Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Helen never thought that this would happen to her. She never thought that she'd be kneeling on the ice-cold marble tile floor of a luxury penthouse bathroom— especially not while she was sobbing, praying, and dry-heaving into her boss's porcelain toilet all at the same time; and yet, here she was. Fifty-something years old, graying hair clinging to her damp forehead, crucifix hanging askew underneath her loose frumpy charcoal black dress, and clutching a plastic stick that had managed to betray every law of biology.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. She still couldn't believe it; and yet, there that blue plus sign was, just staring right back at her. In a way, it almost seemed to be taunting her. How did she get here? How did she go from scheming for Bitsy Brandenham's inheritance to being pregnant with her child, actually pregnant with her child? She still had no idea what happened that night. All she knew for sure was that there'd been alcohol involved, and that was it. Now they were going to have a child to show for it. How was she going to tell Bitsy about this? She couldn't imagine that Bitsy would exactly be thrilled by the news, especially when she'd been happily child-free for decades. How was she going to tell her that their lives might change forever?

She forced herself to take a deep breath and assess the situation at hand. Okay, she had sex with her boss while they were both presumably drunk, and now she was pregnant with her boss's child. What could be the most painless way to deliver the news to Bitsy? Maybe if she started by texting her the preamble of what was to come, it would help ease the transition. Helen took another deep breath and initiated the text conversation:

Helen:

Bitsy, we need to talk.

Helen waited a few moments before Bitsy replied.

Bitsy:

About what exactly? 🤨

Helen:

Well, there's something I need to show you in person. Trust me, it's important.

A few more moments passed before Bitsy replied again.

Bitsy:

And why exactly would I want to do that?

Helen:

Because it involves you. Just let me show you, and you'll see.

Once Helen had sent that last text, she let out a sigh of relief. Now all she had to do was wait.

Bitsy sat in the armchair with a glare that could melt steel. She hadn't said anything since she came in and sat down. Helen couldn't help but start to worry that she'd made a huge mistake preceding this with the text conversation, only to force it back down at the last possible moment. It was hard to tell what was going through Bitsy's mind during all this. For all Helen knew, she was probably just taking the time to process everything.

"Helen," Bitsy had choked out after a while. Her voice was unnervingly calm and devoid of its usual sharp cadence; the quiet before the Category 5 hurricane. "Would you mind telling me what the hell I'm looking at right now?"

Helen gulped before handing over the stick with its telltale plus sign. "It's... it's a pregnancy test, Bitsy."

"I know what a pregnancy test is, Helen! I mean, why are you showing me this? And whose is it anyway?"

"It's mine."

Bitsy raised an eyebrow. "Yours? Oh, I see, this is your idea of an April Fools prank, isn't it? Very funny. Try harder next time."

"I'm not joking, Bitsy. I really am pregnant."

Bitsy scoffed at this. "Committing to the bit, are we? You're so funny right now."

"I took two more before you came in because I wanted to be sure. I also went ahead and booked an appointment for Friday to confirm my pregnancy and see how far along I am."

Bitsy's eyes widened at this. "Oh my God... you're serious. What does any of this have to do with me, though?"

"Everything. You're the one who got me pregnant, after all."

At that, Bitsy's brain began to short-circuit. Then, very slowly, she let out a sound that was somewhere between a bark of laughter and a dry heave. 

"You—we—you're what?!" Bitsy could only choke out. "How old are you again?"

"Fifty-three," Helen snapped. "Thanks for the reminder."

"That's not an age where people get pregnant, Helen. That's an age where people take fiber supplements. What do you mean you're pregnant? You're—you're a woman! I'm a woman! You can't—this is biologically—scientifically—"

"I don't know, okay?! I don't know! I missed my period, I took the first test, it said I'm pregnant, I took two more, that's all she wrote. No egg donors, no magic, no immaculate conception. I'm just… pregnant. Somehow." Pause. "Look, I know this is insane. I know this shouldn't have been possible, but it happened anyway; and I'm keeping the baby."

Bitsy shot up from the chair, her tiny frame puffing up with indignation. "You can't be serious. I'm not raising a child at my age. This is your mess, not mine."

"I'm not asking you to help me. I'm just making sure you know what's going on."

Bitsy started to pace back and forth. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick. This is a nightmare, a complete and utter nightmare. Wait, I know! I'll call up the best doctors in New York. They'll fix this."

Helen's face turned pale. "'Fix this'?"

"Fix it. Undo it. Erase it. Whatever needs to be done to—"

"No. Absolutely not."

Bitsy blinked. "But Helen—!"

"I said no." Helen squared her shoulders. "This may have been an accident, Bitsy, but it's not a mistake. I'm keeping this baby no matter what. My body, my choice."

"I don't even get a say in this?"

"For the last time, no. This isn't like what your father did to keep his affairs under wraps. You don't get to buy your way out of this."

Bitsy stared at her for a while. Her mouth opened, then closed. Then finally: "I don't want a child. I never have. I don't know how to be a mother. I can barely be a person."

"Then don't be one. I don't need you to be. I'll do this myself."

Helen didn't even wait for Bitsy to speak up again. She just whirled around and headed out for the storage closet that also doubled as her room, leaving Bitsy all alone.

Later that night, Bitsy lay on her queen-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling like it owed her money. Pregnant. Helen was pregnant, with a baby that shouldn't exist, from them. Together. That was bad enough already, but the worst part? The very worst, most horrible, soul-crushing part? Bitsy didn't feel relief nor outrage nor even righteous fury. She felt something that terrified her more than all three combined. She felt jealous, but of what though? The baby? The idea of someone else having Helen's loyalty? Or was it the strange, aching warmth she'd seen in Helen's face when she said that she was keeping the baby?

"God, this is a lot to take in," Bitsy murmured to herself. "What am I going to do?"

Just then, she heard Shampagne barking out to her and she looked down. The white little mutt was peering right up at her, vying for her attention and affection.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she assured him. "I haven't forgotten about you. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, you're my only child."

Still, the thought of him potentially being displaced terrified her. She'd adopted him for a reason. Now she had to think about Shampagne getting pushed to the side when the baby inevitably started getting the spotlight. She didn't want that for him, and yet Helen had stood her ground on keeping it. This was going to be a disaster. Now what?

Chapter Text

It was Tuesday, April 15th. It had now been two weeks since Helen had told Bitsy that she was pregnant with her child. It didn't seem like nearly enough time had passed to fully process everything, especially as far as their futures were concerned. How exactly were things going to turn out moving forward? Helen was especially worried. Given her age and the fact that she wasn't exactly in the best shape, so many things were bound to go wrong during her high-risk pregnancy. She could have a miscarriage, the baby could die at birth, the placenta could somehow get infected or unexpectedly rupture, and so on. 

But they all paled in comparison to how she imagined people might react if they found out how that baby was conceived to begin with. For one, it was all but certain that a scandal would break out and upend their lives. After all, what they had done together when they conceived the child was a huge no-no, not the least because they were a boss and personal assistant respectively. Helen knew better than anyone that Bitsy could and would easily lord her power over her if she really wanted to, and it wasn't even the first time that a Brandenham had been more than friendly with the help. Secondly, the Brandenham Hotel's reputation could easily be drawn into the fray. Bitsy had dedicated most of her life to restoring the hotel to its former glory. All that hard work and tenacity could've been for nothing if the Brandenham Hotel were to be hit with yet another hard-hitting scandal, the likes of which could do irreparable damage to the brand.

Like it would even make a difference in the end. Helen was already steadfast on her decision to keep the baby. This was what God had planned for her. Yes, this was all part of God's plan to ensure that she would get Bitsy's money and die immeasurably wealthy. This was what her entire life had been leading up to. There was no way she was going to back out now. This was a golden opportunity to manipulate Bitsy into doing her bidding and bring herself one step closer to getting her inheritance.

And starting today, Helen intended to act on that opportunity. Today marked Helen's first appointment with her OB. This was just to confirm that she was indeed pregnant since she knew that at-home pregnancy tests weren't always the most reliable things in the world. She'd expected to head to the hospital to face this alone. She had no reason to believe that Bitsy would want any part of this, especially after how she'd reacted to the news. Surprisingly, however, Bitsy had offered to come.

"Why?" Helen had asked. "I thought you didn't want to do this?"

"I don't," Bitsy had replied. "But it'd be bad optics if I didn't at least offer some support."

Helen didn't question that any further. Bitsy did have a reputation to uphold, after all. Still, it was better than nothing. Afterwards, the older woman ordered her chauffeur to drive her and Helen over to Lenox Hill Hospital, which was just two blocks east of Central Park and the hotel. She also insisted that they have full security detail "just in case someone from the media found out about my involvement in all this." Just like before, Helen didn't question it anymore. She had no reason that Bitsy was going out of her way for any reason other than perhaps self-interest.

During the ride over, Helen briefly considered what Bitsy might be like as a sire (was that the right term to use?) to their little one. She'd never been particularly good with children before, much less babies, and she had little to no maternal instincts (except when it came to Shampagne, of course). She was also utterly unfamiliar with pregnancy, never having to personally witness it or experience it for herself; so Helen was all but confident that Bitsy wouldn't be able to handle seeing her body slowly change before her eyes. She couldn't necessarily blame her, either. The whole process could be pretty overwhelming to those who liked having everything under control, especially if they were the ones who were pregnant. Still, it could also be just as rewarding. Even if Bitsy never did come around to being a reliable co-parent, Helen could always count on God to help her through.

After spending about ten minutes cruising through traffic, the two women eventually made it to their destination. Helen was the first to step out from the back seat, eager to see the doctor, while Bitsy lingered inside for at least a couple minutes and tried to hold herself together.

"Come on!" Helen called out to her. "What are you waiting for?"

Bitsy forced herself to take a deep breath and followed Helen inside.

The waiting room of Dr. Ehlers's office was pristine. It had soft beige walls and white upholstered armchairs, and there was a faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Bitsy sat stiffly in one of the chairs, her fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. Next to her, Helen flipped through a parenting magazine with an unsettling calmness.

"This is ridiculous," Bitsy muttered as she adjusted her glasses. "We shouldn't even be here. At our age, this is—this is unnatural."

"Too bad, Bitsy." Helen didn't even bother to look up. "This is happening whether you like it or not."

Bitsy scowled. "You know, most people would at least try to pretend to care about their partner's feelings in this situation."

Helen lowered the magazine as if out of the blue and whipped her head around, confused by what she'd just heard. "What did you say?"

It took a moment for Bitsy to process it herself. "...ah, forget it. I don't know why I said that. It must've just been a slip of the tongue."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm still going to keep her regardless of how you feel."

Bitsy raised an eyebrow at this. "Her? How do you know it's a girl?"

"Because neither of us have a Y chromosome. What, did you think we were somehow also capable of having a boy together?"

Bitsy opened her mouth as if preparing to deliver a snappy retort, but shut it just as quickly. She did have a point. They'd already managed to give biology the middle finger when they conceived this child. That child being a boy would've just been too unbelievable.

Just then, the nurse emerged with a clipboard in her hands, ready to summon Helen for her appointment.

"Ms. Squillace?" the nurse called out. "You're up."

Helen exhaled and quickly rose from her seat with a small grunt. "Well, looks like it's our turn. Come on, Bitsy."

"Finally," Bitsy muttered. "About damn time."

With that, the two women followed the nurse into the doctor's office.

The ultrasound room was too cold, too white, and smelled vaguely of lavender and regret. Bitsy instantly likened it and most of the decor to something out of a Kardashian's wet dream, and she hated it.

"The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse said before leaving.

"Alright, thank you," Helen just said.

As soon as the nurse left, Helen proceeded to climb up onto the examination table and wait for the doctor to arrive. Meanwhile, Bitsy perched herself upon a vinyl-upholstered stool next to the table, hoping to intimidate the OB-GYN into apologizing for the laws of nature with her mere presence (though Helen was pessimistic about the strategy actually working).

"God, there's so much white in here," Bitsy couldn't help but whine. "Whoever designed this room must have wanted to make as many people snow-blind as possible."

Helen raised an eyebrow. "You chose to come here, and yet you've been complaining the whole time. What gives?"

"I came because I have a reputation to uphold, remember? I'm unpopular enough as is. I don't want to pile that on. I also don't want anything to do with this. This is utter hell for me."

Helen gave with a shrug. "Nothing's stopping you from leaving, you know. You're acting like I'm holding you hostage by having this baby."

"Well, technically, you are. I can't just walk away now. I have a hotel to run!"

"Sure, you can. You're a billionaire. You can hop on a private jet and go wherever you want to get away from this: Tahiti, Fiji, the Virgin Islands... hell, you can even retreat to the Marshall Islands."

"No, I can't, Helen! Do you have any idea what would happen if I did? Tabloids would be dragging me through the mud and calling me a 'deadbeat' for the rest of my life. I'd never find peace again."

Helen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Oh no, how terrible."

"I know. I'll always be linked to you through that parasite no matter what I do."

Helen just sighed. "Of course you call our daughter a parasite. Of course you do. At least try to behave yourself when Dr. Ehlers comes in, okay?"

Bitsy folded her arms like a petulant child. "Fine."

At that moment, forty-something-year-old Dr. Ehlers walked in, ready to get things started.

"Hello, I'm Evangelista Ehlers," the OB-GYN introduced herself. "But you can just call me Dr. Ehlers."

"Hey," Helen greeted flatly.

"And I see that you've brought your boss here with you today, and she's, um..." Dr. Ehlers trailed off for a moment before tilting her head to the side. "Who exactly is she in relation to your child?"

"I'm the one who got Helen pregnant," Bitsy bluntly replied. "That's it. I'm only here because I was obliged to."

Dr. Ehlers blinked a few times before quietly exhaling. "Okay... well, I've seen pretty much everything there is to see as an OB-GYN at this point, so nothing really fazes me anymore." She then proceeded to squeeze gel onto Helen's abdomen. "Still, I'd like to approach this like I would any other advanced maternal age pregnancy and take the necessary precautions to ensure everything goes smoothly."

Bitsy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, and I'll keep trying to pretend that none of this is happening and that it's all part of my drug-addled imagination."

Dr. Ehlers just ignored her as she pressed the ultrasound wand against Helen's skin. "All right, let's take a look." She turned the monitor slightly and moved the probe with steady fingers, peering at the grainy screen. "There we go…"

Helen turned her head. The screen flickered to life and revealed the fuzzy, dark world that had formed inside her womb. While maneuvering the probe, Dr. Ehlers laser-focused on the tiny developing vaguely humanoid figure moving as if without gravity through a small ocean of amniotic fluid.

"Is that...?" Helen began to trail off.

Dr. Ehlers nodded. "Yes, that's your baby. And that flickering is their heart beating."

"How far along am I?"

"Eight weeks, if what I'm seeing here is correct. Your hCG levels came back higher than expected so I just want to make sure."

For a moment, everything was silent. Not even Bitsy could bring herself to say anything for once, and she'd been complaining for the entire appointment so far. However, just when it seemed like the dust was finally starting to settle…

"Oh, wow," Dr. Ehlers softly spoke. "Okay. Well, that certainly explains the unusual hCG levels."

Helen's stomach clenched. "Oh God. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all! It's just… well, it looks like you're not having one baby."

Bitsy froze. "She's not?"

Dr. Ehlers shook her head. "Nope, you're having two."

Helen blinked slowly. "Two?"

"That's what I said. Fraternal twins, too. Look— here's Baby A…" Dr. Ehlers circled a peanut-shaped blob with a tiny fluttering heartbeat. "…and over here is Baby B. They each have their own amniotic sac and their own placenta. Their heartbeats are strong, and they're measuring right on track."

Bitsy let out a noise that could only be described as a squawk. "Twins?!"

"Oh my God..." Helen's hand drifted to her belly again, as if it would suddenly feel bigger and heavier after that new revelation. "Twins…"

"Yep. Congratulations!" Dr. Ehlers paused for a moment before resuming speaking. "However, now that we know that twins are involved, this pregnancy is going to be even more high-risk. So, first things first, we're going to have to monitor you much more closely than we would a typical pregnancy. That means more ultrasounds, which we'll have to do every two to three weeks starting when you're twenty weeks along. We'll also do non-stress tests in the third trimester, possibly earlier depending on what your blood pressure and glucose levels are like."

Helen just nodded the whole time while processing everything.

"That's... a lot to take in," Bitsy said.

"I don't doubt that," Dr. Ehlers replied. "Also, are there any pre-existing conditions I should know about? High blood pressure? Diabetes?"

"I have Bitsy," Helen answered flatly.

Dr. Ehlers chuckled. "Alright, we'll take that into consideration."

"I'm sorry, but what exactly does all this monitoring entail?" Bitsy interjected. "Are you saying we'll have to spend the rest of this pregnancy in a revolving door of medical surveillance like a reality show on TLC?"

"Pretty much, yes," Dr. Ehlers replied without missing a beat. "But the babies won't have any idea that they're being watched. They'll just find our poking and prodding annoying at best and infuriating at worst."

Bitsy blinked. "Oh God, that's horrifying."

"We'll also be talking about delivery options," Dr. Ehlers continued. "With fraternal twins and your age, we'll likely schedule a C-section around 37 or 38 weeks unless complications arise earlier."

Helen swallowed hard. "That sounds, uh... soon."

"It is, but it's the safest option; especially if either baby starts measuring large or breech, or if there's preeclampsia or gestational diabetes."

Bitsy held up a finger. "Is there a clause where we simply... opt out?"

Dr. Ehlers shook her head again. "Nope, you can't just do that."

Helen let out a long, shaky breath. "Okay."

"Any other questions?"

Bitsy raised her hand like a moody sixth-grader. "Yes. If this all goes sideways and I need to raise two twin infants by myself in my penthouse suite, is there a support group I can go to? And if so, does it come with cocktails and a hotline to Satan?"

Dr. Ehlers blinked, then calmly said, "We have a very good maternal mental health counselor we can refer you to. I'll add her info to your packet."

Helen tried not to smile. "Thanks."

Dr. Ehlers exhaled. "Alright, it looks like we're done here. I'll see you next time. Don't forget to start taking your prenatal vitamins before then!"

Helen slowly dismounted the exam table and steadied herself on her feet. "Don't worry, I won't. Thanks."

The ride home was silent and awkward, with the tension between the two women being thick enough to slice a steak knife through. Neither of them could quite wrap their heads around the fact that they were going to have two babies, not one. Hell, Bitsy had barely gotten used to the idea of one baby. Now there were going to be two? As if this whole situation hadn't been stressful enough already...

The penthouse was just as quiet when they finally came home. Helen had insisted on walking herself up the final steps from the elevator, muttering something about blood circulation and advanced maternal age. Bitsy, meanwhile, had stormed ahead like a woman possessed, muttering about how twisted God's sense of humor must have been to give them twins.

"Helen, I don't know what what we did for Him to give us two parasites, but I don't like it," Bitsy said. "It's ridiculous. I never signed up for one, and I certainly didn't sign up for two. I signed up to be alone with money and Shampagne and the occasional ethically dubious tax shelter.

Helen trudged in behind her and collapsed onto the velvet chaise, clutching a Brandenham Hotel-branded water bottle like it was holy water. "I'm sorry that our babies didn't consult your five-year plan before spontaneously forming in my uterus."

Bitsy spun around. "Don't sass me, Helen! You've been positively glowing since we left the hospital. It's disturbing."

Helen shrugged, cheeks flushed. "I mean, it's not something I can help. It's terrifying, don't get me wrong, but also…" She trailed off, her hand gently stroking her still-flat belly. "They're mine, yours… ours. It's… kind of a miracle, don't you think?"

"The only miracle around here is that I still have my sanity. Besides that, what about names? You're not going to name the parasites something appalling like Paisley and Parsnip, are you?"

Helen gave her a look. "You named your dog Shampagne. You don't get to decide what names are good or bad."

"Don't talk about Shampagne like that! He's an icon."

The conversation abruptly stopped there. The silence stretched between them once more, and the air felt too much like an incoming cold front threatening to make way for a tornado.

"Are you okay?" Helen asked after a while.

"No," Bitsy croaked out. "I'm not ready."

Helen sighed. "Neither am I. I'm still haven't fully processed the part where we're having twins, but ready or not, they're coming."

"I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I."

Another beat went by before either of the two women spoke again.

"If one of them has your eyebrows and my attitude, we’re all doomed," Bitsy muttered.

"Then we better stock up on pacifiers and sedatives," Helen replied.

Bitsy huffed. "For them?"

"For us."

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Bitsy and Helen had found out that they were having twins. By now, Helen had all but adjusted to the news. Bitsy, though... not so much. She was still wondering how she, of all people, managed to end up with two babies when she hadn't even wanted one. Twins didn't even run on either side of the family as far as she knew (then again, Helen was part-Irish). Still, Helen had insisted on continuing with the pregnancy, and Bitsy had no choice but to accept that. Unfortunately for Bitsy, that was easier said than done.

Today was Tuesday, April 22nd. Bitsy was currently hard at work mulling over her plans for Central Park while Helen was resting in the storage closet that also doubled as her room. It was only a matter of time before Helen grew too big for it, however, so Bitsy was secretly having what was normally a guest bedroom prepared for her. It wasn't like she cared about her or anything, of course not. This was so she wouldn't get sued for pregnancy discrimination or risk even more backlash than the kind she already faced on a daily basis. Those were the only reasons.

Just then, the phone rang. It was enough to break Bitsy's train of thought.

"Helen!" Bitsy called out. "The phone's ringing!"

No one responded.

"Helen!" Bitsy called out again. "Come in and pick up the damn phone!"

Again, there was no response.

Bitsy hummed. "She must still be asleep. Damn, guess I'll have to answer it myself. Ugh..."

Bitsy picked up. "Hello?"

"Bitsy, is that you?" a familiar voice asked her.

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's me, Mayor Leeds."

"Oh, Mayor Leeds!" Bitsy's voice shot up by an octave. "It's good to hear from you! How are things going?"

"Pretty good," Mayor Leeds replied. "Hey, listen. There's something I'd like to refer to you for a job."

It instantly caught Bitsy off-guard. "What kind of job?"

"I don't really know yet. I've been trying to find someplace for my wife's niece to work at, and I was hoping that you could help me out here. Will you help us?"

"O-Of course. What are friends for?"

"Great! Thanks a lot! Maybe later, we can meet up in your office to talk about it."

Bitsy shrugged. "Sure, whatever works for you, I guess."

"Awesome! Alright, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye."

With that, Bitsy just hung up. Afterwards, she decided to check up on Helen to make sure she was still asleep. From what she'd heard, fatigue was a common symptom during early pregnancy, and carrying multiples only exacerbated that. Plus, Helen had been feeling pretty tired lately, so it wasn't uncommon for her to be sleeping for about most of the day. What better time to check up on her than now?

Bitsy managed to sneak in quietly enough to catch a glimpse of Helen conked out on her twin-sized bed. She had no idea how long her assistant had been asleep nor what she must've been dreaming about, and she frankly wasn't keen on finding out. She decided to turn around and head out back to her office, only to suddenly hear something drop down the bed.

"What was that?" Bitsy whipped her head around to find the source of the noise, only to find Shampagne sitting on the floor and staring at her. "Oh... Shampagne, what are you doing in here?"

Shampagne just flicked his tail back and forth, happy that his owner was actually paying attention to him amidst all this.

"Were you just waiting in here for me?" Bitsy asked the little white mutt.

Shampagne barked as if in response.

"Alright, I guess I'll head back to my office now. You can keep doing, uh..." Bitsy paused for a moment, unable to discern why Shampagne was here in the first place. "...whatever it was you were doing."

Shampagne kept flicking his tail as he sat and watched her head back to her office, content that his fears about being neglected in favor of the babies were unfounded. As Bitsy started to head back to the office, she started to ask herself why she had gone out of her way to check on Helen. Surely, this was just because she didn't want to get sued for pregnancy discrimination. Surely, this wasn't because she actually cared about her or those damn babies. Surely, this wasn't because... no, she dared not go that far. This was just her looking out for herself and herself alone. This was just so her plans for redeveloping Central Park could come closer to fruition. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once she'd made it back into her office, she got back to work mulling over her plans for the park, starting by sketching a layout for the condo plots.

By the time Helen had woken up, it was already 7:43 PM, sunset time. She blinked for a few moments before sitting up and rising to her feet.

"How long was I asleep?" Helen asked herself.

She blinked again. Had she slept through most of the day already? She wasn't even showing that much yet, and the babies were already doing a number on her circadian rhythm. This was just the first trimester, too. What were the other two trimesters going to be like? She decided to save the worrying for later as she left her room and headed towards Bitsy's office. Upon noticing that the door was closed, she knocked lightly.

"Helen, is that you?" Bitsy called out from behind the door.

"No, it's Angelina Jolie," Helen sarcastically replied. "Who do you think?!"

She could've sworn that she heard Bitsy recoiling at her desk. A few moments passed by while she waited.

"Come on in, I guess," Bitsy hesitantly said.

Once inside, Helen sat down across from Bitsy and waited for the older woman to speak once more.

"What do you want?" Bitsy asked, seemingly irritated. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?"

"How long was I asleep?" Helen replied with another question.

"Oh, you were out for a while."

"I didn't miss anything important, did I?"

"No, just Mayor Leeds wanting to refer his wife's niece to me for a job."

Helen was taken aback by the bombshell Bitsy had dropped. "W-What? Did he actually do that?"

"Of course he did! He thinks we're friends, that's why."

"Uh, okay, I just…" Helen trailed off for a moment. "You're not going to replace me with his niece, are you?"

"Maybe? I don't know, don't worry about it."

Helen just sat there, unsure how to respond. Surely, Bitsy wasn't serious about replacing her, was she? That would just be unthinkable. In all the years she'd worked for Bitsy, she'd grown confident that Bitsy would never fire her no matter how upset she was or how angry she got with her. She needed her more than anything else in the world, so it didn't make sense to fire her after everything they'd been through together.

"Well?" Bitsy asked after a while. "Are you going to say anything or have you gone mute?"

"What?" Helen quickly snapped back to reality. "Oh, uh, sorry. I guess I got distracted. Being pregnant will do that to you."

"Um, okay..." Pause. "Alright, you can go now."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, go walk Shampagne or something, I don't know. I need to get back to my redevelopment plans."

Helen started rising out of her seat. "Uh, yeah, sure, but it's pretty late to be walking him right now. It's almost dark out."

"Don't talk back to me, Helen! Just take the dog with you and leave me alone. I need to work on my designs."

Helen sighed and left without saying another word. Meanwhile, Bitsy focused all her attention back on her redevelopment plans. She wasn't sure what was coming next, but she didn't want to dwell on it for too long. She decided to distract herself in the meantime. As long as she didn't think about life changing before her very eyes, she would be fine.

Chapter Text

It was 2:41 a.m. on Thursday, May 1st. Everyone prepared to wind down after a typical day at the Brandenham, and Helen couldn't be happier. By now, she had adjusted to her new reality of incubating two babies in her womb, but that didn't mean it'd made things easier. If anything, things were only going to get harder from there. She had no idea how Bitsy would handle the weeks and months to come.

Across the street from the hotel, Central Park shimmered under the faint orange glow of streetlamps and insomnia. The world seemed to have gone still tonight, and inside the vast suite, everything was quiet— well, everything except for the steady rustling of blankets and one very uncomfortable exasperated sigh, that is.

Helen flopped onto her back for the fourth time in about ten minutes, groaning low in her throat. Her twin-sized bed was starting to feel too small for her, and her body— tender, tight, and starting to round —was refusing to cooperate.

"Stupid babies," she muttered. "You're not even the size of a bagel yet, and you're already doing a hostile takeover."

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Helen asked aloud.

"Don't mind me," came the dry reply from behind the door. "Just your regular old billionaire cryptid, lurking around at an ungodly hour and contemplating the void."

"Uh, okay. You can come in if you want to, you know." Pause. "Do you want to come in?"

"I... I guess."

Helen could've sworn that she heard Bitsy shrugging from behind the door.

"Good enough for me," Helen said.

Helen got up and opened the door for Bitsy, who promptly rushed in and sat on the floor across from the bed.

"So… what are you doing up?" Helen asked curiously.

"I can't sleep," Bitsy grumbled. "I tried, I really did. But then I started thinking about babies and diapers and what kind of formula would be bougie enough for my brand, and then Shampagne sneezed in his sleep and I panicked."

Helen stared. "You're spiraling, aren't you?"

Bitsy gasped, flustered that Helen would even suggest that. "What?! No, I'm not!"

"Admit it. You're spiraling."

"No! I'm just looking ahead into the future! There's a difference!"

"Uh-huh, sure you are."

For a brief moment, there was a pause.

"You must be really uncomfortable right now," Bitsy said.

"No," Helen said flatly. "I'm basking in prenatal bliss. Seriously though, my hips are screaming out in agony, my stomach is staging a hostile takeover, and I can feel both my kidneys throwing in the towel."

Bitsy stood there awkwardly. Then, after a beat, she climbed onto the bed like a reluctant squirrel and perched on the edge beside Helen. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

Then Bitsy cautiously and hesitantly reached out her hand and placed it on Helen's stomach.

Helen turned her head slowly to look at her and froze. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to establish contact," Bitsy replied.

"You can't actually feel them yet, Bitsy. It's not like they have Wi-Fi."

Bitsy ignored her for a moment. Her hand was surprisingly soft and warm against the charcoal fabric of her dress.

"I don’t know what I'm doing," she finally murmured. "Everything about this is… deranged. I was perfectly content with dying alone and wealthy, but then you had to go and get yourself knocked up with twins. Ridiculous."

Helen blinked. "Bitsy."

Bitsy blinked back. "What?"

"I don't know what I'm doing either, but you're here. That has to count for something."

Bitsy was quiet for a moment before giving the faintest of nods, still staring at Helen's barely-there bump like it might suddenly blink back at her. "God, they're real. There are two of them in there."

"Of course there are, Bitsy. You saw there were two of them two weeks ago."

"I know, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around that. One might have your toes while the other might have my eyebrows."

"Oh God, that poor girl."

Bitsy gave a soft, reluctant laugh while Helen closed her eyes. The silence that followed was different from before, but this time, it was heavier and softer. They let it settle while their minds wandered off to what their lives could look like at least a year from now.

"I already picked names for them, by the way," Helen said after a while.

"You did?" Bitsy asked, somewhat surprised. "What did you pick?"

"Soleil and Lune."

"'Soleil and Lune?' As in, the sun and the moon?"

Helen smiled, just a little. "Yeah."

"…That's stupid." Bitsy's voice cracked halfway through the word "stupid." "They sound pretentious as hell."

Helen nodded. "I know."

"But I think I like them."

"I had a feeling you might. They fit your brand." Pause. "You're gonna stay, right?"

"I don't know why you'd want me to stay with you through the night, but sure, whatever."

"I was talking about staying to help me with the babies. You're gonna do that, right?"

Bitsy didn't answer right away. She didn't know how committed she was going to be during this experience. She still had lingering childhood trauma that couldn't be properly resolved. Who was to say that wouldn't inform her child-rearing skills? How could she trust herself around an infant, let alone two of them, after what her parents had put her through? How could she guarantee that she'd still be there for her daughters for moments where they might need her the most? She also couldn't help but feel somber that the babies didn't have any relatives closer to them in age. Their grandparents had also been dead for years at this point. The only relative they could really turn to for advice was Ambrose, and even then, he wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around.

"I guess," Bitsy finally murmured. "But if either one of those brats kicks me, I'm filing a complaint."

Helen quirked an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? To who?"

"I don't know, but I'll find someone."

"I'm sure you will."

Helen smiled into the pillow, and for the first time in hours, she finally drifted off to sleep.

Helen woke up a few hours later to find that it was not only almost noon, but Bitsy was no longer in the room. That was weird. She still couldn't believe that Bitsy had stopped by to pay a visit. Had she dreamed the whole thing last night? She lightly pressed her palm to her stomach to make sure the bump and the babies were still there. Yep, they were still there. Now was as good a time as any to get the day started, however late it was. She hadn't reached that point in the pregnancy where the workload would be too strenuous for her, so there was still plenty of energy for her to spare.

"Helen!" Bitsy's shrill voice cut through the air into her ears. "Helen! Get in here!"

Oh God, what did Bitsy want now? Helen slowly got up and prepared to head out the door. This wasn't about the whole job referral business, was it? She headed out anyway, too curious to stop herself. So much had been going through her mind, not the least of which was the possibility of being replaced. She knew better than to earnestly believe that could ever happen to her, but it still left her feeling on edge. She had to wonder if it was more because she was worried about the little ones' futures or because she'd tied her worth to Bitsy's inheritance and how that could shape her future.

"Let's just get this over with…" Helen murmured to herself.

She eventually made her way into Bitsy's office and sat down across from her empty desk. Her nerves hadn't eased in the slightest, but she was still curious to find out why Bitsy had summoned her here. She waited a couple minutes before Bitsy arrived with a young woman with light brown skin, a short platinum blonde bob with visible dark roots, lidded dark eyes, a thin frame, and a rectangular face.

"Uh…" Helen trailed off for a moment before she forced herself to speak again. "Who's that?"

Bitsy feigned shock at this. "Oh, where are my manners? Helen, this is Other Helen. Other Helen, Helen."

"My name's Meadow, not Other Helen," the younger woman interjected.

"You're Other Helen now."

Meadow rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. So what exactly do you want me to do here?"

"I want you to be a nanny to two special babies."

Meadow raised an eyebrow. "What? Whose babies?"

"Well, hold on to your seat, Other Helen, because this is going to be a wild ride."

Meadow was still confused, but curious about where Bitsy was going with this. "Uh, okay, I'm listening."

Bitsy slowly exhaled and began. "Okay, so Helen is currently ten weeks pregnant with twins, but they're not just any set of twins. They're twins that she's been carrying for her infertile sister and her husband."

Helen was caught off-guard by this new story that Bitsy was currently weaving, but said nothing.

"That's, uh... really sweet of her," Meadow said.

"Well, the sister and her husband just died," Bitsy continued. "It was very tragic, to put it mildly. Nevertheless, Helen wants to keep carrying the babies out of the goodness of her Catholic heart because as a Catholic, she believes that abortion is murder."

"Damn, I never considered that the intended parents could die before a surrogate has their baby. Well, I did, but I didn't think something like that could actually happen except on TV or in the movies. So then what's gonna happen to the babies when they're born? Will she raise them by herself or...?"

Bitsy cut her off. "I plan to adopt them once they're born. Helen doesn't exactly have good financial stability, so she wouldn't be able to take care of them like I can."

"Okay, but why not just let the grandparents raise the kids?"

"They're dead, that's why. Helen's also the last member of her family, so by adopting these children, I'm keeping her lineage from dying out."

Meadow blinked at least a couple times, still confused by what she'd just been told. "So let me get this straight: you, a seventy- or eighty-something year old billionaire, are going to adopt two babies that were supposed to go to your assistant's sister and brother-in-law because you alone feel that you can raise them better than your assistant can? Do I have that right?"

"Yeah, that's right, Other Helen," Bitsy replied.

Meadow blinked again. "Yeah, I can definitely see why people think billionaires are weirdos."

Bitsy's eye twitched slightly, but she kept her mouth shut.

"So... are you interested in the job or not?" Helen finally asked.

Meadow rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, as long as it keeps Uncle Quincy off my back."

Helen gave a little shrug. "Works for us. Just let us know when you want to start working once you get home."

"'Kay."

With that, Meadow turned herself around and headed out of the office for home. Soon, Bitsy and Helen found themselves alone.

"Bitsy, why did you lie about me being a surrogate mother for an imaginary sister and brother-in-law?" Helen asked her.

"Because I don't want people to know that I got you pregnant and flock all over it like vultures," Bitsy replied. "I'm already stressed out as is. Besides, I need Mayor Leeds to see me as a saint for all the goodwill this little fib will accrue."

Bitsy did have a point, Helen supposed. This pregnancy was already hard enough on her. She didn't need any additional stress on top of that.

"Are you sure that will work?" Helen asked again.

"Of course I am," Bitsy replied confidently. "It has to work. I've come too far now just to have everything fall apart on me."

For Bitsy's sake, Helen hoped that it would work as well. After all, her chances of getting the inheritance rode on that and the demolition of the park.

Chapter Text

It was now May 15th. Two weeks had passed since Bitsy had hired Meadow to be the babies' nanny, and Helen was now officially showing.

She could no longer pretend that the bump was just a large lunch or an overambitious bloat. Her belly was now starting to stretch against her clothes, even her usual frumpy black dress; and with two little ones inside, it would only keep expanding from there. How much bigger, she had no idea, and she was almost certain that Bitsy didn't know either. Still, it didn't deter her from making sure she carried the babies to term and kept them as healthy as possible.

Today, Bitsy and Helen were coming in for the 12-week appointment over at Lenox Hill. For this appointment, Dr. Ehlers was going to do a nuchal translucency scan, which would check for early signs of chromosomal conditions and give measurements of both babies. Helen had read briefly that older mothers were more likely to have children with chromosomal abnormalities due to declining egg quality, so she knew going in what she might expect. Still, she was unperturbed. She was going to love them no matter how many chromosomes they had between them. After all, in God's eyes, all life was sacred.

For this appointment, Helen decided to be more adventurous and put on a flowing cream blouse with little flowers, the kind that made her feel just girly enough without betraying the austere and iron-willed Catholic Jersey woman underneath. Unfortunately, she couldn't get it to button all the way. She took it as a sign that she'd have to seek out maternity clothes soon. In the meantime, she'd have to settle for the tops that were increasingly too small and some sweatpants.

Just like last time, Bitsy had the chauffeur drive her and Helen over to the hospital and made sure to have full security detail with them. After spending a few minutes in traffic, the two women eventually made it to their destination and headed inside, hoping for the best.

"This chair is too small," Bitsy announced as she and Helen sat in the OB waiting room. "I am a woman of property! I deserve furniture with lumbar support!"

Helen pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's just an armchair, Bitsy. That's all it is."

"It's hostile." Bitsy shifted and scowled like she'd been personally insulted by upholstery. "That's what it really is."

Helen sighed and pressed a hand to her belly, which now jutted outward like a proud and awkward melon. It wasn't huge yet, but the pressure was all new. The tightness and constant feeling of fullness also made her feel like she was carrying a secret made out of bowling balls.

"All I want right now is for you to restrain yourself during this appointment," Helen said. "Can you do that for me?"

"That's like asking a fish not to swim," Bitsy replied. "You can't just expect me to sit there and watch while Dr. Ehlers treats you like a science project. I can act however the hell I want, and there's nothing she can do about it."

Helen sighed again. Lord give her strength to go through the rest of this pregnancy...

Just then, the nurse came out and called Helen's name. Soon, the two women followed the nurse into the doctor's office.

"Good to see you both again," Dr. Ehlers greeted as Bitsy and Helen came in. "How have you been feeling lately, Helen?"

"Tired," Helen replied. "Just tired. Also tight. I'm already waddling like a duck at church."

"She's also been eating pickles and string cheese at four in the morning," Bitsy added. "She's like a goblin with sodium dependency."

Dr. Ehlers just nodded and smiled politely. "That's normal. Let’s check those babies out, shall we?"

Helen lay back, pushing her blouse up over the round curve of her belly. Bitsy stood stiffly nearby with her arms folded across her chest, her glare sharp enough to cut through medical-grade plastic.

Dr. Ehlers applied the gel and moved the wand over Helen's skin. Within seconds, the monitor flickered to life.

"There they are," the doctor said. "Both moving. Strong heartbeats."

Bitsy edged closer, peering at the screen. "Why does Baby A look like it's doing calisthenics?"

"Because it probably is," Dr. Ehlers replied. "Baby A is very active right now. See here? It looks like it's kicking into your left side already."

Helen grimaced. "So that must be what I felt this morning. I thought it was gas."

"And Baby B…" Dr. Ehlers shifted the probe. "…is still hanging low, head-down. Looks like this one's going to be a snuggler."

"Figures," Bitsy muttered. "They're already developing distinct personalities. I'm going to need a psychologist and a referee."

Dr. Ehlers tapped her screen. "Measurements are right on track, though they're trending large for their gestational age. We'll want to keep monitoring growth closely. If they keep going at this pace, we may need to move up your delivery target."

"How much are they measuring?" Helen asked while squinting.

Dr. Ehlers made a thoughtful noise. "Baby A is about 70th percentile while Baby B is 68th percentile. Good size, nothing to panic over."

Bitsy's eyebrows rose so high they nearly hit the ceiling. "Nothing to panic over? You said a moment ago they were trending large!"

"True, but for now, they're perfectly healthy. It'll only be problematic if they grow to the point where we risk uterine irritability and preterm labor."

"I should hope so! The only thing that'll be rapidly expanding around here is your fear of getting sued."

"Bitsy," Helen said flatly. "Stop threatening the OB."

"I'm not threatening her!" Bitsy protested. "I'm reminding her what will happen if anything happens to you."

Dr. Ehlers ventured on, undeterred. "We'll do a formal growth scan next month. Just focus on rest, hydration, and protein intake right now."

"I can't rest," Helen said. "My hips hurt, my ankles are pretty much gone, and Bitsy won't stop researching prep schools in Connecticut."

Bitsy sniffed. "Canterbury has varsity teams in lacrosse and squash."

Once Dr. Ehlers had wrapped up the scan, she handed Helen a printout of two blurry, glorious blobs; one of which was stretched and the other curled.

"Everything looks good so far," Dr. Ehlers announced. "NT levels appear to be normal."

"So... they're going to be okay?" Helen asked hopefully.

Dr. Ehlers nodded. "NTs are 95% accurate, so I certainly hope so."

Helen nodded back without saying another word. As she stared down at the image, a strange lump caught in her throat. If she wasn't sure that this pregnancy was real before, then she was now. It was already starting to become obvious to the world how gravid she was anyway, so she might as well accept it head-on.

Bitsy peered at the photo from over her shoulder. "If either of them inherits your nose, I expect them to write you thank-you notes when they get older."

"Thank-you notes for what?" Helen asked, confused.

"For blessing them with your genes, obviously."

"Okay, but if either of them inherits your sarcasm, I'm enrolling them in an academy overseas just to teach you a lesson."

Bitsy gave the faintest smirk. "Deal."

Chapter Text

It had only been a couple days since the nuchal translucency scan. Even so, Bitsy was already feeling the urge to go shopping for maternity clothes, regardless of how Helen was feeling at that moment.

Helen already knew that she'd need to get maternity clothes soon. She just didn't expect to need them this soon. Then again, being pregnant with twins that seemed to defy all known medical logic would do that. She just hoped that she could get through this without exploding all over the place or keeling over from exhaustion.

For today's shopping excursion, Bitsy had decided that they would be going to the Bloomingdale's on 59th Street and Lexington Avenue. She thought that the department store would have everything Helen needed in terms of maternity fashion and then some. Helen, on the other hand, disagreed. She would've been more than happy getting maternity clothes from a secondhand store like Buffalo Exchange or Beacon's Closet. But with how desperate she was to find new clothes to accommodate her growing bump, she decided to go along with Bitsy's desired destination for the time being. Buffalo Exchange and Beacon's Closet would just have to come later, she supposed.

"Wonderful!" Bitsy had exclaimed. "I knew you'd come around eventually."

"Yeah, better late than never, right?" Helen had deadpanned.

"Quite right. All that's left to do now is contact Other Helen and we can get this underway."

"Wait, why? Do we already need her help?"

"Of course we do! I'm not as strong as I once was. You can't expect me to wait on you hand-and-foot and not injure myself at some point. At the rate you're expanding, we'll be relying on her before we know it."

"Alright, fair enough."

"Great. Now, call Other Helen and tell her she's going shopping with us."

Helen rolled her eyes, but did as told. Then, almost immediately after dialing Meadow's number, she put the phone on speaker. She and Bitsy waited for several seconds while it beeped on the other end before Meadow finally picked up.

"Hello?" Helen called out to Meadow.

Meadow murmured something that was a little unintelligible on the other end.

"Oh, did we just wake you up?" Helen asked. "You're on speaker, by the way."

"Yeah, I'm up," Meadow replied. "What do you want?"

Bitsy then chimed into the phone conversation. "Well, if you must know, Helen is already starting to outgrow her clothes. We're going to leave for Bloomingdale's shortly, and we're going to need your help finding maternity clothes that will fit her. Are you in?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Meadow paused for a couple seconds. "So when are we leaving?"

Bitsy checked the time on her own phone. "2:30, and it's 1:30 right now. Chop chop!"

"We have to leave in an hour? Dammit, might as well hurry up and get dressed." Meadow could be heard scrambling out of bed or wherever she must have been sleeping. "Goddammit."

"Alright, we'll see you then," Helen said.

"Wait, hold up!"

Helen sighed. "What?"

"Do you want me to meet up with you in the hotel lobby? I'm not gonna have time to go up to the penthouse suite if that's what you think."

Helen just shrugged. "Yeah, whatever, you can do that."

"'Kay." Meadow paused for a couple more seconds. "Alright, bye."

"Bye." With that, Helen hung up. "Alright, glad that's over with. Now what?"

"Now, we wait," Bitsy replied.

It took about forty-five minutes for Meadow to take the subway from Flatbush to the Brandenham Hotel. As if having her beauty sleep interrupted by one of the most notorious socialites in New York wasn't irritating enough, now she had to drag herself all that way just to go shopping for maternity clothes. What the hell did her uncle see in that woman to think she was friendship material? She had no idea. Frankly, it might've been better if she didn't know or think about their friendship too hard.

Soon enough, Meadow made her way into the hotel lobby and sat down at a nearby chair, waiting for Bitsy and Helen to come down and see her. Once they did so, the three women climbed inside the town car for the ride over to Bloomingdale's.

"Can I ask you something?" Meadow asked on the ride over.

Bitsy arched an eyebrow. "About what?"

"You don't think Michael will be there, do you?"

"Who's Michael, and why are you worried about him?"

Meadow sighed. "Michael's my ex-boyfriend. I don't want him to see me hanging out with you in the maternity section. He might think I'm the one who's pregnant."

Bitsy scoffed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Other Helen. The only one of us who should be worried is Helen. Being pregnant at her age is already hard enough as is. We don't want her dealing with undue stress while we're out in public. Think of how much she had to go through just to be here!"

Meadow opened her mouth, then promptly closed it.

"Exactly. Let's just focus on getting maternity clothes for Helen. The sooner we get it over with, the better."

Thankfully for Meadow, the ride from the Brandenham to Bloomingdale's was only three minutes long. It certainly hadn't felt that way, though. At least now, the shopping could get underway. All she could hope now was for the other two women to not drag it out for hours upon hours.

Upon stepping inside the building, the first thing to catch Helen's attention was its scent. She couldn't quite identify the components of it, but it gave off an odor of what she could only describe as off-brand potpourri and poorly concealed existential dread. As if the physical changes hadn't been enough of a struggle for her, she had to contend with the sensory changes as well. Her enhanced sense of smell had been the most burdensome so far. Scents that she normally wouldn't have given a second thought were now overwhelming, and not necessarily in a good way. Just the odor of eggs cooking or coffee brewing was now all it took to make her stomach turn.

"Alright, we're here," Meadow announced. "Now what?"

"Now we head for the maternity section," Bitsy replied matter-of-factly.

"And where is it exactly?"

"It should be around here somewhere. I don't know, it's been a while since I visited this place."

"Well, maybe I can find someone to help us."

"Sure, whatever."

Meadow then proceeded to call out to whichever employee was nearby for help. Almost immediately, she managed to catch one employee's attention, but he was the last person she had expected to see here. She buried her face in her hands when he saw her standing there with the other two women.

"Oh God, not Michael," Meadow murmured.

Bitsy side-eyed Meadow for a moment, then looked up in Michael's direction. "Wait, is this Michael?"

Meadow just silently nodded, her face still buried in her hands.

"Hmph, well, at least we're getting help." Bitsy proceeded to glare at the man standing there. "Yes, we're trying to find the maternity section. Where is it?"

"Well, uh..." Michael trailed off for a moment.

"'Uh' is not a direction. Where. Is. It?"

Michael blinked for a few moments before pointing towards his right and giving them the directions on how to get there.

"Not good enough," Bitsy said curtly. "Lead us there as if you're giving a tour of a gift shop."

Michael blinked a few more times before sighing. "Fine. Right this way, Miss Brandenham."

The group eventually managed to find their way to the maternity section. Upon arriving there, Meadow briefly looked up to meet Michael's gaze.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry you have to see me like this," Meadow apologized.

"Oh, there's no need to be embarrassed," Michael assured her. "You just have to get used to the fact that you're having your first kid."

Meadow's face twisted itself into confusion. "Wait, what? Is that what you thought? No, no, no, no. I'm not shopping for me. I'm shopping for her." She pointed at Helen as she said this.

"Oh yeah, that's right! I remember now. So noble of Miss Brandenham to adopt those babies, huh?"

Meadow shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I mean, even if you do find it hard to believe, it's still a good thing she's doing." Michael then started turning to leave. "Alright, I'm glad I could help you. See ya."

As if in the blink of an eye, Michael was gone. Soon, the three women found themselves nearby a rack of tops and blouses that seemed to mostly consist of muted colors.

"Alright, I guess we better start looking," Meadow said.

As they did so, they found the whole ordeal rather dull as if hoping to get it over with sooner rather than later. Bitsy, in particular, was not impressed by what was on display. Then again, she hadn't wanted to be here in the first place, so she had no real reason to complain.

Helen yanked a blouse from the rack, held it against her increasingly round belly, and scowled. "Do I look like someone's exhausted aunt from Yonkers who's about to judge your lasagna?"

Bitsy peered over her glasses. "No, you look like someone who seduced a rich person and is living to regret it." She glanced over in Meadow's direction. "Metaphorically, of course."

Helen's expression didn't change. "Thanks. That narrows it down to everyone in this store."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's just you."

Helen, expression still unchanged, then proceeded to trudge toward the dressing room. Bitsy and Meadow followed directly behind her, their arms full of several garments (some of which included a knit off-shoulder dress, a nursing knit sweater, a few pairs of maternity bras, and a pair of maternity leggings). 

Inside the dressing room, Helen let out a heavy sigh and peeled off her clothes in stages. Her belly looked even bigger under fluorescent lights. She ran a hand over it once just to get a feel for the babies who were making themselves at home in there. Only twelve weeks in, and she already couldn't help but feel like a failure. How was she supposed to survive another twenty-six weeks of this?

First, she tried on the knit off-shoulder dress. It made her feel like a cinnamon roll that had been left out in the sun for several hours. Next, she tried on the nursing knit sweater. It made her look like a pregnant art professor from Rutgers. Then she tried on the leggings. They made her look more like a sentient marshmallow than a human being. And the bras? Well, that was between her and God.

Outside, Bitsy scrolled on her phone with a single clawed finger; desperately but quietly Googling for something, anything that could distract her from feeling useless at this moment in time when she never wanted it in the first place. Meadow tried to get a peek at what Bitsy was searching for, but the latter just snatched the phone out of her field of vision.

"Whoa, I get only going shopping because you have to," Meadow said. "But why do you have to act like such a bitch about this?"

"Because it stresses me the hell out," Bitsy replied. "Until you've taken it upon yourself to adopt a child, let alone two, like I have, you will never understand how it feels to be under constant pressure to be a perfect parent to them."

"I, uh..." Meadow struggled to articulate herself after that. "I'm sorry."

"I thought so. Now if you don't mind, can we at least wait for Helen to finish trying on the clothes first before you talk back at me?"

Before Meadow could reply again, a sudden sniffling noise interrupted them both.

"Helen?" Bitsy called. "Are you crying or grunting?"

"Both," Helen snuffled through the door. "These pants make me look like a human ottoman. My back hurts, my boobs hurt, and I have a new vein on my left ankle that's shaped like Staten Island."

Bitsy stared blankly at the rack of tops before knocking on the fitting room door. "Let me in."

"No!"

"I've seen you vomit into my toilet. Let me in."

Helen opened the door and Bitsy slipped inside. It wasn't long before Bitsy found herself dwarfed by the mirror, the pile of cast-off maternity wear, and the rapidly unraveling woman before her.

Bitsy studied her belly. "You're really in it now."

"I don't know who I am anymore," Helen continued to snuffle. "I cried at a commercial for paper towels this morning. I ate bread-and-butter pickles dipped in frosting. I yelled at a pigeon!"

"Was the pigeon rude to you?"

Helen proceeded to fully burst into tears.

Bitsy froze. "Oh God, don't do this. Not now, not in Bloomingdale's." She buried her face into her hands. "God, this is so embarrassing."

Helen leaned into the mirror and slid down to the floor. "I'm a mess, Bitsy. I'm a hormonal, bloated, crying mess whose skin feels like a hot water balloon. Every week I wake up a little rounder, a little sweatier, and a lot more panicked. I don't even know what size I am anymore."

Bitsy, slowly and as if it was against her nature, reached out and softly placed her hand on top of Helen's bump.

"You're not a mess," Bitsy said quietly. "You're still you, just… more. More Helen."

Helen blinked. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"That's not true. I've said other nice things before. I once complimented your handwriting, for example."

"You said it 'wasn't embarrassing.'"

"Exactly."

For a moment, there was an awkward but almost peaceful silence that hung in the air. It was necessary between them while it lasted. 

Then Bitsy turned to the pile of discarded clothes and held up the nursing knit sweater. "Look, why don't we just try to find something that doesn't make you look like pregnant cardboard? Sound like a plan?"

Helen wiped away her tears with just the back of her hand. "Yeah."

Bitsy gave a short nod. "Good."

Chapter Text

It was now June 15th. Nearly a month had passed since the shopping excursion for maternity clothes at Bloomingdale's. Day by day, Helen was getting bigger and more emotional.

She'd already started to feel the heaviness low in her belly and flutters that felt less and less like gas. Just when it seemed like she couldn't grow anymore, she did anyway. It seemed impossible. Then again, being pregnant with twins tended to do that. She had no idea how she was still even pregnant. She hadn't expected to get this far. She figured she would have lost them by now, and yet they were still there, still growing inside her. By all accounts, it was a miracle. They were her miracles.

She could also sense Bitsy going through some sort of metamorphosis of her own, though the latter would never admit it. Bitsy had started hovering over her, albeit with her usual sharp tongue and her endless supply of critiques. When Helen coughed, Bitsy shoved a glass of water into her hand. When Helen groaned while getting out of bed, Bitsy barked, "You sound like a rusty accordion. Stop it." And when Helen mentioned craving soft pretzels, Bitsy had the hotel kitchen deliver an obscene platter of them and muttered something about keeping her "walking incubator" functional.

Today, Bitsy and Helen were coming in for the 16-week appointment at Lenox Hill. At first glance, this seemed like another routine appointment, but it was at this point in the pregnancy that they could find out the babies' sexes if they so wanted (though Helen already knew that they were having girls).

The Rolls Royce pulled up to the hospital with the subtlety of a small diplomatic motorcade. The chauffeur opened the door, and out stepped Bitsy Brandenham. Helen followed at a slower waddle, with one hand bracing her lower back and the other resting protectively over her now obvious bump. No longer was it "cute" or "surprising." Now it was veering dangerously into "someone should offer me a chair in public."

"Human wrecking ball!" Bitsy yelled out in a sing-song tone as she and Helen entered the hospital. "Human wrecking ball, coming through!"

Helen's face was flushed. "Bitsy, can you not—?"

"Well, how else are people supposed to know to make way for you?" Bitsy interrupted. "Besides, it's true, isn't it?"

Helen didn't rise to the bait and just followed Bitsy into the waiting room where they proceeded to take their seats.

Helen lay back on the crinkling exam paper, one hand trying to smooth her maternity blouse over her belly. Sixteen weeks. She could hardly believe it—almost halfway there, and she was already over how huge she'd become and felt. Beside her, Bitsy perched on a stool like an angry gargoyle in cashmere, arms crossed tight and glasses slipping as she tried to glare the ultrasound machine into submission. Shampagne was in the carrier at her feet, snoring.

"I don't see what's so different about this appointment," Bitsy said. "Seems like the same old 'checking on the babies and narrating how much they've grown' shtick to me."

"Except this time, we might get a chance to find out what we're having," Helen pointed out.

"Why do you care? You already know what we're having."

"I know, but I'd like to hear it from Dr. Ehlers, too."

Bitsy harrumphed. "Fine, have it your way."

Soon, Dr. Ehlers arrived, ready to get the ultrasound underway.

"I'm sure you two must be very excited," Dr. Ehlers said.

Bitsy and Helen just looked at each other, momentarily silent.

"Speechless, huh?" Dr. Ehlers asked. "Yes, I get it. It can be very nerve-wracking."

More silence followed.

"Don't worry, many first-time parents feel the same way you do," Dr. Ehlers assured the expecting mothers. "Now, let's get started."

The gel was cold, the probe pressed down, and the screen lit up. Two small bodies filled the image, far clearer than before— tiny spines, little arms flexing, legs curling.

Helen gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh… oh, look at them."

Dr. Ehlers smiled and adjusted the angle. "Heart rates are perfect. They're measuring at about 18 weeks, which is fantastic for twins…" Pause. "…although Baby A's head is looking to be a little big."

"Just like someone I know," Bitsy muttered.

Helen turned her head to glare at her. "If you say that again, I swear to God I'll sit on you."

Bitsy rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm so scared."

Dr. Ehlers cleared her throat. "As I was saying, they're both growing beautifully. Would you like to know the sexes today?"

Helen turned to Bitsy, whose eyes were now locked on the screen despite her scowl. 

"Do you?" Helen asked softly.

Bitsy sniffed and started pretending to examine her nails. "I suppose so. It might be good to know what color to make their containment pens."

Dr. Ehlers chuckled. "Alright then. Baby A is a girl…"

Helen's breath caught, tears welling instantly.

"…and Baby B is also a girl."

Helen let out a shaky laugh, pressing her hand over her belly. "Two girls. Oh God, Bitsy… two girls."

Bitsy choked on her own spit. "Daughters?!" She leaned so close that her glasses almost fogged against the screen. "Two little heiresses in training? Oh no, absolutely not. They'll be painting their nails on my desk, stealing my make-up and jewelry, throwing tantrums about prom dresses—"

"I wouldn't worry about prom for a while." Helen wiped her cheeks with a trembling hand. "It's years away."

"Years pass quickly when you're this close to death!" Bitsy snapped.

Yet Bitsy never looked away from the screen once. Dr. Ehlers continued on with the ultrasound like nothing had happened. Not long afterwards, Dr. Ehlers printed the sonogram and handed it to Helen with a warm smile. There they were; two clear profiles, side by side—two little girls nestled close together in their shared world. Helen held the picture against her chest, overwhelmed with awe. Bitsy, meanwhile, shoved what looked like an antacid into her mouth, muttering darkly about what the future had in store for them with two girls. However, as they were leaving Dr. Ehlers' office, Helen managed to catch Bitsy stealing a glance at the sonogram again. This time, her lips were twitching not into a scowl, but something dangerously close to a smile.

The sonogram picture had taken up residence on the coffee table next to a half-finished crossword Bitsy had abandoned in disgust. Helen sat curled on the sofa and clutched a mug of peppermint tea in her hands, her eyes never straying far from the grainy black-and-white printout.

Two girls. She kept letting the words repeat in her head and envelop her soul. Two little daughters. She could feel her chest swelling with something between joy and disbelief.

Across the room, Bitsy paced while Shampagne scampered in her wake like a furry punctuation mark. Her oversized glasses kept slipping down her nose as she muttered to herself: "Two girls. Two future drama queens. Two closets filled with tulle and glitter. Two teenagers slamming doors and shrieking, 'You don't understand me, Mother!'"

"You're projecting," Helen simply said.

Bitsy ignored her and dug a finger at the sonogram. "Do you realize what this means?"

Helen raised an eyebrow. "What? What does it mean?"

"Bratty birthday parties! Ballet recitals! An endless parade of sparkly detritus invading my carpets. And the hair— my God, the hair! Don't even get me started on the hair. Barrettes, bows, headbands— this is worse than a plague."

Helen set her mug down, her hand drifting almost unconsciously to the swell beneath her dress. "You can try to fight it all you want, but I can tell that you already love them."

Bitsy spun toward her, scandalized. "Love?! Helen, I don't love anything except my hotel, my fortune, and the dog. You expect me to gush over two miniature strangers who already demand more attention than I'm comfortable giving?"

But Helen could see it: the way Bitsy's eyes lingered on the sonogram before darting away, the slight tremor in her lip that wasn't entirely irritation…

"Come here," Helen said softly, patting the seat beside her.

Bitsy hesitated for a moment. Then, grumbling under her breath, she shuffled over and lowered herself onto the sofa with exaggerated effort. Shampagne leaped up and curled between them.

Bitsy raised an eyebrow. "Where exactly are you going with this?"

Helen just slid the sonogram into Bitsy's hand without saying anything. Bitsy's fingers twitched ever-so-slightly as she held and stared down at the image for several minutes, her scowl flickering and cracking the whole time.

"They'll drive us mad," Bitsy finally murmured after a while.

"Yeah," Helen replied. "But at least they'll be ours."

Bitsy's lips pressed thin while she brushed her thumb over the paper and traced the faint outline of one tiny profile. "If either of them grows up to be a lawyer, I'll sue them."

"Not if they sue you first."

Chapter Text

Nearly a week later, Helen stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Just when she thought she'd fully come to terms with how much she was growing, the babies took her by surprise all over again. Almost 17 weeks along, she already looked as if she was over halfway done. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a change from last week, but still.

"Jesus, girls," she muttered while angling herself slightly to get a better view. "How much bigger could you possibly make me?"

She was already certain she knew the answer, but part of her was still scared to find out. This was nearly 17 weeks, after all. How much more could she have grown by 20 weeks or even 24 weeks? She decided that this was not something she needed to worry about right now. She had enough to worry about as was.

In the meantime, she decided to cut her inspection short and join Bitsy in the living room. Right now, the two women were trying to figure out middle names that could pair well with Soleil and Lune. Helen, for her part, had already decided that they would pick the ones starting with "A" and "B" based on their designations from Dr. Ehlers. That part had been easy enough. Actually trying to pick out the middle names, however? That was a whole different story. The struggle drew on far longer than either of them had wanted, long enough that the sun and the moon had traded places in the sky, and long enough that they'd had lunch and dinner delivered to them in the interim.

Helen read over a list of "A" and "B" names that Bitsy had compiled together, her eyebrow arching higher with each entry. "Araminta?"

Bitsy, who was feeding slivers of leftover smoked salmon to Shampagne, didn't look up. "It's a family name from the British side, a distinguished kind of name."

"It sounds like a minty mouthwash, and they're not just middle names for 'Brandenham heirs.' They're middle names for Squillaces, too."

Bitsy paused, a sliver of salmon pinched between her fingers. "The Squillace name doesn't carry the same… weight as my name does."

"It carries my father's sweat from the docks and my mother's prayers, so we'll need something that works with both. And we'll need something that Soleil and Lune can actually pronounce."

Bitsy perked an eyebrow. "Alright then, what could you possibly come up with that's better than Araminta?"

"I'm glad you asked." She practically shoved into Bitsy a notepad where she'd written her own list of "A" and "B" names. "My suggestions."

Bitsy wiped a non-existent speck of salmon oil from the notepad and skimmed over the list. "'Annika'? 'Ayra'? 'Bridget'? 'Briella'?" Her nose wrinkled. "These don't exactly exude wealth in my mind. They just sound so… ethnic."

"Like you have any room to say that. You're ethnic in about seven different directions. Besides, these are good names they can use."

"They're pedestrian." Bitsy pushed the notepad away as if it were contaminated. "I don't want that for them. I'd rather that people see their middle names and know where they came from."

Helen stretched out on the couch and gave a heavy sigh. "Let's take a break. We're clearly getting nowhere with this."

Bitsy sniffed. "Finally, something we can both agree on."

Helen stroked her hands along her belly. "I don't get it. Deciding on Soleil and Lune's names had been so easy, so then why are we—?" Suddenly, she stilled. "Oh."

"What? What do you mean by that? Are you in labor? Do we need to call Dr. Ehlers?!"

Helen quickly shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"She's at it again." She took Bitsy's hand and pressed it low against the curve. "Here."

Bitsy squawked, scandalized. "Excuse me—"

Almost instantly, the baby jabbed at Bitsy's palm, and she quickly jerked her hand away.

Bitsy's eyes widened. "Was that—?!"

Helen nodded and guided her hand back. "That's Soleil. She's the rowdy one. Always tumbling, always kicking like she's demanding attention."

As if to prove that point right, another thump landed beneath Bitsy's touch. 

Bitsy yelped, then glared at Helen. "You're raising a boxer or a delinquent… or both."

"Or I'm raising a girl who knows what she wants and is going to get it," Helen replied.

They both waited for a moment. Soon, there was another movement. It was gentler this time, a rolling push rather than a jab, almost like a nudge.

"And that's…?" Bitsy asked.

"That's Lune," Helen whispered. "Calm and subtle, like she's content just… floating."

Bitsy didn't move her hand away. She stared at the swell, her lips pressed thin, but the tremble in her jaw betrayed her. For once, she had no quip.

Helen lolled her head back against the couch. "You feel them?"

Bitsy nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and her hand lingered. "Two little squatters."

Helen smiled through damp eyes. "Two little miracles."

And for a rare moment, neither of them argued.

The peace was short-lived. Just days later, Bitsy and Helen had found themselves struggling over "A" and "B" middle names again. Bitsy would float "Brierley" over dinner; Helen would counter with "Billie." Bitsy would suggest "Aureliana" during a meeting; Helen would jot down "Ashley" on her notepad.

It was a proxy war for everything else: tradition versus simplicity, grandeur versus warmth, the world Bitsy came from versus the world Helen lived in. They were no closer to a resolution, and the babies were only getting bigger every day.

It wasn't until one quiet evening when Helen was 19 weeks along that they finally had a breakthrough. Helen was lying on the bed in her guest room, rubbing her belly in an attempt to calm the babies down (though it didn't seem to be working). Meanwhile, Bitsy sat at the foot of the bed, trying to read through the list of names they hadn't gone over yet.

"So… how do you feel about Agrippina?" Bitsy asked.

"That's the name of Nero's mother," Helen replied.

"So?"

Helen scrunched her face. "You're joking, right? Why would I want to burden little Soleil like that? It's practically child abuse."

"I was going to say 'brilliant', but your loss, I guess. Alphonsine?"

"No."

"Aubrey?"

Helen thought about it for a moment. "Honestly, it doesn't sound all that bad. Soleil Aubrey. Yeah, that'll work."

Bitsy sighed. "Alright, that's the 'A' names out of the way. Let's move on to the 'B' names. The sooner we get this over with, the better. How do we feel about Bexleyheath?"

"Pass. Too much of a mouthful."

"Fine, what about Belphoebe?"

"Pass. That one's also a mouthful."

"Fine, what about Beatrix?"

Helen paused for a moment before finally replying. "Lune Beatrix... hmm. I've never heard them together before, but that could work."

Bitsy raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

A tiny genuine smile touched Bitsy's lips. "Soleil Aubrey Brandenham-Squillace. I can definitely hear it rolling off the tongue."

"And Lune Beatrix Brandenham-Squillace."

Helen didn't question the hyphenated surname at that moment. She was just glad that the war had finally been settled, that Soleil and Lune finally had middle names that could help them stand out from the crowd.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Soleil and Lune's middle names had been decided upon. Helen was now 20 weeks along and, just as she'd feared, she had grown well beyond her expectations. Now she was all baby (well, all babies, but semantics). To outsiders, she looked like she was well into her third trimester, and the strangers who would approach her now and then tended to assume as much. If she never had to hear them ask her "Any day now, huh?" again, it would be all too soon.

The twins had announced their presence not just with kicks, but with a profound reshaping of Helen's entire body. She'd had to buy new shoes because her feet had swollen, and she'd started stocking up on roomier and roomier clothes because she couldn't predict how much she and the babies would grow. And just like before, Bitsy was scared to find out how much bigger Helen would get. Helen's breasts had been growing as well, and her navel had started flattening out. It made her curious to see how Bitsy would react to it firsthand. Regardless, all she needed to do now was try to focus on the here and now.

Today was Tuesday, July 8th. Bitsy and Helen were coming in for their 20-week appointment at Lenox Hill. The routine had become familiar by now, but the stakes were higher. After all, this wasn't just any appointment. This was it. This was the anatomy scan, the one that checked for… everything. It was hard not to be anxious about the whole thing, especially since the pregnancy was high-risk and anything could go wrong.

In the ultrasound room, Helen was gripping the paper sheet so tightly within her fingers that her knuckles had turned white. Beside her, Bitsy sat ramrod straight in the chair, her hands clasped in her lap. She could really use Shampagne's company right now, but as per hospital policy, he wasn't allowed inside. He instead had to be left at home with a dogsitter.

"God, what the hell is taking her so long?" Bitsy asked impatiently.

Helen shrugged. "I don't know. She probably got held up somewhere."

"Unacceptable. Doesn't she know we're in here waiting for her?"

Helen rolled her eyes. "Yes, Bitsy, I'm sure she knows. She'll be with us in a second."

As if on cue, Dr. Ehlers arrived with a faint smile painted on her face. "Sorry for the wait. I kind of lost track of time. I hope you didn't have to wait too long for me."

Bitsy twitched slightly as if trying to fight off the urge to stand up in her seat and yell at her.

However, Helen was quick to speak up. "Don't worry, Dr. Ehlers. We didn't wait that long."

"Good." Dr. Ehlers proceeded to start setting up. "Well, today's the big one. Time to take a good look at the babies."

The ultrasound gel was warm this time. It was a small, considerate mercy that Helen clung to as she lay there on the table. The screen flickered to life, and there they were. They weren't just flickering lights or indistinct beans anymore. They were proper, recognizable baby shapes. 

"Alright, let's take a look at this first little girl," Dr. Ehlers said. "There's the four-chamber heart… perfect. Spine looks beautiful… nice and straight. And there's a hand… see those five little fingers? It looks like she's waving at you."

Helen's breath caught in her throat. An honest-to-God hand with fingers. She squeezed Bitsy's hand back without even realizing she was doing it.

Dr. Ehlers moved on. "And now, let's see Baby B. Just as active, I see! Trying to hide from us?" She chuckled as the image shifted to a smaller, equally detailed form that was curled slightly. "There we are. Another perfect spine, and another strong four-chambered heart. And see that? A little foot. Look at those toes."

On the screen, Lune gave a small kick. A perfect, five-toed foot waved briefly in the amniotic fluid before settling. A sharp and involuntary gasp escaped Bitsy's lips as if all the air had been punched from her lungs.

Dr. Ehlers continued on and started pointing out such things as kidneys, femur bones, stomach bubbles, blood flow in the umbilical cords, and placenta positioning.

"Well, everything looks absolutely perfect," Dr. Ehlers announced after a while. "Soleil and Lune are developing exactly as they should be. Two perfectly healthy little girls."

Helen let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her babies were healthy. Her daughters were okay. The rest of the appointment passed in a blur for Helen. Dr. Ehlers' print-out of the sonogram images, the schedule for the next visit, it all washed over her. Her focus was split between what was displayed on the screen and the utterly transformed woman currently sitting beside her.

The ride back to the Brandenham was even quieter than the one to the hospital, only this time, the silence wasn't radiated with dread. It was filled with subdued joy and relief over the growing babies, and no one was feeling it more than Helen. Soleil and Lune were alive and healthy, and they were going to keep growing for another eighteen weeks. Meanwhile, Bitsy stared out the window at the passing streets of New York, though Helen could tell that she wasn't actually looking at them. She instead appeared to be lost in thought, her brow slightly furrowed.

They rode the elevator up to the penthouse in the same quiet. Shampagne trotted over to greet them, but even his indignant yap for his delayed lunch didn't break Bitsy's reverie. She walked into the center of the living room and just stood there, her back turned to Helen. Helen waited, unsure of what to do.

After a long moment, Bitsy spoke, her voice unusually soft and far away.

"They have toes," she simply said.

"What?" Helen asked, confused.

"The babies. They have toes."

Helen felt a lump form in her throat. "Yeah. They do."

Bitsy slowly turned to face Helen. "They have… spines and… and hearts that beat."

"Yeah."

"They… they look like people now."

"Yeah, they do."

The conversation petered out after that. Neither woman was sure what to say next other than stating the obvious. Both babies were healthy, and that was all that mattered right now. While there was a non-zero chance that problems might crop up later, Helen expected to approach them head-on regardless of what they were. Bitsy, on the other hand, was still reeling from watching the babies move on screen. There wasn't much room for thought there.

"This is… real," Bitsy eventually stated, not so much subjectively but factually.

"Yeah, it is," Helen said softly. "It's very real."

Bitsy's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, everything fell away. Here they were, inexplicably bound together by two little girls growing inside Helen. Neither of the two women knew what it was, but something about this felt… right.

The penthouse was enveloped in deep, velvety silence; with only the faint, perpetual hum of the climate control and the occasional sigh from Shampagne's pillow breaking the stillness. But Helen couldn't sleep. The fight had been their worst yet; a blistering argument over whether to convert the second guest suite into a nursery or build a brand-new, soundproofed addition. It had ended with Helen shouting, "They're babies, Bitsy, not hotel guests! Babies!" before retreating to the guest room in tears.

Now, a few hours past midnight, the anger had burned itself out and left behind a cold and ashy exhaustion. Helen was curled up on her bed with a blanket pulled up to her chin, her body trembling with spent emotion as she tried to hold back more tears. Soleil and Lune, agitated by the stress, were holding a kickboxing tournament in her womb. She let out a soft, involuntary grunt as a particularly sharp jab landed near her ribs.

"Would you two please settle down?" she murmured, shifting her weight fruitlessly. "It's three in the morning."

Soleil seemingly responded with another jab into her left side.

Helen groaned as she rubbed the spot where Soleil had kicked. "Fine, you win. We can try the couch."

With a sigh, she threw the blanket off herself and heaved herself upright, though not without the weight of her stomach holding her back slightly. She waddled into the living room, hoping a change of scenery might lull the girls to sleep. Surprisingly, she wasn't alone.

Bitsy was sitting on the vast sofa, shrouded in shadow. She didn't seem to be doing anything except stare up at the ceiling. She had what looked like a half-empty glass of water sitting there on the coffee table in front of her, and Shampagne was snoring at her feet.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Helen asked softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

Bitsy jumped slightly, as if pulled from a deep thought. "Hmm? Oh. No. The… the silence is rather loud tonight." Her voice was raspy from sleep and spent emotion. "Are you okay? Is it… are they…?" She couldn't finish the sentence, her gaze fixed on Helen's stomach.

"No, they're just active right now." Helen lowered herself onto the opposite end of the sofa with a grunt, instinctively rubbing the side of her belly where a tiny foot was making a determined push against her ribs. "They didn't enjoy the yelling."

Bitsy flinched almost imperceptibly as the words lingered in the air. "Well, I did read recently that maternal stress could lead to an increase in fetal movement—"

"Bitsy, no. This is not the time to go off on a spiel."

Bitsy's face dropped slightly. "Oh."

For a few seconds, the two women just sat in nothing but awkward silence. Then Helen decided to speak up.

"Do you..." Helen paused briefly. "Uh, would you like to feel?"

Bitsy froze. Her first instinct, written plainly on her face, was to retreat behind a wall of bluster and refuse. But the fight had left her too drained to act on that instinct. She just nodded and scooted her way over to Helen's side instead. Helen gently took Bitsy's wrist and guided her hand to the side of her belly, pressing it gently against the taut curve. For a moment, there was nothing but the warmth of skin and the quiet tension between them. Then, a distinct, firm thump knocked against Bitsy's palm.

Bitsy flinched as if she'd been shocked, her eyes flying wide behind her glasses. She tried to pull her hand back, but Helen held it fast.

"Wait," Helen murmured.

Another kick, stronger this time, deliberately rolled right under Bitsy's fingertips. Bitsy's breath hitched, her struggle ceased, and her hand went limp, allowing Helen to keep it pressed there. Her free hand then began to move in a slow and awkward circle; a clumsy, unpracticed belly rub. It was the most vulnerable gesture Helen had ever seen from her.

"Hello in there." Bitsy's voice was layered thick with an emotion she either couldn't or wouldn't name. "Stop causing such a racket. You're keeping us both awake when we shouldn't be."

Another kick landed right under her hand as if in cheeky response. In turn, Bitsy made a strange sound that resembled something between a sob and a laugh, choked and entirely undignified. She didn't remove her hand. Instead, her fingers curled ever so slightly and gingerly pressed back.

Helen watched her, her own heart aching with a complicated tenderness. "That's… that's Lune, I think. She's always lower down. Soleil is higher, more under my ribs."

Bitsy's thumb moved slowly and unconsciously over the spot where the kick had landed. She was still staring at Helen's stomach like she could see straight through to the two little girls within.

"My God," Bitsy murmured. "Two of them in there, and I'm willing to bet they both have my nose."

"Poor babies," Helen teased. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"Don't ruin this for me." Bitsy paused momentarily, her hand still moving over Helen's stomach, before speaking again. "I received the updated will from my lawyers today."

Helen's breath caught in her throat. The inheritance. The whole reason she'd stayed, the secret ambition that now felt like a relic from another lifetime.

"I had them remove Shampagne as the primary beneficiary," Bitsy continued, her voice now unnervingly calm.

The world stopped, and Helen could only stare at her. "What? Bitsy, you… you don't have to…"

"Of course I have to!" Bitsy snapped, though the effect was muted by the softness of her touch. "Do you really think I'm going to risk our daughters resenting me right out the gate by leaving them in a legal battle with a little white mutt?"

"Well, I—"

Bitsy cut her off before she could finish. "No, of course not! It's impractical, it's messy, and they'd never let me forget it." She spoke as if she were reorganizing a filing cabinet, but she didn't stop rubbing.

"What did you change it to?"

"I left it to you. In a trust. For them." She said it like a confession of defeat. "It… it's better that way."

Helen was stunned. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I wanted to make sure you're all set for life when I'm gone."

"Wow, um… thank you. That's… actually very thoughtful of you, Bitsy."

"Don't get used to it. I have a reputation to uphold, remember?"

"Right, of course you do."

They stayed like that for a while, Helen leaning back against the couch while Bitsy rubbed her belly in an effort to subdue their unborn babies. Never in a million years did either of them think they'd be here, and yet... none of this felt like a mistake. It felt instead like predestination.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Bitsy had informed Helen that she'd changed her will for her and the babies. Helen still couldn't believe that she'd gone to all that trouble just for her. It was very much unlike her, but perhaps that was a good thing. Now that she no longer had to worry about manipulating her way into the inheritance, she could rest easier while incubating their miracle twins. She needed to. She couldn't afford to have anything bad happen to them, not now, not when she had crossed the halfway point.

It had started with a cramp; a slow, creeping band of pressure across the bottom of Helen's belly. It wasn't sharp nor was it exactly painful, but it was steady and unignorable. It came and went, came and went, came and went; stronger every time it came back. She tried shifting positions, propping a pillow under her knees, and downing two glasses of water, but nothing helped.

She didn't tell Bitsy right away. Bitsy had been in the middle of chewing out an interior designer for daring to suggest lavender as a "soothing nursery accent." There had been swatches, there had been shouting, and Bitsy even reduced him to tears at one point. It was hard not to feel bad for the guy.

Helen had been about to say something in his defense when another cramp hit, hard enough to make her pause mid-step and grab the edge of a side table.

"A-Are you okay?" the interior designer asked, his face still wet from crying.

Helen didn't say anything.

Now it was Bitsy's turn to ask. "Are you limping?"

Helen straightened too quickly. "No."

Bitsy raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yes, you are. You're walking like your pelvis is attempting a mutiny."

Helen winced and tried to wave it off. "It's just… stretching, probably round ligament pain. All the pregnancy articles I read online said that happens around now."

Bitsy narrowed her eyes. "Or it's death. You look paler than usual. Are you dying?"

Helen rolled her eyes. "No, Bitsy, I'm not dying."

"Well, I should hope not! Who's going to take Shampagne for walks if you're gone?"

Helen was about to reply that Meadow might do that, only to end up whimpering in pain as she bent over.

Bitsy's eyes suddenly widened as a thought dawned upon her. "Wait, you haven't already gone into labor, have you?"

That was the moment Helen stopped pretending. "…I don't know."

Bitsy called the hospital within only a minute. The first twenty seconds were spent shouting "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" at the receptionist. The remaining forty went by quietly while the interior designer tried to comfort Helen, who was clutching her belly and trying not to cry.

By the time they reached Lenox Hill, Helen's cramping had only gotten worse. While it wasn't constant, it was regular, and that scared her more than anything. She couldn't lose them, not now, not like this. If she lost them now, then it meant Bitsy had upended her last will and testament for nothing.

Dr. Ehlers met them immediately. "Welcome back, ladies. Let's check everything out."

Bitsy was practically vibrating with tension as she and Helen followed Dr. Ehlers into the exam room. She paced and paced like a Pomeranian with a Black Card. Helen lay on the table, sweat beading at her hairline.

Dr. Romero slid the ultrasound wand over her belly, which was taut and slightly higher than last time. "Okay. Both heartbeats strong."

Helen exhaled shakily. "Thank God."

"The twins look good. Lots of movement, no signs of distress; but your uterus is definitely tightening more than I'd like to see at 21 weeks."

Bitsy clutched a nearby clipboard like she wanted to sue it.

"Oh God, is it preterm labor?" Helen asked, her voice low.

"No," Dr. Ehlers replied gently. "But you're having Braxton Hicks contractions early— strong ones, in fact. And we need to be careful. With twins, this isn't uncommon, but we need to get ahead of it before it becomes something worse."

Helen nodded, too numb to speak.

Bitsy, on the other hand, didn't. "Is there anything you can do to fix this? Can't you just put her in a coma until it's time or something?"

"Uh, that's not how we operate around here. I'm… also concerned that that was your first thought."

"At least do something! Put her on a drip, force her to get around in a wheelchair, replace all the furniture with memory foam, anything!"

"Miss Brandenham, I understand you're scared and desperate for a solution, but yelling at me isn't going to help. We'll do everything we can to make sure Soleil and Lune come into the world safely." Dr. Ehlers turned back to Helen. "As for you, Helen, you need to scale back immediately. No long hours on your feet, no stress. no… intense billionaire drama. You're not on bedrest yet, but starting today, you'll be on modified activity. I want you resting at home, minimum. We need to keep you and these girls cooking for as long as possible. I'll send notes to your employer if needed."

Both women stared at her.

Dr. Ehlers blinked. "...Right. Sorry."

On the ride home, Helen rested her hands on her belly and took a deep breath. As glad as she was that the babies were still with her, the fear hadn't gotten away. Everything was okay now, but that didn't mean that nothing could go wrong later. There was still the matter of her already experiencing Braxton Hicks. Beside her, Bitsy stared out the window, trying her best not to dwell on the preterm labor scare. Nothing scared her more than being powerless in a situation that was beyond her control.

In the guest room, Helen lay in bed with a heating pad low on her back and her hands folded protectively over her still-kicking belly. Across from her, Bitsy hovered in the doorway like a haunted lamp.

"Do you need anything?" Bitsy asked.

"No," Helen replied. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure? There's got to be something, anything, I can give you to remedy this. You want tea? cake? my blood?"

Helen gave a tired smile. "You've already given me this room and your irrational anxiety. That's enough."

Bitsy inched closer. "I'll cancel the nursery installation, fire the swatch guy, stop inviting the Central Park investors over, have Other Helen take over for you. Hell, I'll tell Shampagne not to breathe too hard if I have to."

Helen looked up. "Bitsy."

Bitsy met her eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm okay." Helen's eyes darted to her bump. "We're okay."

"Are you sure?"

"They're still in here, aren't they?"

Bitsy pressed her lips together, then awkwardly climbed into the bed beside Helen, staying above the blankets like someone afraid of committing to anything warm or soft. She reached out and rested her hand on Helen's bump, right where Soleil kicked again, feisty and alive.

"For now," Bitsy replied. "But who's to say they won't be later?"

"Bitsy, stop," Helen ordered. "This has already been a stressful day. Let's not pile onto it with a spiral, too."

Bitsy sighed. "Fine, but if these babies come early and ruin my calendar, I swear to God I'll burn the damn park to the ground."

Helen had to restrain herself from laughing. "You're already planning to do that anyway."

Bitsy huffed. "True."

In that moment, neither of them knew what the future did or didn't look like. All they knew was that they had a crisis they needed to fix before it was too late.