Lightning Strikes Twice

Two

"Ha. Because one Hybrid is becoming a father, the other must be a mother. Very funny boys, but you can stop joking now." Méalla tensed as her brothers didn't laugh, correct themselves or say anything.
"You're fucking serious? How? How can I be pregnant?" Méalla was incredulous.
"Well when a man and a woman-" Klaus started, Méalla lifted her hand to stop him
"Niklaus. Do not go there. We both know that wouldn't be the case with me."
"Méalla. We're not joking. We don't know any more than you. Tomorrow we'll look for answers. Tonight, you try to wrap your head around it." Elijah said, gently guided his younger sister to the house. He saw Hayley looking over from one of the windows, a little shocked and realized she must have heard them. He nodded his head to say not right now. She disappeared from view.

Méalla didn't resist her brother guiding her towards the house. Normally, she would have slapped Elijah for touching her. Now however. Now. She just needs. She just. She doesn't know what she needs. Without really knowing what was happening, Elijah had led her to her room.
"Méalla. Is there anything I can get you?" Elijah asked his sister, concern in his voice. Méalla didn't look like one of the feared half of the Two Original Hybrids, she looked like a scared little girl who's world just got turned upside down. And he supposed, it has.
"Méalla." Elijah tried again, but she still didn't answer. He sighed and went to her bag, where he knew she kept her journal, and brought it and a pen with green ink over to her bedside table.
"Méalla. I know it's a lot right now. I know you'd want to turn to your words tonight if you can, so I put your journal by your lamp, okay?" Elijah was worried. Méalla was an a person who felt deeply even if she didn't show it, and the heightened emotions and senses of vampires didn't help. He watched as she climbed onto her bed and sat crisscrossed, still with a glazed look in her eye.
"Okay." Méalla responded, voice far away. Elijah didn't know what else to do so he kissed his sister on the forehead and bid her goodnight, then walked out of her room. As he closed the door behind him, he took one last glance to see her where he left her, still out of it.
"What happened? Is she okay?" Hayley had walked up to his side. She spoke quietly, eyes on the closed bedroom door of the Hybrid.
"You heard what happened, it looks like." Elijah spoke, remembering her at the window.
"I still want to know." Elijah looked at Hayley, the girl who was looking at Méalla's door, concerned and who genuinely seemed to care about how she was.
"We told her that you weren't the only one with a heartbeat of a baby. I know she'll be okay in the end, but now? I don't know if she'll be okay now." Elijah admitted.
Hayley touched Elijah's arm. "She's not alone, and I will do everything I can to help her." Her eyes were determined and Elijah felt his heart grow, seeing a little hope that maybe Hayley could be the key to healing Méalla's broken heart.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Hayley." Elijah said softly, walking towards the study, leaving the werewolf gazing at his sister's door.

Pregnant. Baby. Mother.
Méalla Mickaelson, who was thousands of years old, who's conquered and ruled and killed and fought, could not believe she was to be a mother. Hell, she believed she couldn't have children! It was an impossible baby, and yet, she could hear the strong heartbeat alongside her own, every time she focused on listening to it, to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
She didn't have a special fondness for children. She didn't hate them and she never hurt them, but she didn't see herself bringing a child into a world as hers. And yet. Yet, she had visions of her making toys and clothes for a baby in her arms, teaching her child to love words as she does, making the future bright for a child full of wonder.
She slowly put her hand on her stomach and looked down. She closed her eyes and felt. She heard the beat of a small heart, could feel the soft beat against her hand. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Thoughts and words and hopes and fears swirled through her mind at a pace so fast, she couldn't keep up with the overload.
She tried to slow her thoughts. She tried to focus, but she knew only one thing would really help. She vaguely remembered Elijah saying something about her journal, put by her lamp. She turned to her right, seeing it closed on the bedside table, the green pen diagonally crossed on the cover. She reached for it, and opened it to a blank page. Without much consideration, she just picked up her pen and let her thoughts flow onto paper and out of her mind. She wrote and wrote, filling pages and pages, not thinking, not processing, just writing. Finally, exhausted, she dropped her pen in the spine of the opened journal and curled up on her side, clutching a pillow. Her eyes were too heavy to keep open and she felt herself drift off into deep sleep.