TOO  QUICK  TO  DIE

PART THIRTY-FOUR

“You’re taking Cort and Rachel first,” Terry said to Dana Scully as the whole team gathered around the pregnant woman and anxious father-to-be.  He flipped open the warp shell, pressed some buttons to begin the process, and handed it to the FBI agent, showing her which last button to push.  “I’ll stay behind and bring in the others.  You have a good hold of her, Cort?”

They had decided to make Rachel sit on the floor for the warp, as they did not want to take any chance of her falling or suffering a violent ‘landing’ in the warp chamber.  Now they were waiting for the next contraction, as doing so would buy them some minutes to get Rachel into a room at NanoCorp’s clinic. 

Cort sat on the floor behind Rachel, one leg on either side of her as she leaned back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his hands locked on his wrists. He was mumbling under his breath and she knew he was praying.

“We’ll be fine,” Terry added, seeing the skeptical look on Dana’s face.  Rachel began gasping as the next contraction wound up, imitating Scully’s directions for breathing. 

One...two...three...Scully held up the warp shell and pressed the button as the others stepped back.  A blue gauzy haze surrounded them until it formed a bubble around them, and as it intensified, the three figures huddled together began to fade into the thickening mist.  Then, as the whining pitch of the warp reached its peak, the haze flattened out and snapped into clear air.  They were gone.

Cort's knuckles were white with the tightness of his grip on his wrists.  Nothing, not a thing in this world, or any world at all, was going to make him take his arms away from his wife and child. He felt her body tense against his as the colors, the loud humming pounded around them. Wanting to whisper into her ear, he found he was unable to form words and so just kept his lips pressed against her temple.  His entire focus was so centered on her that the effects of the warp on him, usually so damaging, were greatly lessened and the moment it was over, the moment he saw that they had arrived in the warp room back in Emerald City, he scrabbled to his feet and scooped her up into his arms.

"Lead the way," he said to Scully as the door began to slide open.

The landing for Scully was not as rough this time, but she still stumbled heavily against the chamber wall, gasping from the strain, the sense of feeling trapped in amber.  When the doors flew open Tim and Chuck greeted them and pointed to the door where two orderlies were waiting with a gurney for Rachel.

“This man needs attention, too,” Scully said to them, as Cort laid Rachel out on the transportable bed.  “I know you want to be with her, and you will be when it counts, but right now those wounds need treating,” Scully said to him, as they began the roll towards a waiting room.  “Get out of those clothes, get scrubbed up, and you can welcome your baby in.”

"No," Cort replied, firmly, levelly, and in a voice that said if neither heaven nor hell would part him from his wife, some little red-headed woman was certainly not going to do so. "I stay with her."

Scully was brought up short by the man’s tone and her eyebrows went skyward.  If Mulder had been there, he would have leaned in and warned Cort not to be fooled by her short legs and stubby height; but since it was only the whole crew now stopped in the hallway to watch a standoff, Scully’s expression changed slightly into one that said “oh really?” as she leveled her own measure of determination at the father-to-be.

“I’m the doctor and I’m not letting anyone into the room who hasn’t been scrubbed,” she replied, voice deadly calm.  More gently, she added, “I understand why you want to be with her.  No one’s going to keep you from her, but no hospital in the world is going to let you in while you’re in this state.”

“Please, Cort, it's to keep germs from getting on Hope,” Rachel begged.  “You don’t want her getting sick now, do you, right on her birthday?” She turned to Scully, knowing as a former medical student herself how important it was to sanitize completely.  “Can he...can it be done in the room I’m in?  Cort, they’re going to clean me up, too.  Please, you’ll be with me.”

It was Rachel he kept his eyes on, Rachel's words that reached him. "All right," he said, suddenly very weary, "but just so's I don't have to lose sight of you." He touched her hair. "I can't do that, Darlin', I just can't do that."

“Done,” Scully announced, and began pulling the bed toward the clinic.  She felt for the young man’s desire to hold onto someone he nearly lost, but now that medicine was needed for the final success of this mission, she had been hoping in those long seconds that he would not give her any trouble.  She turned to give them the biggest smile she had, though, as they scurried down the hall, past employees who either leapt out of the way or stopped to stare in amazement.  Should she tell them she had not had to deliver a baby in literally years?  Nah.  There was too much to think about as it was.

She continued to bark orders to the nursing staff, until the whole clinic was hopping with nervous activity.  Not surprisingly, the clinic was hardly an outfit to deliver a baby, but they

did not have time to call for an ambulance and there was at least a table with stirrups.  Calling for someone to bring Cort a fresh change of clothes, she directed them both into the largest

room they had, settling Rachel’s bed to the wall and pointing the way to a shower for Cort.

Cort reluctantly took the folded scrubs that were handed to him and, casting looks back over

his shoulder, hurried toward the shower. Once he was standing in the warm fall of water, he realized how monumentally good it felt as the days of dust and mud washed away. Emerging from the shower, he paused, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror across the small room. He was literally covered nearly head to toe with bruises, welts, scrapes. No matter. He ran a towel quickly over himself and slipped on the scrubs.

The contractions were getting longer now, strong contractions that Rachel had more or less success in riding through with breathing, although Scully could tell she was not very well prepared for the pain of the contractions.  When Cort emerged from showering and changing, Scully had a nurse ready and waiting to tend to the raw wounds around his wrist and any other scrapes he had suffered, all as he sat by Rachel’s bed.

.....................................................

Back in the saloon, Maximus still looked down at Sid's body. What would become of it once they had all exited the film?  They had changed the film so drastically.  What would people see should they watch the DVD of it now? He couldn't get his mind around it. Would Sid just be lying here...forever...on the saloon floor? Would the film stop, be over, when they left?  Or would the townsfolk go on for a while, filling in the time that yet remained until the moment the film was supposed to have ended?

"What is it?" Caroline asked, putting a hand softly on his left arm.

"I was thinking about the movie, about the changes we have made. And him."

"Sid?"

"Yes.  After we leave, what will become of his body?"

"Does it matter, Maximus?  He's beyond caring. Why should you?"

He pressed his lips together in a wry smile. "I am not sure I have a good answer for that, Caroline. I find the entire concept behind this whole movie thing, the ins and the outs, the truths, the existences, to be most...confusing. It just does not seem right somehow that a counterpart from one movie should be left forever in another."

They had decamped to the barn where the laptop and other ‘supplies’ had been stashed and as Terry and Bud collected everything into one large pile, Deidre approached Maximus and Caroline. 

“Are you two okay?  I know with all the concern over Rachel, we’ve missed checking on the both of you.”  She grinned at Caroline.  “You ready to get out of that torture chamber?”

"You mean the corset?" Caroline smiled in return. "I am, but I guess I have to go through the warp torture chamber first, eh? Not really looking forward to that."

Deidre nodded at that.  Neither was she.

"I will be with you," Maximus said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

Caroline's grin widened. "Maybe you can help me out of...both...torture chambers?"

"It will be my pleasure."  He tipped his head down in a slight bow.

Caroline almost giggled, then looked back at Deidre. "I think he might need an x-ray for those ribs, though. All he's had is what Doc Wallace could do for him."

“We’ve got crack doctors for that,” Terry called out, overhearing them.  “We’ll have them check you over the moment we get there, Maximus.”

"I am quite fine," Maximus protested.

"I need a picture of 'fine'," Caroline announced firmly.

"Picture?"

"He repeats a lot," she said to Deidre. "I guess it's the 2,000 years thing. From what I understand, he didn't have all that many x-rays in either Germania or Rome."

“Or many quack...I mean, crack doctors,” Deidre laughed.

“We’re ready to go,” Terry called and they huddled close to the pile of equipment they had bought.  With a deep breath, Terry punched the button.

“Goodbyeeeee!”  Deidre shouted to the barn as the warp took hold of them all.

The saloon was empty save for Sid lying flat on the floor, his eyes still half-way open, even the whites very blue. The Quick and the Dead stopped.

.............................................................. 

Several hours had passed, Rachel had had an epidural so wasn't in much pain, but the pushing was going really hard. Cort had hold of her right hand and she squeezed it so hard he had to clamp his teeth not to flinch.  He understood now what it was Rachel was trying to do. She had to push, then hold the muscles so the baby didn't slip back up and she'd lose the ground she'd gained. He kept up a steady flow of encouragement and endearments, wishing there were some way he could do this for her.  Though he was with her, his hands on her, she seemed in some little space of her own that he couldn't quite enter. Her body was doing this enormous thing, a thing he could only watch from the sidelines, his heart wrenching with the desire to help her some way, some how.

He wiped her brow, pushing back some stray locks of hair, and kissed her cheekbone. "More ice chips?" he asked, feeling what a small thing that was to do for her.

Rachel could only nod and open her mouth for more and he gave her some as if she were a baby bird.

So they called this labor?  Rachel wanted to find the man who made up that word and make him try to squeeze a watermelon through his Eustachian tube.  Labor was not even close; although, blessedly the epidural helped considerably in removing the pain that overrode any desire to push.  Oh, lordy, when that pain hit, all she wanted to do was lash out at someone!  But Cort was beside her now, even with his raw wrists and roughened hands.  She tried to remember that, even though his hand was not broken, her grip exacerbated the injury; however, she soon forgot that in the need to push, to move the baby out.  Everything she was, heart, emotions, mind - became everything her body was made to do. 

Her whole face was tense, every muscle tight, her jaw locked in concentration and effort. He was amazed by what the female body could do and filled with terrible concern for her all at once. He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, murmuring prayer after prayer for her and for Hope.  His own body was tense, tuned into hers, willing each push to be successful, each hold to endure. His little litany went on and on, part prayer, part whisperings of love.

Scully had stepped aside to allow the resident doctor to do the actual delivery, as he knew Rachel as a patient the best, and she focused on talking Rachel through her breathing so she wouldn’t faint.  Sometimes she would leave to make sure that the waiting birth-table was in correct order, sometimes brought more ice, sometimes went outside to give the others word of their progress.  At one point, her cell-phone rang while she was coaching the breathing and she answered it with a perfunctory “not now, Mulder” and tossed it to the side.

When it looked as though things were progressing enough that they were trying to get Hope to crown, Scully had Cort move to the end of the bed and press hard against Rachel's bent knees so she would have more leverage to push against. Rachel gasped with the effort of it all.  Seeing her face, he blinked back tears, managing to keep smiling at her, though. "You're doing it, Rachel, Darlin'.  You're doing it!"  He said  the same things over and over until the words blurred together in his mind. How she could keep on pushing, he didn't know.

“Am I?” Rachel asked, tears of her own streaming...or maybe that was sweat.  “It's not making a difference, is it?” she asked wildly of Cort, of Scully.  God, she was tired! 

“Again,” Scully intoned, placing her hands where she could help Rachel get on top of the push.  “Now hold...hold...”

Rachel roared back at them in aggravation.  “I’m tired...I’m tired...!”

“You’re doing fine!”  Scully said along with Cort.

Suddenly, a little circle of dark, wet hair appeared.  Cort almost staggered at the sight.  “Oh, God, is that...Hope?"  Something started to rise up through his core, something he'd never felt before even though it was just that one small patch of her head that he could see. "Oh, God...oh, God..." he repeated, his eyes wide, fixed on the little bit of hair. "I see her!" he called to Rachel. "I can see her!"

She wanted to collapse back and sigh with relief, even though she knew it was not the end...nor did the contractions let her quit.  No, they kept pushing, pulling her torso up, and Scully was at her back, urging on and on.  But the baby had crowned and something electric happened to Cort, she could see it in his face, so that spurred her on to push and hold...push...and hold...

He was mesmerized, hardly blinking, a wide, sloppy grin plastered on his face. Before long Hope's entire head was out and the doctor turned it in a way so that the shoulders slid free and then the entire baby was there, wet, messy and entirely glorious. He looked from the baby to Rachel. "It's Hope," he said as though maybe no one quite realized it. He forgot to shut his mouth and just left his jaw agape as the baby was set on Rachel's tummy and Scully invited him to cut the cord.

“Is that you?”  Rachel fell back as they brought her up into the light, heard her first cry, and laid the infant upon her heaving chest.  “This is you!”  She said to the wrinkled, squashed face – she heard Scully explain that this was normal, that skin and face and head would smooth out soon, but she did not care at the moment.  She was finally meeting Hope.

“Hope...oh Hope...I remember you!” she babbled.  The baby turned its head to her voice and just briefly, Rachel was almost certain, she saw the same spirit she met in that wide blue space of Sid’s warp.  “Hello, Hope, it’s finally you!”

"Is that all right?" Cort asked Scully as they informed him that he could cut the cord; then looked at Rachel and repeated it.  This was all so new for him. He would actually be allowed to do that?  Nods and smiles affirmed it and he took the surgical scissors in his gloved hand.  Before he cut it, though, he briefly rested the tips of two fingers on the tiny chest and blessed her, then lay his palm flat atop her. He closed his eyes, murmuring something so soft that no one quite caught the words.  The cord was cut and Hope became an independent being.  She was making little squawking sounds, protesting being taken from her warm, dark habitat.

His eyes traveled from her to Rachel. "She's a miracle, Rachel. Our miracle, yours and mine."  Tears brimmed in his eyes and he touched Hope's cheek. "Oh, Little Darlin'," he cooed, "your Papa loves you."

He watched as she was bundled away to a nearby table to be cleaned up and run through a short series of newborn tests. "Perfect," a nurse announced, slipping a little pink knit cap on Hope's head. "Actually rather better than perfect," she added.

"Better than...?" Cort asked.

"Her vitals. They're all really strong. She's a big, healthy girl...nine pounds six ounces. Great set of lungs."

Cort had been holding his breath as the nurse spoke. A sudden fear had clutched at him that perhaps Sid's nanobots had done something to her so that she wouldn't be quite...normal. 

"She's ok? You mean she's just right for a newborn, don't you?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about, Mr. Wells. She's just fine. Better than fine."

Somehow a little nagging worry lodged itself in a corner of his brain, taking up residence. But he carefully clamped a lid on it and turned back to Rachel. The placenta had been delivered and they were almost done cleaning her up. She lay back in the pillow, her face a little pale, looking very worn.  He pulled a chair close and took her hand.  "I'm so proud of you, my Darlin' one. So very, very proud." 

Lifting her hand to his cheek, he closed his eyes.  How very close they'd come.  Hope had almost been born in Redemption. It was way too close.  But they'd made it.  They were here and Sid was not.  The relief of it washed over him and as he sat there, her hand pressed to his cheek, he almost drifted away on the wave of it.  He jerked slightly, catching himself, and opened his eyes to smile down at her.

The nurse brought the swaddled baby back to them, placing her in Rachel's arms. Cort thought the sight of them together was almost too beautiful to bear. He stroked his fingers down the front of the pink blanket. "Happy Birthday, Little Darlin'," he whispered.

..................................................................................................................

Chuck informed them of what happened with Cort and Rachel when they'd arrived just minutes before, so it was with a great deal of relief that Maximus, Caroline, Bud, Deidre, and Terry were able to pause in the warp room, to catch their breath and their equilibrium.  Deidre could not help herself, though.  She threw her arms around Chuck, then Tim, then Bud, thanking them profusely for putting up with everything.  Then she hugged Caroline, because Maximus looked like he would rather collect himself in private, and finally Terry, who seemed to want to wrap himself entirely around her for several minutes.  She broke away to find that there was not a dry eye in the room. 

“Well, guys,” she said, to break the tension.  “What now?  I’m sure it will be hours before we can check in on the baby.”

Terry looked a bit surprised, as if faced with a situation he had not planned for.  He had not, in fact.  Everything had been going towards utter defeat; the chance of victory had become a matter of small issues, rather than the next big step.  Wiping his face of tears, he looked around, a sudden desire to tear it all back down again.  This was what he had wanted, all along.  Never again.

“Unplug it,” he said, voice hoarse.  “Unplug it all.”

Chuck handed Terry the disc that held all that their journey had hinged itself on.  Holding it up, the Aussie, the world-weary soldier, the first one that Sid pulled from the cocoon of his film, stared at it.  He was quite sure Cort would tell him to do what he was thinking at that particular moment.

Giving the DVD a small flip, Terry put his hands on both sides of the silvery disc and snapped it in half.

................................................................................

Under protest, the med team hustled Maximus into an exam room for an X-ray.

"Please sit perfectly still," the tech asked Maximus, who had been required to remove his shirt.

"I do not need my bones photographed," the General grumped.

"Judging by those bruises you got there, I'd say you do. How'd you get those anyway?"

"A pocket watch," he replied, looking grimly at the strange machine in front of him.

"Good gravy, man! How'd a pocket watch do that?"

"It was assisted by a rifle bullet."  He clamped his mouth shut, not wishing to engage in further conversation.

"Don't breathe," the tech requested, starting to step out of the chamber.

Maximus turned, looking after the man. "Do not breathe? Why should I cease breathing?"

"Don't want to jiggle the nice picture, now do we?"

Something very like a growl came out of the General's lips but he took a breath and held it.

"Ok, General. You can go wait with your missus while these get developed."

Maximus merely cocked an eyebrow, grabbed his shirt and stalked with it still clutched in his hand back to the small waiting area where Caroline sat, turning the pages of a magazine she wasn't looking at, at all. 

He plopped down in the seat beside hers. "I was told not to breathe," he said.

Caroline tried not to smile. "Did they say you could breathe again now?"

"No," he said, his brow furrowed. "They did not."

"But you are breathing, or so it would appear."

"I decided it was necessary," he said, then his lips curved upwards. "Else how would I be able to do...this?" He leaned over and claimed her lips with his.

"Yes," she murmured when he'd moved his head back just a bit. "I do believe I like you to be breathing."  Her gaze dropped to the shirt clenched in rather a wad in his hand. "You going to put that back on?"

"Do you wish me to?"

"What I wish is that we were in bed and you could take the rest of...."

Just then the door opened and a doctor came in with a folder of papers. The man stopped, obviously having heard what Caroline was saying.  She was determined she would not blush, absolutely determined, so she just lifted her chin and stared back at him. He cleared his throat and addressed Maximus. 

"Mr. Meridius, you do have two rather badly cracked ribs on your lower left side. Looks like they've started to heal, however, and at this point all we can do for you is bind them for support and give you any meds you need for pain.

"I do not wish more laudanum, thank you," Maximus responded politely, quietly thinking what a waste of time the X-ray had been.

"Laudanum? Why would you think we'd give you laudanum, General?"

"He had a teacup full just recently, doctor," Caroline supplied.  She was very distracted by the shirtless male sitting close beside her and just wanted the doctor to go away. Sliding her fingers sideways across the inch or two of vinyl seating between them, she managed to wriggle them under his left thigh without taking her eyes off the man standing in front of them.

The doctor's eyes widened.  "Teacup? Did you say...teacup?"

"Well, more of a mug, actually," she explained, sliding her fingers a bit further.

The doctor frowned. "Surely you are pulling my leg."

The fingers went even further and Maximus jerked slightly.  "No, doctor," he said, his voice deep with suppressed amusement as well as arousal that was becoming steadily more difficult to suppress. "I do not think it is...your...leg that she is pulling."

"Well, whatever," the doctor grumbled. "We don't really use laudanum these days for pain."

"I assure you my pain is...," he jerked again, "...quite manageable."

The doctor turned to go, stopping with his hand on the door knob. "I'll send a nurse in to bind you, General."

"I can bind him," Caroline offered brightly.

"I'm afraid it's better if done professionally," the doctor countered.

"Have you ever done it...professionally?" Maximus asked, looking at Caroline with as straight a face as he could manage.

"Well, no, I've never actually bound for money."  She wiggled her fingers under his thigh. "But...for you...I'd do it for free."

"The nurse will be right in," the doctor frowned, shutting the door behind him.

Maximus' hand came down on her wrist, pinning it to the chair seat. "By the gods, woman, what are you doing to me?"

She giggled and wiggled her trapped fingers.  "You know perfectly well what I'm doing to you."

He laughed and leaned to kiss her again.

The nurse came in, a long roll of white wrapping in her hands.  "This will only take a minute."

"Thank goodness!" Caroline murmured.

As soon as they were alone again and he had his shirt back on, though not buttoned, he looked at her and asked, "Where?"

"Hmmmm?  Well, Cort's going to be spending the night here with Rachel.  How's about the blue house?  Then we can go back to my house tomorrow if you like.  Let's just see the baby first, ok, then we'll get a taxi or Bud can drop us off or we can walk or...whatever."

..................................................

The showers she and Terry took in the little side flat of his office had been hurried, with the intent to return down stairs to await Hope’s arrival; their lovemaking was not, the intent turned toward a need to reaffirm that they could celebrate their unexpected triumph they way they felt the most. 

Evening was approaching, Deidre finally noticed as she lay on her side, curled up next Terry, who lay on his back with his eyes closed, hovering between a daydream and a snore.  The lake was the same, the trees were the same.  As if nothing had ever happened.  Two hours after their return, and Terry had called down to the clinic – Rachel was still in labor, but everything looked good.  Someone would call to let them know when they could congratulate the new family.

“So, what now, my ruggedly handsome soldier?”  She asked softly, tracing patterns through the hairs on his chest.  “Shall we just rip it all out and take off for Europe?” 

She was kidding of course, at least about the taking off for Europe part.  Her thoughts were traveling back to her home in Alabama, to wooded acres where she and Terry could hide away in the ‘exotic local’ of Southern foothills.  The look on Terry’s face as he opened his eyes and considered her words made her think he was formulating air-flight schedules already.

“We take down the warp room again,” he said, finally.  “But there’s still his bunker.  That’s always going to be the fly in the ointment, until we can break in and find out exactly what he has.”  He saw Deidre’s attentive expression and slipped his fingers up into the spill of red tresses that fell across her breasts.  “Maybe then we can find out what really went on with Maximus... and Brianna.”

Deidre frowned.  “Do you...?”  She began, but Terry shook his head.

“I believe Maximus.  That’s not what I’m thinking.  But Sid spoke in riddles and rhymes and Maximus questions his own sanity.  I think he’d want to try and understand the whole picture, too.”

Deidre fell onto her back now with a sigh.  “So it's more of the same that we were doing, then?  What happened to entombing it and forgetting about it?”

“Because that’s what we did when we came back from the Czech Republic, isn't it?  And we can see where that got us.”

“What about just getting NanoCorp’s business stabilized again?  I’m shocked there are still people who want to work here!”

Terry chuckled softly.  “You’re right.  And Bud and John and I can go on with our plans.  Dear God – I think I’ve thought of something more frightening than one of Sid’s games.”

“What’s that?”

“Shareholders’ meetings.  The boredom, Nolia!  What if I lose myself in the boredom?  I’ll go insane!”  He rolled onto his side now, his face hovering over hers as she laughed.  Tucking her firmly into the crook of his body, he continued, “This is what’s going to happen, Nolia.  We put things to right.  We...clear away the debris, re-establish ties, and begin in the right way.  We begin anew.”  He took a strand of her hair and held it to his lips, his aqua-colored eyes shading slightly to green.   Dropping the strand, he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  “In all things,” he added, softly. 

Deidre lay very still, not sure what to make of his words, even though she could see it in his eyes that the still waters behind the wall had been moving in ways she’d had no idea of before.  Yet, he was saying nothing specific, and a portion of her held itself in check when it came to leaping out in response.  What was he implying?

“But I don’t want a new Terry,” she chose to speak upon.  “I want this one.  The one who rescued me from a mean, bad, scary thorn bush and proved time and time again that I can never take him for granted.  The one who always lets me know he doesn’t want me to leave.”

He shifted again, his knee sliding in between her legs, his hips moving to align with hers. 

“You have me,” he murmured, and they spoke no more of warps and plans.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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