"In about ten seconds I'm going to handcuff you and throw you in the back," Kermit complained. "What is with you tonight? We've been on stakeouts before."
"My wife wasn't about to have a baby at any minute on our other stakeouts." Peter scrubbed a hand across his face and looked longingly at the car phone.
Kermit followed his glance and warned, "You know the rules, Peter. No phones unless it's a dire emergency. And besides, if Kacie does go into labor, what can you do about it? We can't up and leave our post with no good reason."
"You saying my baby isn't a good reason?"
"Stop twisting my words, Peter. You know what I mean. If she does start, first babies always take a long time, you know that."
"Oh, I'm sure that would be a great comfort to her." Peter changed his voice into a high-pitched mimic. "But, Honey, I knew first babies usually take longer to be born, so I thought I had plenty of time."
Kermit pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do I even try talking to you when you get like this?"
"I can't help it, Kermit. I just have this feeling that something is happening, and it's driving me crazy to be sitting here instead of being with Kacie."
"She's not alone, is she?"
"No, Pop is staying with her."
"Well, then, what do you have to worry about?"
"I can't explain it. I just have this feeling that -- Kermit, wait! Look over there!" Peter gripped his friend's shoulder and pointed to the alley next to the warehouse. The detectives could barely discern the outlines of several bodies dressed in black creeping toward the loading dock.
Peter took out his gun and checked the clip. "Hallelujah, I'm going to get home tonight after all."
Kermit grabbed a handful of Peter's jacket and yanked him back into place. "Listen, Kid. I don't want to have to explain to your child how I let his father get his head blown off before he was born! Gimme a second to kill the overhead light before you go flying out the door and let those guys know we're coming! While I'm doing that, you call for backup. You hear me? We're doing this by the book this time, Peter. By the book!"
Peter sucked in a sharp breath. "Where's my head at? I'm acting like a rookie on his first job."
"So pull your head out and let's get the job done right, Kid."
Kermit felt an eerie sense of deja vu as he led the way up the alley. {Damn, this is too much like the night Peter let himself get shot saving my ass. Where is the kid, anyway?} He crept along from crate to crate, feeling his senses quickening and the adrenaline surging through his system.
A noise high and to his right caught his ear, and he yanked his sunglasses off his face and stuffed them into his pocket as he peered through the darkness. The hairs on the back of his head started to tingle, and some instinct made him throw himself to the ground as a sniper overhead opened fire. Chips of concrete stung his face at a near miss, and then he heard a muffled groan behind him and the sound of a body crashing into a pile of rubbish.
All hell broke loose as the rest of the police units drenched the area in floodlights and a hail of bullets. Some officer roared into a bullhorn, "This is the police. We've got the area surrounded. Come out with your hands up, or the building will be flooded with tear gas."
Kermit scrambled to his feet as the tense negotiation went on, and rushed back down the alley. "Peter? Peter!"
He heard a body moving in the trash and another low moan. "Not again," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Sweet Christ, not again." He skidded to a stop at the trash pile and started frantically throwing rubbish aside, rooting through it like a dog digging for a bone.
Peter struggled to sit up, and Kermit shoved him back down again. "Where are you hit, Peter?"
"Chest," Peter gasped. "Knocked me...flat."
Kermit felt along Peter's body, expecting to find the warm stickiness of fresh blood, surprised to find there was none. "Where are you hit? I can't find the bleeding..."
Peter took a deep breath. "Whoo. Not bleeding. Kevlar. All the...best-dressed...detectives...are wearing it...these days. Man! Feels like...my father...kicked me."
Kermit yanked Peter to his feet and ripped open his jacket, revealing the heavy vest, complete with a fabric rip showing the bullet's impact. He immediately grabbed twin handfuls of jacket lapel and snarled, "I don't know whether to knock the shit out of you or kiss you! Why the hell didn't you tell me you were wearing a vest?"
"You never asked." Peter shrugged and grinned. "You said we were doing this by the book, didn't you? Well, the book says we should be wearing protective gear."
"When the hell did you ever care what the book said?"
Peter shrugged and opened his mouth to make a flippant reply when a uniformed officer trotted up to him and Kermit.
"Which one of you is Caine?"
"I am. Why?" Peter replied.
"Had a message from your wife patched through to our squad car. You're supposed to haul ass to County General as soon as you can get out of here."
"When did she call?"
"We've been sitting on the message for the last four hours. We were told not to tell you until the operation here was completed."
"Four hours ago? I could be a father already!" His eyes met Kermit's, and the two headed for their car on a dead run. Peter climbed into the driver's seat and reached for the key in the ignition.
Kermit reached over and clamped his hand around Peter's with a grip of iron. "No way, Peter. Slide over."
"But, Kermit, I --"
"--am about to become a father, and I intend to make sure you live through the drive to the hospital. Over."
Amazingly, Peter didn't argue further, but simply folded up his long legs and scrambled into the passenger seat. "Get me there, Kermit," he said shortly. "Something's wrong. I can feel it. Something's wrong."
"He will come as soon as he can." Caine reached for Kacie's hands and placed them around his neck. "Hold on to me. Let your legs go limp." He put his hands on her hips and steadied her.
"Oh, oh-h-h. That's better," Kacie groaned. "Oh, God, my back hurts. I hurt everywhere." The muscles in her stomach hardened like a rock and she muffled a scream. "Here comes another one. Ah-h-h, God. Where's Peter? I need him. I can't do this without him."
"Look into my eyes. Focus. You must become one with the pain. Allow it to flow through you."
Her face contorted in anguish and she panted, "If you tell me one more time that the trick is in not minding the pain, I'll kick you, so help me I will. I don't know what Shaolin ever made up that stupid saying, but I'll bet they never had a baby!"
Unoffended, Caine patted her back as his eyes twinkled. "Laura once said the same thing to me, nearly thirty years ago."
"Was Peter born in a hospital?" Kacie asked curiously, unclasping her hands from Caine's neck and linking her arm through his as they started walking once more.
He shook his head. "No. Laura wanted to deliver him at home."
"Did you have a midwife? A doctor?"
"No. Only the two of us."
"Weren't you scared?" She stopped and studied his face, which had softened in remembrance.
"Terrified," he admitted. "But Laura would have it no other way."
Sweat trickled down Kacie's face and neck, and she clamped her fingers around his forearm as she was gripped by another contraction. "I...want to lie down." Blowing out her breath in puffs of air, she panted, "I...need to lie...down."
"How are we doing?" Dr. Albin called out cheerfully as he strode down the hallway toward them. "I'm on a roll here. Just delivered twins."
"We want this baby to come out!" Kacie snapped, pressing a hand to the middle of her aching back. "We want our husband here, and we want him here now!"
Albin grinned. "Transition stage, eh, Kacie?"
She glared at him. "What was your first clue? I..." She gasped and bit her lip. "Mmmph!" Her suddenly shaky legs threatened to buckle beneath her.
The doctor's smile faded only a little. "Looks like you're ready for the birthing room, Kacie." To Caine he said, "Help me escort her in, would you, Mr. Caine?"
Peter jumped out of the car before Kermit had fully pulled to a stop and ran in the front door.
A receptionist glanced up and grinned at the wild-eyed man approaching her station. "Detective Caine? Maternity, fifth floor. I'll tell them you're on your way up."
He swerved and headed for the elevators, stepping into one that opened just as he reached it. He watched the numbers light up floor by floor, an eternity passing between each. "Should have taken the damn stairs," he growled to himself, one leg jiggling nervously. The elevator dinged, and as soon as the doors opened wide enough for him to slip through, he slithered out.
A pretty blonde nurse with an infectious smile was waiting for him, holding up a green gown. "Here's your evening wear, Peter."
"Pam. Is Kacie all right? Has she had the baby yet? Where...?" He shrugged into the gown as he fired his questions.
"Doing fine. No baby. Down the hall," she answered, and led him to the birthing room.
As he entered he heard Kacie's plaintive wail, "No-o-o! You're not doing it right. You're not helping me."
She lay on her side as Caine rubbed her back, the priest frowning in concentration as he sought to apply pressure to the right points.
"That's not how Peter does it. Where is he? I need him. I can't have this baby without him. I can't do it. I can't."
Caine looked up and bowed, smiling, as Peter smoothly stepped in and started to rub his wife's back.
"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm here."
Tears of relief sprang to Kacie's eyes and spilled over. "I...was afraid something happened to you." She caught her breath and moaned, "Oh, there, there. Harder. Oh, God, it hurts. It hurts."
Peter winced at the obvious agony Kacie was experiencing and looked helplessly at Dr. Albin. "What can I do?"
"You're already doing it, Peter. She's fully effaced and dilated. It shouldn't be long now," the doctor reassured him.
Ten hours later Kacie lay gray-faced and exhausted, clinging to Peter's hand as her contractions came in long, hard waves even though birth was no more imminent than it had been earlier. "Get it out," she begged anyone who would listen. "I want it out."
"The baby's shoulder is caught on the pelvic girdle," Albin announced. "The monitor shows some fetal distress. We have two choices here. I can deliver cesarean, or I can try to manipulate the baby so Kacie can deliver naturally. I recommend the c-section."
Peter's white face grew paler. "Which is less risk to Kacie? I saw a TV show that --"
"Dammit, I wish that episode had never been made!" Albin exploded. "It's scared the hell out of half my patients ever since it first aired!"
"No. I told you, no drugs, no procedures. I want to have this baby naturally," Kacie groaned, face twisting in pain. "I don't want the surgery. Not if I don't absolutely have to. Peter, where's your father? I want him to --"
"I am here," came a quiet voice from the corner. Caine stepped forward into Kacie's line of vision.
"Dad? Can you help me? Can you...?"
Caine nodded. "I will help you. But Peter must help me."
Peter's eyes widened. "Me? What can I do?"