A/N: If I find that people are actually interested in this story, I will continue to write more. This chapter was written purely for my own enjoyment, but you may enjoy it as well. Characters are my own and enjoy the mpreg-ness of a heterosexual group of friends. The prologue jumps you straight into the story, don't worry... (if this goes any further) all your questions about the characters will be answered shortly.


Prologue

I looked at my watch for the fortieth consecutive time in three hours. It was six, two hours before the sun would leave us stranded in the desert darkness. Given any normal night, we would be fine. With Taylor, I began to throw my expectations for normality out of the door. What scared me the most about being next to him while he suffered the pain of childbirth was that I realized how human he was. Here was my trainer, my teacher, my mentor, in pain and in need of my assistance.

Beads of sweat collected on his brow and forearm, his expression twisted and clenched.

Occasionally he would pull himself up to pace on the road; I knew he felt strange being around me, I've seen embarrassment written on his face before. He barely looked at me, enough to make me think he was angry with me.

The silence was torture. "Taylor, are you alright?"

He scoffed at me. When I looked up at him from sitting on the pavement, he had changed. The tan color of his skin was dulled and pale, glistening with perspiration. He ran his fingers through damp tousled hair and hovered over me, "Are you?" He felt my forehead, frowning. "We need some water, kiddo." I had been so transfixed on his conflict that I did not realize how dehydrated I was either.

Nausea ebbed in after my hunger subsided, my stomach knotting itself into painful contortions. If this was sympathy pain, it needed to stop.

"Your contractions are four minutes apart. That's not good... is it?" I piped up after another silent forty five minutes. Taylor had attempted to disguise his pain, but I knew... we both knew how futile our situation was.

He looked me in the eyes after having sunk to the ground to sit with me. "No, Ed. It's not a good thing at this rate."

"I wish Angel was here..." I murmured. I could barely hear Taylor agree with me, but we both hoped for something better than this. I was going to try and calm him when I felt the spikes of the devil's pitchfork in my forearm.

His fingers created a vise around my wrist, tightening with each second. Yup, this was definitely a contraction.

I tried to pull away, but it was already decided. I was a squeeze toy. A stress ball. And right now, Taylor did an excellent job at testing my body's limits.

"At least use the hand that WON'T break!" I attempted to argue. This was not going to be easy.

Then I looked at him. I really looked at him and could see the fear rising off of him like steam. Truth is, I was scared too.

But what did I have to be scared about?

I reassured him with a pat on the back. He tensed as if he was expecting it to hurt. That drove daggers into myself. How could I be with a man for two years and not see through to the human he actually was? Taylor was always so strong, prideful, and secretive that it was so difficult to even imagine this man leaning on me for help.

"Its okay." I said to him. He didn't believe it, neither did I. A veil of silence came over us once again, with each contraction came a new wave of pain, each stronger than before.

"Ffffffff...uuuuuuuuuuuuuck." He hunched over hugging his stomach, I reached around his shoulders tightly holding him up. He seemed to accept the gesture by planting his feet in the ground and pushing his entire upper body against me. I joked to lighten the mood.

"Taylor do we have one man in labor or two? I think I have a clear clue about sympathy pains."

He whined a little. "If only you knew what it really feels like."

"I don't plan to ever know what childbirth is like."

He sneered in laughter; my plan was working. "Then don't ever piss off the Columbian government."

I would ask later. Now wasn't the time for old war stories as much as I had wished we had the time to share. At this rate, there was not much room for conversation. The contraction subsided as did the death grip on my hand. Again, I tried to lighten the mood.

"You know... I think I might have to get a cast now."

"Suck it up, pipsqueak." He began panting, and shook me off choosing to stand instead.

"Do you need anything?"

He was fumbling with his shirt, unbuttoning each one quickly. That's when I knew it was time. He shook off the button down, wearing a white undershirt which molded to his new... figure.

His belly looked different as well, as if it had sunk lower into his waist... as if it was making its way down...

"Taylor... um. Your stomach-eh the baby-" He was glaring at me. "Did it get lower...?"

He ran his hands over it attempting to soothe the pain that wracked his insides. He sighed. "Yeah. He's about right here." He pointed to his belt, hanging off of his hips drawing a line with his finger past his waist.

"Don't you need any painkillers? Don't I need to knock you out?"

He burst out laughing, probably to keep himself from strangling me.

"Ed... don't mention painkillers to me ever again, especially now."

"I've been thinking..."

"Big surprise."

I ignored that remark.

"Taylor I really don't have any surgical equipment on haaand, or even a knife." His eyes widened and he kept staring at me. "What am I supposed to do? I don't know how to get it out other than the c section and I don't have anything to stitch you up, either, all Angel left was a first aid kit, and the poles...maybe some fishing line..."

"Fishing line..." He was mocking me. And he suddenly began laughing. What did I say that's so funny?

He leaned on the car gripping onto the side mirror. He huffed out as if he couldn't believe a word that came out of my mouth. "You think that surgery is what I need."

Why was this funny?

He continued. "If I was in a hospital I wouldn't argue with you." He wiped the sweat away from his brown hair. "No, we're going a little old fashioned on this one."

That scared me. "What do you mean... old fashioned?" I knew. But I wished it wasn't true. He smiled at me, probably out of sympathy, and patted my shoulder.

"Its okay. I've done this before." He breathed heavy, "I need your help though."

"What am I supposed to do?"

Scratching his forehead he muttered. "You catch it."

"Wait what? Catch...?" It hit me like a fish in the face. "Catch it?!"

Before he could protest my stupidity his knees buckled and I watched my trainer, my friend collapse to the ground ridden with pain. He cried out, I reached for him...

Finding my hand coated in a layer of fresh red blood.

A marbled color of pink and red pooled in the dirt beneath our feet, Taylor gasped as more rushed out from beneath him.

He held onto me tightly, teeth gritting as it seemed he was being split in half.

I decided to comfort him in the best way I knew. Yup, I was going to be a midwife. "Breathe... in and out, slowly, take it easy..."

It seemed to work. Taylor breathed heavily and relaxed onto me as if he had just run a marathon.

"You okay buddy?"

He looked at me as if I had four heads, but he smiled. "Baby will be here very soon."

I gulped down the thick ball in my throat. "How... how do you know?"

He took a breath and spread his fingers over his large belly. "Because it's time to start pushing..."

"Wh... what do you mean?" I knew, but I wanted to be wrong. Some sliver of hope was telling me I was not going to have to deliver a child. Taylor's scream of pain proved me wrong.

"I can't help it..." He gasped for air, "If it wants to come now its gonna..." Craning his neck back I swear I could almost see his body change. He wished I was not the one here to help, so did I. No amount of pretending would change our current situation. "Ed..."

I knelt down to him, summoning my courage from every cell in my body. We were going to need it, for all of us.

"Taylor... I need to know what to do."

I sealed my fate, and whatever he told me to do, I did so without question. It was at this time I was thankful I had read the baby books.

Taylor leaned against the tires, his body stripped of everything except an undershirt and an emergency blanket courteously draped over his knees. We had disposed of the bloodied clothing without a word. Using my own clothing, my scarf dabbed sweat from his forehead and chest, my shirt neatly waiting for its new owner.

He gripped my hand tight, gritting his teeth together and pushed his bare feet against the ground as hard as he could. I watched in amazement; how anyone could go through this was beyond my experience. He looked up at me, tears welling in his brown eyes.

"I need you... I need you to get ready..." He pushed himself up, locking his elbows.

"This is it?"

He nodded, his hands cupping his knees. "Its time..."

I laid my hand on his, and smiled. We would get through this together.


A/n: To be continued...? Only if you guys like it!