Thomas couldn't remember how long he'd been down in the basement's record room with Chetwynde to search through everything. The work dragged on and dozens upon dozens would have lost interest and quit for the night but not Thomas Eichhorst, he'd spent most of the Second World War dealing with exactly this so he'd not fail his Lord; besides, he was almost finished. As far as he could tell Chetwynde actually ran Menschlager 43 rather well, things could be better of course and Thomas would see to that.
The lights could be better down there – the lighting was practically next to non-existent – but otherwise the former Nazi couldn't really find anything too out of place: much better than had been expected. Quite frankly Eichhorst just hoped the other camps were in such good condition, though he did rather doubt it.
He was just about to toss Chetwynde that shred of praise he'd so desired since the Eichhorsts had arrived when he paused. A sound, it was so soft that he had a hard time believing he'd actually heard anything at all. Then again, Chetwynde's inability to shut his fucking mouth for more than three seconds certainly didn't help one iota.
"... but as I said before, I make sure this camp runs at top efficiency. We always hit our quota of blood, every month on the-"
Thomas didn't listen, not when he heard the faint sound for a second then third time. Such a familiar sound but he just couldn't place it.
"... although, I would-"
Suddenly Eichhorst shot up from his chair, grabbed the camp administrator by his grossly hideous tie and slapped his remaining hand over Chetwynde's mouth leaving the tie to swing while Thomas listened. Whatever the noise was it came from far away and the German needed to get closer. Forgetting the paperwork he rose to his Italian leather-clad feet and headed for the door.
"What-?"
"Be quiet." Thomas ordered as he yanked the door open and headed up the metal steps.
Chetwynde opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut again having thought better of himself, didn't stop him following The Master's right hand man though. Together they made their way up in utter silence but once at the top Thomas tilted his head and listened intently; it almost sounded like his name. Confused he sniffed at the air as an odd scent struck him, something which had drifted just as far as the sound. The administrator continued to stare at him but scented the air as well, couldn't take his eyes off of Eichhorst though, especially when the man tensed.
"Vivika."
Thomas' eyes went wide and then he was gone, full speed along the halls back to the room he'd left his bride to rest in just in time to catch her as she slipped down the door frame. Chetwynde's arrival a moment later went entirely ignored, he was as unimportant to Thomas as plankton was to a Great White. Easily he carried his beloved bride back to the bed and set her down as gently as possible.
"He's coming, Tommy." She gritted out with a pained gasp.
Eichhorst's eyes grew worried; his perfect wife liked pain greatly but not this time, her emeralds didn't sparkle in that delighted way Thomas craved to see. She was in pain and there wasn't anything he could about it. His senses were overloaded, blood, amniotic fluid, sweat and several other things he couldn't quite identify just yet. These were the odd little whiffs he had picked up down in the records room; it had really drifted all that way in such a short time and by now every Strigoi in the building would be able to smell his wife was in labor. Suddenly irritation and a wave of possessiveness passed over him because Vivika was his wife; he could usually handle most things but she belonged to him and she always would. Even though she was his bride the 'Tommy' comment had stuck with him … she was giving birth so he'd let it slide.
The suit-clad Strigoi gripped Vivika's hand tightly after he'd brushed stray strands of jet-black hair behind her ear. It was a tender moment for the Eichhorsts, something only they were ever privy to so Chetwynde did all he could to become invisible. Even when he'd been human Chetwynde would have been uncomfortable in this situation but as a Strigoi his senses were ten times that of a lowly human; he shouldn't have been there to witness what he was witnessing.
"Don't suppose there's a doctor around here?" Vivika tried to sound jovial but her concern for their child was evident.
Thomas nodded. "Don't get up. I'll find the camp doctor."
Just like that he was gone with Chetwynde being hauled off with a firm grip on his tie. Once they were out the main door Thomas ground to a halt, the sudden stop almost had the camp administrator fall flat on his face.
"Where is the camp's doctor?" Eichhorst demanded urgently.
"He'll be asleep in his bunk by now, sir."
Thomas lifted a fake eyebrow because this really wasn't the time to be slowing him down.
"Berth number!" It clearly wasn't a question, more of a harsh demand.
Chetwynde hardly missed a beat having finally realized how close to ripping his head off Mister Eichhorst had gotten, so he quickly reeled off the information. "Barrack house forty-nine, berth three twelve."
The German didn't say a word, instead he just left for the berth in question with vehement determination. Chetwynde paused a moment, he'd never expected this to happen when he'd been made aware of the Eichhorsts visit, but soon followed.
At barrack forty-nine Thomas swiped the keycard he'd been given upon arriving that morning and burst into the barrack with all the determination a rabid bear. The closest humans startled awake fearing the worst but Thomas ignored them and continued to surge forwards despite the darkness of night, about a quarter of the way through the depressingly bleak building he stopped dead where most of the prisoners were still asleep and peered at the berth number.
"Three hundred eleven." He said quietly to himself only to turn around and head to the very next bed.
Thomas stared down at the man sleeping there, he had child-like blond hair but appeared peaceful for the most part. The former Nazi cared little for any of that though, his wife was in fucking labor! In an instant Thomas yanked the doctor upwards, a sharp movement which caused the human's head to snap violently from the pillow. The doctor tried to fight and on any other day Thomas would have liked that but there and then he didn't even notice. Brown eyes flicked form Eichhorst's harsh grip on his throat to his face.
"Name?" Thomas questioned gruffly, accent thick.
"O- Oliver Fernsby." Responded the doctor quickly as those in the bunk around him started to wake and panic about what was going on; glares from Chetwynde kept them quiet and still though. "... sir."
"My wife is in labor, Doctor Fernsby, and you are going to deliver my son."
Doctor Fernsby's brown eyes grew wider still. "Em, em, I can't. I'm a general practitioner, I've never delivered a baby before."
Thomas' eye twitched. Oh if they'd just been back in the city where Eichhorst had seen to it that everything was prepared for his wife's labor, he'd gotten the best doctor in the country – best left alive of course – and he'd had every medical possibility covered; at Menschlager 43 though all he'd got was an apparently useless doctor.
"There is about to be another baby born here, how were you intending to deal with that?"
"We have a – a maternity nurse, I was going to assist her." Oliver finally managed to answer despite the Strigoi so close to his face.
Fake blue eyes turned to the camp administrator, face fierce, temper short and hand still firmly gripped around the doctor's throat.
"Chetwynde, where is this nurse?"
"Eh, Lucy Sullivan, she's one of the women who were in the storage room today with your wife during that … incident."
Oh Thomas could have sighed.
"Come with me." Eichhorst ordered only to straighten up and finally release Doctor Fernsby's neck.
Oliver didn't move. "Can I get dressed?" The German paused to glare over his left shoulder, not a word was uttered from him, just an ice-cold glare and then he carried on back towards the barrack door. "Stupid question, I apologize."
With that the blond doctor slipped out of his bed and padded after The Master's right hand dressed in nothing but his boxers and a green, frayed t-shirt with only a pause long enough to grab his medical case. It was odd to see a shoeless, half-naked doctor and the Strigoi equivalent of a sitcom accountant trail after a man like Thomas Eichhorst but the humans who had been scared awake knew better than to say anything and the Strigs didn't care.
"Fetch Miss Sullivan." Was all Thomas said to Chetwynde as they neared the main building once more and with a small 'certainly' the administrator rushed off to do just that.
Since night had fallen the clouds had settled and the first drops of rain threatened to tumble; somehow Thomas thought this fitting for the birth of his son, for him to be born in the dead of night surrounded by the fruit of their Lord's labor. Vivika had been the one to want this baby, Thomas still didn't particularly care to become a father but as he climbed the stairs back to his wife Eichhorst couldn't help but think of how proud he'd be to be the father of a new loyal servant for The Master.
As he approached the makeshift bedroom for the third time that evening the scent of his devilish Vivika's blood struck him again, the human beside him wouldn't have smelt it just yet but Thomas could and he hated it; such sweet nectar going to waste in he sheets.
When they returned to the makeshift bedroom Eichhorst instantly slipped off his suit jacket and lay it to rest on what appeared to be serving as a night table, then took his wife's hand.
"The doctor is here now, liebling." He told her with more softness than anyone else would ever get from him. "There is a maternity nurse on her way up as well."
If Vivika Eichhorst was going to have to give birth at Menschlager 43 rather than in the clean and perfectly prepared delivery room Thomas had assembled then they were damn well at least going to have someone who'd delivered a baby before!
The black haired beauty dug her nails deep into his flesh as another contraction struck, he was a Strig but by God did it hurt, he only had one hand left and would have rather liked to keep it if at all possible.
When the doctor didn't move he earned a scowl and rushed to the small bowl of clean water which had been left for the Eichhorsts, he washed his hands thoroughly yet quickly then perched on the bed and set to work lest the German deem Doctor Fernsby useless and gut him.
"It's going to be a while, Missus Eichhorst, you've hardly started dilating."
Chetwynde appeared in the doorway then with another Strigoi who drug the Canadian woman along with him. She ripped her arm away only to be shoved further into the room. When she took sight of the Eichhorsts and the situation the attitude dropped, died and threatened to burst into flames. Nurse Sullivan's fear grew when Thomas practically glided to her, eyes fixed on her.
"Help her and we'll forget the – what did Mister Chetwynde call it? - incident ever happened."
Lucy peered up at him timidly a moment but this was certainly better than the options she'd been looking at until that moment, with a sigh the Canadian nodded in agreement.
Pleased he'd put the fear of God into the nurse he returned to Vivika. Oliver could do little else to offer the girl comfort save for offering her a pair of gloves.
"I'll leave the guard outside the door, sir." Said Chetwynde. "I'll be in my office."
Nobody paid any mind to the administrator's exit, he was unimportant as was the Strig who went with him. Thomas clung to his bride's hand, her black nails slightly stained with blood. Something wasn't right, there shouldn't have been blood like this.
After around twenty minutes little had happened save for Thomas' anger had grown. There was a problem, there had to be.
"Okay, something really isn't right, she's bleeding way too much." Doctor Fernsby's voice was laced with concern, not necessarily for the baby or Vivika but for his own life.
Thomas didn't speak but he agreed, firmly agreed. with the blond doctor, his wife smelt healthy but there was far too much, it had to be from where the baby kept biting at her with his stinger. Thomas paused then, this wasn't right.
"Babies don't react like this," began Lucy, "it's like he wants to be born quicker than nature intended."
"You forgot who his father is!"
The Master's left hand growled out which had all eyes snap down to her. Odd how even in labor humans were terrified of Vivika, not Thomas though, his fake blue eyes didn't tremble with fear but instead sparkled with possessiveness.
As the words sunk in the nurse and doctor flashed a look at Eichhorst then at one another because Vivika was right of course, her husband wasn't even remotely human so it was only logical that her child wouldn't be either. It made things worse for the humans as now not only did they have to deliver the child of the two most powerful people in the new world save for The Master himself but they now had to deliver a non-human infant. Just keep going was their only real option, the only one which would keep them alive at least.
With a calming breath Lucy Sullivan shoved her fears aside and returned to her task. She knelt on the bed then pressed her hands to Vivika's stomach, something which had Thomas lift a fake eyebrow questioningly. Instantly Lucy pulled her hands away when she felt the baby's stinger slam sharply against Vivika's belly.
"What the fuck?!"
Thomas leaned forwards. "I believe my wife did remind you he's Strigoi."
She paused, this was insane but then Vivika let out a sharp, gritted scream and Lucy surged back to her exam lest she face Eichhorst's wrath.
"The baby is breech." Nurse Sullivan announced. "he's not going to turn around now, it's way too late."
Thomas muttered mostly to himself then but still Oliver and Lucy heard it and felt their stomachs drop out the bottom of them.
"Of course, Born usually just rip out of the mother."
Oh Oliver wished he'd not been dragged out of his horrible, little bed in that damn, soul-crushing barrack.
"C-section." The doctor clawed his sanity back. "It's the safest option."
"Yeah." Agreed the nurse.
Oliver shot to his feet. "We, em, we're going to need a knife."
Thomas stared at the doctor, he didn't have long, this needed to be done quickly, but still Thomas paused and thought about it. Worst case scenario passed through his wormy brain, what if these idiot humans tried to kill his son? No, humans were dumb but Thomas was too fast, they'd never stand a chance. Oliver returned to his medical kit and Lucy pushed off from the bed but Eichhorst grabbed her firmly by the arm and hauled her to him while Vivika clawed at the sheets and hissed in agony.
"You do this and we shall forget your little indiscretion earlier today, however, should anything happen to my son or my wife, I will personally slice the flesh from your body and watch you die a slow, agonizing and lingering death."
The Canadian nurse gulped but nodded when Thomas grabbed Vivika's handbag, took out her knife and pressed it into Lucy's hand before he tossed the bag behind him out of the way. The threat was clear; crystal.
Sure that he'd put the fear of God into Lucy Sullivan with his stern death glare the German returned to his wife and took hold of he hand once more just in time for a new wave of anguish surged through her.
Oliver took a breath as he tried to talk himself through what was about to happen, he wanted to go back to treating colds and the occasional broken bone where he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Okay, so we're going to have -" He was abruptly cut off by Vivika and another growl.
"Just fucking do it before I gut you and do it myself!"
Clearly terrified of this woman the medics set to work. Irony blood dominated the room – and probably the entire main building by this point – so much blood, as if she was bleeding faster than her body could heal. Vivika's dress was cut away, the pure whiteness long ago stained red and destroyed.
"We need something to sterilize the -"
Thomas cut the Canadian off with a sharp hiss. "She'll be fine, just do it!"
So they did. Vivika screamed and clawed her nails into Thomas' hand so deeply that he bled . The cadence of her pain tugged at Thomas, he should have been able to help her but instead all he could do was stand there and watch; he'd never felt so useless in his Strigoi life. He heard Vivika's flesh cut open like a knife through a raw steak. The sooner this was over the better in Eichhorst's opinion. Usually he was happy to smell her blood, to cut her and lap at her ichor, thrived on it but hearing his wife in actual pain was something else; he wanted to rip Oliver Fernsby and Lucy Sullivan to shreds. To just stand there waiting while these people cut and bled his darling bride – it needs to be done, this is for her and the Born, his brain reminded him. This was their child and The Master's experiment.
Blood rhythmically drip, drip, dripped from the sodden sheets. Thomas hadn't ever seen a woman give birth before – never cared to – but he was fairly certain there shouldn't have been so much blood even during a c-section. Had she been entirely human Thomas would have expected her to have died by this point. He tightened his grip on Vivika just to stop himself murdering the people who were cutting her open!
"Hurry up!" The former Nazi insisted.
With one final scream the Born was finally … well, born. Lucy held him in her arms while Doctor Fernsby quickly cut the cord freeing him from Vivika's body and covered her in gauss to slow some of the crimson.
Suddenly Lucy squeaked as a small stinger burst forth from the babies mouth though he misses her neck and the stinger vanished back into his throat.
Thomas grinned, truly grinned as he looked down at Vivika. "He's here, meine liebe."
Meanwhile Oliver Fernsby rushed through his medical bag wishing that he was just allowed to keep hold of more than just basic medical supplies. Quickly he took out his suturing equipment and lay it on the bloodied bed.
"Help me." He urged the nurse but before she could do anything Doctor Fernsby pulled away the gauze and gasped at the sight before him. Before him he found her stomach had partially healed while white oozed from the rest. "What the-? How can that happen?"
Lucy and Oliver just stared at the sight before them, this strange ooze which appeared to slowly heal her c-section, the edges of which already looked more like a year old scar than something fresh. No doubt this wound would be almost gone by the time the sun rose.
Silence lingered as Vivika's pain finally started to subside and her vice-like grip on her husband's hand gave way. Everything still stank of blood and amniotic fluid but Thomas delighted in the lack of any fresh red, his bride was healing, she'd be all right.
"Give me the baby." Thomas' sudden closeness startled Lucy who handed over the baby only to realize he'd grabbed his suit jacket to use as a makeshift blanket.
The German stood a moment and gazed down at the Born, this was his son, he couldn't take his eyes of the boy; so small. Thomas couldn't take the smile off of his face either as he carried the newborn back to his bride where he settled him into her arms lovingly. Vivika's heart fluttered, all the pain forgotten in favor of cradling her baby boy. His greenish-white skin splattered with patches of blood so she used the sleeve of Thomas' jacket to wipe some of the gunk away from his tiny forehead.
Thomas glanced back to two very confused and disturbed confused humans. "Come." He ordered loudly and hardly before he'd even finished the word the Strigoi guard busted into the so-called bedroom and looked at the German awaiting orders. "Take him back to barrack forty-nine and put her back in her cell."
The Strig wasted no time, practically glided to the humans and grabbed them; Doctor Fernsby only just managed to grab his medical bag. Though the blond doctor didn't argue Lucy looked horrified, fear engrained itself deep into her eyes and when she finally spoke her voice shook.
"You said you'd forget what happened!"
Thomas regarded the Canadian for a moment, face as unaffected as it ever was.
"And I have," he eventually responded, "but I believe I've just thought of a better use for you."
With that she was hauled away with the the doctor and the door was slammed behind them. Blissfully alone Thomas settled on one of the few bloodless spots on the bed beside his bride, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled at their child.
"Look at him, Thomas, isn't he perfect! He's beautiful, he's ours." Vivika had never sounded so excited.
"The Master shall be most pleased, meine liebling." Green eyes turned up to him as he added. "As am I. You did so well, Vivika,"
The child's sting stinger shot out again then, something which had Vivika grinning brightly like a doctor hadn't just cut her belly open.
"I knew that little stinger was going to be adorable. You must be hungry, darling boy." She said as she shook her right arm to make her sleeve fall down to her elbow and held her wrist before the stinger. "There you go, sweetheart." Vivika let out a little hum of delight as he latched on to her skin and started to drink. "He really is perfect, isn't he, Thomas?"
"Exceedingly." Eichhorst agreed and pressed a gentle kiss to the raven-haired beauty's forehead.
Quite frankly the scent of blood had started to nauseate him, the amniotic fluid had soured it, destroyed her otherwise perfect scent and taste. He needed a window to be opened in the near future.
"He has your mouth and your eyes." Vivika practically exulted. "My nose though."
Eichhorst could have rolled his eyes. "Well, of course he has your nose."
His wife couldn't help her little chuckle, she was so happy to hold their little boy in her arms that if Dutch Velders had walked in at that very moment she'd have likely let her live. The baby was so tiny, black eyes stared up at them but not a single cry left him. Vivika Eichhorst would be the only women capable of loving and raising a Born, that quickly became an axiom.
After a few moments she finally managed to rip her dazzling green orbs away from her newborn and up at her husband, gleeful smile still plastered across her lips despite the smudge in her lipstick.
"Does The Master know?"
Eichhorst nodded. "He knows all that I do, he is aware our son has been born but has yet to actually see him through my eyes. He believes we should have some privacy for the child's first night." Another loving kiss was pressed to her forehead. "Our Lord shall meet him personally when we return to the city."
"Good." Vivika agreed happily.
Just then a soft but audible knock sounded against the door, didn't take long for a disgruntled – and fairly rumpled by this point – Thomas to march to the door and open it swiftly to find Chetwynde stood there with a set of folded grey sheets in his arms.
"I thought Missus Eichhorst would like clean sheets."
The German didn't say a word, just took the proffered sheets from the camp administrator and closed the door again as though Chetwynde had never existed. His bride deserved the very best, she shouldn't have had to birth their son in a Menschlager of all places but it was done now and Vivika was by far the happiest woman in the world.
He left the sheets on the table which seemed to be serving as a night stand then carefully slipped his handless arm under Vivika's knees while his other arm wrapped around her back and allowed him to lift her up in one smooth motion. Ever so carefully he carried her bridal style, still holding their son, to an old-looking, brown armchair not too far from the bed by the window and then pushed said window open a little for some fresh air. Vivika didn't protest.
"You need to get some rest and a clean bed is certainly in order, I think."
With that the former Nazi started to strip bloody sheets from the bed and tossed them into a surprisingly neat pile by the door. Vivika hadn't ever seen him change a bed before and doubted she'd ever see it again; though she supposed the only reason she got to witness it in that moment was due to Thomas wanting no human, animal or Strigoi near his wife, not so soon after delivering their son.
"Ooh, he's full." She remarked with a little smile as the boy's stinger quickly released and slipped back inside his throat.
Her words got Thomas to glance over at her though it didn't prevent him flipping the mattress to deal with the blood that had soaked in. For a man with only one hand he was surprisingly quick at throwing sheets tidily onto the bed.
"I suppose he will need a name, and you have no doubt thought long and hard about that."
"Of course I have, I'm his mother. Naming our child isn't some split second decision, Thomas, it needs to be perfect."
"And what have you chosen?" He enquired but didn't pause in his movements for a single second.
"I wanted to know what you thought, you never suggested any even when I was reading that book of baby names."
"You carried him inside you, liebling, you should choose. As long as it is not a ridiculous name like Apple I will pose no argument."
In truth Thomas hadn't really thought about it and even when asked directly he didn't much care. Firstly he'd not deprive his wife of whatever so-called 'perfect' name she'd selected. Secondly he really didn't have any preference save for it not being embarrassing.
"Even if I wanted to name him Abraham?"
The suit-clad Strig ground to a halt and glared at his practically demonic wife. "You wouldn't dare." His tone was dark and warning.
"I could never be so cruel to you my sweet Thomas," she assured, "and I do have one name I really like."
Pleased he'd not have to slap the stupidity out of his wife Thomas returned to changing the pillowcases and hummed with a little curiosity.
"Enlighten me, meine liebe."
"Well, I wanted something strong, powerful and elegant, but I also wanted his name to feel old, like it belonged in your era." Wow, she's really thought about this, mumbled Eichhorst's mind. "And of course it had to work with our last name. Something … classic."
Finally the German monster finished with the bed and went to the over-night bag Vivika had brought with her and made short work of locating her pyjamas – just a blue t-shirt and a pair of black shorts – which he then let fall down onto the nice, clean bed while she continued to mutter on about how their boy's name needed to sound. She didn't object when he carried them back to the bed just the same way as he'd sat them in the chair, nor did she argue when he took the child from her so she could get dressed.
Thomas took the opportunity to rake his eyes over her naked form and he was truly amazed. He'd always known that the White aided Vivika to heal at an extraordinary speed but already the c-section had healed enough to be a faint scar as if she'd given birth half a decade ago rather than half an hour, and he was certain she looked thinner than when he'd picked her up.
"I'm sure whatever you have decided on is exquisite, Vivika." He said as he returned his mind to the conversation. "Are you going to tell me my son's name?"
She pulled the covers up over her self then and Thomas settled down on the bed with her, crossed one foot over the other and adjusted the suit jacket around the child. Vivika just smiled at the sight of her boys together.
"Erik." She eventually answered. "His name is Erik."
Thomas let the name wander around his brain for a second before it rolled off of his tongue. "Erik Eichhorst." It certainly sounded old fashioned and 'from his era' as she'd put it. "I like it tremendously, meine süße."
From that moment on they sat in silence with their little Erik, nothing really needed to be said so nothing was. Soon the open window managed to carry much of the tainted blood scent out and leave behind nothing but his sweet wife's perfume and his sandalwood aftershave. Vivika rested her head against his shoulder while one hand gently stroked a thumb over Erik's little head, Thomas still didn't particularly desire to be a father but Vivika was happy and that was all that mattered.
After an hour or so Vivika stumbled into sleep and Thomas could hardly take his eyes off of her, she truly was healing faster than he could have ever expected. The small cuts and that time she'd been impaled with a shard of glass were one thing but to heal so quickly from a violent c-section was quite another; the White really was miraculous. When curiosity got the better of him he shuffled Erik into his handless arm and lifted her top upwards a bit so he could gain yet another look at her scar, just a thin line like a scratch mark. Baby weight appeared to be falling off of her as well, it was as if her body was attempting to return her to a sort of factory setting. Yes, by the time they returned to the city she'd almost certainly look like her old self in tight dresses and high-heels, no one would ever suspect she'd just given birth; oh Thomas would revel in it. For the time being though The Master's right hand would just watched as his son snoozed in his arm and Vivika cuddled into his side.
If someone had told him back when he operated the camp that he'd not only become The Master's 'special child' but that he would gain such a wonderfully depraved wife and a son of all things, well, he'd have put a bullet in them as a mercy killing.