I was still waiting on the gurney for my babies to be checked when I heard them. Groaning and rolling my eyes, I recognized the voices. First, there was the tight voice of number two, demanding to see me. Then came the sharper, more commanding tone of number one, insisting on seeing my scans and speaking to the doctor. Finally, Mariella's chirpy voice could be heard asking the nurses something.
I wasn't sure how many pack members had arrived. Soon, the curtain was pulled back, revealing number one, Mariella, two, and five. Number one held papers, a clipboard, and a pen.
He thrust the forms at me, telling Mariella, "You help her out; you know what to fill in."
I assumed the forms related to my car accident, but they turned out to be some kind of permission form. Damon had already filled out a significant portion, listing himself as my "primary husband" and granting him access to all my medical files and notes. Fine.
He had filled out most of the form, writing everything in his neat, precise handwriting, leaving me only to fill in my social security number and signature. There were many boxes he had checked, along with his phone numbers, several email addresses, and even his pager number. Number two was listed as the second contact, but Charles was nowhere to be found. Interesting.
Mariella said, "Mimi, listen to me. Damon made me fill this out, too, when I had my scan. He was pretty frantic when the cops called. I had to calm him down so he wouldn't teleport here right away. What the fuck happened?"
I had no choice but to fill out the form. I could hardly put my title there as alpha female even I was one, but for now I was just Mimi Salvatore.
After signing and handing it to Mariella, I replied, "A combination of a slippery, snowy road with no streetlights, a deer crossing, and me pressing the brakes too hard. Despite my fancy tires, the car went out of control, spinning and wrapping itself around a light pole, hitting the driver's side door. I was knocked out by the airbags and the impact, and dislocated my hip. My spleen bled, but everything is on the mend."
"It doesn't sound like nothing," Mariella stated, "Your tendency to believe you're indestructible is incredibly irritating."
I retorted, "Well, I am, aren't I?"
Number Two entered the room and lifted my blanket, my patient gown, and the remnants of my clothes, which had been cut away. This revealed a deep, nasty bruise across my belly and sides.
"Does this look indestructible to you, baby?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with steel.
I rolled my eyes; it was just a bruise, after all, something I'd experienced before. I decided to change the subject.
"I need to call the car insurance company to see what I need to do, and hopefully there are no marks on my driving record."
Number Two clenched his jaw and hissed, "Charles and Adam are handling your car and insurance. You won't have any marks on your record. Number Six and Seven are already photographing the road and its condition, and they'll file a claim for compensation from the state."
Oh my fucking god and its hairy ass! It was a bit much, but I kept my expression neutral. These men had truly lost it, and for good reason. I was, for God's sake, immortal. I couldn't die. Getting banged up wasn't even the worst thing that had happened to me. Had they completely lost their minds?
Mariella handed my form to Damon, who copied it and gave a copy to the doctor for my medical files. Soon, I heard my obstetrician walking in. Damon introduced her and the others, also giving her a copy of my permission slip so he'd have access to my pregnancy scans. She approached me and introduced herself to Number Two and Mariella. Looking at my ugly bruise, she said, "Ooh, that looks nasty. You have an appointment... well, we haven't reserved it yet, but it should be a week from now. Let's check on your vitals first." Smoothly, Damon said to Mariella, "'Ella, please make Mimi's appointments for at least the next three months and send them to my email so I know what days to take free."
I rolled my eyes inwardly as this specimen decided to put on a show of being a husband, knowing this was likely just for the doctors.
The doctor moved the ultrasound machine closer and asked me, "Is it okay for them to be here?"
Damon's lip curled into a sneer, but I just nodded. My doctor always prioritized my well-being. She dimmed the lights and lowered the gurney into a fully supine position, exposing my bruised abdomen.
She then said gently, "I am sorry if this hurts; I'll try to be careful."
I nodded. Damon walked to me, pulled up a chair, and sat beside me, his eyes fixed on the screen. Mariella stood a little further back, and "number two" had also crept closer. The doctor squeezed jelly onto my belly and placed the transducer on it. She began mapping my insides, and soon a rhythmic thrumming was audible.
She announced, "Here we have your identical twins. So far, no signs of placental eruption or bleeds. Good. You should remember, and I stress this to all my supernatural patients, that even if you are immortal, these guys in your tummy aren't. It takes about 24-48 hours for them to gain immortality after their first breath. Abortions happen to immortals, too. You could lose your babies if you are too careless, but so far, there is no indication of any trouble."
Damon clenched his jaw. Mariella seemed shocked. I soon felt Damon's large, warm hand grasp mine, intertwining our fingers so that our magical scars, made during our vampire wedding, were pressed together, amplifying our bond.
A tingling and stinging sensation around my shoulder and the left side of my chest told me that the magical tattoo, which recorded our lives, was getting new additions. Damon grunted, likely experiencing the same sensation.
Damon's eyes were glued to the screen. He blinked a little too fast as he saw the image of my babies and heard the thrumming of their tiny hearts. He squeezed my hand, and the doctor moved to my side.
"I can't say anything definitive about the gender yet," she said, addressing me and Damon. "However, at the next appointment, we might get a better idea. These little ones are lively, showing no signs of distress, and the placenta looks fine. Now, let's check on the singleton, who took the worst hit."
She moved the transducer to my side. I winced, my muscles still sore. The singleton seemed fine, too.
The doctor then addressed me. "Remember, while you can't die, healing takes time, especially since these five have essentially hijacked your body and made it prioritize them. Take it easy. I suggest you stay out of work until the bruising is completely gone and you're no longer sore. Also, these babies are inside you, so avoid any unnecessary heroics and heavy lifting. You have men in the house; you could take one of them to work with you to lift anything over 20 pounds."
Damon spoke in a firm voice. "I will make sure of it. Thank you; it's been wonderful to see these five."
I felt a wave of jealousy coming from Mariella through the hive, as Damon wasn't so overly protective of her. I could feel him almost needing to wrap himself around me, which made me roll my eyes internally. But my babies were safe, and I refused to even consider abortion or anything that might have harmed them. They were fine, and I could hardly wait to get home, take a shower or a bath, eat, and have a nice weekend. Little did I know that my weekend would be far from calm and not at all what I envisioned.
The doctor said to Damon, "I'd like you to be at the next appointment if possible, as we try to determine the gender and take some measurements. It's always an important time for parents."
Damon nodded and replied, "I will be there for sure; I'll make sure of that."
The wave of jealousy intensified, and then something unexpected happened: it stopped. It was crushed, stamped down by Mariella, and surprise was evident on her face. Damon nodded briefly to Mariella and took a tissue, wiping my belly clean as the doctor concluded her examination.
"Wait here," Damon said to me, "while I go talk to the doctors and see if we can get you home sooner rather than later."
I nodded. Mariella then took her bag and retrieved the new clothes she had reserved for me. I could dress myself while Damon handled my discharge. I was pretty sure I would hear about this for days to come, but it was just my life, and I had to tolerate it. It was obvious Damon had been truly scared when the police called him.
But I was fine—well, maybe not 100 percent, not yet, but I would be, quite soon, or at least I hoped so. Of course, a small part of me understood the risks; I could lose my babies if I were too careless.
But I had months ahead of me. I wasn't going to live wrapped in cotton wool. I could still work and act, as long as I kept my wits about me. I refused to think of any worst-case scenarios. I had lost my cubs once, and I wouldn't even consider losing my babies.
I started to dress and thought I'd be okay to go to work on Monday. Maybe Charles could give me a healing booster or something if it came to that. But now, a hot bath, a warm meal, and my bed seemed like heaven. It was time to show everyone I was okay, and there was nothing to worry about.
I had just gotten my clothes on. Thank God my pants were quite loose on the waist, so they didn't press too nastily on my bruise. My warm woolen shirt gave me wonderful warmth. Then the curtain parted again as the doctor and Damon walked in.
The doctor held some forms in his hands and stammered slightly, "These are your discharge papers, and advice on what to do and what not to do. You still have a significant blood clot inside you; it takes time for your body to absorb it, and it might be uncomfortable. Here's a prescription for some painkillers that should work for you."
He handed me the papers, bypassing Damon. I glanced at the prescription: Carprofen, a hefty dose of dog medicine. It would work, but I hadn't had much time to even read them before Number Two snatched them from my hand, folded them, and tucked them into his jacket pocket. Number One helped me stand and offered his warmer jacket.
The doctor said, "Normally, I'd keep you under observation for a day or two, but since my boss is your husband, you're in good hands."
I nodded and smiled. Damon just grunted, still consumed by the need to care for me and keep me safe, a bond that blazed like wildfire in my soul. I just hoped to calm him down. My phone sat on the table; I reached for it, intending to put it in my pocket, but Mariella snatched it away.
Damon looked sharply at her, then turned to me and said, "Come on, baby, let's get you home and on the mend. You're not going to worry about anything but healing, you hear me?"
I nodded, swallowing the instinctive "I'm fine" reply, knowing he wouldn't be receptive.
As we walked out of the hospital, our car was parked nearby. Number Five took the driver's seat while Damon opened the door for me. Number Two went in first, followed by me, then Number One, so I was sandwiched between the two Salvatores. Mariella took the front passenger seat.
As the car started, I said, "I could go to the pharmacy in the morning to get my painkillers."
Damon replied, "No need. That clot will be removed, as well as your extra spleens, as soon as we get home. It's operation time for you, baby. I'm not taking risks, and that clot is huge. Moreover, those spleens are in fucking nasty places, trying to grow in your big vessels, meaning they will grow like wildfire. The only thing growing inside you will be our five, you heard the doctor; we could lose them, we could have lost them!"
His voice was almost desperate, but also angry and strict. Now, I couldn't find a calm, logical reason to avoid the knife. Damon was merciless, and the doctor, and Number Four, would be even more so, and might rip me a new asshole.
"Fine," I conceded. "You've seen the scans, and I haven't. So, let's take them out. I'll be fine. You've seen our little ones; they're fine. Besides, they have you all. I mean, in case something happens, energy transfer would help, right?"
Number Two's voice was cold as ice as he replied, "Energy transfer hardly helps if their hearts have already stopped. As you might have read, it doesn't feel anything for a mom when they die in utero. It is painless and not noticeable until it is too late. Therefore, you will be under observation and care, and we will ensure nothing happens to them. The slightest sign of a problem, and we will act, however we see fit, regardless of your plans for the birth."
I took a breath. "Fine, I accept that. It's good you're keeping an eye on things, but this will take time. I mean, I'll hit the 30-week mark at the end of March, and I might be able to carry them longer. I've had big litters, so it will be months. I will work, not live wrapped in cotton wool."
Mariella chimed in, "You know, I was jealous the first time, because of your tattoo... in that... as I felt Damon's relief as he saw those five little ones. I felt his love for them, and it was so damn strong, maybe even stronger than his love for my babies. And I knew that damn tattoo keeps your bond so different than ours. But then Number Two found his balls, so it's time for me, really, to try and grow up and you better not even plan to try and get them to pay attention to me instead of you. Charles and the girls will be manning your shop for at least a few days until Damon gives you the okay to go back to work."
I rolled my eyes. It seemed my life was about to be calm and caring for quite some time. I wasn't sure what they would do with carpooling and such, but I had my doubts that I might have a personal chauffeur, more or less, meaning no more lonely, dark roads for me to drive on, pissed off, in heavy snowfall.
"You can be sure, baby," Damon murmured, his voice soft. "You'll only work until four, and we'll arrange for someone to drive you to and from work. Those who are free will handle the shopping, so you don't need to worry about that. We'll also look into improving the lighting on that part of the road, and the private contractor is keeping the yard and road clear and safe. As for tax returns, I'll file jointly with you. Number Two will take care of Mariella, and the other Salvatores will handle the girls. Charles will manage your business taxes. We'll minimize every possible stressor for both you and Mariella. There will also be plenty of medical examinations and sleeping aids – someone will make sure you sleep, not be awake all night. I've read a lot of your… so-called bible, so I'm aware of a lot of things, maybe more than you."
I took a breath. It was clear I wasn't the only one pregnant; Damon was practically pregnant with me. It was just one more thing I had to learn to tolerate. This had been one hell of a lesson, and I had to admit, as Number Two activated that damn pendant that quelled my rage, that I was incredibly sore. I curled up to Damon, suddenly feeling chilled, likely from the shock. It was a good lesson for me, a start to learning to be more vulnerable. Not a fun lesson, but an important one.