Chapter Text
She can’t help but laugh as she looks down at the little plastic device in her hands, the double pink lines and the little smiley face, seeming to mock her. After all the lies, why should she be surprised at one more? First her powers, her ordinary life, the medications, and now it looks like she isn’t actually sterile.
Lovely.
“Never imagined anyone would want to sleep with ordinary little Vanya, did you dad?” She asked the air around her as her laughter steadily morphed into tears, “Or maybe you put something in those pills to prevent any unwanted accidents.” That sounded like something dear old dad would do. A little insurance to make sure that no more mistakes were allowed into his precious family. Couldn't have her tainting the bloodline any further. Not after she proved herself to be uncontrollable.
She shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, she was. The sobs that tore through her, her ribs aching with their force, and the way her breath seemed to catch in her lungs made it impossible to deny. How even now, after everything, she thought there were lines that Reginald Hargreeves wouldn’t cross. Lines that Mom and Pogo would have stopped him from crossing. Some part of her still thinking they loved her. Still hoping that they had looked at her and seen a child beneath the monster.
Why did she keep believing in the people who hurt her? The people who let her be caged, and rumored, let her live most of her life in a drugged stupor? Unable to feel anything beyond the endless numbness.
Sometimes she missed it. Feeling nothing. Emotions were hard. Harder than she ever thought they would be, and now she had so many of them.
She could hear the rain starting outside, big fat drops slamming against her window in tandem with her tears, and the lights flickered ominously. The heavy smell of ozone leaking around her as if any moment the storm might burst through the windows and surround her. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, as if she could hold in the force of her feelings, but it only reminded her of being smothered in the arms of her brother. Her breath coming faster as the world around her started to spin.
Control. She needed to get it under control.
If she didn’t they would come for her. Come to lock her up again in the basement cell. Come again to cut her powers off at the source. They hadn’t hesitated to aim their knives and their bullets at her. Even five had wanted her dead in the end. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let them. But it wasn’t just her anymore, was it? No, as she stared down at the little smiley face, her arms tightened. She couldn’t let them punish her child for her sins.
She wouldn’t let another child’s life be ended before it began.
Slowly, she forced herself to take a deep breath, holding it as she counted backwards from ten, then releasing it. She did it again and again, until the rain outside faded to a gentle sprinkle and the lights hummed above her steadily, no more flickering or blinking. She stood, washing her face off as if it might hide the blotchy redness of her face or the dark purple bruises under her eyes.
“Okay, you can do this,” She told the figure in the mirror, “We need a plan, first we need to call to get an appointment with our OBGYN, then we need to notify the director of the orchestra.”
The incident at the orchestra had been labeled a freak earthquake, and somehow none of the orchestra members seemed to remember anything about Vanya glowing or armed gunmen bursting into the room. In fact, the only thing anyone seemed to remember was how well she’d preformed at the show. Orchestra halls across the city and the state had offered to host them while the theatre was being rebuild, funds from various charity events paying for the damages, and after a two week break to recover, they had been on and off the road since.
Thankfully, they only had another two months of performances and then they were off for their six-month break. She doubted she’d be showing by then, and she knew David, the conductor, adored her so much at this point that he would do everything in his power to help her come back for the next season.
Probably the only good thing in her life at the moment. Overnight it seemed she had become a star in the orchestra world. Music had always been her home, and with it she was learning to control her powers.
Though many reviews called her performances glowing, and utterly entrancing, no one seemed to realize she literally glowed on stage.
She would have to hide it from everyone else though. Her siblings had shown their faces at one of her performances, and she had security escort them out the minute she saw them. David had no problem blacklisting them, and until Allison’s voice fully recovered, she couldn’t rumor her way in. She’d even moved apartments, after days of endless knocking and pleading at her door, she packed her meager belongings, called a real estate office and had her old property listed on the market. It sold by the end of the business day, and she bought herself a small two bedroom closer to the orchestra hall. She paid in cash and had it purchased through a secondary company to keep her name off any public record. Turns out you could get a lot done if you had a bank account full of checks from your rich father that you’d never cashed.
After everything the very least Reginald could do for her was to pay for her to start over. For once she didn’t even feel guilty taking his money.
As for her siblings, she simply didn’t want to see them.
Not after they’d locked her up. Not when she nearly killed them, and Mom. Not when she thought she’d killed Pogo. They’d left her voicemails and texts for weeks after, she only listened to one, it was Klaus telling her to come home. That Pogo was fine, and they’d fixed the damage to the academy. She deleted all the rest, and not to long after that she got rid of her old phone number and upgraded to the latest android model.
Now she only had orchestra members numbers in her phone, and the psychologist she made herself start seeing after she stumbled blindly out of the theatre and away from her siblings. Even she knew she needed help. Dr. Baker had taken it all in stride, from her powers to her aversion to medications after what had been done to her and helped her create coping strategies.
Turns out feelings were hard when you’d spent 25 years not having them.
Dr. Baker had to replace her picture frames and mugs for weeks before she just started drinking out of Styrofoam and invested in canvas prints of her pictures. Vanya tried to pay for it all. But Dr. Baker had insisted it wasn’t her fault and that she was being paid well enough to replace a few knick knacks.
She’d have to tell Dr. Baker too. Who knows what pregnancy might do to her emotional-state. But first, she needed to actually verify that she was pregnant and figure out how far along she was.
In the first few weeks following the incident, she had sex with a lot of nameless, faceless people, just trying to wash the feeling of Leonard off her skin.
It hadn’t worked.
Just left her feeling more dirty and ashamed than before.
She forced herself to breathe again, just thinking of Leonard was enough to send her pulse skyrocketing, somehow his body had never been found. But she remembered it all so vividly. How desperate she’d been for him to love her, and then how the red haze of betrayal had taken over when she found out the truth.
Better not to think about it.
She picked up her phone, and dialed, “Hello, yes, I’d like to make an appointment to see Dr. Reade, I need to confirm a possible pregnancy.”
Thankfully, the receptionist didn’t ask any questions, and simply scheduled her for the next day, “No, that’s all, thank you for getting me in so quickly.”
Apparently, it was a lot easier to get an appointment when you were pregnant. It used to be weeks to get in to have a pap smear done. Should have gotten pregnant sooner, she laughed at her own shitty joke, and then went to put the kettle on. She needed tea and time to process.
She knew she was taking this a little too well.
Avoidance, Dr. Baker would say, she was avoiding the implications of this because she didn’t really believe it. But who could blame her? When you spent your entire life thinking you were sterile, and then, just like everything else in your life, that turns out to be a lie. Until she got official confirmation tomorrow she didn’t need to think about it. Still, as the kettle started to heat up, she picked her phone up again, and texted Dr. Baker.
Do you have any space for an emergency session tomorrow after 10am?
Within seconds her phone chimed, Of course, Vanya, I have a window between 1 and 2 tomorrow. I had a cancellation, would that work?
Yes, that would be perfect. Thanks.
Is everything okay?
Not sure yet, but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Before you ask, yes, I’m doing my breathing exercises.
Good, if you need anything don’t be afraid to message me before your appointment. Have a goodnight Vanya.
Thanks.
She sighed, putting her phone down, and getting her tea ready. She reached for the chai, before remembering that caffeine wasn’t good for babies, and reaching for her favorite chamomile instead.
Oh god.
She wouldn’t be able to drink coffee if she were pregnant.
How the fuck was she supposed to survive without coffee? Deep breath, deep breath, you don’t even know if your pregnant for sure yet. Don’t panic yet.
She’d have all the time in the world to panic tomorrow. Today, she would drink her tea, watch another episode of New girl on her brand new tv, and then go to sleep. As Dr. Baker always said, wait until you know for sure there’s a reason to panic, and then we can figure out solutions instead of worry about the possibilities.
She could do that.
Just had to get through the night and then she’d figure out what to do in the morning. It would be okay till then.