Nikita rocked back and forth in the rocking chair, trying to concentrate on names for the babies. Michael was lying on their bed, half-asleep, but every once in a while, when she managed to come up with a name, he muttered something. "Aubergine was definitely out, right?" she called playfully, trying to see if he was more asleep than awake.
That woke him up fully. "We settled the Aubergine issue months ago, Kita. And I know what you’re doing. You don’t want me to sleep until we come up with names for both twins, do you?"
"Well, Michael, it’s just that I am in my seventh month now. It would be nice if we had something to call them. Soon."
He sat up, blinking sleepily at her. "How soon, Kita? Are you getting real contractions?" There was something in her voice that made him think she might be going into labor sooner than they thought.
"Wellll..."
Michael crossed the room faster than she had ever seen him move. He picked her up in his arms, and she stared at him. Her face broke into a mischievous smile. "You would do it, wouldn’t you? Take me straight to the hospital right now?"
"Are you playing with me, Kita?" He looked suspiciously at her. Nikita loved to play this game, but soon, it would be the real thing. He hoped he would recognize the real thing when it came along. After so many false starts and drills, he was more than ready for the twins to come into the world.
He put her down on her feet, but she was so big now, he had to hold her till she felt balanced. "Okay now?"
"Still think I’m beautiful?" Nikita knew she was fishing for compliments, but she loved to hear him say sweet things to her in his lightly-accented voice. She dreamed about his voice. After all these months of being together, she never tired of listening to him.
"Forever, Kita. But especially now." He placed his palm on her abdomen. "They slept through your latest attempt to fool me. They know it’s not time yet."
"What do they know? They’re just babies, Michael." She kissed him, but it was a hard stretch, given the expansion of her middle. "Uh...I don’t think I’m gonna make it another month, no matter how much Neil wants it to happen."
"You’re just impatient, doucette."
"I can’t wait to meet them, Michael. I want to know everything about them, what they look like, what they act like. What their names are." She said the last with special emphasis, making Michael groan loudly.
He sat down in the rocking chair. "Now I need to tell you a story, Kita. Sit on my lap like a good girl."
She eyed him dubiously. "I don’t think your lap is big enough anymore, Michael."
He sighed. "We’ll see." He beckoned her closer and gradually, between the two of them, Nikita lowered herself onto Michael’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck for balance, and he leaned back, pulling her close. The rocking chair moved gently back and forth, and Michael began to speak.
"Once upon a time...."
"Is this a fairy tale, Michael?"
He kissed her, effectively stopping her from interrupting again. "No, this really happened."
"To us?" She asked, her eyes shining.
"Not exactly. Will you let me tell the story, Kita?" He smiled at her and stroked her hair softly. Her hair flowed down her back to her waist, like some medieval princess. She was exquisitely beautiful, his Kita.
"Okay." She snuggled against his chest, laying her head against his heart. "I’m listening."
"Years ago, in France, there was a great knight. His name was Luc."
"I like that name, Michael," she said softly, without opening her eyes.
"Good, Kita. Because it’s important."
"Luc passed on his name to all his sons. There was Luc- Rene, Luc-Stephane, and so on. It was a good name."
"You can never have enough of a good name." Nikita said sleepily.
"Through the years, the family kept the tradition going. All of the male children were named Luc something. Do you see where I’m going with this yet, Kita?"
Nikita kissed his chin. "Are you trying to tell me your real name is Luc, Michael?"
"Something like that, Kita."
She sat up, blinking away the sleepiness. "You are?"
"My real name is Luc Michel Samuelle, Kita. Like my father, my first name is that of that long ago chevalier. Traditionally, because the name is so common throughout the family, we are called by our middle names. That’s why I was Michel. When I joined Section, of course, I became Michael."
"Would you prefer to be called Michel?"
He grazed her cheek with his lips. "Thank you for asking, doucette, but no. You fell in love with Michael, not Michel. Whoever Michel was, he doesn’t really exist anymore."
"Yet you’re telling me this story." She paused significantly, knowing there was a reason.
"Yes. As strange as it sounds, such traditions actually mean something to me. I would like our son to be named Luc as well." He dropped his eyes, but Nikita cupped his chin and forced him to look at her.
"I think that’s a beautiful idea, Michael. Truly." She abruptly looked startled.
"What’s wrong, Kita?"
She laughed lightly, the sound musical and lilting. "Nothing’s wrong, Michael. I think our son just woke up and told me he likes the idea." She pulled Michael’s hand to her abdomen, and he clearly felt one of the babies kick.
He looked surprised, but delighted. "Now we just need a second name, Kita, one that we would call him by."
She smiled shyly. "Well, I’ve always liked the name Christopher, Michael. Would that work for us? What do you think?"
He kissed her. "I think it works fine. Would you object if I made it French, Kita?"
She shook her head. "What would it be?"
"He would be Luc Christophe. We could call him Chris."
"I like that, Michael." She buried her face against his neck. "Oh, Michael, you named your son." As if he suddenly realized the significance of this, too, he rubbed his cheek against her hair, wiping away an errant tear or two.
"So I did, Kita."
She felt him shudder with emotion. "Michael..." She took his hands in hers and kissed them. "What shall we name our daughter then?"
"You name her, Kita. You let me have the honor of naming our son. Now it’s your turn."
"I helped you. You can help me."
"Okay. Joint effort again then." He smiled at how calm he appeared, when on the inside, he felt exuberant in a way he had not felt since their wedding.
"I want to name her after you, Michael."
His reaction was immediate and startling. "No, Kita, that’s not necessary."
"Of course, it’s not necessary, but I want to. Michael, please, let me do this."
He looked conflicted. "But why--"
"Cause it’s a beautiful name, cause you deserve it, cause she’s a part of you. Take your pick, Michael. I really want this."
He reluctantly agreed. "But only if it’s a middle name."
"Done. Her middle name is Michelle."
He looked tearful now. "Ki-ta..."
She kissed his neck, and she felt his tears against her cheek. "But her first name should be something important, like your story about Luc."
She felt his kisses in her hair, and she thought she would never be this happy again. Their decision to marry, to have children, to make a family out of friends. Everything had its source in that single leap of faith they had taken months ago, when they finally left Section. Faith. That was it.
"Michael!" Once again, she felt one of the babies kick, and she knew she was right.
"What, Kita?"
"Our daughter wants to be named Faith."
"Faith? As in, faith, hope, and charity?"
Nikita smiled beatifically. "As in leap of faith, Michael. We took a tremendous step almost a year ago. We left Section together, we got married, we made a family...it all started with faith. Your faith, Michael. It was your faith that got us out."
Michael kissed her so tenderly, she wanted to weep. "But it was your faith that kept us going. Against the odds."
"Faith it is. It’s a strong name, Kita. She’s got a lot to live up to, if she’s going to be anything like her mother."
"Faith Michelle," she whispered to herself, but Michael heard her. He held her tight. "Yes, Kita. The best of both of us."
Nikita lay on her back with her head in Michael’s lap. They were both on the couch, pretending to look at a documentary on cable television. Nikita found it extremely difficult to find a comfortable position, and she knew that Michael was aware of this, for she continually poked him in the leg when she moved. Exasperated, Nikita didn’t know how she was supposed to get through the final months of her pregnancy. She couldn’t rest, she couldn’t sleep. Her back ached. When she walked, her feet hurt. She couldn’t even enjoy going out. She now knew where every bathroom was located within a five mile radius of their house.
Michael sighed and strummed his fingers through Nikita’s hair. "Try to rest, doucette."
"I am, Michael," she said through clenched teeth. Suddenly she groaned.
"Okay, what was that for?"
"Just the usual twinge." She re-settled herself on his lap and tried to focus her eyes on the television, but it blurred. Gradually, her eyes slid shut and she finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Declan entered the living room with a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a pitcher of ice cold milk. He peered cautiously at Nikita. "Is her ladyship asleep then?"
Michael nodded, putting a finger to his lips. "Please don’t wake her."
Declan put the tray down on the coffee table, the pitcher beside it. "Have a cookie, Michael. It won’t kill you. Honest."
Michael gave Declan a half-smile. He and Nikita were rarely if ever separated these days, now that the final countdown had begun on her pregnancy. She had an erratic appetite, alternately starving herself, then devouring everything in sight. But she loved cookies. Of every shape and form. So Declan baked daily. He didn’t mind. It was a labor of love for him. He worshipped the ground that Nikita walked on, and he didn’t care who knew it.
Nikita moaned in her sleep. Michael frowned. That was another twinge? And strong enough to make her moan in her sleep? He saw that Declan had noticed as well. "How far apart was that, Declan?" Michael whispered.
"Not far enough, if you ask me." Declan said softly.
Michael raised an eyebrow. Was Nikita going into labor finally? Neil said that her labor would be long and arduous because this was her first pregnancy. They had hours to go yet.
Suddenly Declan paled. He poked Michael in the side repeatedly, finally succeeding in getting him to look where he pointed. On the couch, underneath Nikita, was a spreading stain. It wasn’t blood. Michael shifted Nikita in his arms and noted the stain had a watery consistency. "Her water just broke, Declan. Get my cell phone."
Declan literally leaped up and headed for the kitchen, the cookies long cooled and long forgotten. Michael surprised himself by staying as calm as he was. He didn’t know how he was able to do this, he just knew he had to. So he did.
Nikita woke with the next contraction, which appeared to have gained in strength and duration. "Unhhh..." she said, doubling over. Michael pulled her back up into a sitting position. He held her against him, trying to reassure her that she would be all right.
Declan handed the cell phone to Michael. Neil was chattering excitedly on the other end. Questions, questions, always more questions. Michael just wanted to know one thing. "Do we go to the hospital now?"
"If her water broke, hell, yes. It’ll probably be a long time before she delivers, and hanging around the hospital is deadly boring, Michael, but yeah, the rules dictate that once the water breaks, the patient enters the hospital."
"Neil?"
"Yeah, Michael?"
"Who wrote the rules anyway? And who says we have to follow them?"
Neil laughed. "It’s just that once her water breaks, there’s an increased risk of infection. She can’t just walk around like nothing happened."
"Why not?"
"Michael, stop playing devil’s advocate and get Nikita into the hospital. I’ll meet you there, and we can keep each other company." He chuckled as he hung up the phone.
Michael handed the cell phone back to Declan. "Get her bag and start the car. I’ll be out in a minute."
"What about Walter and Birkoff?"
"They have plenty of time, according to Neil. They can always follow us later."
Michael slid off the couch, careful to release Nikita gently. He knelt by her side and woke her again. "Kita...time to go. Kita..."
Nikita opened her eyes, barely able to focus on Michael’s face. "Time?" She pulled herself up, wincing as another contraction hit her. "I dunno, Michael, my contractions are coming close together already. Why is it going faster than it’s supposed to?"
Michael shrugged. "I don’t know, Kita. Neil isn’t worried, though, so I don’t think you should be either."
He helped her off the couch, careful not to let go of her. "Just hold onto me, Kita."
Walter heard the news from Declan and came running. "Michael! Michael! Good, you got Sugar! That’s good, good! We need to get Sugar into the car!"
"Dad, calm down. You’d think you were the one having these babies, not me." Nikita winced as another contraction spent itself. Short duration, increasing intensity. Her labor was progressing. Slowly but surely.
Walter’s eyes nearly bulged as he saw the wet stain coating the couch and part of the inside of Nikita’s pant leg. "Are you okay? Are you bleeding? Michael, she’s not bleeding, is she?"
Michael wearily contemplated Walter. The man was never going to last until the delivery. "No, Walter, she’s not bleeding."
Nikita linked her arm through Michael’s and together they walked to the outside door. Walter followed them like an overanxious puppy fearing separation from its master and mistress. Declan opened the door and escorted the couple to the car. Walter locked the door behind him, not realizing that Birkoff was on the other side. Birkoff yelled, in protest, and Walter managed to unlock the door again, but not before Declan and Michael were screaming about the delay in leaving for the hospital.
Nikita leaned back against the seat of the car and thought of something relaxing, as Madeline had taught her. Visualization techniques were very useful in decreasing anxiety and pain, and Nikita liked them because they worked very well for her, obviating the need for painkillers and sedation.
Birkoff and Walter fought over who was getting into the car first, and Nikita smiled, letting the chaos wash over her like a passing cloud that had no more influence than the wind. She was one with her babies right now. Chris and Faith would be here soon. She hoped the others would love them as much as she did.
Madeline hugged Nikita when she saw her. She was very excited, though she gave no outward sign beyond the obvious gleam in her dark brown eyes. "Nikita, how are you holding up?"
"I’m fine, Maddy. But I dunno about Dad. Dad’s got a definite problem dealing with this kind of anxiety."
Together they turned and watched as Walter paced back and forth. "Walter," Madeline called. "Wouldn’t it be better to save your energy for after the babies are born? You’re going to wear a hole in the floor pacing like that."
"Arghghhhh..." Walter mumbled under his breath, not at anyone in particular.
Birkoff put a hand on Walter’s shoulder and Walter jumped three feet into the air. "Don’t do that, Seymour."
Birkoff muttered, "Okay, okay, Walter. I was just trying to help, that’s all."
Walter was worried. He had never loved anyone as much as he loved his Sugar. The thought of her being in pain or being exposed to the risks of childbirth frightened him, and he was not a man easily frightened. He had seen a lot during his time on earth, and he did not want to lose Sugar to some unseen foe like this. Everything was supposedly going according to plan, but Walter worried just the same. Sometimes it felt as if by worrying, he was ensuring that there would be a good outcome. He was afraid to stop now. What if something bad happened to Sugar?
Birkoff was concerned about Walter. He was so superstitious, he actually felt as though he could jinx Nikita by thinking about the wrong thing during her delivery. He wanted to reassure the older man, but Walter was lost in thought and too preoccupied to reach right now.
Declan looked calm, but he was a nervous wreck on the inside. He made it a rule never to get seriously involved with anyone, but ever since he had joined the Samuelle family, he could not keep from becoming more and more deeply entrenched in their day-to-day lives. Somewhere along the line, Declan became one of them. He who had taught himself not to care finally cared about someone. Michael was like the brother he never had, but Nikita was the light that shone bright in Declan’s life. He was not religious anymore, but he offered up whatever humble prayers he could remember to keep her safe, for himself and for Michael.
Neil whisked Nikita away from the others before Michael could protest. He stared after her, looking strangely vulnerable. "Maddy, where’s Neil taking Kita? I’m supposed to be with her. He knows that, right?"
Walter stopped his feverish pacing to look at Michael. He needed his support. "Hey, Sugar’s gonna be okay, Michael."
Michael didn’t even register that Walter had spoken. He wanted to be with Nikita. He wasn’t going to stand here and be left out of the entire process. He had prepared with her, for months, for what was going to happen tonight. He wasn’t going to miss a moment, no matter what the rules might say about it. Those were his babies, too. He wanted to be there when they came into the world.
Neil poked his head out of a door and waved madly at Michael. Michael ran to the other side of the hall. "What’s going on, Neil?"
"Kita’s in active labor."
"She shouldn’t be yet. What’s happening?"
"Well, she’s probably been keeping those twinges to herself the past day or two, that’s my guess." Neil shook his head. "She thinks she’s so stoic, I’ll never understand that woman."
Michael smiled. "That sounds just like something Kita would do."
"She’s completely effaced, and she’s already dilated 7 cm." Neil looked pleased, but Michael felt lost.
"Say that in English, Neil."
"She might be ready for transition in a couple of hours, Michael. Things get pretty bumpy then. Some women scream, some women curse their husbands, some try to leave the hospital. I just want you to be prepared for the worst. Think of Nikita during your worst argument and multiply it by 10."
Michael blinked. "That bad?"
Neil nodded. "And it pretty much goes downhill from there."
"Then why would anyone subject themselves to this again and again?"
"Total amnesia after the event, Michael. You won’t remember the bad parts, and neither will she. You’ll just remember the good stuff. And it gets pretty damn good, too."
Michael’s eyes watered. "Will I get to hold them, too, Neil?"
"Absolutely, Michael. You’re not an innocent bystander in all this, you know. You get to actively participate. I might even put you to work." Neil laughed at his own joke.
Michael didn’t laugh or relax, as Neil hoped. He looked wound as tight as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, as his elderly aunt used to say.
"What do you want me to do now?"
"Go in there, wash your hands at least twice, then wash them again. Then you’ll find a gown, paper booties to cover your shoes, and a mask for your face. Get used to what they look like, you’ll be living in them for the next few hours."
***
He almost didn’t recognize Nikita when he saw her. She was sitting in a halfway-upright position on a table with her legs out in front of her. Hooked to a monitor, Nikita’s pulse and blood pressure were being recorded as they read out. A nurse came in and attached internal fetal monitors to Nikita, a procedure that made Michael cringe, but Nikita didn’t seem to find painful or too invasive. Now he could see the babies’ heart rates being recorded. The entire array of equipment should have felt reassuring to Michael, but didn’t. He found it confusing and overwhelming, and he wondered how Nikita was able to cope with it so easily.
If he could have seen inside Nikita’s mind, he would have known. Madeline had told her to pick a point and focus on it during each contraction. She thought about Michael’s face when she told him she loved him, and she felt at peace. She thought about dancing with him on the rooftop of their apartment, the night they conceived the twins, and she felt her pain ease. She thought about how it felt when he finally let go of some of his pain about Adam, and he allowed her to share the great emotional burden he carried. What was a contraction compared to that?
"Kita?" He needed to know she was all right, but more than that, he needed her to know that he was there for her.
She smiled and stretched out her hand to him. He took her hand and carried it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "How do you feel, doucette?"
"Like I can do anything."
He smiled faintly at that. "That’s just like you, Kita."
"It’s true, Michael. As long as I have you, there is nothing I can’t do or be."
"I love you, Kita," he whispered, feeling a strong compulsion to tell her so right away.
"I love you, Michael," she said, her grip on his hand tightening with the next contraction.
Michael had heard about the transition phase of labor from Neil, but it turned out to be like nothing he had ever imagined. One moment, Nikita looked fine, the next moment, she was out of control.
When the next contraction hit her, Michael knew because Nikita turned blue around the lips. He immediately ran for the nurse, who assured him that circumolar pallor was not at all unusual at this point. For a minute, he thought she was going to have a seizure, her body tensed and rigid like the prelude to a seizure. But instead, she began weeping, great, intensely emotional sobbing, that nearly broke Michael’s composure. He struggled to maintain contact with her hand, but she wrenched her hand away, as if his touch burned her.
"Go away, go away, go away!" she chanted loudly at Michael. He backed up a foot and held onto the edge of the door. He bit his lip, wondering if Neil thought this was normal behavior for a woman during transition. He tried to remember what Neil told him, but it was all a blur, and in the meantime, all he could hear was her positively malevolent screaming.
"Liar!" she alternately screamed and sobbed. "You lied to me! I loved you, and you promised to stay with me forever! But you left me! You always lie to me!" She was crying hysterically, almost incoherent, but what Michael was able to make out scared him. It was impossible not to take any of this personally, it was so vitriolic, and it was so obviously directed at him and no one else. He knew he had hurt her, again and again, and now it was coming back at him with a vengeance.
He wanted to hide somewhere, but he had promised to stay with Nikita, and he would honor that promise somehow. His eyes filled with tears as she continued to protest his very existence on the same earth with her. "You made me think you were deaddd...." she whimpered pathetically, finally seeming to run out of energy.
"I want to be deadddd tooo..." she trailed off, seemingly done reciting her litany of Michael’s crimes and misdeeds. "Please....help....me..." Michael steeled himself to approach Nikita again, knowing it would probably get worse before it got better. He prayed that Neil knew what he was talking about, he prayed for total amnesia of what just happened in here, and the only good thing he could think of was that no one but him and Nikita were present.
He grabbed her hand again, quickly, before he could change his mind. He pressed his lips to her wrist and suddenly, she relented. Her entire body relaxed and she was his again. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to know why. "Michael? Are you still here? Don’t leave me."
"I won’t, doucette," he said, his own tears nearly choking him. She didn’t know what she said before, she wouldn’t remember it later. He prayed that he wouldn’t either.
Neil came in, albeit briefly, and determined that Nikita was completely dilated. "Won’t be long now, Michael." He gave Michael a thumb’s up sign, and Michael smiled weakly.
Neil saw Michael’s tears. "Did she say something that upset you?" Michael nodded, closing his eyes against the memory. "I’m sorry, Michael, sometimes it happens that way, but trust me, she didn’t mean whatever she said, and you two won’t remember a word of it later."
"I hope you’re right, Neil."
Neil didn’t know much about the past Michael shared with Nikita, but he understood that there were many disturbing elements, much like the life Declan led before he left the military. He sighed. He hoped this was not going to set back Michael’s progress. He was doing very well, according to Madeline.
"Hang in there, Michael."
***
Although the intensity of the contractions increased almost unbearably, it seemed to Michael, Nikita seemed better able to cope with the next stage of labor. She was in less pain, for one thing, which Michael appreciated, since he knew on some level, she was blaming him for that, too. The contractions were coming approximately two minutes apart now and lasting almost 90 seconds. Nikita was in control now, and she kept exclaiming that she felt the need to push.
Neil smiled. "You can push soon, Nikita. Just wait another minute or two, okay?"
"Now comes the good part, Michael." He glanced at Michael, who seemed entirely too morose for a man about to experience childbirth at close range. Neil stood in front of Nikita for a second, knowing that she was all Michael could see right now. "Michael, look at me. You didn’t deliberately hurt Nikita. Whatever she said, you’ve got to forget about it. She needs you now."
Michael’s eyes were glazed with pain. He shook his head at Neil. "I did hurt her deliberately. Repeatedly. I lied to her, I manipulated her, even after I knew I was in love with her. It doesn’t get much worse than that, Neil, does it?"
Neil hit the intercom. "Page my fiancee to L & D, please. Stat."
"Michael, Madeline is coming. You try to keep it together, and I promise, you are going to forget about all this."
***
When Madeline came into the room, gloved and gowned, Michael automatically gravitated toward her. She was the only one of them totally grounded in reality. He depended on her to tell him the truth. She never lied to him. Not since they left Section.
Madeline took one look at Michael’s ravaged face, and she knew that it was a mistake for Michael to have been present during transition with Nikita. Nikita was unpredictable, labile, emotionally intense, during the best of times, and during transition, well, Madeline could just imagine how brutal she must have been to render Michael this wounded this quickly.
"I’m sorry, Michael, I should have suggested that you come in after transition was over. If it’s any consolation, anything she said is probably irrelevant now, old pain resurfacing due to the intense nature of the physical pain experienced during transition."
"You think so?" Michael looked hopeful for the first time since she’d entered. He needed to believe in what Maddy said. It was what he most needed to hear right now. Because he needed to be with Nikita, and he couldn’t do it if he felt like she hated him.
"I know dso, Michael. Nikita loves you so much, she would forgive you anything. You’ve seen how she protects you. She didn’t know what she was saying, or who she was saying it to, Michael."
She placed a hand on his cheek, and he smiled. "Thank you."
***
Neil yelled excitedly, "Michael! Maddy! The first of the twins is crowning!"
"What?" Michael said, frowning.
"The baby’s head is coming," whispered Madeline.
Michael laughed. "I bet it’s the girl, Kita! It would be just like a princess to arrive first!"
Nikita smiled, though her brow was sweaty and her face shiny. She had more work to do. She was going to push this baby out. Neil yelled, "Push, Nikita!" and she did, thinking of how much she wanted this and why she needed to keep going.
"It *is* a girl, Michael, Nikita. It’s the girl. What was her name again?"
Michael felt tears spring into his eyes again, but this time, he knew it was from sheer overpowering joy. "It’s Faith, Kita. Faith is here with us." He reached for her hands and kissed them, his lips trembling.
Madeline smiled at Michael. "She’s beautiful, Michael. Nikita, she has Michael’s coloring. Both hair and eyes."
"What color is her hair, Maddy?" Nikita asked.
"Light brown, possibly auburn. Hard to say at this point."
"And her eyes, Michael? She has your eyes?" Nikita asked hopefully.
"Yes, Kita," he said, trying to speak above a whisper, but finding that he could not take his eyes off his daughter. "Her eyes are green. Or grey. Or both." He laughed softly, and Nikita joined him.
Neil handed the baby girl to Nikita first, placing her on Nikita’s abdomen. She examined each hand and foot, counting her fingers and toes as if it were the most exciting activity she had ever done. "Michael, she’s perfect."
"Yes, she is, Kita. Like you." Once again, he was overcome with emotion, and he could not seem to control it or stop himself from showing it. Neil lifted the infant and placed her in her father’s arms for the first time, and Michael wept openly.
"She’s so tiny, Kita. Like a little fairy princess." He touched her tiny hand and said, "That’s what I’m going to call you. Fee."
"Fay?" asked Nikita. "Short for Faith?"
"No, Kita, Fee. French for fairy."
"I love it, Michael."
"I love you, Kita. And you, too, Fee." He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
"Once upon a time, there was a tiny fairy named Michelle..." Nikita laughed. Michael smiled at Nikita, his heart filled to overflowing. "Thank you, Kita, for giving me this gift."
"At the risk of interrupting the Kodak moment, Nikita, Michael, there’s one more baby coming. You still have enough energy left to push him out, Nikita?"
"Can’t leave him in there, Neil. It feels crowded as it is." Nikita quipped.
"Michael, if you’ll kindly hand your daughter to the nurse, we can get her weighed and footprinted and all that good stuff. Your son is anxious to join his sister."
A shadow briefly crossed Michael’s face, but it was gone a moment later. He could not live in the past. He could not control the future. He and Nikita were living and loving in the present. That was all they needed. For now.
"Okay, push, Nikita."
A few minutes later, Nikita’s son was born. Neil whistled when he saw the baby’s head. "This is interesting. Nikita, you and Michael have the most amazing combination of genes."
"Tell me what he looks like, Neil." Nikita begged.
"Well," he drawled, "if Faith looks like Michael, I’d have to say that the boy looks like you, Nikita."
"Really?"
Michael awaited the sight of his son anxiously, bracing himself for whatever shocks God still had in store for him. But he needn’t have worried. God had decided to make life easier for Michael this time around. Luc Christophe, or Chris, as they had agreed to call him, looked almost exactly like Nikita. His hair was white-blond, and his eyes blue, though a deeper blue than his mother’s eyes.
He almost broke down and cried in front of everyone. His new son looked just like the woman he loved most in the world. How could he not love him? He was the very image of Nikita. He thanked God for being so merciful. There would be no unfair comparisons. Adam’s memory remained just that. A memory. Of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with Michael’s smile.
He did cry then, because Neil placed Michael’s son in his arms first, before showing him to Nikita. He felt that Michael was the one who needed most to bond with this child, and he was offering him the chance to do so now. Michael’s mouth worked but no sound came out for a moment. He stared at the tiny boy in his arms. "He’s perfect, Kita, just like Fee."
"Of course, Michael, he’s our son." Nikita knew she was going to cry again, but she was so happy, really, she could not imagine being happier.
"Allo, Chris. Welcome to the world, mon petit." Michael knew he was crying, but it no longer mattered what anyone else thought. This was his son he was holding.
Carefully, oh so carefully, he handed the baby to Nikita, placing him on Nikita’s abdomen, the way he had seen Neil do minutes earlier. "Look, Kita, see how perfect he is?" Nikita cried helplessly as she watched Michael bonding with the child they had made.
"I see, Michael." She wiped a tear away with her fingers. "Hello, Chris, I love you."
Michael couldn’t stop himself. He bent over Nikita and kissed her, his fingers entwining with hers. "I love you, doucette. Thank you for giving me so much."
Madeline looked at Neil and smiled, her heart in her eyes. Neil returned the favor, his blue eyes dancing captivatingly above his mask.
One by one, the little family went to meet their newest members. The twin babies were displayed in the hospital nursery, but Michael stood outside the observation window, watching as the others met his new son and daughter.
Birkoff was left speechless. As unusual as that condition was for him, Birkoff did manage to choke out a statement of some sort. It was a bit incoherent, but it was just this side of possible that Birkoff said that he would wait impatiently for tiny Fee to grow up so that he could marry her.
As for Chris, the littlest Samuelle was not particularly impressed by Birkoff. He yawned and shook his tiny fists, demanding to be taken to bed right away.
Declan studied the little princess with the eye of the artist. He said she would be painted before she was fully grown, and he compared her coloring to that of Titian’s fairest beauties. Once again, the heir apparent, Chris, had no use for anyone but his mother, who, he discovered, could produce milk from her chest.
Walter was the last to come. He was the most special of all the visitors, for these were his grandchildren. "Michael, they’re beautiful."
Michael nodded, tears never far away. "They are," he admitted.
"Of course, they look like Sugar, both of them." Walter pulled a face at Michael, daring him to contradict him, when he could see perfectly well that the little fairy Fee looked just like Michael.
As for the little prince, Walter said, tongue in cheek, "Well, leave it to you to give your kid some unpronounceable French name that I can’t get my tongue around. Is it Luc or Chris or what? I know, I’ll just call him LC. Or even better, I can call him Lucky."
"No, Walter, you can call *me* lucky." Michael smiled tearfully, and the older man hugged him.
"I’ll give you that one, Michael. You are."