"I'm going to try something different this time."
Tamara must have given away something on her face that implied displeasure, for Dok became awfully defensive as he helped her into position. He kept rambling on about the tilt of her uterus and how he was absolutely sure it made no difference but common practice dictated he should do it this way.
"Just keep breathing and let me know the moment you feel any dizziness. Can't have you fainting again like this."
"Jawohl," she acknowledged without even realizing her response had been in German. She had to agree that passing out would be somewhat dangerous given she was resting on her chest and knees with her backside in the air.
"You locked the doors, right?" she asked, shuddering slightly as the cool air touched her lower body. It was rare for someone to come into the medical facility unannounced or at least without knocking first, but the thought of being seen in this awkward position still worried her.
"Whenever it's prudent, I always do."
Despite the discomfort of holding what she equated to an embarrassing yoga pose, the second implantation was non-traumatic. Mercifully she was allowed to keep most of her clothes on, which was helpful as the lab seemed cooler than usual. Tamara had no memory from the previous time, so Dok matter-of-factly talked her through the process once again.
"Transfer was successful," Dok said, removing his mask as he pulled away from the microscope. Tamara could just barely see from her vantage point with her cheek pressed into the exam table, arms and hands flanking it.
"We are so close. This close." He emphasized the point with two fingers nearly but not quite touching.
"To getting me pregnant? But there's still so much more after that…"
"Of course I am thinking ahead, but each small success is celebrated on its own. A positive result can be repeated again and again. I do not worry about the future."
"Well, I do," Tamara said, shifting her arms and chest slightly to redistribute her weight.
"Take each moment as it comes. You can handle that much." Noting her discomfort he added, "Fifteen more minutes, then it's bedrest for you."
"Bedrest would be a lot easier if I had a television."
"You're certainly a demanding patient."
"How about a room with a view then?"
Dok made a slight scoffing noise and turned away.
It was particularly hard to focus as Dok mentally counted down the days until he could perform another pregnancy test.
At least there was plenty to do to keep him occupied. There was always too much to do.
The devil finds work for idle hands.
How often his own father had repeated that platitude. Even the Major teased him with it once in a while, usually before making a particularly grandiose request. So even in the quieter moments when no tasks were seriously pressing, he dedicated himself to documenting everything.
As Millennium's head scientist, Dok had to keep his knowledge and discoveries within the organization and therefore could not self-publish any of his work. Among other credits to his name, his latest proven theories on cloning would have been earth-shattering if they were widely known.
He knew that the day could still come when he no longer labored in obscurity. Somewhere there could be a life beyond the cloistered walls of the Brazilian base and the ideologies of the Major and his followers. Staying organized and keeping careful notes for reference was second nature to him as a scientist, but of course those notes could also be smuggled in a briefcase at a moment's notice.
After the addition of caffeine to the egg's culture medium, the change was immediately noticeable and the embryo made it to the fourth stage of division. Small adjustments in the liquid amounts (see chart below) and cell division was proven to be self-perpetuating and stable.
There was a knock at the door which he ignored. After a few moments, he heard it open which caused him to raise his eyes briefly over the computer screen to observe Tamara entering the lab as Heinrich held the door for her. Dok lifted his coat sleeve with a finger to peek at the watch underneath.
"It's only seven hundred hours," he announced sternly, loud enough to be heard across the room. He resumed his typing.
It was at this point that the first implantation was attempted with the patient in the lithotomy position. Transfer completed successfully on first attempt, with the only non-routine event being an episode of syncope. Note: patient regained consciousness after the procedure with no adverse side effects.
His eyes flicked up briefly to the entryway, which was now empty.
A blood test was performed via radioimmunoassay on the twelfth day after implantation. The results were negative, which was unsurprising as ovulation had not been confirmed and no hormonal regimen was attempted.
Dok stood up, and quickly scanned the lab. Tamara was sitting quietly on the exam table, her sleeve rolled up in anticipation. He frowned slightly as it reminded him somewhat of the incident with the apple.
But this was different. There was nothing impertinent about her manner. Her body language betrayed the usual nervousness, but there was another energy there that he wasn't used to.
At any rate, it was odd seeing her come to the lab so early like this.
He crossed the room to stand in front of her, then crossed his arms.
"Well?"
"I know it's early. I was just feeling impatient," she said modestly, looking down at her inner elbow.
Dok raised an eyebrow. This didn't feel like mere cooperation.
"I can wait, though," she added quickly, reaching to pull down her sleeve when he didn't immediately respond.
"No, let's go ahead then, so long as you're here. I am admittedly anxious to find out as well."
This felt more like a collaboration.
Half an hour later they were both seated at the lab station. She had her hands folded and pressed up against her forehead. Maybe she was praying; he didn't know for sure. Of course he himself didn't require divine help of any sort; he had done just fine without it these many decades. But he had observed that it was a source of comfort to those of weaker character, sometimes strengthening their resolve during times of trial. So he accepted it as a useful tool, even if its effects were placebo in nature.
Dok carefully added blood from the glass dropper into one of the test tubes in front of him, then sat back. He frowned, finally noticing the tension he had been holding in his shoulders all morning.
Thy will be done, on earth as in heaven.
Tamara lowered her hands from her face and glanced over again at the doctor, who was still working. Bringing them over her eyes again, she continued, her mouth silently forming the words as they recited in her mind.
Give us our daily bread, forgive us our trespasses.
Lead us not into temptation.
She glanced at him again, and he was looking directly at her.
"What? What is it?"
Dok's mouth curved into a rare smile and he nodded.
Tamara wasn't sure how long she sat there, unable to move or to speak. At some point Dok got up and she thought he might have patted her shoulder before heading to another part of the lab.
So I'm pregnant.
Her mind was still spinning and she couldn't form a thought to say aloud.
"Everything all right? Are you feeling lightheaded, dizzy?"
"No," she forced herself to finally speak. "I just don't know what to do. Don't know what to say, what to feel. It's overwhelming."
"Calm yourself. I will be there to guide you as always. Why don't you take a rest for now while I make a call?"
Later that evening, when she returned to her own room, she noticed right away a single folded paper on her cot. It was one of those fancy pieces of stationary she had seen in the Major's room. In elegant handwriting it read:
Ms. Larson,
I hear that congratulations are in order!
Effective immediately, your weekly visitation privileges are reinstated. Up to two hours will be permitted per visit.
Best wishes on your continued health and happiness,
M.M.M.
She wasn't sure what the M's stood for other than Major, but it was fabulous news.
And tomorrow was Sunday. She could not wait to talk to Roger.
Ernst almost couldn't believe they were getting steak again for the third night in a row. He was practically sick of it, truth be told, but no one else seemed to be complaining. His dinner companions were all loudly speculating on the reason for the change in the quality of the meals lately.
"Did Christmas come early?"
"I heard the meat was a gift from one of our 'investors.'"
"If so, the Major must be in an extra good mood. Otherwise, he would have papered his bedroom walls with the stuff before sharing it with any of us."
That comment got a laugh from everyone, with Gunther nearly choking on a large mouthful. Ernst may not have been the most popular in his group, but at least he was good with the quips.
The camaraderie was great, as usual, but his mind was still obsessing on the American woman. Today he had finally figured out where they were keeping her, and it was good news for him to learn that she stayed in a storage room in the old section of the base. If Dok had had her locked up in the lab with him, it would have been much harder, probably impossible, for him to get access to her.
The whole affair was strange, but he didn't actually care why she was there, nor did he think twice about it.
As the last of their mealtime companions left the table, his best friend moved to sit across from him so they could have another of their private discussions. Gunther, with his thick blonde hair, symmetrical features, and strong body would probably have impressed even the Führer back in those glorified days. Ernst was somewhat on the scrawnier side, plus a bit darker of features. He kept up well enough in training, but often surmised that he probably had to try twice as hard as his colleagues.
Yet another reason why vampirehood couldn't come soon enough. All the stamina and power he could ever want, and with only a fraction of the effort. Sometimes the procedure, dubbed the "blood transfusion from Hell," even caused a person to grow a few centimeters. That would have been perfectly fine in his book.
"Well?" Gunther tossed his head back as if he still had long hair that he needed to get out of his eyes. Whenever someone asked about the gesture, he would say that the ladies back home had loved it and that old habits were hard to break. Ernst had his doubts that anyone had ever actually found it an endearing quality of his vain friend.
"I have a plan. It won't be too much longer, I think."
"About time. I hardly even remember what the broad looked like."
"Figures you'd forget as it's only been a few months. You even said that she was your type."
"Maybe I did. Well, so long as the pussy's white, I don't care."
"Never known you to be picky. And besides, they aren't white, you know. Or have you never paid attention?"
Gunther furrowed his brow in a manner that Ernst thought made him look rather unintelligent. His friend wasn't actually stupid, but it did seem that he relied on qualities other than his brain to get him through life.
Moments later, his eyes lit up with understanding and he laughed.
"Okay you got me! But you know what I meant. So what's the plan, wise guy?" He reached over and slid one of the abandoned meal trays closer to himself. It still had half a serving of strudel left on it.
Ernst smirked. He would account for every variable and they would take every precaution. Once their fun was done, the two of them would simply go on with their lives, and eventual un-lives, afterwards.
Roger pulled back from the long embrace to look his wife up and down.
"Wow! That is the sexiest dress I've seen on you yet."
"Whatever. They all look the same and you know it."
"No no, the neckline on this one. See how it swoops down right here," he said, running his index finger down her collarbone.
For some reason that he hadn't quite figured out yet, Tamara had been allowed inside his cell today. After being locked in together, the guard had left without a word while the two stood in stunned silence.
Tamara looked down at the modest neckline, then rolled her eyes.
"At least now I understand why they wanted me to wear these oversized things. So I could grow into them."
"Wait, are you showing already?" His hands moved down to feel her stomach, which felt as flat as ever beneath the loose grayish fabric.
"No. It's only been a month and…eight days. I've got nothing to show except the morning sickness."
Roger found that he wasn't as happy about the pregnancy as he thought he would be. While it was good in that it gave Tamara a certain level of status and protection within Millennium, it caused him distress knowing that the baby wasn't his. On the other hand, he reminded himself daily, at least it wasn't some other man's child either.
"Hey, Tammy?"
He invited her to sit beside him. The ancient cot squeaked and sagged under the weight of both of them.
"Yes, what is it?" Her voice sounded resigned, like she was preparing for him to make another joke.
"I love you more than anything."
"Oh?"
"And in this moment, I'm happier than I think I have ever been."
"I love you too, Roger."
It felt like heaven, the weight of her head and shoulder leaning into him after such a long time. He closed his eyes, and drew his other arm around her, pulling her in even closer.
A long-abandoned thought suddenly burst into his mind, and his eyes abruptly opened.
"Hey, Tammy?"
Tamara couldn't believe what Roger was proposing just now, and she had already made excuse after excuse.
"And you're absolutely sure no one's watching?"
"I'm positive. Look look, see? The camera isn't even pointed at my cell."
Tamara looked dubiously up at the security camera. It did indeed seem to be focused on another section of the prison at the moment. Still, there was such a bad memory attached to the sight of the thing, it was hard to feel any relief about that fact.
"I absolutely promise. Trust me."
"I don't know."
"Please?"
"I guess… I just… I can't promise anything, you know."
"Of course, Sweetie. Will you at least try?"
She did try. At first she kept squinting up at the ceiling corner to see if the camera had moved. Each time Roger would gently turn her face back towards him for another deep kiss. He never mentioned the paranoia or laughed at her for it. He didn't say much at all, in fact, except to occasionally confirm that she wasn't too uncomfortable.
It took some time and lots of patience on Roger's part, but eventually she stopped thinking about the camera altogether.
Notes:
Random "fun" fact: the reason the protagonists are Christian is because they were originally going to be kidnapped at a huge Easter celebration. I started writing those early chapters based on a documentary I saw on public television, until I realized the religious event wasn't actually in Brazil. Scrapped the idea and set the story at Carnival instead, but by then the characters were pretty well-established in my mind, so the concept stuck.