I was sitting on my chair, one of many in our wing, in our living room. The atmosphere was Christmassy, glinting and sparkling, with children playing and giggling. We had all been told to come here, so the whole pack was present, except for Mariella's smaller brood, who were still in their incubators. Little did I know about Number One's silent plea to make things better, and the fact that, once again, someone in heaven had actually listened.
Our living room was a picture of Christmas, adorned with a decorated tree, festive rugs, curtains, and tablecloths that perfectly complemented the overall cheerful atmosphere. Our Christmas trees were truly special, living and rooted directly into the floor by some kind of magic.
They thrived there, growing and filling the air with their wonderful scent. The tree we were admiring was one that Wulfe and I had chosen last Christmas. Unlike a typical pine, this variety had soft leaves and, remarkably, didn't shed them for winter, keeping its foliage throughout the season. It wasn't an overly tall tree, standing at about eight feet, though it was still growing.
Downstairs, Mariella's chosen trees were more imposing, towering over ten feet, but the ceilings there were much higher. Christmas songs played softly in the background, and from somewhere nearby, the aroma of gingerbread, cinnamon, and oranges wafted to my nose. These were distinctly Christmassy scents, underscored by the rich undertones of cinnamon, clove cakes, coffee, and the comforting warmth of hot chocolate.
To my surprise, two days later, after my meltdown, I was told to be here. Well, I considered our wings my own space, and Number One and Mariella could stay downstairs for me to care for. I had been taking things easy, or at least what I considered easy. What I see as easy and what is actually easy are often two different things, but I was puzzled why, in the fuck, we had to be here right now.
It was only as a shimmer coalesced near the huge red-bricked fireplace, taking the shape of a man, Reddington, that I realized something divine was once again coming our way.
He took his form, and to my utter surprise, he walked right to Number One and said, "You asked, and he heard you, just like before, and he helps, so listen to me."
He then turned around and watched all of us, saying, "It is time for you not to be burdened by your past choices, promises, and assumptions about how you should operate or do things. It is time for you to be free."
I furrowed my brow; Number One was surprised, too, while Mariella smiled slightly, as if she had some inkling and approved.
Reddington continued, "From now on, until this time here is full, no promise is binding. This means, Number One, your promise to Mariella being your first is no longer valid; it does not exist. You can surely feel it: freedom. Therefore, all choices are solely yours and not bound by the past."
I swallowed; this was a big deal, and not necessarily a good one for me.
Reddington continued, "Now, let your hearts and your sense guide your decisions. While logic always has its place, you can and will use your hearts as well. Love is the strongest force in the universe, and thus, those who wield it possess the ultimate weapon. However, like any weapon, it can be misused, and love can then transform into jealousy, hatred, and fear, corrupting what was once pure. But love that endures, grows, and remains, despite the blows it has taken, is the strongest, for it has endured much and is still present."
I took a breath. For me, his words felt like Reddington was pushing Number One onto me, and I was not receptive. I had had enough of his manipulation, his pretense of being a husband – no more, at least not for me.
It was still difficult for me to accept that Reddington, the crime lord who had given me my first money and my first job, had been an angel from heaven who had lost its way, and that I had been the one helping him find his way back home. The world was sometimes full of surprises, and I didn't always like them, as they messed up my perfect way of life – or what I considered perfect, at least from time to time.
I sat there, smelling Christmas, and looking at the man who had, I had to admit, become my closest father figure in a long time. Losing him still stung, even though I had gotten to see him a few times.
Wulfe sat next to me, or rather, perched in my armrest as usual.
Reddington walked up to Mariella and said, "Your little ones will be fine; worry not. Let them rest. Recover yourself, connect with those whom you yearn for, learn from those whom you believe have something to offer, and love those whom you see needing it."
Mariella nodded, her eyes moist. It felt like some divine moment.
Reddington then walked to Number Five and told him, "You, my brave warrior, have chosen well. Heal with love, and love will heal you. Teach others to love as you have learned to love."
He nodded too.
Reddington moved from one person to another, offering a kind of blessing to each of us.
As he reached me, he said, "You, with new life inside you, must learn to rely on and lean into those who are there for you. Trust can be the hardest lesson for us all; it is to be earned and cherished, but never turn yourself away from trust, as it is the foundation of love."
I nodded.
Wulfe stood up.
Reddington took both of his hands and said, "He trusted her to you – to protect, to cherish, to love, to live with. As you've noticed, life isn't always roses and rainbows. You learn through impatience, frustration, and powerlessness, but those forces forge a bond so strong that nothing can ever break it."
Wulfe replied, "I try, and you are right, she is a handful, several handfuls, but I try."
Reddington smiled and spoke again in some unknown language. Wulfe pressed his head and answered him softly, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
Reddington smiled one last time before shimmering into dust and disappearing. I sat there, lost in thought, and for about ten minutes, no one moved.
Then, Number Three and Six spoke up, "We need to check on the babies. Mariella, Four wants you in the medbay for blood tests; your minerals are still messed up."
Charles muttered, "A well-known headache of mine. If my wife could please stop guzzling that pomegranate juice, it wouldn't help. Even diluted, it still messes you up."
Mariella looked guilty.
Number Five turned to me, "And you, rest. No more doing anything today. Your blood pressure must stay down, and your feet are too swollen. It's time for your relaxation time, and no eye rolls."
I took a breath. I wasn't in the mood to lie down in my dimly lit bedroom and try to be serene when everything ached, no position felt comfortable, and I was hungry. But alas, nothing in my stomach except those damn cubes, as my energy reserves were balanced. Besides, eating anything would mess with my internal feeding.
My life, being pregnant, wasn't always fun and games, but it was what it was. I just had to go with the flow, hoping maybe tomorrow I could do more, or perhaps that night, and spend time with my kids. Even though they were all over the place – running, screaming, jumping, crying, talking – it was wonderful.
Number five and Wulfe helped me up. Slowly, so my womb did not strain too much.
Number one then announced, "I am free, so let's do a quick check-up, shall we? I can do it in our bedroom, baby."
Number five glanced at number one, who clarified, "I want to check those stitches and her cervix, ensure there are no blood clots, gauge the babies' size, and locate the placentas."
As he was leaving, number four added, "Good, you do that, and update her file. I'll prepare the next feeding infusion for three hours from now. We can't overdo it; her gut needs time to rest, so this daily relaxation is in order."
I rolled my eyes but followed Number Five and Wulfe to my bedroom, where Wulfe had already prepared everything. The calming, light blue atmosphere was filled with my strawberry scent.
I noticed Number One casually checking his surroundings before rubbing his ear's scent glands. He then wiped his fingers just as casually on several surfaces in my room, marking it as his own. I suppressed a snarl, trying to behave like an adult rather than the hormone-driven beast I often was. I was most often messed up simply because I hated losing my cool, my self-control, and my hormones made me do just that.
Number One then instructed, "Well, come on, let's go to the next room so this stays pleasant. No medical procedures in there."
I tried to remain patient, resisting the urge to snap, though many sharp retorts came to mind. I genuinely attempted to behave, but my hormones had rendered me volatile, snappish, cruel, and entirely without regret for anything I'd said in recent weeks; it simply was what it was.
This room was green and bright, decorated in Christmas colors with shimmering curtains and faux fur mats on the floor. Although there was no fireplace, tall bookcases lined with books gave the space a study-like feel. Despite the large bed dominating the room, I could still detect the faint scent of girls, at least May, Lily, and Emmylee — not recent, but enough to tell that someone had slept here at some point.
While colorful, this room was hardly what one might want for a bedroom; after all, a bedroom should be a place for resting, not for all-out holiday cheer. However, it could serve well as a place to watch movies with a group or play games — whatever activity one prefers. In my mind, I named this the activity room.
The bed was soft and inviting, but it was not perfect, at least not for me in my current state. Its sinking mattress made me feel clumsy, and I could already tell how difficult it would be to change positions on it. When I wasn't pregnant, this bed might have felt like heaven, but now my additional weight caused me to sink deeply, as if I were a heavy weight pressing down on the mattress.
As I was laid in bed on my back, Charles entered a few moments later. I could sense the tension in Damon's shoulders as he fought to control his possessiveness.
Damon then said to me, "First, a normal gyne peek, so spread up. I need to check it this way, and then we'll do some see-through magic."
I nodded and spread my legs as he took a stool and some gynecological instruments, inserting them into my pussy to check. Charles stood near me, monitoring my vitals to ensure I could tolerate lying on my back, given the weight of my womb.
"Hmm, the stitches are holding, but... I don't see active bleeding, though there is scarring. Come and see, Charles," Damon said.
There was tension in Damon's voice and on his face, too, as I saw him getting up, and I let Charles look as well. Charles walked to the foot of the bed, crouched, and examined.
"Yeah, see, on the left side, a stitch has cut in, but her healing is slow; she scars. That band will prevent her cervix from opening fully," Charles muttered.
I took a calming breath. No active bleeding, well, that's good. But scarring, well, in case of c- section for me, it meant to take the whole womb out. I would grow a new one, and there would go my scarred cervix as well. So it was not permanent, but it was a complication no matter how I tried to spin it in my mind.
Damon explained, "A vaginal delivery has never been an option for you, so please try to remember that. You see those scars? Your cervix has three stitches, and when pressure is applied, those stitches shift. It's not too bad, but it does cause trauma. As your healing is lacking, scarring has occurred, creating a hard band around your cervix. When labor or contractions begin, it won't fully open. My most optimistic estimate is that it might reach six centimeters, and your babies won't fit through. Furthermore, as we've seen, your womb is too large and too stretched. So, even if you were to manage to birth one baby, your womb would become atonic, failing to contract, leading to an emergency C-section. This would not be ideal for the babies, so please keep this in mind."
I nodded silently, the weight of his words settling upon me. Only time would tell how and when I would give birth.
Charles then chimed in, "I'm ensuring our medbay is fully prepared, the operating theater is up and running, and the three-hour sterilizer is ready if needed."
Damon nodded as well, his expression tinged with worry. "On your left side," he said, "let's ease you a bit."
I attempted to roll onto my left side, but the movement felt clumsy.
He then cast a spell to reveal my womb and my babies. Smiling at them, I saw that I once again had three girls and two boys, but this time they were all singletons, not twins.
Charles observed, "This boy, his placenta is quite low. This girl is ahead of him, so he might have trouble if..."
Damon nodded and added, "From now on, baby, you will have someone with you 24/7, and you'll wear a monitor all the time. Even though you're not yet at 30 weeks, you're full. In fact, I need to see if I can aspirate a bit of liquid out; you seem to have an excess, and I can taste it. Let's see why."
I rolled my eyes, but my logical side understood the importance of vigilance.
I refused to be overly worried, yet I simultaneously tried to keep in mind that my babies needed to come first. They were still very small, and I wanted to keep them inside me for as long as possible. It seemed I would have to sacrifice my need to function and my independence for a while. Charles's voice was thick as he muttered something when I felt flutters all over my belly. My babies woke up, their dim world suddenly much brighter, as if by magic.
Damon said, "Oh, she is moving her hand, kicking her brother at the same time. And that one, she hiccups. Oh, my little ones, Daddy's here," he crooned to them.
I had to admit, there was such raw, genuine emotion in his voice this time that there was no denying it. It just might be that I had just gotten one damn stubborn burdock stuck on me. I hoped not. Well, I might have to do some rearranging to comfort Mariella and make her feel like a woman again.
As Charles added yet another complication, I thought I wouldn't be able to walk a step for weeks.
His voice, however, was gentle as he said, "Honey, move a bit; I need to check." He helped me roll back, and then he said, "See this bulge? It's not too bad yet, but..."
Damon cursed, "Shit, that's it. You're being very careful with monitoring. I've sent this to your mind so you can see it yourself."
It was a bit strange, as he telepathically sent image to me but I did see a bulge in my lower artery.
However, I also had a solution: "Use McBurners. I have some here in the upper cabinet, in a light green box. Colin thought we might need it, and he didn't listen to arguments."
Damon thought for a moment. "Not yet. I need to infuse some of my cells into it to make it supportive. Otherwise, it will soon be just a thin layer of cells. But it's good you told me. It will take a few days, maybe a week, so you'll take it easy."
I rolled my eyes in frustration. It was almost comical how, when denied something, it became an obsession just to have it. And since I was told not to move, oh yes, I wanted to move. But it seemed the whole damn pack might be alerted by any movement, and I'd face a nice long period of bed rest. Well, it was what it was.
At least for now, I could curb my impulses, but for how long, I had no idea. After they had checked my womb from every possible angle and discovered this and that, I was escorted to my bedroom by Wulfe, whose expression showed his concern. Damon had told him about what they found because he was worried.
My nightgown was ready, and before I could put it on, Damon slapped these tiny patches all over my belly and a few on my back. He then cast a spell that made them sink into my skin, rendering them irremovable. It seemed he had upped the game, but fine. Let him monitor; all I cared about was that I could still plan. As I relaxed, I wasn't advertising it, but I wasn't in a sleepy mood and had so many plans to make, for the future, of course.