Their Baby Girl...?: The Baby Mission / Her Baby Secret

She could be on to something. That could explain why no one ever noticed anyone out of the ordinary hanging around, Warrick reasoned. “That doesn’t mean he won’t make a mistake.”

She sighed, flipping the folder closed. She shifted again. Her back was aching in the worst way. She tried to remember if she’d done something to strain it. “He hasn’t until now.”

“And odds are, he won’t tonight.”

She looked at Warrick quizzically. What was that supposed to mean? Had he heard something? “Tonight?”

“Yes.” Pulling her chair back from her desk, he turned it around to face him and leaned over her. “Go home, C.J. You look tired.”

Feet planted on the floor, she scooted back. “Bad lighting.”

There was no such thing as bad lighting as far as C.J. was concerned. She looked good in shadow and in sunlight. Rousing his thoughts, he waved around the office. “Everyone else is gone.”

She raised her chin defiantly, knowing she was baiting him and enjoying it. “You’re not.”

“That’s because I’m checking in on you.” He stopped, knowing this was going to go nowhere. With C.J. it never did unless she wanted it to. “God, but you are a stubborn woman.”

She pulled up another program on her computer. Maybe a fresh perspective would help. “Wouldn’t have lasted all this time with you if I wasn’t.”

“Hey, the only reason we’re together is because I’m the patient one. You’re the one who’s always running off half-cocked.”

The ache began to sear through her body. “No running tonight,” she muttered.

He gave it one more try. “C’mon, C.J., let me take you home.”

She splayed her hand over her chest. “Why, Warrick, this is so sudden.”

Not really. The small voice in his head came out of nowhere, implying things it had no business implying. Damn it, what had gotten into him tonight?

He raised a brow at the wordplay. “Your home, not mine, partner.”

It was late and she didn’t know how much longer her energy would last. Maybe something she came up with here would ultimately save someone. “Later.”

He felt the edge of his temper sharpening. “Now.”

C.J. looked away from her screen, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “You’re not the boss of me, Warrick.”

He gave up. Drop-dead gorgeous or not, she was stubborn as a smelly mule. “Fine, sound like a two-year-old. You’ll be good company for that baby of yours.”

She knew he meant well, but so did she. There was a man out there killing women because they looked like real-live versions of Barbie, and she had to put a stop to it. “I don’t feel like going home, War. There’s a stack of dirty dishes in the sink waiting for me, and a pile of laundry held over from the Spanish Civil War. If I’m here, I don’t feel guilty about not cleaning.”

She had to be the most contrary woman he’d ever met. Nothing about her went by the book. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the nesting mode by now?”

She hated that term. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman, not a bird.”

“You’re a walking contradiction of terms is what you are.” Surrendering, Warrick sighed. “Never could get you to listen to reason.”

She spared him a look and grinned. “Right, why start now?”

Why indeed. There was a cold beer in his refrigerator with his name on it. It was time to start the reunion. “Good night, C.J.”

“Uh-huh.” Her attention was already fastened to the reports she knew almost by heart.

Warrick had crossed the room and was about to pass the threshold when he heard a strange little gasp behind him.

“Warrick?”

There was something in her voice that made the hair on the back of his neck rise up. He swung around to look at her. C.J. was still sitting at her desk, but there was an odd expression on her face.

“What?”

Oh, God. Her words came out measured. “How close would you say we were?”

That was a hell of an odd question for one partner to ask another. “Pretty close, I guess.” He looked at her more intently. “Why?”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth a second before answering. “I think we’re about to get a lot closer.”

Like a man feeling his way along a tightrope, Warrick slowly made his way back into the room, staring at C.J. as he came. “What are you talking about?”

Very deliberately C.J. closed the folder on her desk. The pain shot through her again. She fisted her hands against it, but it didn’t help. Her knuckles felt as if they were going to break through her skin.

It matched the sensation going on in other parts of her.

She looked up at him, telling herself not to panic. “I’m in labor.”

Warrick’s eyes widened in disbelief. C.J. was given to practical jokes. This had to be one of them, although it went beyond the pale as far as he was concerned. “The hell you’re not.”

She caught her breath, trying to keep her voice steady. From everything she’d been able to pull out of Joanna and Sherry, this was definitely the real thing. Her skirt was damp and that could only mean one thing. Her water had broken.

“The hell I am.”

Chapter 3

“This isn’t funny, Jones,” Warrick snapped as a wave of uneasiness all but drowned him. He couldn’t remember any incident in his career, recent or otherwise, that had ever had him feeling this unprepared.

The pain found her and began twisting her in two. C.J. tried to fill her lungs with air, but even that hurt. “I don’t think any stand-up comic ever gave birth for laughs.”

He didn’t like the edgy note in her voice. The hope that this was just a bad joke on her part faded. “You’re serious.”

She pressed her lips together as she looked at him. She felt fear taking a strong toehold. Don’t panic, don’t panic. “Deadly.”

“You’re really in labor.” Somehow, maybe because he didn’t want it to, the thought just refused to penetrate his mind.

She nodded her head. Damn, this was really beginning to hurt. “Like a prisoner at Devil’s Island.”

Why was she still just sitting there, gripping both armrests as if she expected the chair to somehow launch her? “Well, damn it, what are you waiting for?” He put his hand on her arm. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t budge. She was afraid to. Afraid to even move. C.J. raised her eyes to his. “That’s just the problem, Warrick, all systems are go.”

Then why wasn’t she getting up? This wasn’t making any sense. Maybe it was a practical joke after all. He’d seen her deadpan her way through more than one joke before. He gave her arm another tug, surprised at how tightly she continued clinging to the armrests.

“Quit fooling around, C.J. The faster we get you to a hospital, the better.”

Biting down on her lower lip, C.J. pushed herself upright and immediately sank down in the chair again. Her legs had buckled, giving way beneath her. She couldn’t walk, couldn’t move.

She looked up at Warrick. “New plan.”

Impatience waltzed with nerves. “What?”

She shook her head, shrugging his hand off her arm. “We need a new plan. I can’t walk.”

This was bad, he thought, becoming really concerned. C.J. just wasn’t the frail, damsel-in-distress type. She’d been shot once and had almost snapped off his head when he’d tried to help her up off the ground.

His mind scrambled to make sense of this new input. “Okay, okay, I’ll carry you—”

“No!” With a sweeping motion, C.J. batted away his hands and then grabbed onto the arms of the chair again. It was either that or rip his arms out of their sockets. The pain was back and it had brought friends. “You don’t understand. It’s too late for that.”

Did labor enfeeble a woman’s brain? She was talking nonsense. “Too late for carrying?”

Breathing and talking at the same time suddenly became a challenge. “Too late…for…anything. I’m having this…bay-BEE.”

The sudden crescendo echoed in his head, hurting his ears. “Yes, I know—”

Her efforts to the contrary, panic was definitely taking hold. C.J. looked at him. Did she have to explain everything?

“Now, Warrick…I’m having…it now.”

He stared at her, numb. “What do you mean ‘now’?” She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she was saying. “As in this minute?”

The wave of pain ebbed back a few inches, letting her catch her breath. Perspiration was beginning to drench her. “I knew…if…you…sounded out the…letters, you’d…get…it.”

Feeling a little weak himself, Warrick sank down on his knees beside the chair, holding on to one armrest. “C.J., you can’t be having this baby now.”

“That’s…not…what the…baby…thinks. It’s breaking…OUT.” This time, C.J. did grab Warrick’s hand. Wrapping her fingers around it tightly, she squeezed and held on for all she was worth. “Oh…God…Warrick, I think…I’m having…an…exorcism.”

He felt completely powerless and lost. This was not covered in any FBI handbook he’d ever read. “What do you want me to do?”

C.J.’s answer came without hesitation. “Kill me.”

Unequal to what was happening, Warrick dragged his hand through his hair, momentarily at a loss. “Damn it, C.J., this would have never happened if you had better taste in men.”

It was lessening, the pain was lessening. C.J. took a breath and hoped her heart wouldn’t pop out of her chest. She spared her partner an annoyed look. “What…you saying? A better…class of man…wouldn’t…have slept…with me?”

“No.” Warrick shot her a look. She knew better than that. She knew he thought she was too good for the likes of Thorndyke, even if he hadn’t told her. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He dragged his hand through his hair again, trying to think. Nothing came. He didn’t know the first thing to do in this case, other than to keep her from panicking. But it wasn’t easy, not when he felt like panicking himself.

“I’ve got a law degree, C.J., not a degree in babies. I don’t know what to do.” He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to gather his thoughts together. A small bud of hope began to bloom. “Maybe you’re just having false labor.”

She felt as if someone had taken a carving knife to her. “If this is…false…labor, I don’t…want…to be around…for the real…thing.”

Comfortable, he had to get her comfortable. The thought was almost laughable, seeing the situation. Warrick stripped off his jacket and threw it on the floor. She could lie down on that.

Unbuttoning his sleeves, he pushed them up his forearms. “Okay, let’s get you in a better position.”

C.J. pressed her lips together, struggling hard not to give in to the waves of panic that were surfing atop waves of pain. “I bet you…say that…to all…the girls.”

Determined to muster a small ounce of dignity, she tried to get out of the chair herself. Dignity took a holiday. C.J. all but slid out of the chair in a single fluid motion, landing on his jacket on the floor.

Warrick gave his jacket a couple of tugs, trying to get it flat beneath her and make her more comfortable. It was a futile effort. He knew C.J. wasn’t going to be anywhere near comfortable until this baby had made its appearance in the world.

He was in over his head.

Warrick pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling security—”

Her hand went around his wrist like a steel band. She didn’t want some stranger gawking at her while she writhed in pain. She wanted Warrick.

“No…no security.” She gave his wrist another tug. “Just…you.”

She had entirely too much faith in him, he thought. “C.J., I don’t think I can—”

She wouldn’t let him finish. Her eyes, filled with pain, pinned him. “You’re…my best friend…Warrick. You’ve got…to help me…. You can…do this.”

Entirely too much faith. Surrendering, Warrick flipped the phone closed. “Yeah, you’ve got the tough part.” He tucked the cell phone back into his pocket and drew closer to her. His voice was calmer when he spoke. If she could have that much faith in him, the least he could do was come through for her. “Okay, C.J., this is all supposed to be natural. What’s your body telling you to do?”

She grit her teeth together. “Run…like…hell.” And then her eyes opened wide like two huge sunflowers. “I’ve got…to…push!”

He knew very little about the birth process, but what he did know was that things were happening much too soon. “Are you supposed to do that yet?”

“Dilated,” she suddenly remembered. “I’m…supposed to…be…dilated.”

Warrick had heard the term in reference to childbirth before, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what that actually meant. “C.J.?”

The look on his face told her everything. “I’m supposed…to be…fully…opened.”

That didn’t help very much. Warrick sat back on his heels and looked at her. “I don’t know what you look like fully closed, C.J.”

Her head ached. It was hard remembering everything that Lori had told them in class. Hard to think at all. Her brain felt as if it was winking in and out. What were the words Lori had used?

“You’re…supposed to see…the crown…of…the baby’s head.” That was it. Crowning. Lori had called it crowning.

A sinking feeling was taking up residence in the pit of his stomach. “Where?”

She stared at Warrick incredulously. When she needed him most, he’d become a complete idiot. “Where…do you…think?”

He knew exactly where he was supposed to look, he’d just been hoping against hope that he was wrong. They’d shared thoughts, feelings, almost everything over the past six years, and he would have been lying if he’d said that the thought of being intimate with her hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But this wasn’t the way he wanted to see her nude.

“Oh, God.”

The groan escaped before he could prevent it.

The next moment he got a hold of himself. He was all she had right now and he knew it.

In its own way, this was really no different from him having her back when they were out in the field on a dangerous assignment. C.J. was putting her life in his hands and he had to keep her safe—her and this baby of hers who obviously didn’t have any respect for due dates.

He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “You know, when they first put us together, I used to wonder what it would be like if I’d met you on the outside.” His smile broadened a little. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

This was no time for them to go to places they couldn’t afford to go to. “War—rick.”

He took a deep breath, then stated the obvious because he needed to get it out in the open and out of the way. This wasn’t going to be easy for either one of them. “It’s going to have to get personal.”

Damn it, didn’t he think she knew that? They weren’t waiting for the baby to come COD by parcel post. “Warrick…do what…you…have to do…before…I start ripping off…pieces…of your body…along…with mine.”

He grinned this time. “Nice to know you haven’t lost your winsome ways. Hang in there, champ.”

As delicately as possible, Warrick lifted her skirt and removed her underwear. The moment he did, she raised her hips off the floor, crying out as another contraction, the biggest one so far, seized her in its jaws, tightening around her so hard she thought she was going to snap in two.

She wasn’t fooling around, he thought. She was really going to give birth. It was really happening right here on the seventh floor of the federal building.

“I think this is it,” he told her, his voice slightly in awe.

“That’s…what…I’ve been…trying…to tell…you!” She twisted and turned, desperately trying to maneuver beyond the pain, and failing. She began to pant hard, not knowing what else to do. The urge to push was overwhelming, and Lori had promised she couldn’t pant and push at the same time.

She was panting. What did that mean? Warrick called up every relevant medical program he’d ever watched, trying his best to fathom his next step. The first aid course he’d taken as a teenager had completely faded from his memory banks.

Instincts took over. Needing to reassure her that it was going to be all right, he made his voice become deadly calm. “On the count of three, C.J., I want you to push. One—two—”

She wasn’t about to wait on any lousy numbers. She couldn’t pant anymore. Sitting bolt upright, she squeezed her eyes shut and bore down.

“Now!” she cried.

Ready or not, she was pushing, he realized. “Damn it, C.J., you never could take instructions.” t, then looked up at her. Her face beet red, she looked as if she was going to pass out. “Okay, stop, C.J., stop!”

Like a rag doll whose stuffing had been yanked out, C.J. collapsed in a heap on the floor, panting. She felt as if she’d just run one leg of a marathon. Without securing the baton.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d pushed the baby out and just didn’t know it. “Is it—”

“No, not yet.”

And then another contraction came, again threatening to tear her in two. She didn’t know if she could take much more of this.

She heard the sound of Warrick’s voice and strained to make out the words.

“Ready?” he asked. She was breathing hard, as if she just couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. He glanced up to see if she’d heard him. She was nodding. Just barely. “From the top, C.J. One, two, three.”

This time she waited until the last number was uttered, then bore down as hard as she could, pushing with all her strength.

She thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head when she heard him yelling at her.

“Stop, stop.”

Gasping, C.J. fell back on the floor again. She was sucking in air, and her head was spinning badly. She was afraid she was going to pass out at any moment, and struggled to hold on to the world around her.

“It’s…not…working…is…it?”

How many times did it take to push out a baby? he wondered. One look at C.J. told him that she couldn’t take very much more of this.

He took it one step at a time. And lied. “One more time.”

But she knew better. He could fool everyone else, but not her.

“You’re…lying.” Tears and sweat were mingling in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks, pooling beneath her back. “I…can’t do…this…Warrick. I’m…not…cut out…for…this…kind of thing.” trying to push up a hill.

There was no giving up now. He couldn’t let her. “Yes, you are.” His voice was fierce. “You’re the toughest woman I know. Now c’mon, one more time.” Abandoning his post at her nether end, he brought his face up close to hers and implored, “C.J., one more time. Just one more time.”

Damn it, why didn’t he just let her die? “I…hate…to see you…beg.” With superhuman strength, she drew her elbows in to her sides and pushed herself up again. Her head was spinning worse than a top that was out of control. “Okay…let’s get…this watermelon…out…of me!”

Warrick strengthened his resolve. “Let’s get serious now. Ready, C.J.?”

She wasn’t ready, would probably never be ready again. Probably would never be able to breathe right again, either. But there was no postponing this and coming back tomorrow, refreshed and braced. She was in all the way.

It was now or never.

Sucking in one more breath to fortify her, she nodded at Warrick. C.J. screwed her eyes shut and bore down with every last fiber in her body. It felt like forever. She could swear she felt her blood boiling in her veins.

An eternity later C.J. fell back against the floor, hardly aware of what she was doing. Only aware that there was some kind of noise buzzing in her head. No, outside her head. A wailing sound that could have been coming from somewhere else. Or maybe even from her. She wasn’t sure.

Wonder was filtering through him. He was supporting an infant’s head in the palm of his hand. The emotion was almost indescribable. Warrick looked up at C.J. For a second it looked as if she wasn’t moving. “C.J., don’t pass out on me now, you’re almost finished.”

A lot he knew. She had no idea where the strength came from to form the words. “I…am…finished.”

“No, a little more,” he coaxed, infinitely grateful that God hadn’t made him a woman. There was no way he could have gone through this, he thought. “You have to push out the baby’s shoulders.”

There was no energy left to breathe, much less to push. “Can’t…you…just…pull?”

“C.J., push,” he ordered.

Swirling through her head was the vague thought that she was going to hold Sherry and Joanna accountable for not telling her that giving birth was like trying to expel a giant bowling ball through her nose and that everything inside her body felt as if it was being ripped apart by a pair of giant hands.

“C.J., you have to push!”

She had to die was what she had to do, C.J. thought in despair. No, a faraway voice echoed in her head, the baby, the baby needs you. Your baby. You can’t quit now.

“Now!”

Hating Warrick, C.J. propped herself up one last time. She knew in her heart that if the baby didn’t completely come out with this effort, she was going to die this way, midpush.

She glared at Warrick. “Count,” she gasped angrily.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead right now, Warrick thought. “One—two—three. Push!”

Glancing at her face just before he gave the command, Warrick saw the sweat pouring down into her eyes, saw the look of complete exhaustion on her face. If he could have, he would have changed places with her.

Just like he would have been willing to take a bullet for her any day of the week. She was his partner, his friend, and the person who knew him better than anyone, warts and all. He cared about her more than he cared about anyone else in the world.

The next moment, he was holding her daughter in his hands.

The wailing increased. Was something wrong? Was there something wrong with her baby? Oh, please let the baby be all right. C.J. was lying in a heap on the floor. There wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t ache and wasn’t all but smothered in utter exhaustion. It took all she had to raise her head.

“What—”

He grinned, making sure the baby’s passageways were all clear. That much he remembered from his training. She was breathing. The life he held against his chest was breathing. He couldn’t describe the feeling going on in his chest. “A girl.”

A girl. She had a daughter. She felt like crying. “What…what does she…look like?”

“A guppy in Jell-O. A beautiful guppy,” he qualified, looking up at C.J.

Something very strange was going on inside of him. There was relief because it was over and because C.J. was still alive. He could afford to admit to himself now that he had been laboring under the very real fear that something could have gone wrong during the childbirth. Something could always go wrong.

But there was also something else, another feeling that he couldn’t readily identify. Something he was unfamiliar with.

It felt as if there were suddenly a rainbow inside of him. A rainbow that seemed to be also raining sunshine.

Quickly he did a tally of the baby’s fingers and toes. All were accounted for. He looked up at C.J. “Want to see her?”

She barely had enough strength to form the word. “Please.”

Holding the moments-old infant against him, Warrick moved on his knees until he was level with C.J.’s face. But as he began to transfer the baby into her arms, he looked down at the small face. The infant had ceased crying and was simply looking up at him, her eyes as wide as spring flowers sunning themselves.

He felt as if she was looking right into him, right into his heart. Which only seemed fair since it was already hers.

“This is your mother,” he whispered to the infant. “Be kind, honey, she’s still a work in progress.”

He was surprised the words came out at all. It felt as if his throat was constricting. For all the different experiences he had gone through in his life, he had never had a moment quite like this before and he wasn’t altogether sure what to make of it.

Amid the waves of exhaustion washing over C.J. was a sense of elation. It spread out, covering her completely as Warrick tucked the baby into her arms.