Title: Her Brother's Keeper
Chapter: 2
Rating: T
Summary: About how a little girl got her name. A Peter/Olivia/Henrietta fic
Author's Note: Here's part 2 of this fic, as promised. It's just spellchecked, not beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine! I'll leave this story labeled "in progess" for now as I have ideas for a couple more chapters. I don't know if I'll actually get around to typing them out, I guess we'll see. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, whether you liked it or not. I'm always open to any kind of constructive feedback!
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The house lay dark and silent when Peter returned from the lab. Up until a couple months ago, this was how he would have expected to find his home when he returned in the middle of the night. But now that his girlfriend was nine months pregnant, he didn't really know anymore what to expect. Sometimes, she would be roaming the house restlessly in the middle of the night, trying to coax their unborn daughter to sleep and would sleep during the day when their tired baby girl had finally allowed her mother a moment of rest.
First they had been counting the months, then the weeks until their daughter's arrival. Now they were down to days, and the number 12 suddenly sounded like one of the most scariest numbers in the world. 12 more days until his daughter's calculated birth date. 12 more days until he was about to become a father. Give or take. He knew that in the Bishop family, nothing ever went according to plan.
When he silently crept into the bedroom, all he could hear was Olivia's shallow but even breathing and see her huddled form safely tucked in under the covers. He never grew tired of this sight, of just how beautiful she looked when she was asleep. She was at peace with the world, allowed herself to drop her guard and had that certain aura around her that let him fall in love with her over and over again.
The mattress moved slightly when he climbed under the covers and took the sleeping position he had grown to love over the last few months – spooned up behind Olivia, his nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and her long, blonde hair and his hand splayed protectively over her baby belly.
The reason he loved sleeping like this was not only the close proximity he had to Olivia, but also to his daughter. He remembered well the first night they'd spent in their house, curled up under the blankets like this when a tiny little girl had made her presence known by attempting her very first somersault in her mother's womb.
He still had difficulties finding words for just how magic that moment had been and any other moments that had followed when he had felt his daughter's movements. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would lay awake and just wait for a sign that his baby girl was awake and craving attention. He had gasped the first time he had seen her right hand actually become visible through the skin. Five tiny fingers had wiggled at him curiously before they had disappeared again.
From that moment on, he would often run his hand in circles over Olivia's extended stomach, trying to get any kind of reaction from the baby. He knew that Olivia didn't like that much, especially when she had just found a comfortable position to lay in and had managed to calm their daughter enough to get a moment of peaceful rest. The baby girl always responded to his coaxing, as if she was trying to assure him that she was absolutely safe right where she was.
Tonight though, he had already told himself that he was just going to be content with just laying in the dark, his hand idly splayed on Olivia's baby belly just above her navel. Olivia hadn't had it easy with the baby the last few days, especially after the girl had kicked her hard enough to crack one of her ribs. Feisty and determined, he had called his daughter afterward.
He felt her shift positions slightly and heard her moan into her pillow, "What time is it?"
"Just past two," he replied and pressed a tender kiss against her neck, "go back to sleep."
But sleep was not to be thought of when a moment later he first felt a gentle tug against the palm of his hand, followed by a much harsher kick only a second later. Olivia's hand flew on top of his almost instantly, accompanied by an annoyed groan. They both could feel the baby moving her arms and straining her tiny hands against her mother's womb in an obvious attempt to enlarge her currently very cramped living arrangements.
For the longest while, Olivia silently guided Peter's hand in circles over her stomach, trying to calm their baby girl and coax her back to sleep. Up until a few days ago, their attempts had usually been successful, but as the baby grew bigger and bigger and Olivia's due date approached rapidly, the baby seemed to be getting as miserable and frustrated by her very uncomfortable living quarters as her mother. There was no doubt that she wanted out.
So when she didn't give in and started kicking her mother near her ribcage with her knee, Olivia finally had enough. She nudged Peter with her elbow to move back before she rolled onto her back and slid up to the rest against the headboard. That was how she had spend most nights the last week, propped against the top of the bed in a sitting position, waiting for her baby to fall back asleep. As uncomfortable the position was for Olivia, especially when she was exhausted and tired and wanted nothing but sleep, it seemed to be her daughter's favorite position to calm down and fall asleep.
Peter rested his head against her shoulder while his hand still moved over her belly in circles. He knew there was only so much he could do to make Olivia feel comfortable, and to him, that was frustrating as hell. She was clearly miserable in her current state, and even though she never really complained to him about it, he would sometimes hear her cry out in frustration when she thought he wasn't near.
"Just a few more days, hon. Then we'll have our beautiful, little baby girl," he murmured, but he knew exactly that whatever he said, it wouldn't help – especially when said baby girl's parents were not quite prepared for her arrival yet either.
They had started decorating the nursery right after they had moved into the house, and even though all the parts of the baby's crib stood neatly placed against the wall in the nursery, Peter had not yet gotten around to assemble it yet. At first, it had been procrastination that had kept him from finishing the crib. He had kept telling himself that he had all the time in the world. But then the months until his daughter's arrival had turned into weeks and now into days, and her nursery was far from being finished.
But that didn't really annoy him as much as the fact that they still had not chosen a name for their baby girl. They had pinned a list on the fridge, and currently no less than twentyfour names had been written down by either him or her. They had crossed out a few, only to add several more shortly after. None of the names they had come up with so far sounded quite right though. Nothing just rolled off his tongue like his daughter's name was supposed to.
"I can practically hear you think again."
Olivia's voice was nothing but a whisper in the still of the night that broke him out of his daze. It still amazed him just how easy she could read him. Even when he tried to hide it from her, tried not to show any kind of emotion, she was able to read him like an open book. It was a part of what he loved about her – the way she cared and went about it. She never pushed him, never admonished him when he tried to keep something from her. Instead, she always found just the right moment to ask him about it in such a gentle manner that he always opened up to her, no matter what the problem was.
"She needs a name," he replied and was answered with a gentle nudge from his daughter right where his hand had come to rest on Olivia's belly. He had to chuckle at the girl's apparent insistence that it was about damn time for her parents to give her a name. Peanut, jellybean and little pea just didn't cut it anymore.
"I have one final suggestion," Olivia told him as her hand snuck up to the back his neck, tenderly teasing the freshly cut stubble of hair, "You have to promise me though to really think about it before you say no."
He was prepared for almost everything, but not for the name she finally told him. Henrietta. His mind started to race almost immediately, and his first instinct was to tell her no. He would not be naming his daughter after the son he had lost. He still thought about Henry almost daily. Sometimes the thoughts came totally unexpected. Like when he was in the store with Olivia to pick out clothes for their baby and he came across a black leather jacket and immediately had to wonder what his son would have looked like wearing it. Or when he was out in town and heard a mother calling for their son Henry, he couldn't help but turn and see if maybe it was his little Henry that came running, that he had somehow found a way back into existence as well.
Often, he had also found himself looking into strollers, studying the toddlers to maybe catch a certain resemblance and familiarity in a hopeless attempt to figure out what exactly his son would look like now. Over time, these instances had become less and less though as his daughter grew more and more inside Olivia's womb. He didn't want to wonder anymore, didn't want to dwell in all those 'what would he be like's anymore. He had accepted that he never would get a second chance with Henry. But that would never change the fact that he would always think about him and carry his memory in a very special place in his heart.
And with him, so did Olivia. He still couldn't quite understand why she had accepted Henry's existence, or now non-existence, the way she had. After all, the boy had been a result of the biggest mistake he had ever made in his whole entire life. She had assured him several times that she was past that, that it didn't matter anymore, that she had made her peace with it. But most of all, she always kept telling him that Henry had been his son, no matter the circumstances that he came to be, and that that was all that mattered to her.
"Why?"was all he could muster before his voice broke.
"Because she's a reminder that everything we have sacrificed the last few years has not been in vain," she paused shortly, waiting for a reaction from Peter. When she got none, she went on, "I know she will never be able to replace Henry, but at least she can keep his memory alive."
Henrietta. That name rolled off his tongue like no other, and he came to realize that maybe naming his daughter in honor of the son he had lost might not be as bad an idea as he had thought it would be. When he first had come across the name Henrietta, for a fleet second, he had thought about proposing it to Olivia. But then the pain and anguish that always came with remembering his son had pierced his heart almost instantly. He couldn't imagine calling out for his baby girl, only to be reminded every time he did that he had sacrificed an innocent child for the well-being of two universes.
But then, he also knew that Olivia was right. Nothing they had sacrificed had been in vain. Because if they hadn't, they wouldn't be here now, in bed in the still of the night, discussing names for their baby. He had seen their future once before, a future without children in a world that was fighting for its existence. A future in which he had unknowingly killed his son when destroying the other universe. So he had made the decision to alter this future, to not destroy the other side, in hope of turning both their futures into better ones. Instead, the outcome for Henry had been the very same – he had ceased to exist. Again, September's words come to mind. The boy who was not meant to be. Yet, he came to be and that could and should not be forgotten. Ever.
Henrietta. Maybe it was the perfect name for a little girl who probably would not have come to be if it wasn't for her brother's sacrifice. He felt a light kick against his palm where it rested on Olivia's baby belly, followed by a gentle fluttering motion that almost felt like the baby was trying to caress his hand. Henrietta. His daughter. Her brother's keeper.
"Yes," he finally whispered, "Henrietta."