Carter watched Abby stir in her position. She was in pain, clearly. Her hands were drawn to his lap where her head rested. Carter stared at every small movement she made and listened to every small sound she emitted.
Finally, she woke up. She looked around, her eyes darting feverishly. Her face was painted red with sweat as she swayed weakly in the chamber's discomfort.
"It wasn't just a nightmare."
Carter sat in silence at stared at the spot where her face had been lying just a minute ago. She ultimately joined him leaning against him for support. She wasn't requesting comfort now. The baby was coming, he knew it. He knew she wouldn't want it to be this way, but he was about to tell her.
"Abby," he said, rubbing her shoulder.
Her eyes were shadowed in deep circles, and her cheeks weren't so lifted as they had once been. "What?"
"I don't think we're going to get out of this thing in time for the baby to be born upstairs."
She put her head in her hands. "What's going to happen to him?"
Carter wondered if she was crying. He couldn't see her face, but it seemed like it. She was quiet now, but Carter had always suspected someone like her to cry without a single noise. That's the way she was.
"I can deliver him, Abby."
"No," she whimpered, throwing her head back suddenly and letting out a pained moan.
"What?"
Her eyes squeezed shut, sweat returning unpleasantly, she notified him of the contraction.
"God," he said. He really would have to deliver the baby. He forgot everything he ever learned...
"John!"
...and remembered it all in an instant. He lifted her shoulders slightly and placed her against the back wall. She barely moved, unable to help. Instead she complied, not able to whine or protest. Rough tears of pain, not grief, pounded down her face in competition. She was suffering. The heat, the pain, the fear of their fate.
"How far along do you think you are?"
She couldn't answer.
"I'm going to have to take off some of your clothes, Abby - "
She didn't protest once again. She waved him off with a strong nod. It was urging. She wanted to get this over with. He began to peel necessary layers of clothing from her body, the obvious discomfort revealed as the cloth was torn from clinging to her skin.
"Eight centimeters," he sighed.
"No," she whimpered again. "John, please. There's got to be something you can do..." her voice spoke like a child's, cracking here and there. Sweet and pained. He reached out and stroked her hair. It was matted against her face. She heaved on watching his eyes as he pulled her hair from her face.
"I can't," he said gently. "You know that. He's going to be fine. You'll deliver, and you'll get to hold him and everything - "
She shook her head and let it arch back, falling against the wall behind her. She drew in a sharp breath between another fit of heavy tears and braced herself, hands on the floor.
"Please," she whispered.
He guessed she was asking about the pain. But, with Abby, there was always more.
He pulled her face to his shoulder and held it there. She pulled one arm around his neck and shoulder until she couldn't hang on anymore. Her arm dropped to his lap and she signed another cry again.
--
"I think its seriously coming this time," she said, lifting herself from his comfortable arms.
Carter nodded. "I think so, too."
He performed the same procedure and nodded. "Ten centimeters. Ready?"
"Are you sure?" she whined to a sob, her voice strewn with intensified pain. The last hour had been a grueling one. He'd tried to keep her focused on something other than the obvious situation, but not much came to mind.
He nodded. "You tell me when you're ready to push," he instructed calmly.
"Oh, God," she said, her head moving from side to side. Her eyes were closed again, hiding everything. She bit her lip nervously and nodded, another burst of tears. "Fine. Okay."
"Ready?"
"Yeah," she said.
The next ten minutes were difficult. Abby was having a hard time. He wished there was something he could do, but he'd run out of ideas. She was giving birth to her son in a hospital elevator. Her friend was delivering the baby. The hospital could be blown to pieces in any minute ahead, and they could never leave alive.
And a baby was about to be brought into this world.
"Carter," she said suddenly.
The heat was bearing down on him. His shirt was beginning to stick to his chest and he couldn't see anything of the baby.
"Carter," she repeated.
Carter couldn't answer her. He thought he saw the baby's head surfacing, but he wasn't for sure.
"I want to name the baby John Truman."
He looked up at her in surprise. "What?"
"I want to name the baby John Truman."
His head turned from left to right and then he came the smallest bit closer to her. "What? Why?"
"I," she began, crying too hard now, "I want to name him after his father."
Something struck him. Something besides surprise. It hit him with such force that he didn't know what to do. He sat there and watched her gasp for air. He shook his head and ignored what she said, settling back into position. He didn't believe a single word she'd said now, and he didn't believe anything had really happened in the last hours. It was a dream, or a nightmare. But, with Abby's words, he wasn't sure if he could label this dream a 'nightmare' really -
The baby was crowning.
"He's crowning," Carter exclaimed.
Abby, realizing that he wouldn't answer her on this thought, bit her lip and looked at him. Into his eyes. Carter caught view of this and stared at her, questioning her expression by looking like stone. She chewed on her bottom lip and continued to cry. He wondered how cold his stare really was.
"I'm sorry - "
"Just push," Carter said. He forced a comforting smile and nodded. She sensed that it wasn't a real grin, but went ahead with her duties anyway. Her eyes shut and she pushed. She yelped in pain and kept crying.
He encouraged her, as fully as he could, while considering these drifting words. He honestly couldn't remember if she'd said them. Or if they were real. He waited for her to say something again, knowing very well she wouldn't. He didn't know if he should believe her.
But this was Abby. His best friend. The woman he could fall in love with, had he had a choice. He wanted to hold her all the time and wished he was with her. But she'd been closed for the last nine months, silent and holding every thought to herself and from him.
Was this why?
There was a short cry, piercing the air that stopped everything. Carter's world was a blur. He barely noticed Abby falling back down to the wall, breathing heavily and sharply. The only thing he could hear was the baby in his arms, crying for all he could.
He.
A boy. A baby boy. He was so small. And so innocent. He had no idea of the world of turmoil he'd been born into. Why him? His hands were tightly bound into tiny fists, wailing about. He was shaking. Dumbly, Carter found the strength to remove his own shirt and wrap it around the baby boy.
He saw Abby draw a shaking hand to her mouth. "Is he okay?" she whimpered.
Carter continued to stare at this little boy. "Yeah," he whispered. "Do you want to hold him."
She looked up at him, as Carter finally and painfully tore his eyes away from the baby. She nodded quietly and accepted the baby from him. Carter didn't want to give him up, he found. He didn't want to let go of him.
"Congratulations," he said, his voice just above a murmur. He looked on lovingly next to Abby, to the baby in her arms. She straightened the shirt around him and rocked him gently, still crying.
"Thank you," she said, beginning to cry a little harder. "He's yours."
Carter looked at her. She stared back up at him.
"I don't think - "
"I lied because I was scared," she said, tears rushing. "That's why Luka left. I told him about that night and he went ballistic. That's probably why he hurt you in the first place - "
"Shh," Carter whispered gently, still frozen in the middle of nowhere. He placed a hand on the back of her head and combed her hair slowly.
"I'm so sorry," she said tearfully. "I wanted to tell you. I knew I would, but I couldn't do it so soon."
"Is he really mine?"
Abby looked up at him. Carter wasn't smiling. Neither was Abby. But she looked back down at the baby in her arms and nodded, feverishly.
"Thankfully, yes." She bent down and kissed the baby's forehead. Carter watched as she did so, all the while his mind slowly easing back into existence.
"Do you want to hold him?" She wiped her eyes on her shoulder. The question stung him in a different way.
He had a son.
"Yes," he said, taking the baby from her. She nodded exhaustedly and lifted him up for Carter to take. His lips were hardly parted in awe as he realized he was holding his baby boy. His son. He fit perfectly into his arms now. Everything about this little creation was perfect. His head was bare, except for the slightest traces of golden brown hair. He was so incredibly soft; his skin was perfect. He had long since closed his eyes. He pouted in his sleep and turned his head to the side, finding comfort in Carter's arm. The baby sighed in his sleep and puffed his little cheeks out. Barely.
"He's beautiful," Carter murmured.
Abby laughed for the first time in a while, that he could remember. Then she stared back into her lap. "Are you mad at me?"
He considered his answer. He'd wished he had known sooner, sure. He wanted to do all of the normal things a father would do during a pregnancy.
But it hit him: other than being with the mother of his baby, he had done everything. He'd been with her, witnessed the first time he kicked, been there with the sonogram. He helped her through the pain and the tears, and did more than most fathers do: he delivered his son.
"No," he said to his own disbelief.
Abby sighed with a shy smile. "So," she whimpered, "then will you kiss me?"
Carter was sure these words weren't spoken. But with a baby in his arms and Abby so close next to him, he bent down to kiss her. Short but sweet. Gentle with every feeling he had ever had for her, during these last cruel nine months so far apart from her. She eagerly responded, smiling against his mouth.
When they separated, neither said a word. He continued to soothe the baby, smoothing down the shirt around his body and allowed his mother to fall asleep against his shoulder.
