glass. The minute hand. There. She watched it, tensing a little as the second hand swept closer to the twelve. When the minute hand reached the twelve it would start again. The minute hand would move, would change from the little dot next to the two, to the little dot next to that. Almost to the three. Almost there. It swept so swiftly. Evey frowned at it. Slow down! It seemed to accelerate as it approached the twelve. She knew that couldn't be true. She knew the second hand moved at the same speed whether it was sweeping the square dial from twelve to six or six to twelve. But it seemed faster. Now it was on the eleven. Five seconds. Four. She braced herself, clutching his wrist. Here it comes. It's coming. It will be here.

"Arhhhhh ah ah ah ah ah !" she heard the sounds as if they were coming from someone else. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" She screamed. The strong hand that had been soothing her body disappeared. All that remained was the electric spear burning her. A vise had her in its grip, squeezing her around her middle, spearing her in the lower back. The hand with the watch tried to move away too. She gripped it tighter. Don't you dare move! This hand stays here! This hand doesn't move like the hand on the watch. She peered at the watch face. The second hand was on the one. I have done the one. It is moving toward the two. Oh, it is moving so slowly. Already I am coming apart, and it is only halfway to the three, come three. Come. Hurry. A spasm moved from her back around her waist and beneath her belly button. It was the same pattern every time. Like a wrench; some kind of torturous tool squeezing her and stabbing her. The second hand was on the four. Lovely four, good four. Evey took a breath. She tried to remember to breathe on the four the eight and the twelve. Four Eight Twelve. Here comes the six. The six is coming. It is the seven that kills. The seven is the bad number. I hate seven! She moaned out loud. The seven is coming; it is coming to take her. There it is. The second hand touched seven. The vise and the wrench came together, prying her insides apart, stretching her, pulling her, ripping at her. It was like teeth, huge jaws clamping down on the seven. The seven eats me. It eats me. But I can breathe on eight. Here comes eight. As bad as seven was, eight will allow me to breathe. Hurry eight! I can't take seven any more. Fucking seven. Goddamned seven. Evey twisted herself trying to get away from the seven. Strong arms grabbed at her and held her tightly. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. The arms released her immediately, and she grabbed for his watch hand as it released her, desperately watching the second hand tick toward the eight. Hurry eight. Blessed eight. Eight comes and releases the jaws. They still chew, they still pinch, but the vise is gone. And now nine. Evey let out her breath. Nine is nice. And ten. Ten comes to me like a friend. And here is eleven already and twelve on its heels. The minute is over. It is over. The horrid minute is over. I have five minutes now. Five minutes. Five blissful pain-free minutes. But then it will come again.

"My back!" she reminded him. Wasn't he watching the clock face too? Why didn't he see that the twelve meant rub-my-back? It does every time, but he still waits for me to tell him. He must be an idiot if he can't tell when to rub. "Harder," she sobbed, "before it gets me again". Her back would break in two if he didn't rub it between contractions. If he didn't rub it, it would surely break. Four minutes left. She took a deep breath. Three minutes two minutes, one minute. Here it comes, "Don't touch me!" she screamed.

XXX

Dominic brought his hand up into the air as she screamed. This hand can't touch her. But the arm with the watch must not move. He knew this. She had trained him to remember this. He kept that arm steady, watched her as she brought her face down to the dial, her eyes inches from the crystal. He heard her counting under her breath, talking to the numbers and the second hand swept the dial with its swift circle. He readied his right hand. As soon as the last moan faded and she drew in that long breath, then he needed to put his hand on her spine, as low as possible and press. She had trained him to do that as well. He waited, listening to that keening cry he heard on the seven, waiting for it, the second hand flew past the eight to the twelve and he pressed his hand to her back. Then five minutes of rubbing. He watched the dial. She was panting. She always began to pant the last minute before the next one. He knew what it felt like to dread something that badly. Fifteen years of migraines had taught him that. The second hand approached the twelve, he stopped rubbing, pressed harder into her spine…waited for it…there…

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, and his hand went up into the air.

XXX

"Oh god, oh god." Evey gasped the words out.

"What? What is it?" Dominic pressed harder on her back.

He thinks it's my back. It's not. "It's NOT!" she screamed at him.

"Not what? Eve. Tell me." His voice was tired and calm but it did not soothe her. She had been robbed. Robbed of her five minutes. The second hand began its sweep of the third minute when that horrible tightening of her middle interrupted. I have been robbed of two pain-free minutes. Here it comes, it comes.

"Oh god!" she grabbed his wrist with both hands and glared at the watch. The green face mocked her. The second hand spun to the seven and the vise gripped her harder this time. Like it thought she might escape. I am not going anywhere! She told it. You do not have to grab me so hard! But it didn't listen. She felt nauseous. The eight came and she could breathe. The nine came and she could swallow. Then the ten. It will be over soon. I will at least get my three minutes. The eleven went by and she felt the vise relax a bit. Almost time for him to press my back. The twelve came, and she remembered that twelve meant she could breathe. But something was wrong. The one came and the two and still there was no relief. This contraction was lasting more than a minute. Not fair! Cheated and robbed. And why isn't he pressing my back? Oh no. oh no oh no…she felt the vise tighten. It was tightening without letting her go. All her three minutes were gone. There was no pain-free moment between them. And now something was gnawing at her guts. Her vision dimmed, the watch face disappeared. She heard some man somewhere calling her name. No men. I hate men. All men are monsters. They did this to me. A man did this. A man. V. The grip squeezed, she heard a roaring in her ears and her belly tightened. She leaned to the side and retched. Nothing came up. She had not eaten for hours, but the retching continued, the rough sound of her desperate heaving echoed under the bridge. She could not stay sitting up, but rolled to her side. It was eating her. Something was eating her from the inside out. She could not survive this. And still she heard her name, fuzzy under the roaring sound. The watch is not helping now. This isn't going away. There is no peak, no fading. This is different. I guess I am dying. She heard a high pitched keening and realized she was making the sound between the spasms that threatened to spill her very guts onto the pavement. She jerked with the force of the next paroxysm. Strong arms lifted her again and set her upright. She tried to gasp for air to tell him not to touch her. I am dying. No one can live through this. She felt her legs tremble, then the trembling turned into shakes. She shook so hard she bit her tongue. Her jaws clenched and unclenched and she clawed at the arms that held her. She finally blurted out, "Don't touch me!"

Dominic released her when she screamed. But he hovered over her as she rolled. Soon she will want me to rub her back. I have to be ready. He looked at his watch, puzzled. The contraction should have been over. This one is lasting longer. He frowned at the green glow; Evey's cries grew louder as the second hand swept the dial in its third revolution. He tapped the crystal with a finger. Three minutes. That can't be right. Then suddenly there was an eerie silence. He leaned over her; unsure if this time was still "don't touch me" or if it was now "rub my back".

The look on her face had changed. Her face no longer was contorted with pain, but relaxed now. She looked at him with astonishment. He held up his hands for her to see them. Back rub? Hands off? "Eve. What do you want?" his voice sounded rough to him, a dry rasp.

"Something is different…" she whispered, her eyes large in the green glow from his watch

"Different?" Hope and fear mingled together with this one word. For eight hours they had endured the rhythm of her contractions. The long minutes of agony, the short minutes of relief. While she was preoccupied with his watch, his ears had been trained on the road above, listening for a car, for Massey…for InterPol back-up. Nothing, No one. A few cars had passed overhead during the early dawn, but none stopped or even slowed down. His pistol lay beside him against the wall, ready. One by one the minutes passed until dawn had broken and the cement ledge had gradually lightened. Now he could see her, haggard and broken, sitting on his Mac, her huge belly mounding up under her dress. He knew better than to touch her unless she told him to. Instead he leaned over her. "How is it different?"

"The pain is gone."

"Good. Good." He didn't know if that was good or not. His hands hovered inches over he arms, waiting for her signal that another wave of torture was about to begin. She struggled to shift position on the hard cement. He took a chance by touching her without permission and helped her to lean her back against the wall. She did not scream at him when he touched her arms.

"It feels different."

Dominic waited patiently. He had learned the rhythm, how to rub her back, where she needed a rub, where to press, when to take his hands off, how close his watch needed to be to her eyes. He had learned all this. Now something was different, but he would learn this different thing too.

"AH! It's different!" Her eyes grew big with apprehension. He hated it when she thrashed. He hated trying to hold her arms and legs when she writhed. She would scream for him not to touch her, but he feared she would go off the ledge into the river. He would be ready this time. Instead of flailing, though, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The muscles in her neck stood out and Dominic realized she was pushing. She was absolutely silent, though her face turned red while he watched. Then she stopped and leaned back against the wall, panting. "It doesn't hurt as much," she gasped to him. "This doesn't hurt so bad. Not like before, not like the other. I can bear this."

"Good, good," he soothed. She inhaled sharply and bore down again. He looked at his watch. Habit. To look at the watch. But what am I timing? She made squealing sounds near the end as her air ran out, then gasped loudly. Dominic was at a loss. He held his wrist to her face, but she didn't want to look at the watch. She didn't want him to rub her back. He sat back on his heels. Again she inhaled deep and pushed. Her legs started to shake and he steadied them, a hand on each knee, touching without permission.

After a moment, her face relaxed and she looked at him. "Dom. The baby is coming." She said this to him, seriously, as if the baby had not been coming for more than eight hours. He stared back at her. Dumbstruck.

"I mean, now. I mean on the next push. You have to look and see. Tell me. I have to know."

Dominic tried not to put the worry he felt into his face. Obediently, he pushed back her dress from her thighs and gently parted her knees. Her knickers had been discarded long ago. As he was about to ask her what he should be looking for, she sat up and pulled on her knees with both hands, this time he heard her make a straining sound. Between her legs a circle of black hair appeared. It grew larger and larger as he heard her cries increase in volume. Then it stopped. The circle disappeared. He opened and closed his mouth, couldn't take his eyes from that small circle. It really was happening. A baby was about to appear. Any minute. Now. He shook his head and quickly put his fingers to the buttons on his shirt. He fumbled a little with the long sleeves as Evey lay back and panted against the wall. He freed himself from the sleeves and lay the shirt over his thighs as he knelt beside her. She met his eyes with a determined look. He watched as a ripple began over her belly. He put his hand on her foot and she grabbed her knees again and pushed.

The circled appeared almost immediately, widening to the size of his palm. This time, Evey sobbed as the contraction faded. He watched her belly muscles twitch and she lay back against the wall, resting. She asked him between breaths, "How much can you see?"

"It grows to the size of my palm," he said as he held his hand up to show her by drawing a circle on his palm with his finger. "Then it recedes when you rest, but each time, it stays a little larger than the time before."

"When the head comes out, be ready. The rest will come out quickly. And he will be slippery," she warned.

"I will be ready, Eve, you just do what you have to do. I will catch him," he reassured her.

She nodded, then she took in a deep breath and grabbed her knees. Dominic held her feet again, watching. This time the circle of hair did not recede, but began to bulge. He went cold around the shoulders, stiff with anticipation. Evey cried out to him, "Ah!" just as the head emerged, turning, rotating. Dom put his hands on it, ready lest the rest of him should follow too quickly. He could see the baby's face, red and scrunched up. The baby stopped coming out as the contraction receded.

Evey lay back, breathing, taking great gulps of air. "It's out, isn't it? I can tell," she said.

"Yes. His head is out." Dominic said.

"It doesn't hurt so badly any more," she puffed.

"That's good, Eve. That's good." Dominic rested one hand on the baby's head, wrapped his shirt around his other wrist, ready for the next push.

"Here it comes. I can tell. Are you ready?" She asked him. He nodded. She grabbed her knees again and pushed; Dominic watched as first one tiny shoulder then the other slowly slid out from his mother's body. There was a shudder and a gasp from Eve before the entire baby spilled out into his arms. Dominic wrapped him in his shirt quickly as a gush of clear fluid crested over his knees followed by the blue snake of umbilicus. He held the baby tightly, wiping his nose and mouth with the tail of the shirt. A moment later the baby opened his mouth and squalled.

Evey burst into tears. Dominic shuffled himself to her side and lay the crying baby in her arms. She looked down at him, lifting the edges of the shirt to count his fingers and toes. Then she smiled and sobbed as tears dripped down her cheeks onto the tiny face. "What time is it?" she asked him. He looked at his watch.

"Eleven…five after eleven." He told her, then leaned against the wall beside her. He realized his arms and legs were trembling. He tried to steady them, but they would not be still. He felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle with every cry from the baby's throat.

She smiled proudly at him, "Look Dominic, This is my child. This is my baby. V's son." She opened her arms so he could see the wiggling baby wrapped in his shirt. "He is perfect."

Dominic swallowed and tried to open his mouth to tell her what a beautiful child she had delivered. He got as far as a choke and a rasping "Evey…" before he gave up and broke down into sobs, his face in his hands.

Evey tried to reach out to touch Dominic. But her arm would not stretch so far, and she was not going to move. I am not moving a muscle for an hour. She could see the green dial of Dominic's watch on his wrist as he tried to hide his tears from her. An hour. I can have an entire hour. More even...as long as I want, time doesn't matter anymore. There will be no more pain. Wait…one more contraction is due. I have one more to pay. She waited, feeling that familiar tightening of her middle. This one was gentle. She held her breath as it started at her breasts and gradually slid down her body, tightening every muscle in her body as the contraction flowed to her knees. A moment later and she felt the placenta between her thighs. Dominic was still sobbing behind his hands, a masculine baritone of gasps and moans, muffled by his strong hands. She waited. He needs to check the placenta and cut the cord for me. He has to do it because I am not moving for an hour. She waited for him. I can wait for hours. God, this feels so good. No pain. Ha! I can do anything. If I can do this, I can do anything. She waited patiently, holding her baby, looking at his squinched-up face. His tiny little nose. Open your eyes, baby. Let me see your eyes. Will they be my eyes or his? The baby kept his eyes tightly shut, but his mouth was open. Crying louder than Dom. Two men in tears. She smiled. So happy. I am so happy.

When she heard his deep sobs diminish, she ventured a soft word. "Dominic?" she said gently. He wiped his face with his arm before looking at her. His eyes were red, his face blotchy. He blinked at her, listening. "Dominic. You have to cut the cord for me now." She nodded toward the sheath on his leg. He pulled up his trouser leg and exposed the knife. She sighed with relief. I can count on him. He will take care of me.

"Tell me what to do, Eve." His voice was raw from his tears, but firm and confident.

"First check the placenta. Make sure it is not torn. That it is all in one piece."

He turned incredulous eyes on her. "God, Eve. I'm a detective, not a surgeon. I don't know what it is supposed to look like." He picked up the slippery placenta with both hands. "It weighs more than the baby. God," he said again.

"Hold it up, then, and let me see." The baby had stopped crying, Eve had put his tiny mouth to her breast. She squinted to see what Dominic was holding up. The bloody placenta looked round and whole to her. I am not a surgeon either, but I have seen a photograph. Sevier showed me one. He wants it. He wants the placenta. Perry is probably prepared to pay a mint for it. "Turn it." He did. The long blue umbilicus snaked from within it around her knee and over her belly and into the shirt. She opened the shirt enough to expose the baby's belly. "Ok. You can put it down. Be careful with it, keep it on your coat. Am I bleeding?"

He looked down and blanched. "Yes."

"How much?"

"A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"I don't know; a pint?" He sounded like he might cry again. Evey strained to sit up a little higher so she could see past her knees.

"Is it gushing or just dribbling?"

He swallowed. She saw the muscles of his jaw and neck tighten. "Dribbling. I guess it's dribbling. But there's a lot of it. This ledge is covered, the Mac is soaked. How do you feel? What do I do? Are you light-headed?"

"Yes, I am light-headed," she laughed. The world was filed with joy. She leaned back again. "You would be too." She shifted her position against the hard concrete wall. "I am supposed to bleed. Don't worry about that anymore. As long as it is not pouring out I am fine. It is time to cut the cord, Dom. It has stopped pulsing. You must tie it off with part of your shoelace, then cut it." She watched as he pulled V's knife from the sheath. He untied his shoe and used the knife to cut one lace. Then he tied it around the baby's cord an inch from his little belly. Evey held the baby tightly as the long knife sliced the cord neatly, freeing the baby and separating him from the placenta forever.She looked up at the cement underside of the bridge, just a few feet from her face. V? Can you see your son? The baby kicked his legs and squalled some more. Evey wrapped him back in the shirt and gave him a nipple to quiet him. She sighed, shifted again on the hard concrete. You can. Thank you for giving him to me. Thank you so much.

Dominic put the knife away, then crawled over to her and lifted her shoulders so she could lean against his naked chest instead of the hard wall. He bent his head over her shoulder, touched his chin to her head. Evey leaned into him, so glad, so glad it was over. It's over. She sighed again, relaxed. So happy. I want a hot shower. And a glass of water. She felt herself begin fall to the side. He steadied her; the muscles of his arms bulged and rippled as he kept her from tipping over. I have no strength left, even to sit up by myself. His wrist was before her eyes as his arms held her. She took his wrist in her free hand and slid the watchband over his thumb and then over his long fingers until she held it in her palm. It was heavy. The green dial mocked her. The second hand was on the seven. Ha! It is on the seven and I feel great. She pulled her arm back then threw the watch over the ledge, listening with a happy sigh when it plopped into the river far below.

"That was my Ten-Year watch," he murmured into her hair.

"I'll buy you another one," she answered, "one with a gold dial."