Nikita could not take her eyes off them. Her babies. Their babies. She felt like singing a song of exultation every time she looked at them. They were so beautiful. Oh, she knew that people always said that about babies. All babies are beautiful. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had seen some babies who were definitely not beautiful. But that didn’t apply to hers and Michael’s babies.
The babies were but three days old. Though they were still a month premature, they were in good shape, especially given the fact that they were twins. Neil pronounced them hearty and healthy, and their lungs were sufficiently matured that their respiratory status was no longer in question. That was all the reassurance Nikita wanted or needed. She wanted out of the hospital. Hospitals were not her favorite place to be, she didn’t feel sick, and she was ready to start her new life as a mother. Even though sometimes she was filled with nervous energy and great anxiety, she knew she could depend on the others to fill in whatever gaps there might be. They would not let her falter.
And so it was that Walter came to be driving them home from the hospital. Birkoff sat in the front, hanging over the back of his seat, beaming at the two babies. "Hey, you guys, I’m your godfather. Birkoff."
Michael smiled wearily. Birkoff’s enthusiasm was infectious. He kept grinning at little Faith and muttering that she was incredibly pretty, for a child that resembled her father. Michael held their daughter in his arms, while Nikita held their son. The resemblance was quite striking, even at such an age. Faith’s hair was a lighter brown than Michael’s, but it had definite curl to it. He was not a vain man, and he seldom cared what his hair looked like. But he had to admit, whatever genes he had been able to bestow upon their daughter looked good on her.
It was her eyes that fascinated him. He laughed softly as she grasped his finger with her tiny hand. Her eyes kept changing color. People had told him that his eyes did the same, but he rarely paid serious attention to such comments. But now, he could see what they meant. Her eyes were a delicate shade of light grey right now, but moments ago, they had been a vivid emerald green.
He touched her face with one finger. She was so fragile, his Fee, his fairy princess. "I love you, Fee," he whispered, watching her face light up when she heard his voice. He knew it wasn’t possible that she could know his voice or realize who he was to her, but it didn’t matter. He believed that she knew, and he felt that recognition in his heart.
He glanced at Nikita. She was holding up well. After the ordeal that was labor was over, she slept for hours. Then they woke her to begin breast-feeding the babies, and she cried nearly the entire time. Come to think of it, so did he. He felt a bit shaky just thinking about it. Love for Nikita literally overwhelmed him. Suddenly he had all these feelings and no way to stuff them back inside, as he was wont to do in the past. He smiled. Things already felt different to him. Though he tried not to think about the future, having brand-new babies was guaranteed to make a man think in terms of legacies.
Nikita looked down at the tiny baby boy in her arms and her heart expanded another notch. Goodness, she could not believe this was real. It was only a little over a year ago that she had been dreaming of escaping Section, of finding out that Michael truly loved her, of marrying him and having his children someday. Now, someday was here.
"Hello, Chris," she said in a low husky voice. She carefully wrapped the blankets around him, remembering how the nurse instructed her on keeping the babies warm. It was a shock for her, looking into that tiny face and seeing herself. Mirror image. Chris had her hair, though it was a paler shade of blond than hers. She knew it would more than likely darken as he got older, but she didn’t mind. For the time being, Chris resembled Nikita so greatly, Michael was able to look at him without constantly being reminded of Adam. For that, she was eternally grateful. She knew that Michael would not, could not forget his firstborn son, but she didn’t want her own son to be shortchanged. She wanted him to receive every bit of love he deserved. From both parents.
The baby’s eyes were a deep shade of sapphire blue, much darker than Nikita’s. She smiled. He was going to be a handsome child. With hair so light and eyes so dark, he was already beautiful to behold. And he was hers. Theirs. Chris yawned and shook his tiny fists in the air. "Sleepy, huh?"
Walter looked into the rearview mirror and regarded his grandson. "Hey, Lucky! You going to sleep on us?" He fairly brimmed over with good feeling, and not even a mild reprimand from Sugar could dim that.
"Dad, I told you," she said, rolling her eyes, "his name is Chris."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." He shook his head gently, muttering to himself. Looks like a Lucky to me, Walter mumbled under his breath, waiting for Birkoff to contradict him. But Birkoff was too excited, thinking about being a godfather for the first time, to register what Walter said.
"Are the cradles ready, Dad?" Nikita asked.
"Yeah, I finished them in time, Sugar."
"And what names did you put on them, Walter?" Michael asked, knowing he was provoking a potential altercation, but unable to resist.
Walter glared at Michael via the rear-view mirror. He stuck out his tongue at the younger man, and Michael laughed, feeling almost carefree for the first time in his life.
"One says Faith, and one says Chris. I was coached by your apprentice demon over here," Walter said, indicating Birkoff.
Walter pulled into the driveway of their home and stopped. "Wait until I get the doors open, you two, okay?" Birkoff glanced curiously at Walter and nodded imperceptibly. Michael watched from the back seat, certain that something was going on, and equally certain that whatever it was, it involved Declan, Neil and Madeline.
Nikita was completely unaware that they had stopped, she was enraptured by the face of her son. Michael tapped her arm, and she looked up, immediately breaking into a gentle, loving smile when she met his eyes. "I didn’t forget about you, Michael."
He kissed her tenderly. "I know, doucette. Just checking." His hand shook as he stroked her hair back on one side of her face, his thumb finally coming to rest on her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. He kissed her again, whispering, "I love you, Kita," before drawing away.
She held her son close as she lay her head on Michael’s shoulder. "I love you, too. You’ve made us a wonderful life here. How can I ever thank you enough?"
"Just stay with me and grow old with me, Kita. That’s all." She was stunned by the power and the clarity of the love that shone in Michael’s eyes. If she had ever doubted his feelings for her, she never would again. It was all there for the world to see.
Soon they would cross the threshold into their home and begin their new life. Who knew what new adventures lay ahead? What dire emergencies? What childish games? The unknown could be a vast wasteland of darkness and negative elements...or it could be a vast wonderland of light and positive elements. Right now, she felt as though everything was very right with the world they shared.
Moments later, this was confirmed as they finally were allowed to exit the car. Declan appeared, blowing soap bubbles over their heads, careful not to splash the newborns. Birkoff brought a huge cake outside, decorated with candles that were already lit. Suddenly all of them were there, Neil and Madeline as well, shouting, "Surprise!"
It was indeed a surprise. The shouting woke the babies, who instantly began to cry loudly and vigorously, which, while it was a tribute to their lungs, made everyone groan in protest. Michael gently rocked Faith, trying to calm her, and that seemed to work, but for the fact that her brother was louder and more persistent. Faith was nothing if not competitive, and not to be outdone, she began to cry again. Louder and harder.
Neil grinned at the two new parents. "Welcome to the world of parenting, Michael and Nikita." Madeline poked Neil in the ribs with her elbow. "That’s not very nice, Neil. You’re being sarcastic," she critiqued.
Neil toned down his grin, just a hair, and said, "Just a little, Maddy, my love. I was wondering what it would take to persuade you to have one of these lil guys."
He could have knocked Madeline over with a feather. She thought she was probably in shock. Never in her life since joining Section had she seriously contemplated marriage. Not until she fell in love with Neil. Never in her life since becoming engaged to Neil had she seriously contemplated having a child. She was almost too old. No, she was too old. She knew it. It was too late for her. But Neil looked at her with that wistful grin, and she realized that it was something she wanted to try. She hadn’t even known she hungered for it until it was literally staring her in the face. Two babies, born of love and faith, who had absolutely no other good reason for being here.
As if they knew what she was thinking, the babies quieted. Madeline looked at Michael and Nikita, their faces reflecting what their hearts rejoiced in feeling. She met Neil’s eyes finally and mouthed one word silently. Yes. Tears sprung into his eyes, and his face sobered. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I think we’d better get married then."
"Of course," she said, her dark eyes brightly gleaming.
Nikita’s body ached, but she would not say so. She wanted to see the babies’ room that Michael had painted a pale yellow. She wanted to see the cradles that Walter so lovingly wrought with his own two hands. She wanted to... God help her, she wanted to lie down. Just for a second. She was so tired.
Neil and Madeline seemed unusually excited about something. But she didn’t even pretend to eavesdrop, she yawned. Michael caught the yawn, and he immediately moved to her side. "Kita, why don’t you give me the baby and go upstairs?"
"I can’t do that, Michael. We have company. It would be rude." She yawned again, unable to prevent it.
Michael sighed. They hadn’t even cut the cake yet. He was glad everyone was enjoying themselves, God knew they deserved it, but a little downtime would have been appreciated. They had crossed the threshold over an hour ago, but the cake sat on the kitchen table, untouched, while everyone chatted amiably. The only possible exception to that was Michael and Nikita, who were still holding their newborns in their arms, as if they were afraid to let them out of their sight at all.
***
Walter shook his head at Birkoff. "Those two just don’t know how to have fun, Birkoff. I dunno what it takes to get through to ‘em."
Birkoff grinned. "Well, to be honest, Walter, I think they must have fun once in a while. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be celebrating the birth of the twins."
Walter snorted derisively. "Birkoff, you’re confusing fun and love. Must be the tragedy of your young life."
"Maybe they’re just worn out from having twins," Declan chimed in, interrupting Walter’s conversation with Birkoff. "Maybe they’d like a moment to sit down and put their feet up. Maybe they’d like someone to offer to take the babies for a few minutes. Their arms must be ready to fall off by now." Declan smiled innocently as he waited for Walter and Birkoff to absorb what he had just said.
"Trust you to cut right to the chase, Declan," Birkoff said in a friendly tone. "Have you met your godson yet?"
Declan slowly winked at Birkoff, shaking his head so that his long ponytail flowed back and forth like a stream changing direction. "Uh huh. I see how the land lies, Birkoff. You’ve been bewitched by the little changeling in Michael’s arms. So easily beguiled by a pretty face."
Birkoff’s grin faded into something more real, more significant.
"Yeahhh...she’s such a sweetheart, isn’t she? I just gotta be her godfather, Declan, I hope you don’t mind. I just feel like she’s...I don’t know...mine." He turned both hands palm upwards and shrugged.
"Yeah...I know how that is, Birkoff." Declan agreed. He didn’t really mind. He fell in love at first sight with both twins, but the boy with Nikita’s hair and eyes was definitely striking.
Walter smiled happily, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Well, I got you both beat all to hell and back. They both belong to me," he stated, alluding to the fact that he was their grandfather.
"Think we should relieve the happy couple, then?" Declan asked cheerfully, only too happy to do so.
Birkoff nodded, glad to have a good reason to agree with Declan. "Sure."
***
But when they approached Michael and Nikita, they soon realized that it was easier said than done. "No, thanks," said Michael, a smile on his lips for once. "I’m just fine, holding Fee here. But why don’t you give Nikita a break? I think she’s tired and won’t admit it."
Nikita shook her head in the negative. She was a good mother. She would stay right there and hold Chris as long as she could. Birkoff blinked. "I didn’t say you weren’t a good mother, Nikita. I was just trying--"
"I know what you meant, Birkoff," she said, a trifle shortly. She resented anyone thinking that she couldn’t be as strong or as attentive as she needed to be. She didn’t need anyone’s help right now. She was just fine.
Michael put his hand on Nikita’s arm. "Come, doucette, let Birkoff have Chris for a few minutes. You look like you could use a nice piece of cake."
Nikita’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. "You don’t think I can take care of Chris myself?"
Declan interjected, suddenly feeling as though the whole issue was spiraling out of control. "It’s okay, Nikita. No one wants to take the baby away from you. We just wanted you to relax and have a bit of fun, that’s all." He patted her back reassuringly, and Nikita wiped away a tear.
"Of course," she said. What was wrong with her? She was rarely this maudlin or this irritable.
Abruptly she handed Chris to Declan, leaving him to stare after her as she spun away from him in a brisk trot. Michael grimaced. His arm was going to sleep, and he wanted to find out what Nikita was getting up to.
"Birkoff!" Michael commanded. Birkoff didn’t even hesitate, he obeyed.
"Yes, Michael?"
"Please hold Faith for a few minutes, okay? I want to check on Nikita."
"Sure, Michael." Birkoff was ecstatic, despite what had transpired a few minutes ago here.
***
Nikita pressed a cool, wet washcloth to her face and examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked pale. Tired. Unhappy. She thought the word, and tears deposited themselves on her cheeks, making sparkling trails of wetness on her face. She buried her face in her hands, giving in to the urge to cry. Why did she feel so overwhelmed suddenly?
"Kita..." came Michael’s voice from the doorway. He was standing there, studying her. "Are you all right, doucette?"
His kindness was her undoing. "Oh, Michael..." Nikita crumpled into a heap, and Michael was barely able to grab her in time to keep her from hitting the floor. Alarmed, Michael picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bed. He lay her down on the bed, retrieving the cool washcloth to apply it to her forehead.
He knelt by her side. "Kita, you just got home from the hospital. You’re trying to do too much. Give yourself a chance, love." His eyes darkened as they ran over her body. "You probably haven’t eaten all day." He noted how thin she seemed, despite having just given birth to twins.
Nikita smiled faintly. "Thank you, Michael."
"For what?"
"For taking such good care of me."
He stole a quick kiss. "That’s my job, doucette. I love you."
She closed her eyes sleepily. "You always know what’s good for me. I never understood how you did that, Michael."
He snuggled close to her for a second, his lips touching her ear. "Faith and luck, doucette. Faith and luck."
Michael clapped Birkoff on the back as he returned to the celebration downstairs. Birkoff was beaming at Faith, and it was clear that the tiny baby girl had claimed his heart.
"I know you think I’m kidding, Michael, but I swear, I’m going to wait for Faith to grow up so I can marry her."
Michael’s eyes flickered back and forth consideringly. "You’re a good man, Birkoff, but don’t push your luck," he finally said with a slight smile to take the sting out of the words.
"Oh, I get it. Daddy wants her all to himself," Birkoff kidded Michael.
"At least for the first 18 years, Birkoff, yes," Michael agreed. "Ask me again then," he added with a chuckle.
"Oh, and Birkoff, I don’t want you teaching her any of your bad habits."
"Like?"
"Like eating Froot Loops and Oreos for breakfast," said Michael.
Birkoff laughed. "There are worse things. Walter will probably take Lucky out chasing girls on the back of his Harley before he hits ten."
Michael didn’t even blink. "Over my dead body."
"Had a feeling you’d say that." As Birkoff continued to play with Faith’s tiny toes, he realized that if he were in Michael’s position, he might well feel the same. He knew he himself felt safe within the confines of the makeshift family they had created together, and now, more than ever before, he felt protective of the others. But especially of their newest members. Faith and Chris.
Declan made his way over to Michael and Birkoff, noting the way Michael cautiously oversaw Birkoff’s every move with his daughter. Michael was literally looking over Birkoff’s shoulder, but Birkoff was oblivious. He was truly enamored of the littlest princess. Declan made eye contact finally, asking Michael, "How is Nikita?"
"She’s tired. I figured I’d let her sleep a while, then bring her some dinner, along with some cake."
Declan responded, a twinkle in his normally storm- grey eyes, "Not a problem. ‘Cept for one thing. She’s not asleep."
Declan stared at a point somewhere beyond Michael until Michael turned and looked over his shoulder. Nikita. Still pale and somewhat groggy, but standing unsteadily behind him. "You’re up."
"Kita, what are you doing up so soon? You need to rest." Michael’s concern was apparent.
"I didn’t want to miss anything. What were you talking about?"
"What do you think? Our babies." Michael wrapped his arms around Nikita, and she slumped against him, obviously still tired.
"So when are you going to start teaching them French?" Declan asked. Michael blinked. "I hadn’t thought about it."
Declan nodded, but urged Michael, "You should start as early as possible. They learn so quickly when they’re little."
Nikita shrugged, as if she didn’t care, but her words were more revealing. "Great, then they can talk to each other, and I won’t understand a word."
"Kita, if it bothers you," Michael said softly, "I won’t teach them French."
"Don’t be silly, Michael, it’s part of their heritage. Besides, it’s always useful to be able to speak other languages."
Walter, always the peacemaker, broke in with, "Look, they can’t even talk yet, so let’s not worry about what language their first words will be in just yet, okay?"
Nikita dropped her eyes, her hands moving anxiously against each other. Michael caught her movements and wondered what she was thinking. She was clearly preoccupied with something. He just didn’t know whether it was something trivial or something he should be seriously concerned about.
Walter drew Michael aside, his tone conspiratorial, so they would not be overheard. "Is it just me or is Sugar acting a bit defensive? No matter what anyone says, she acts like she feels threatened."
Michael glanced at Nikita briefly. "I think she feels she needs to do everything, but worse than that, do it all herself. She’s being very resistive so far when it comes to asking for help. But it’s only our first day home, Walter."
Walter nodded. He hated to see Sugar suffer. Oh, he knew that Michael was not the cause of Sugar’s upset, but he wished there were something he could do to relieve her pain.
Michael kissed Nikita on the nape of her neck, still holding her in his arms. "Let’s put the babies down to sleep, Kita. You still haven’t seen their room, and Birkoff has to unveil his masterpiece."
Birkoff cackled, like a mad scientist embarking on a wayward journey into the unknown. "Ah, yes, the baby monitor to end all baby monitors!"
Nikita smiled weakly, despite her increasingly odd mood and fatigue.
"Are you sure we should rely on a monitor, Michael? Maybe I should sleep in there. So I can hear them if they cry."
Michael sighed. "Kita, you wake up when a strange footstep sounds outside the bedroom door, and you nearly shot me once, when I came into your bedroom without saying anything first...I don’t think you’ll sleep through the babies crying."
Nikita didn’t look convinced.
"Let’s put the babies to sleep. Then we can get something to eat, okay?"
"You’re pushing me, Michael."
"I’m not pushing you, Kita. I’m hungry. You can’t be as vigilant on an empty stomach."
"Okay," she agreed with great reluctance.
"Besides, you’re breast-feeding. If you don’t eat, they don’t eat." She sighed in realization that he was right.
"Do you think I’ll have enough to feed them, Michael?" She asked anxiously, her hands beginning to move restlessly again.
"Kita, if you don’t, that’s okay, too. You don’t have to breast-feed."
"But I want to."
"Then go ahead."
"But--"
Michael was trying desperately to remain supportive, but he was growing a trifle exasperated with Nikita’s uncharacteristic indecision. "Do it, or don’t do it, but you seem determined to worry about it either way."
She started to cry, burying her face against Michael’s chest. He held her tight, instantly awash in guilt for making her cry, but at a loss to explain her emotional lability. He kissed the top of her head as he rubbed her back, murmuring over and over, "Ssh, ssh, Kita."
"Please don’t cry, doucette." Michael looked helplessly at Declan, who accurately read Michael’s distress.
"I’m going to get you something to eat, Nikita." Declan took his role as cook seriously, and he was utterly devoted, to Michael as well as Nikita.
Nikita protested mildly, unable to summon the energy needed to make a good case for not eating. Michael closed his eyes and counted to ten before saying anything in response. "If I have to, I’ll feed you myself," he insisted.
In the end, Michael sat on a chair in the kitchen, Nikita on his lap, breaking off a fair slice of cake for her to eat. He pulled the cake apart with his fingers, feeding her the iced portion first. Nikita pushed the cake into her mouth and chewed reluctantly, then with more enthusiasm, as she realized just how hungry she was.
Michael watched the last bit of icing disappear into her mouth and envied it. He bent his head, tasting the icing on her lips with a kiss. "More?" he asked her. She nodded, staring at his mouth. "Yes, please."
He chuckled as he pulled her against him, unconsciously settling her so she lay snuggled against his heart. He kissed her hair, which even now fell forward to partially cover her face. Releasing her for a brief moment, he broke off several pieces of a tuna sandwich. He popped one piece into his mouth in an effort to assuage his own hunger, then fed the rest to Nikita, bit by bit. Gradually, they managed to consume two sandwiches this way.
He licked his fingers, and Nikita jealously watched as his tongue flicked out to cover the tips of his fingers. "Ki-ta...that’s very dangerous, what you’re doing."
Grasping his fingers, she drew them into her mouth. He closed his eyes, groaning as he felt the effects of her gesture on his body. He retrieved his fingers and traced a wet line along the side of her face. She sighed in contentment.
"I love you, Michael."
He slowly smiled. "I love you, too, doucette."
A moment or two later, Nikita fretted and worried out loud. "Michael? What if I can’t do this?"
He kissed her, his hands moving through her hair lovingly. "You’ll be fine, Kita. I have confidence in you. But more than that, you’re not alone. You have all of us supporting you. Me, Walter, Declan, Birkoff. Even Neil and Madeline."
"You’ll never be alone again," he whispered as he cradled her in his arms.
Nikita picked up her sleeping son and joined the happy entourage, making their way upstairs to the babies’ room. Michael allowed Birkoff to continue to hold Faith, partly out of compassion for the younger man’s devotion to her, but mainly because it freed him to protect Nikita. Though her gait was steadier, since she had eaten, he was concerned about her holding Chris while she was trying to negotiate the stairs. But mentioning this to her directly would merely generate resentment and undermine her already- shaky confidence in herself. So he hung back, trailing behind her and Chris, ready to grab both of them if necessary.
The second-floor landing was decorated with colorful paper and congratulatory signs. More of Birkoff’s handiwork, no doubt. Though the artistic influence was undeniably Declan’s. Michael ran ahead of the group to the babies’ room and pushed the door open. The room was painted a pale yellow. Though it was not a large room, it felt spacious and airy. White curtains hung at the only window, fluttering gently with the afternoon breeze. Michael crossed the room to close the window, afraid that the babies were too young to withstand the elements. He turned to face the group, which was gathered in a half-circle.
Nikita stepped forward slowly, Chris in her arms, her eyes on Michael at first. "It’s beautiful..." She was overcome with emotion, but she didn’t want to cry again. Frustrated by her inability to control her feelings, she stared at Michael, her eyes filling with tears. He moved closer to her, automatically wiping her eyes with his fingers. Putting an arm around her, he felt her shift her weight towards him. He looked down at their son and smiled. Chris seemed to be studying the man who was his father, though Michael knew his vision at such a young age would be unfocused. Still, he felt his scrutiny as though it were real.
Nikita said softly, "This room is everything I dreamed it would be. And more."
Walter smiled, his heart filled to bursting with love and affection for Sugar and his new grandchildren. He traded warm glances with Michael, knowing he was responsible for Sugar’s happiness and well-being, knowing Michael would sooner let himself down than disappoint Sugar. The cradles, made of well-worked oak, stood in the center of the room, away from the window, to avoid drafts and direct sunlight.
"Sugar, what do you think of the cradles?" He rubbed his hands gently, feeling a slight resurgence of the arthritic pain that had plagued him during their crafting.
"Thank you, Dad," she managed to choke out tearfully. "They’re wonderful."
She slipped out from under Michael’s arm and leaned over the cradle with Chris’ name on it. She gently placed Chris into the cradle, fluffing the blanket around him, tucking his tiny feet inside. He looked so small to her now. So new. A tear fell onto the blanket and she bit her lip. Her hand trailed over the blanket as she reluctantly drew back. Michael caught her as she faltered when she stood back up. He kissed her lightly, and she broke down, clinging to Michael as she sobbed.
Neil met Michael’s worried glance over Nikita’s head. Neil shook his head. Leaving Madeline’s side for the first time since they had arrived at the Samuelle house, Neil strode briskly over to Nikita and Michael. "Nikita," he said, "can I see you a moment outside?"
Tugging on her gently, to extricate her from Michael’s embrace, Neil then towed her behind him until they reached the hallway. Michael tried not to watch them, but it was futile. His mind was totally preoccupied with Nikita. Birkoff nudged his arm, and he looked down to see that Birkoff was holding Faith. "Here, Michael, she wants you."
Michael smiled at Birkoff. He doubted that. How could Faith know the difference between his embrace and Birkoff’s? She was barely three days old. But he was grateful to Birkoff for the gesture. It was what he felt in his heart. That somehow she knew him.
He held Faith for a few moments, then he too leaned over the cradle with her name on it, placing her gently inside. He adjusted and re-adjusted the blankets, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. He knew he was fidgeting, like an overanxious father, but he would be the first to admit it, he was. She was so beautiful, his Fee. He kissed a fingertip and pressed it to Fee’s tiny cheek. "Si belle, ma petite Fee." She blinked her grey- green eyes at him, and he laughed softly.
Birkoff cocked his head, as if in question. Michael smiled. "She’s flirting with me, Birkoff. She must think I’m you."
Birkoff blushed. "No way, Michael." He eyed the tiny girl with genuine compassion and affection. "She knows exactly who you are. Trust me."
Walter joined the two at Faith’s cradle. "She’s gonna be a real Daddy’s girl, I can see that." He laughed suddenly. "Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Michael’s still got the magic touch with females."
"As flattering as that sounds, Walter, I’ll gladly pass. As long as I only have that effect on my wife and daughter." Now it was Michael’s turn to be somewhat overcome by emotion.
He rested a hand on Birkoff’s shoulder. "Is the monitor ready?"
Birkoff nodded. "Just waiting for Nikita to come back in."
Michael turned an anxious eye on the couple, Nikita and Neil, still conversing animatedly in the hallway. Nikita didn’t look distraught anymore. Maybe Neil had succeeded in reassuring her. It didn’t matter to Michael who managed to get through to her, whether it was him or someone else, as long as Nikita knew she was loved, thoroughly and permanently.
His eyes darkened a shade. His love was not conditional. It was forever. He would do whatever he had to do to protect her and their children.
Nikita returned to Michael’s side and kissed him softly. "Problems?" he whispered.
"No, Neil just wanted to explain to me about the hormones, still flooding my body, and how I might feel out of control of my emotions for a while yet."
"Did that make you feel better?"
"Yes." She laced her fingers with his and swung their joined hands back and forth. He kissed their hands where they met. "Good."
Birkoff nodded at Michael. "Ready? This is the first demo of the Birkoff Baby Monitor."
Michael glanced suspiciously at Birkoff. "That name..."
"Hey, it’s not original, so sue me."
Madeline laughed. "Why don’t you two go into your bedroom so we can test it out?"
Michael took the lead and Nikita followed him down the hall to their bedroom. The moment she saw their bed, she sighed. Oh, to be asleep right now. Yet there was another part of her that wanted to see and hear everything, savor everything, remember everything, and store it up for another time when she could take out the memories and live through them all over again.
Michael turned on the monitor in their room, and true to his word, Birkoff had crafted a masterpiece of technology. Every pop, gasp and whisper came through the monitor’s speaker loud and clear. He felt reassured, but did Nikita?
Nikita smiled beatifically. "Yes! It works! It’s just like being there with them."
Michael hugged her, his lips claiming hers once more. "Everything’s going to be okay, Kita. You’ll see."
***
Nikita woke hours later, her breasts throbbing and full. She needed to feed the babies. She searched for her robe and threw it over herself carelessly. As Nikita sat on the edge of the bed, Michael woke, glancing up at her through sleep-filled eyes. "Hey," he said softly, grabbing her wrist. "What’s up?"
"I need to feed the babies." She pointed to her chest.
Michael ran his hands lightly over her breasts, feeling his fingertips graze her nipples. His fingers came away wet with milk. He licked his fingers. "Okay," he agreed, not quite willing to tell her what that gesture did to him.
She kissed him, long and deep, her tongue penetrating his mouth in a movement that was both sensual and sweet. As if she were reading his mind, she whispered, "It makes me feel the same way."
"What else did Neil tell you, Kita?" he continued in a whisper.
"That we couldn’t be together for at least six weeks." She kissed him again. "It’s going to be a long six weeks, Michael."
"You’re telling me," he replied huskily, nipping gently at her mouth.
"In the meantime, though, we can ignore each other or we can torture ourselves."
He laughed. "There’s something to be said for torture..."
***
As it turned out, Nikita brought the babies into the bedroom, one at a time, to feed them. She sat in the rocking chair and fed Chris first, trying not to feel self- conscious as Michael watched her. But she knew he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was a beautiful picture, and one he would long remember. After she returned Chris to his cradle, she brought Faith in and settled into the rocker. Gently rocking back and forth, she fed Faith, who was the more aggressive of the two babies. Faith tugged and tugged at Nikita’s breast, causing a sensation that was part satisfaction, part pain.
"Your daughter is so aggressive, Michael," she whispered to him.
"She just knows what she likes, Kita," he said with a half-smile.
"Just like her father?" she chuckled.
He blinked slowly. "Is there a way to answer that without getting myself into trouble?"
She smiled enigmatically.
"Do you know how hard it was being separated from you while you were in the hospital?" Michael asked Nikita. They lay side by side in bed, but everywhere their bodies could touch, they did. Her hands already entwined with his, Nikita snuggled under Michael’s chin.
"Michael, you were there every day, and every night. You even slept in a chair in my room."
"But it wasn’t the same, Kita. I missed being with you, being able to hold you like this."
She kissed him, her lips brushing his with tantalizing slowness. "I missed this."
He ran his hands up and down her back, pressing her close. His mouth opened under hers, and he let her control their kisses until he ached in places she hadn’t touched. "Ki-ta...stop."
"So soon?" she pouted.
He ground his mouth against hers with a groan. Her hand drifted lower along his body, and he trapped her hand with his, effectively stopping her finally. He broke off the kiss, breathing hard. "We...have to...stop."
"I know," she replied, the slumberous fire fading from her eyes, albeit reluctantly. She turned over on her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. At first, Michael wondered if she was all right, but he soon realized that she was laughing.
"I’m at the mercy of the hormones, Michael..."
"Get some sleep, Kita." Despite his obvious frustration, he chuckled.
"I’m devising new ways to torture you..."
He groaned. "I was afraid you’d say that."
***
Michael slept for a few well-deserved hours, but at some point, he realized that Nikita was missing. He rolled over onto his side, automatically seeking her warmth and her touch, but she was gone. He woke instantly, the shock of his discovery giving him a clarity that might otherwise be absent, considering how sleep-deprived he was.
He lifted his head and surveyed the room. Empty. He jumped out of bed, pulling on a robe over his nearly-nude form. Fear and anxiety coursed through him. He wasn’t sure where to look first. He padded into the bathroom, but realized immediately that she was not there. He checked the shower. Nothing. He shook his head.
Striding down the hallway, Michael gently pushed open the door to the babies’ room. There he found Nikita. Asleep. She was lying on the floor, between the two cradles, curled up in a blanket. He didn’t know if she didn’t trust the monitor. Or she didn’t trust herself to wake and hear the babies cry. He didn’t waste another thought on what he was going to do. He wasn’t going to try to fight whatever impulse was driving her to be this over-protective of their babies. He padded back to their bedroom, grabbed the blanket off the bed, and returned a minute later.
Snuggling close to Nikita’s sleeping form, Michael draped his own blanket over the two of them. She stirred briefly as he reached around her middle, his arms encircling her. He pressed a chaste kiss to the nape of her neck. "Michael..." she said in her sleep, in such a tone that he wondered what she was dreaming.
"I love you," he whispered.
She smiled in her sleep. "Love you..." she echoed.
***
The next time he woke, Michael blinked at the sunlight already streaming in through the window. Nikita was lying next to him, her head on his outstretched arm, their son attached to her breast. The baby suckled hungrily as Nikita murmured to him. Michael couldn’t even make out all the words, but he knew they were loving words. He kissed her shoulder, and she glanced at him sleepily.
"Morning, Michael. Our son wanted breakfast."
"I see," he said, watching the baby feed. He stroked Chris’ hair and the baby paused in his feeding to blink at Michael.
"Do you think he can recognize my touch, Kita? Sometimes I swear he does."
Nikita laughed softly. "I dunno, Michael. I think they’re both the most amazing babies that ever lived. Maybe they do."
She rubbed the baby’s bottom as she held him against her body. "I think it’s time someone else learned how to change diapers."
"Do you mean me, Kita? I never expected you to do all the work, you know. You just seem to get there before I do."
She picked up Chris and deposited him on Michael’s flat abdomen. She tickled the baby and he giggled. Michael felt the vibrations go through him and he smiled. He held the baby’s shoulders while Nikita expertly stripped off his diaper, cleansed his bottom, and whisked a new one on without a pause. She picked him up again, holding him for a few minutes before returning him to his cradle.
"How’d you get so good at that?"
"Practice. You wanna try the next one?"
Michael nodded. "Only if I get to use you as my changing table."
"Okay," she said, suppressing a chuckle.
She picked up Faith, and together, they began the whole process all over again. Faith once again proved to be the more aggressive of the two babies, and Nikita winced at the power of her tiny mouth on her breast.
"You need to speak to your daughter. Her brother is much more polite," Nikita said, giggling.
"Mmm.." he said, his eyes darkening as he bit her shoulder.
"But I see where she gets it from," Nikita laughed.
Once Faith had finished feeding, Michael picked her up and lay her across Nikita’s abdomen. The baby flailed her hands and feet, gurgling excitedly. Nikita smiled at Michael. "She does know it’s you, Michael. She loves it when you pick her up."
He rubbed Faith’s stomach gently, but he was surprised when she belched loudly. He grinned at Nikita. "She’s a funny little thing, doucette."
He slid the baby out of her wet diaper and grabbed a baby wipe, carefully cleaning her sensitive skin. He managed to get the clean diaper on with a minimum of fuss, but he was not even close to Nikita’s level of proficiency. He pouted briefly. "You’re much faster than me, Kita."
"You’ll get better." Nikita knew what he was doing, he was trying to build her confidence. But it didn’t matter why he’d said it. It was true. She was determined to be good at mothering their children, and she would be.
She picked up Faith and kissed her. She lay the baby down in her cradle. Moments later, Nikita lay back against Michael’s outstretched arm. Now he couldn’t move if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He closed his eyes, thinking how lucky he was. To be surrounded by two beautiful children and his loving wife. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.