Because there isn't enough Millennium Trilogy fanfiction...

Hidden Dimensions

An annoyingly shrill horn shocked Lisbeth Salander from slumber and into a groggy consciousness. With a crooked neck, her face was pressed into a down pillow, damp with her own drool. The pulsating inside Salander's head was excruciating. Instantly, she knew she drank more than necessary with Mimi the night before and the churning within her stomach seconded that. Inhaling deeply, she rotated to lie on her back to take the pressure of her belly. She was hoping it would cure her queasiness.

Again, some asshole continued assaulting his car horn repeatedly, and any hope Salander had for falling back asleep was wrecked.

On the nightstand to her right, a small Dekad clock from Ikea read 9:26. After a rowdy night at Kvarnen, it felt much too early to get up, but way too late to sleep in. It was Thursday and Mikael would be over any minute, hammering at her door with his fist, expecting her to step outside her apartment and into the world. Millennium offices to be exact.

Sighing, Salander forced herself out of bed. With her feet firmly on the floor, she inhaled deeply praying she wouldn't become sick. Unfortunately her stomach didn't agree with her. As she headed for the bathroom she paused, propping herself against the door seal. It had been a few years since she felt this ill from drinking. I can't handle this shit anymore. Once she felt that the room had stop spinning, she continued on to the bathroom vowing to never again drink to the point of inebriation

When she made it to the bathroom, she switched on the lever in the shower, and waited for the warm water.

Digging through a cabinet, she found an aspirin bottle, twisted open the cap and dry swallowed three pills to hurry her headache along. Logically speaking, she knew it wouldn't speed up the symptoms of a hangover, but she could imagine.

In the meantime, she unwrapped her poorly swathed knuckles. Her right hand had dry blood across the back of her hand and it had swollen up quite a bit. Punching some guy in the face wasn't her idea of a great time, but it felt rather satisfying after her breast had "accidentally" been caressed. Four times. After that last time, she concluded if the thirty something year old decided to touch her again, he deserved to be hit in the face the equal amount of times he fondled her.

Salander uncommonly managed to hold back the initial instinct to attack. Scuffles in Lisbeth Salander's life had become a rare occurrence. Since her trial, she had learned to keep her impulses in check. There was this continuous annoying and familiar voice reverberating inside her skull advising her to contain her combativeness. Stupid Kalle fucking Blomkvist.

However, giving a drunk man the benefit if the doubt was asinine and she, herself, was intoxicated. At the sense of the man's undesired touch, she achieved splitting her middle knuckle on the insufferable man's tooth and getting herself, as well as Mimi, kicked out of the bar for the night. I need to hit the gym.

To vent any pent-up aggression, Salander had taken up the healthy recreation of boxing at Roberto Paolo's gym. Though, it had been nearly two months since her last visit and her restraint was wearing thin, which may have been the reason she beat that bastard to a pulp.

Quickly, Salander showered and addressed her aching hand by pouring hydrogen peroxide over the wound. It was a small cut, but quite deep. Enough so that she should probably get stitches. Not being up to visit a doctor, she applied a butterfly band-aid, tightly wrapped the palm of her hand with layers of gauze. As she finished wrapping her hand, she wondered about Blomkvist. He was going to have her head when he found out last night's happenings. She then snorted to herself. Why should I care?

Over the years her relationship with Blomkvist had become more emotionally open and vocal, but an anxiety ridden Mikael urging her to visit a doctor was not something she felt like tolerating. And Salander didn't want to worry her daughter. With that in mind she covered both her hands in black finger-less gloves.

At the thought of her daughter, she glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was now 9:42 and Salander was mildly annoyed Blomkvist hadn't shown up with her baby yet. She picked up her cell and grasped it in her hand, contemplating whether or not to call him. Instantly, her mind assumed the worst. A car accident, an illness, murder, anyone of those things were plausible. Anyone of those things could sever the new contentment she had found in life. And if it were to happen to anyone, it would happen to her.

She paced the living room, over analysing the possibilities. Since she had the baby, her anxieties had multiplied. All concerned Blomkvist and her baby. She would give every last ore she stole from Wennerströmand her own life before allowing a thing to happen to either them.

No. Salander shook the negative thoughts from her brain, set her mobile down on the coffee table and decided to find an activity to occupy her time and thoughts. She turned to a book called The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory. The book lists the physical curiosities such as properties of the motion of light, the ever curious occurrence of gravity, and the behavior of particles at the subatomic level. All these things combined have prevented physicists from establishing a single coherent theory for how the universe works. Whenever she cracked open this book, it got her contemplating the purpose of the universe, the purpose of her life and life in general. What a rare and strange thought that was for Salander.

Whilst she read the book, Salander noticed this Brian Greene wrote about the problem with modern physics and mathematics in the same manner Mikael wrote his journalistic books; easily understandable even to those with a simple mind. As she thought this, her mind aimlessly wandered to the baby girl she birthed almost forty-two months ago. For a moment she rested her eyes and a genuine dimpled smile graced Salander's face. The baby was going to be four soon and it seemed that only yesterday she was born. There wasn't a day that passed when Salander hadn't recalled the day her daughter came into this fucked up world.

Every detail was vividly carved into her memory, as everything always had been. The sterile stench of the hospital, the sound of rain thudding against the window, the annoying encouragement she received from the doctor and nurses. Yes, they were medical professionals stepping her through the process of child-birth, but damn she just wanted them to shut the hell up and let her body do what female bodies naturally do. Also, there was the stupid orange sweater Kalle Blomkvist had been wearing. It was an assault on Salander's eyes, she loathed that piece of clothing. He still owns that fucking atrocity. What was enticingly memorable, was the mix of worry and excitement etched onto his face.

Salander's feelings about Mikael had come to a major crossroads that afternoon.

Sure, she loved him but the trust she had in him was the first form of security she had ever known. There was an enormous relief knowing he was the father of her child. He would never abandon their child, and if God forbid, she died some gruesome death, her child would be in the care of a good man. Mikael would never let anything horrible happen to my baby.

In April, at 2:37 in the morning, a baby girl was born, weighing 2325 grams and being 34.4 cm in length. She had arrived four weeks early, but none-the-less, she was as healthy and beautiful, as any full term brat.

Knowing she contemplated abortion was almost too much to bear. While she was pregnant, all the resentment Salander held for a person who had never even seen the light of day was in vain. In her arms, was her very own flesh and blood, a reason for living. Together fate and biology gave Salander a true purpose in life. She vowed that her daughter would never know the feeling of pain or disappointment. She would love her exactly as Agneta had loved both her daughters. She would guide and protect her, just as her mother should have.

Abruptly, Salander set her book down, recalling that she had a new neighbor to continue investigating.

…

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Mikael Blomkvist peered into the living space of his Bellmansgatan apartment, sipping on his cup of coffee. At the low coffee table, sitting on her knees, was his three-year old daughter. The little girl diligently worked on a children's learning tablet that had been intended for a more advanced age group. Her plump little fingers skimmed the screen. With every correct answer the tablet congratulated her with a ring. Blomkvist wasn't even sure what noise would sound when an answer was wrong.

Blomkvist grinned. It wasn't a wonder that this was Lisbeth Salander's offspring.

Mentally she functioned at twice her age. While most three-year olds were beginning to identify shapes, animals and colors, she had surpassed that phase and begun developing her math and reading skills. This greatly was because Lisbeth took the time to teach. For a woman who had no patience for any human being, it was surprising she had such forbearance for a child.

Although her cognitive abilities were above average, her physical development was not on track. She was smaller than average but Blomkvist dismissed any doctor's concern and simply explained that his daughter was not average in any way, shape, or form. Lisbeth mustn't have been a portly child, so he factored in genetics and premature birth.

Nonetheless, she was a beauty in Blomkvist's eyes. Eerily appearing more like her mother every day. At times, he could see the similarities between she and Pernilla. They shared the pouty lips and rosy cheeks, which he supposed they both inherited from him, but the beautifully intense and expressive eyes his second daughter had, were her mother's. Then there was her dark hair.

A few months ago, Mirium Wu had taken her to a hair salon, where she convinced Lisbeth that their daughter should have bangs and bobed hairstyle. The hair she had been born with had been chopped off and Blomkvist felt slightly disappointed that he wasn't involved in that milestone. The hair had rapidly grown back and now the length was, more or less, level with her shoulders. He planned on taking her to her next haircut.

The tablet rang in approval, Blomkvist watched a crooked smile materialize on the toddler's face. Then, almost instantly, her delight vanished and was replaced with a pensive scowl.

As he finished off his coffee, she called in her tiny angelic voice. "Pappa?"

"Yes, Sötnos?" Blomkvist put the empty mug in the sink and ambled into the living room. His little girl did not speak often, in was not in her nature, but when she spoke her speech was crystal clear and he or Lisbeth listened attentively, because it meant she had a serious topic to infer about.

When he sat on the couch behind her, she spun around to look at her father. She cocked her head curiously, and her little eyebrows furrowed as she glared at Blomkvist.

"Does mamma love me?" she asked.

It was a surprising question, but Blomkvist's answer was immediate."Very much so."

That answer seemed enough for the little girl. She turned back around, facing the coffee table and went back to the game on her tablet.

Sitting up from the sofa, Blomkvist muttered incoherently to himself, deciding that after one more cup of coffee he would then head to Lisbeth's place. She'll most likely be awake and ready by the time we arrive.

With his second cup of coffee in hand, he sat comfortably on the sofa intending to watch his little sötnos enjoy her game. Unexpectedly, she sat up, climbed onto the couch, and cozied herself next to her father. Blomkvist didn't think there could be any greater joy for a parent. After a kiss to her forehead, he draped his arm around her, tugging her closer and silently observing how intelligent she was.

She was to count and add the shown shapes on the screen. Time and again she heard the ring of the right answer but when there was an annoying horn and bright red "X" across the screen, the three-year old grunted.

In the same manner her mother does, she lifted her head up and contemplated. Blomkvist curiously watched.

When she finished her thoughts, shook her little head and looked up at Blomkvist. "No pappa. Mamma doesn't love me."

Straightaway she went back to her game, but just as quickly her father stated, "Of course she does." He removed the tablet from sötnos's direct eye sight. Suddenly, there was a familiar death glare, which he found unbelievably cute. She's too much like her mother.

Powering off the electronic, he set the tablet at his side, picked her up and set her on his lap.

"Your mother loves you plenty. Why would you say she doesn't?"

"Mimi says mamma's love their babies. Mamma's hug their babies... Mamma doesn't hug me."

He tried to give a justifiable reply. "Well you're not a baby anymore."

"But mamma doesn't say she loves me?"

His daughter was intelligent, but this topic was far too adult for such a young child. Blomkvist let out a sign and decided to change the topic. It would be simple, she was a three and a half-year old after all.

Since her day was free, Pernilla had asked to have lunch with him and his little Sötnos loved her older sister. "Do you want to see Nilla?"

She jumped up from his lap shouting, "Yes Sissy!"

He chuckled at her excitement and said,"If you go find your boots, we'll go see her now."

She gave him a quizzical look and pointed towards the front door. "But my boots are by the door pappa."

"You're right. Go get your gray boots by the door, so we can put them on and your jacket. It's getting cold."

Sötnos dashed away to retrieve her apparel and returned with her jacket already on. Quickly, Blomkvist helped button up his daughter's jacket and tie her tiny boots. He didn't bother to have her brush her teeth, or comb her hair and he left dirty dishes from breakfast in the sink. He was eager to get to Lisbeth's apartment and chat with her about the relationship she was developing with her daughter. And this was a topic he was not going to allow her to walk away from.

Helpful Notes: 2325 is 5lbs2ounces, 34.4 cm is 13 and half inches. Sötnos means sweetnose and it's a very common petname in Sweden.

Author's Note: I had this thought that if Lisbeth had become pregnant, she might have trouble connecting or conveying her love for her own child. And this is the result. Also, Mikael and Lisbeth's daughter doesn't have a name -in this story- Y'all can use your imaginations and try to figure out what Lisbeth would name her child. This will most likely be a 3-shot story.