It was by no means an easy birth, baby Biktor was as big as a barn, just like her Dad. But it happened fast, baby Biktor came into the world fast and clumsily. Bernadette survived though, panting and exhausting, sweat still dripping off her brow as she loosened the grip on the sheets. Baby Biktors healthy cries filled the room, head bobbing without grace as she was already rooting for a breast.
Viktor’s whole face was split with an impossibly proud grin and tears watered his eyes as he looked down at his baby girl. Though she was probably a big baby compared to just about everyone else, Viktor thought she was an impossibly small thing, the most delicate thing in the world held in his hands. He managed to pull himself out of his reverie just long enough to clean her off a bit before wrapping her in a blanket he’s grabbed from the linen closet so he could offer her to Bernadette.
“She’s so perfect, Bertie. You did so good.” He crooned. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Viktor took a moment, admiring his daughter in Bernadette’s arms before admiring Bernadette herself. He reached out to pet at her hair and leaned to kiss at her temple.
“I love you so much. Thank you, Bertie.” He crooned. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Bertie had been lonely for most of her life. She would beg and plead with her dad and nannies to stay with her, but every night she would still be alone. It was one of the most devastating things to Bertie about her life before, the aching loneliness. Coming to America was a huge change, but it came with so many rewards. Bertie found Viktor right away, and she was accepted into their family without any hesitation. They even managed to bring a baby into the world, all on their own; little Olive (who was never really little). Bertie considered her life to be a great gift, that she could live it and be with Viktor and Olive. She was finally happy, she finally felt as though she would never be alone again.
Even now, as she lay on a hospital bed and it felt like her spine would surely snap in half, she was so incredibly happy.
Whenever things felt hard or scary, Bertie remembered giving birth to Olive. Her and Viktor were completely alone when she came into the world, but they did it at home and without the help of any doctors. She was terrified then, but when Olive plopped down onto her chest; crying and rooting around for milk; Bertie felt like she could do anything. Giving birth to Olive made Bertie feel like a superhero. So when she became pregnant a couple years later, she expected to feel even better than she did the first time. But this time, everything had gone wrong right away. From the get go, Bertie was more tired and sick than the first time; she found it impossible to keep anything down. She spent most of her time sleeping on the bathroom floor, because the tile was cool to touch and in the same room as the toilet. But Bertie didn’t exactly expect anything was wrong, Olive was still little, she assumed she was just extra tired since she had Olive on top of everything else. But the days leading up to her due date had her in excruciating pain, she cried a lot and was no longer sleeping; she couldn’t hold Olive either. Bertie felt bad for Viktor, having to take care of things on his own; the Nikitins’ were out of the country on business. They would’ve been home by the actual due date, but things had taken a turn for was felt like the worst.
The hospital room was probably cool, but Bertie was sweating profusely. During her pregnancies, Bertie didn’t do her hair, so the blond had grown out a lot. There was wet locks of brown and blonde hair stuck to her face, the hair tangled in her eyes and clung to the corners of her mouth; catching on her dry lips. Her doe eyes were open but half lidded, they fluttered weakly when a bead of sweat dropped off her brow. Bertie was dark complected, but she appeared to have lost a lot of color, she looked more of a sluggish grey than her normal bronze (it’s giving pregnant Bella from Breaking Dawn). She supposed she must’ve been scary to look at, but she couldn’t ask; she felt weak and delirious. If Peter or anyone spoke to her, she couldn’t make out the sounds and turn them into words in her head. All she could do was focus on the monitor that was focused on the baby. Her vision felt blurry so she couldn’t really see it, but she could make out the lines that were meant to represent the babies heartbeat. The lines moved in a regular pattern, in time with the babies heart, so if Bertie saw the lines moving on the monitor, she knew her baby was still alive. She thought over and over again about labor with Olive, this was so incredibly different and her unwavering positivity had finally began to deplete as she faded in and out of consciousness. In these moments, her thoughts changed back to her own mother. Bertie didn’t get to know her mother, but she knew she must’ve been really enchanting to make Aslan fall in love with her. Bertie thought about how damaging it was for Aslan, to lose his wife giving birth to her. She wondered if Viktor would endure that same kind of agony, if she couldn’t walk away from this?
Bertie wished she could’ve met the person her dad was before her mom died, she wished more for that than even meeting her mom one time. How grand would it be, if Aslan could look at her and smile. That she could replace the anguish in his heart, with joy. If only he could see her differently, if he couldn’t love her as his daughter, maybe he could love her as a person. But Aslan promised Esther (Bertie’s mom), he would always make sure Bertie was taken care of. He never promised to love her, love her even though she killed the only woman he ever loved.
“Please…Don’t hate her…” Bertie wheezed weakly, the message was intended for Viktor but she couldn’t be sure he was still in the room. Not before she completely lost consciousness, rolling limp onto her side in the bed.
Viktor had always been known for his cheerful disposition. He was like his dedushka Mityr that way, always ready with an easy smile and a pleasant laugh. It was a rare sight to see when him crying or even upset really, but the current situation wasn't one he could show a toothy grin to to make it better. It wasn't something he could laugh off. Instead, it had him frantic and weepy as he was ushered out of the hospital room with baby Olive in tow while nurses and doctors all began to mill about the room in a flurry.
Bertie had been unwell during her second pregnancy and it was hard to bear for Viktor. He hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time. He was constantly fussing at her, desperate to make her even just a little more comfortable. He had never been good in the kitchen, but he tried making new foods that he had hoped she could stomach. On the nights she slept in the bathroom, he'd make sure she had pillows and blankets, whatever she needed to be comfortable, and then he'd make his bed in the hallway nearby as to not be far from her. He'd try to bring levity to the situation whenever he could, telling Bertie stories about his family that maybe she'd never heard, talking about their pride and joy Olive and whatever nonsense she'd gotten into as toddlers do. He knew he couldn't do much for Bernadette, but he knew he could at least do those things for her.
But he couldn't do anything now.
"Please, you'll have to go to the waiting room, Mister Nikitin. She has to go to the OR. We'll keep you updated." A nurse said, reaching up (up, up, up) to press her hand to his shoulder to coax him out of the room and towards the waiting room.
"W-w-wait, wait, wait, please. Is she going to be okay? Is the baby going to be okay?" He blubbered, holding Olive perhaps a little too tightly to his chest in his worry.
It wasn't lost on him that this was how Aslan lost Bernadette's mother, but things had gone so well with Olive, they had even brought her into the world with just the two of them. This couldn't be how he lost his children's mother, too.
"The doctors are going to do their best, but you have to go so they can do their job." The nurse insisted.
As she spoke, the team of nurses and doctors came rushing out of the room with Bertie's bed in tow, presumably towards the operating room. Viktor craned his neck and tried to get one last glimpse at Bernadette with wide panicked eyes.
She looked so small and so unwell. He didn't want to think it, but he hoped that wouldn't be the last time he saw her.
---
The Nikitin family often mixed business with pleasure when it came to their trips to Russia. It wasn't strange for Adrik and his siblings to be called to the motherland for work and for them to pack up their entire families to accompany them. It was for that reason the Nikitins had multiple vacation villas in different parts of the country that they made sure to keep cleaned and stocked for impromptu visits.
Adrik was loathed to have left his youngest son and daughter-in-law back in New York, especially since Bernadette had been so unwell up until the very end of her tumultuous pregnancy. Viktor and Bernadette had insisted that things would be fine, that they would make it to the homestretch and the family would make it back just in time for the newest babe to be born.
He felt like a fool now as he and the rest of the family frantically packed up the villa and attempted to secure travel home.
Viktor had called his parents wailing, struggling with his words as he explained Bernadette's dire circumstance. The phone call hadn't even ended when Adrik and Asha began throwing clothes back into bags and haphazardly grabbing their toiletries. If Viktor was this upset, it was surely serious.
They had secured a private plane back to the states, but between the rushed packing and the actual travel time, it would be hours before they would make it back. Moreover, they couldn't readily take calls once they were in the air.
Viktor would be all alone. He'd be alone if something happened to Bernadette.
Adrik couldn't let that happen.
While he hadn't made use of it in the last few years, he had made sure to have some of his men keep him updated on Aslan's comings and goings, which wasn't too hard to do as he mostly kept to himself and worked. He also wasn't the type to change his phone number or other contact information at the drop of the hat, which was why Adrik had Aslan's phone number in his phone.
He pulled up the contact and called, holding the phone to his ear as he tore his dress shirts from the closet where they'd been hung and shoved them into the nearest suitcase. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Aslan hadn’t kept any tabs on Bernadette, the father of the young boy who romanced her, made it a point that she was a part of their family now. Aslan considered himself relieved of his duties, his debt to Esther paid. He thought it was unusual that Bertie still made an effort to send photos and postcards. Aslan had Christmas cards and birthday party invitations, ultrasound photos of his grandchild. Had he known Bertie better, had he cared more, he might criticize a pregnancy when they’re so young. But he would be a hypocrite, Esther was freshly twenty when they met and had their whirlwind romance. While he didn’t have anything Bertie sent him displayed in his office, he thought it rude to throw them away. They were all stored away in a Manila envelope in the bottom draw of his desk at work, its how he liked to achieve personal affects.
Bernadette did remind Aslan of Esther quite a bit, the same oval face and wide smile. To the extent he was familiar with Bernadette, she seemed positive and charismatic like her mother. He supposed they would’ve gotten along. But they could never know for sure, and Aslan decided Bernadette was better off with people who could understand her.
He was just wrapping up some work at the museum when his cellular began to ring. He didn’t get many calls on his personal phone, he worked so much and kept so little company, most calls were regarding his work. But he had no reason not to answer, he put the receiver to his ear, still loading some paperwork into his briefcase that he planned to work on at home.
“This is Aslan.” He answered, not expecting this call would have anything to do with Bernadette.
"Aslan, this is Adrik Nikitin-don't hang up, please." Adrik said, desperation and panic in his voice as he continued to hurry about the room, collecting whatever else was left before hastily zipping up his suitcase. "Bernadette and Viktor are at the hospital and things aren't well. Bertie...she's in a bad way, Aslan." _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Aslan paused and made a face, he couldn’t help but look around his office because he was puzzled. How did this man get his phone number? He didn’t remember giving him his phone number.
“Alright, uh-what’s the problem?” Aslan asked, a little disarmed. He knew very little about his daughter and her life now. Which was fine with him, but he did promise Esther, Bernadette would be taken care of. This must be his call to arms. “What do I need to do?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question of concern. It was more transactional, an issue of business.
Any other time Adrik would have let Aslan’s almost dismissive manner of speaking rile him, but now was not the time.
“They’re at the hospital, Bertie’s having complications with her pregnancy and we don’t know-we don’t know what’s going to happen.” Adrik said, feeling the knot rising in his throat at just having verbalized that idea, that Bernadette might not make it. He cleared his throat the best he could. “We are all on our way back to the country, but Viktor-I don’t want him to be alone. He can’t be alone” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Aslan was quiet on the other side of the line, he could never love Bernadette. But he didn’t want her to die, but he was able to process what was being asked of him and what the explanation was. He let out a quiet breath but tried to not let it be heard.
“Tell me which hospital, I’ll go there now.” Aslan said.
—
Lil FF
Aslan arrived at the hospital, he had never been to an American hospital in truth. It was chaos before he even entered the building, he found most things about Americans and New Yorkers in general, was incredibly disorganized. But he couldn’t fuss too much about it, after talking with an unhelpful nurse and an even less helpful security guard, he was directed to the labor and delivery floor. He came out of the elevator and looked around, trying to find what waiting area Viktor would be in. Luckily, he was a large fellow, it made him hard to miss. Once he had eyes on Viktor and waved and hurried toward him.
Once Viktor had been coaxed into the waiting area, he almost immediately collapsed in on himself. He wept openly as he clung little (not little) Olive to his chest, body folded over her. He was no longer wailing as he was, but still sniveled as snot dripped from his nose and tears continued to trickle over his cheeks.
He heard his name being called and managed to lift his head to see Aslan. He furrowed his brows.
"Aslan?" He asked, his voice hoarse from crying. Had the hospital called him? Aslan's name had long since been replaced by his own as her emergency contact, he thought. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Aslan closed the gap between them, stopping just in front of his seat in the waiting room. He made note of the little one in his lap, that must be their first child. He was sure Bernadette sent him photos of her and them together but she looked older than he remembered.
“Yes, your father called and said I should come.” He explained briefly. He could see Viktor was clearly distraught, the situation must be very serious. And yet Aslan couldn’t help but feel awkward, like he shouldn’t be here and that he was intruding.
“Are you-…Sorry, my English-“ he began but paused. His English was great, he was lying to try and give himself a moment to decide what it is he should say. He carefully sat down in the chair next to Viktor. “How are you feeling?” He asked, a wife dying giving birth, was a concept he was very familiar with. It was scary for him, he imagined I must be scary for Viktor too.
Aslan frowned, and nodded sadly; he expected he might say something like that.
“Yes…that is what it feels like.” He paused and licked his lips before speaking again. “It could still be okay…The doctors here are very good.” He tried to reassure.
Esther died at home, she wanted to give birth in their own bed. It’s partly why Aslan quit sleeping there at all. Maybe if there were a doctor there or at least a midwife, maybe things would be different. They could be different for Viktor.
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