Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Academy, Richelle Mead does.
Now this place seems familiar to him
She pulled on his hand with a devilish grin
She led him upstairs, she led him upstairs
Left him dying to get in
Forgive me, I'm trying to find
My calling, I'm calling at night
I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen this girl?
She's been running through my dreams
And it's driving me crazy, it seems
I'm gonna ask her to marry me
-Remembering Sunday, All Time Low
DPOV:
I stepped into my family's house for the first time in five years. Stepping through the door was like stepping into a whole other world. The house was bright and welcoming, warm and comforting. Homey. Loving. My mother welcomed me in with open arms – literally.
"Oh, my baby boy, thank goodness you weren't hurt!" she cried out, hugging me tightly.
"Mama," I whispered, holding her close.
Seeing my family, hugging my mama, all of it patched up the hole that had been in my chest ever since Rose had left. Mostly, anyway.
My sisters rushed over to hug me next. Babushka simply put her hand on my cheek and smiled.
"You must be tired and hungry," my mother said worriedly.
I kept myself from rolling my eyes. She meant well. "I'm fine, Mama. Just a bit tired from the flight is all." Suddenly, I realised that we were talking in English. I frowned. "Why are we speaking in English?"
A beat of silence followed my question before Mama answered.
"You were speaking in English, so I guess it was automatic." She looked slightly nervous and my frown deepened.
"Would you like me to take your stuff up?" Vika offered.
I knew it was her way of letting me catch up with the rest of the family, but I needed a moment to think. They were all clearly hiding something from me.
"No, it's alright, Vika. I'll take it up." There was something odd about the atmosphere and as soon as I walked into my room, I knew what it was. Roza.
I could smell her in my room, as odd as it sounded, the perfume she used and just her. Her essence lingered, proving to me she was here just a little while ago. She slept in my bed. My heart ached at the thought. How I wished I could see that, experience it with her. I took several deep breaths, trying not to let the emotions overtake me. Be a big boy now, I said sarcastically to myself.
My sharp eyes darted around the room, cataloging any changes. Underneath the bed, a shirt lay - red and small, certainly not one of mine. Underneath the dresser, a child's toy peeked out. I stared at it for a moment in confusion. Perhaps one of Paul's or Zoya's?
I opened my closet to see it filled with my clothing, just as I had left it. However, they were all pushed to one side, as if to make room for more. There were several pieces of tape stuck to the door, matching those on the walls, as if someone had hastily taken down pictures. And there, on the floor of the closet, lay a photograph. I bent down and picked it up, hardly believing my eyes.
For a few moments, I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing; when I did, I nearly dropped the picture in my shock.
It was a picture of my Roza, grinning happily at the camera, her dark brown eyes sparkling with happiness, although a hint of sadness and hurt lingered. In her arms was a little boy, clearly her son. He looked at least one, well on his way to two years old, as he had teeth. The little boy was laughing, his eyes, so much like my own, bright and open wide with wonder. With a jolt, I realised he was ours.
I stared in wonder at the child. I had a son. It's impossible. Clearly, it was possible, since the evidence was in my Roza's arms. A perfect mix of her and I, my eyes, her nose, her hair, my chin, her lips in the shape of my mouth. By the way he was sitting, he had my height too, it appeared. I flipped the picture over in hopes that there was something written.
Rose Hathaway and Xavier Hathaway-Belikov
June 8, 2011
I frowned, trying to do the math in my head.
She clearly got pregnant sometime in March, or beginning of April. So, nine months from March would be...end of November, or December, depending on when she was impregnated. I guessed about December, since she left in the first week of April, by which time she would have been showing signs if she had gotten pregnant in March. I sighed and went back to doing math. So if Xavier was born in December of 2009, then he turned one a year later in 2010. From December to June was...about six months. So I was right; he was about a year and a half in this picture. I sighed again. He was two by now. I had missed everything in my son's life, most of his firsts and two of his birthdays. I blinked back tears as the full implications of this picture hit me. I had a son. Rose and I had a son. Part of me and Rose lived. It was supposed to be impossible, yet here he was. She gave him my last name. I had a son. For a second, I had trouble breathing.
I stepped out of the closet, clutching the photograph. I clenched my jaw, gaining control of myself once more. I was determined to find my Roza and my son and demand what happened. She hadn't cheated on me, everything was perfect. Was it because she found out she was pregnant? I paused in my pacing at this revelation. Maybe. Maybe she wasn't sure how I would react. Maybe she was afraid I wouldn't believe her. But then why did she pretend to cheat on me? She hadn't shown any signs of pregnancy, never thrown up, as far as I knew, and I had spent almost every night and morning with her. She didn't really have time to visit the infirmary to find out, as she had graduated shortly after our last training session. Surely Alberta would have let me know, if she knew, which she would have to if the doctor knew. So why go to my family, then run away as soon as I came here? Why did no one tell me I had a son? They knew for sure that I would believe her and help raise the child. Even if it wasn't mine, which Xavier clearly was, I would have helped her. She knew I wanted a family with her, even if it wasn't technically my child. I frowned. It had to be something else. I had to find her and talk to her, bring her back,
"Dimka, you must let her come to you." (A/N: assume all conversation from now on is in Russian)
I jumped a mile at my grandmother's voice.
"Babushka -" I began.
"No. this is beyond you and your Roza. I do not know who or what. I feel hatred and twisted love. Do not let your guard down, my grandson. Your Roza knows what she is doing. She is gathering troops as we speak."
Babushka blinked up at me with her wise, intelligent eyes.
I swallowed, feeling like a little boy again. "Please, tell me about them," I pleaded in a whisper.
Babushka's eyes softened. "Come child. We will tell you about your Roza and your Xavier."
I sat on the couch in the living room, most of my family surrounding me. They had pulled out pictures and videos taken throughout not only Roza's pregnancy but the duration of Xavier's life. They told me stories of Xavier growing, showed me his first steps, his first word. I was honored to have 'Papa' as Xavier's first word, even though I hadn't been there. Throughout everything, I sat listening and watching with rapt attention, awed with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes. Everything I saw and heard was further proof that my Roza loved me. She took such care to make sure I saw every moment of Xavier's life. To see that he was a mini me, strutting around with a duster just like mine on his birthday, practicing ridding the world of bad guys, and taking care of his mommy was astounding to me. I found myself loving him, despite the fact I had never in my life met him in person. He was truly my son. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched Roza give birth to him, alternately cursing me for getting her pregnant and begging for me to be there. I closed my burning eyes, not wanting to show my family how much this hurt. The pain sharpened and honed in on my heart as I heard from the TV Roza sobbing, "Dimitri! I can't do this, not without him! Please!"
"Dimka." I felt my mother's soft hand wipe tears off my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes to meet brown eyes matching mine, soft and filled with compassion. "You will have your Roza. Don't lose hope."
"I miss her, Mama." I whispered brokenly. I was aware of my sisters shifting away, as if trying to give me privacy by not listening and support without leaving at the same time.
"I understand, son. But she will have to take up her duties once more in a little while. You will see her then." My mother wrapped her arms around me in comfort. I buried my face in her shoulder, needing my mama's comfort, despite the fact that I was a grown man. As my sisters joined in on the hug, I couldn't find it in me to be ashamed of my weakness. Some things were impossible to hide.
As I sat there, wrapped in love, I vowed to myself that I would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing I did. I would have my Roza in my arms once more, and I would never let go.
A/N: Well...what do you think? Didn't this chapter just make you cry? Oh, and I know how utterly random the moment when Dimitri is trying to figure out how old Xavier was in the picture was, but I saw it as a bit of a coping mechanism. He couldn't truly comprehend the fact that he had a son, so his mind went on a more logical train of thought until he was ready to face the facts.
I felt really unloved last chapter. Was it that bad? :'( Does no one like my story any more?
Please review! And thank you to those who did review! You made me smile!
xoxoxoxo
-Tatiana
