Are you guys serious? Where the heck are my mikita fanfics?
Beta reader: Wholives4Eva (THANK YOU!)Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
The first thing she felt was the chill of disappointment in her chest, but the events also provided her proof of her theory that she couldn't handle being a Mom. Maybe it was better this way.
Then she couldn't think any more because everything went pitch black.
The next time she woke she had Michael in tears hovering over her. He held her hand and his bottom lip trembled. For a moment she thought that both of them had made it when she looked down at her swollen stomach, she pulled her hand away from his and felt it, the bump was still there. For the first time that night she tried to meet Michael's gaze. When she finally looked into his eyes he just shook his head, it was barely noticeable but she saw it and she knew what it meant.
That was when she realized that she just had lost a child.
The mission had felt important to her on many levels. She had insisted she go. Michael most certainly did not approve but she had proclaimed that she wasn't in any direct danger and had promised him she would stay in the van the whole time. But when the little girl that they were going to save held a gun against Alex's head she'd had no choice but to leave the van, her motherly instincts kicking in.
Everything had happened too quickly and too fast; she barely had any time to think or react. Two gunshots were aimed directly at her five months pregnant stomach.
She came home from the hospital a week later, with a Michael that claimed to not hold any rage or grudge against her, but she could see it, she could see it in his eyes. He blamed her for everything. It was her fault that they had lost a baby, that he had lost his third child. And that slowly tore them apart, piece by piece. They were like two passing ships in the dark, two ghosts that wandered around at work and home. They didn't feel or act the same; they were two new people, two ghosts.
The worst part was probably that she had been forced to allow the pregnancy to continue. She had damaged a kidney and had been too badly injured to survive a caesarean. She was told by the doctors that she would have to give birth to a dead child. Her dead child.
That was the first night of many that she had cried herself to sleep. In the following days she tried to convince herself that it wasn't meant to be, she wasn't meant to be a Mom.
Yet every time she saw a mother and child on the street or looked down on her still swollen stomach she would feel the tears start to build up in her eyes and a stabbing pain in her chest that was a jagged ball of regret and jealously. Damn, she had wanted this baby more than life itself.
Sometimes she pretended that her child was still alive. When she met a stranger on the street that asked how far along she was she answered politely that she had two months left and they started to discuss possible school choices in the neighbourhood, the challenges of being a Mom and some people even gave her some breastfeeding advice. It felt good, for a couple of minutes it was as if the baby was alive. Just for a couple of minutes.
She found them in Michael's top draw. Small socks, a dress saying; "I kick **, just like my Mom" and a tiny teddy bear.
That was when she lost it again. She got a pair of scissors and started to cut everything into pieces throwing it into the fireplace to burn it to ashes.
In the middle of all this Michael came home. When she noticed his shocked face in the doorway she silently sank down to the floor. The sound starts with small whimpers and slowly grows until she is sobbing loudly. She falls completely to pieces. She is broken.
Michael runs towards her, and wraps his arms around her, trying to calm her down. "Breathe" he murmurs also in tears as he sways her gently back and forth.
"We'll get through this. Trust me. We can do this." She pounds her fists weakly into his shirt and lets out a small sound of agony.
"I'm so sorry" Michael murmurs through his tears. And that's when she realizes that he doesn't blame her. He blames himself. A little weight lifts from her shoulders.
The baby haunts her. It doesn't matter if she is asleep or awake. She has horrible dreams, waking up in the middle of the night all sweaty and in tears. Until finally she wakes and realizes that her water has broken. For a millisecond she feels excited but then she remembers.
Michael holds her hand through the whole process. He doesn't let go once.
When she gives birth to the little girl the Nurse wraps the baby up in a white blanket and puts her on Nikita's chest. The baby is light blue and highly underdeveloped, but the thing that hurts the most is the gunshot wound on the left side of her chest.
Michael trails the fingers of one hand through Nikita's hair and strokes the baby's stomach with the other one.
"She would have been beautiful" Michael says through his tears.
"She is beautiful" Nikita responds.