Chapter Three
Escorted by two of Elia's security guards, Paige was lead into the control
room of the tech mogul's aeronautics compound. Toby, Sylvester, and Elia
were huddled around a computer screen, tipping their heads one way then the
other.
"What the hell is going on?" she snapped, placing her hand on her stomach.
All three men spun around, with varying degrees of guilt and amusement on
their faces.
Toby recovered first and ushered her into a chair. "He's hypoxic." Her confusion
must have shown on her face because he went on to explain, "He's running
out of oxygen and it's causing him to hallucinate. He thinks you're up there
with him."
He pushed her chair up to the console so she could see Walter floating inside
the capsule. "Why is he kissing his hand?"
Sly turned bright red and even Elia's cheeks were flushed. "He's reliving
your shared hostage experience," said the psychiatrist. "Which is completely
understandable since it's on his mind considering the trial is in ten days.
And unless I'm mistaken, which I almost never am, I believe we're about to
get a slow motion replay of the conception of the bambino in your belly."
"Oh, boy." She put her hand to her mouth. "What's he been saying?" Oh, God,
had he already revealed his. . .his lack of experience? He would be mortified
if anyone else knew.
"Things," was all Toby said. He had a grim look on his face, and she breathed
a little easier. That the doc wasn't making sexually inappropriate wisecracks
made her certain Walter had so far kept his confession to himself.
"Paige, you only have a few minutes," said the shrink urgently. "So talk
to him and get him to pull that big blue lever that opens the exterior hatch."
"What if I can't do it?
"Then he runs out of oxygen and he dies."
She winced as the seriousness of the situation weighed heavily upon her.
"Okay, everybody out."
Elia left quietly, but Toby and Sylvester stood their ground. "What if you
need our help?" asked the human calculator.
"This is a private conversation between me and Walter," she stated firmly.
"If I need help, I'll let you know. Now, out!"
Grumbling under their collective breath, both men departed the control room.
After scolding Happy for listening over the coms, Paige turned on the microphone
on the desk in front of her.
"Paige, wake up. It's just a dream." She could see the concern on
his handsome face, recalling the nightmare she'd had about Ralph. Right before
they. . .well, what Toby had said.
"I'm awake, Walter," she spoke into the mic, watching as he held out his
arms as though he was putting them around her, reminding her how safe she'd
felt in his embrace.
"Ralph's all right." He mimicked pulling her closer and patting her
back.
"I know he is." Biting her lip, she racked her brain, trying to think of
a way to get him out of his head. "Walter, I. . ."
"Paige, wait." A stunned expression fell over his features as he suddenly
backed away. Dammit, she knew that look. He was only seconds away from pouring
out his heart to her, and to anyone who was eavesdropping.
"Walter, listen," she said a bit harshly. "You have to pull the blue lever.
Please, do it for me."
"Lever?" Glancing around, he looked puzzled. "There's no lever.
There isn't even a door knob. We can't escape. I've already. . ."
"Yes, yes we can," insisted Paige. With a grimace, she continued, "It's right
next to me. I need you to pull it."
"Aren't you still mad at me?"
She echoed the same reply she'd given him in the musty storage room. "Walter,
I was never mad at you. Frustrated, yes. Confused, yes. But never mad."
"I need to tell you something before, I mean, if we. . ." Oh, God,
the pain and shame in his eyes. . . It had nearly broken her heart the first
she'd witnessed it, this second glimpse was having the same effect. Oh, what
she'd give to slap the bitch who'd humiliated him.
"Walter, it can wait. Wait until we're out of here."
"But I need to tell you. . . I'm a. . ."
"Sweetheart, you can tell me later," she cut him off before he blurted out
his secret. "We need to get out of here. Please. Just pull the damn lever."
His face grew even more bewildered. "Sweetheart? Why would you. . .? I
don't understand."
Tipping her head back, she groaned with frustration. "Yes, you do. Please,
the lever."
He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "I don't see it. I
just see your hand."
"That's what I meant." Paige inhaled sharply before continuing, "Take my
hand and pull me close. Then everything will be okay, Walter. I promise."
"Okay." She held her breath as he reached out his hand, blowing it
out in disappointment when his aim was off and he missed the lever by several
inches. Getting a good look at his face, terror filled her as she realized
his lips were turning blue and he was barely conscious.
"Come on, Walter, please," she whispered as he made a second attempt, his
fingers only just grazing the handle. For a moment she thought it would slipped
out of his grasp, then his hand gripped the lever and he yanked it toward
him.
Her eyes widened in horror as an opening appeared beneath Walter, who had
passed out; his fingers sliding from the handle as he was sucked out of the
rocket and into the atmosphere..
"Noooo! Walter!" Doubling over as she screamed, she barely noticed as the
three men rushed back into the room. Sylvester started tossing out instructions
she couldn't comprehend. "What the hell?" she gasped, grabbing her abdomen.
"Why didn't you. . .you tell me? This was the plan?"
"His orbit was decaying and he was going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen
in less than two minutes," Sly declared. "It was the only way to. . ."
"How is this better?" she demanded to know. "He can't survive this fall.
. .can he?" Another spasm hit her, and she moaned softly.
"We're working on it," said Elia before turning to consult with Sylvester.
"Oh, God." She'd been experiencing contractions since receiving Cabe's phone
call; slight, uncomfortable twinges she'd ignored for the most part. But
after watching Walter disappear from the capsule, the cramping had intensified
in strength and frequency.
"How far apart?" Toby's quiet question shook her out of her stupor. She twisted
in the chair to look up at him.
"I don't know," she replied, "I haven't been keeping track. In case you haven't
noticed, the father of this child is plummeting to his death as we speak."
"You need to go to the hospital, they can. . ."
She shook her head. "No, I'm not going anywhere until we save Walter."
"Paige, we'll do everything we can, but the odds aren't good," the shrink
said, doing a lousy job of reassuring her. "If you're in premature labor.
. ."
"I'm not going anywhere!" Her breathing grew irregular as she raised her
voice. "Walter has saved your asses more times than I can count! So you better
come up with something to save his! Oh, damn. . ."
Another pain rippled through her and she had to brace herself against the
back of the chair. "Oh, God, is she having the baby?" asked Sly, his panic
evident in his tone and wide eyes.
"Yes." "No." Both the psychiatrist and the liaison answered the human calculator
at the same time. "I was in labor for over 30 hours with Ralph," Paige declared,
overriding Toby's protests, "and there's no reason to believe this one won't
take that long too. Just concentrate on saving his father." Tears filled
her eyes as she stroked her stomach. "Please."
The men stared at her in varying degrees of horror and sympathy for a moment
before scrambling to fulfill her request.
Paige waddled into the waiting area outside the ICU where the rest of the
team and Richard Elia had gathered. Toby had insisted she let a doctor check
her out even though her pains had subsided as soon as she learned Walter
had survived his fall from the capsule. Deciding to humor the shrink, she
allowed herself to be led away for an examination in the hospital's obstetrics
department.
Clutching a slip of paper, she plopped down in the first chair she saw, and
opened her mouth to ask about Walter. Glancing around, she discovered everyone's
attention was focused on Cabe and Elia standing in the middle of the room.
"This is all my fault," the tech mogul was saying, "I'll take care of any
medical expenses."
"Walter's already covered by Homeland," growled the agent.
"Okay, but I'll pay for the best neurologists in the country to give him
cognitive evaluations." Elia put his hand on his hip. "Or will Homeland cover
that too?"
"Fine." Gallo took a sip from the paper cup he was holding and grimaced.
"And the next time I send up a manned rocket, Walter can get a free ride
into space." The other man had a ‘let's see you try to top that' smirk on
his face.
Cabe let out an sarcastic chuckle. "Doubt he'd be interested."
"He told me it's something he's wanted to do since he was a boy," Elia declared
smugly.
"Yeah, I know, I'm the one who busted him when he hacked NASA when he was
eleven." The Homeland agent's mouth grew into a mischievous grin. "I imagine
after today though, he's changed his mind."
Paige jumped when Toby slid into the seat next to hers. "What's going on?"
she asked, gesturing toward the two older men.
"Cabe and Elia are having a Dad-Off, and Walter's the prize," the shrink
quipped.
"Who's winning?"
"Papa Gallo. So, hey," he said, changing the subject, "everything okay?"
"Yeah, false alarm. The doctor said it was Braxton Hicks contractions brought
on by stress," she replied, waving the paper in her hand. "She gave me a
list of relaxation techniques and told me to cut down on salt."
The fire doors leading to the ICU opened and a man came out carrying a chart.
"Who's here for Walter O'Brien?" he asked.
Cabe, who'd been about to argue another point with Elia, stepped forward.
"We all are."
"I'm Dr Ruiz. Mr O'Brien has regained consciousness and we've run a series
of tests. He has a stress fracture on his L5. . ."
"What's that?" Paige held out her hand and Toby helped her to her feet.
"It's the fifth lumbar vertebra," the shrink explained before nodding to
the doctor, who seemed a bit put out. "Go on," he urged Ruiz with an arrogant
wave of his hand.
"Yes, well, he's also suffering from some memory loss, we're just not sure
how much. He's been drifting in and out and it's been hard to gauge his lucidity.
We're going to keep him overnight for observation." Flipping the papers on
his clipboard, he started to turn around.
"Wait." Paige stepped forward. "Can we see him?"
"Are you his wife?" The physician's eyes darted to the bare ring finger on
her left hand then to her swollen stomach.
"Uh. . ." She considered lying, if that was what it took for her to see Walter.
But judging by the shrink's expression, any claim she and Walter were married
would be a juicy tidbit he'd use later to torment them both. She started
to say no, but evidently she'd hesitated too long as Ruiz shook his head.
"Only spouses and immediate family are permitted in the ICU," he stated in
a decisive tone.
"That's his child in her belly," Cabe snarled, jabbing his finger in Paige's
direction.
"Hers, too," grumbled Happy under her breath, her gaze firmly fixed on the
rust colored carpet.
"You know what I mean." The agent looked flustered before adding, "He's gonna
want to see Paige."
This bit of information raised the doctor's eyebrows. "Your name is Paige?"
"Yes. Why?" Why would her name make a difference?
"He's been mumbling the word ‘page' a lot. We thought he was talking about
a page in a book."
Toby's grin was almost too big for his face as he jerked his thumb at her.
"Nope, he means her."
"Fine." The physician's shoulders sagged in defeat. "She can come back."
After following a nurse through a maze of hallways, Paige finally entered
Walter's room. He was shirtless, his lower torso wrapped with white tape.
There were dark circles under his eyes, which were closed. But they fluttered
open as she approached the bed.
"Hey." The way his whole face lit up. . . Knowing he was probably whacked
out on pain meds didn't dampen the tingly feeling quivering through her whole
body.
"Oh, God, Walter, I'm. . ." She reached out and took his hand.
"Are you okay?" he asked, lines of concern marring his forehead. "I'm having
trouble remembering. . . They didn't. . .they didn't hurt you?"
Oh, God, he was still caught up in his hallucination. "I'm fine," she reassured
him, giving his fingers a squeeze. "Walter. . ."
He interrupted before she could ask him what he could recall. "Good. I meant
what I said. That I. . .That I love you."
"I love you, too, Walter," she replied, her vision growing blurry.
"You were so. . .so brave." His words slurred and she could tell he was struggling
to stay awake.
"I should go so you can get some rest."
"No, stay. I need. . .you. Please. . . Stay. . ." Paige watched the steady
rise and fall of his chest as he drifted off to sleep.
He'd seemed so confused, mixing the present with the past. What if his brain
had been deprived of oxygen for too long, and permanent damage had occurred?
She knew she still love him whether he was a genius or not, but. . . To him,
his 197 IQ was a huge part of who he was. Without it, she didn't know if
he could cope.
Finding a chair, she moved it closer to his bed and sat down, taking his
hand in hers again. A tiny foot or fist (she wasn't sure which one) stuck
near the lowest rib on her left side and she winced.
Walter had never mentioned the baby, she realized, placing her free hand
on her stomach. Granted, he was pretty loopy, and suffering from memory loss.
A feeling of dread swept over her. Oh, God.
What if one of the things he'd forgotten was their son?