Worlds Apart Pt. 02

He paced around for a few minutes, then sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his face in his hands. The adrenaline rush was starting to wear off now, leaving him feeling empty and tired. The last time he recalled being this emotionally exhausted was the morning after Liz had left for Borealis...

He was still holding her jacket and their toothbrushes, so he set them on the chair beside him, tapping his feet impatiently. The allure of a sugary drink to keep his energy levels up drew him to one of the vending machines, and he scanned his phone across the reader, a can dropping into the retrieval slot. Jamie popped the cap, taking a long draw as he leaned back against the wall.

Now, it was just a matter of waiting.

***

Jamie brought up his phone, pacing in front of the door. It had been nearly five hours, and still nothing. He hadn't been allowed back into the delivery room yet, and nobody had come out to keep him updated on Liz's condition. He could set off in search of the front desk, but he didn't want to leave the waiting room, not when he could be called back in at any moment. During his downtime, he had looked up how long deliveries usually take on his phone. It was supposed to last four to eight hours, but if Liz was giving birth to five kittens, would that mean it could take twenty hours? Surely not.

A pang of hunger distracted him, so he perused the available sandwiches in the vending machine, selecting a tuna and mayonnaise sub. He collapsed into one of the seats, chewing dispassionately, watching the door all the while.

Finally, one of the nurses emerged from the room, careful to close the door behind her. He rose from his seat, his sub in hand as she approached him.

"How is she?" he demanded.

"Lizka is recovering well," she replied with a smile. "She's exhausted, she needs time to rest, but her vitals are all stable."

"And, the babies?"

"All five kittens were delivered without incident," she said, Jamie exhaling a sigh of relief. "I think they're ready to meet their dad."

"I can come in now?" he asked.

"Yes, but it's best that Liz remains calm. She's fragile right now."

Jamie nodded, trying to calm himself.

"Better leave that here," the nurse added, gesturing to his sandwich.

"Right, right," he muttered as he set it down beside the toothbrushes.

The door slid open, and they stepped inside, Jamie trying to slow his racing heart as he saw Liz lying there on the bed. The first thing that jumped out at him was that her swollen belly had deflated like a balloon. The massive bump was no longer visible beneath the sheets that covered her. Her dusky skin was shining, drenched with sweat. She looked like she had just run a marathon. There was no blood, no mess. The staff must have already cleaned everything up. She was still hooked up to the machines, various wires trailing from her arms to computer monitors that were mounted nearby, the headrest of her bed propping her up.

Liz's ears swiveled in his direction, her head soon following. She beamed at him, as happy as he had ever seen her, even if she looked about ready to pass out. There was no need to ask her if she was okay, he could see it in her face. He approached the bed hesitantly, and Liz reached down, pulling back the sheets. Her clothes had been removed in favor of a hospital gown, and nestled in her bosom was a mass of multicolored fur. It took Jamie a moment to realize what he was looking at, his eyes widening as one of the little mounds moved. A tiny head rose from the pile, its eyes tightly shut, its ears flat against its tangle of hair. It opened its mouth, letting out a faint mewl, more like the cry of a kitten than a human baby. It was the size of a human infant, maybe a little larger, but it looked so small and frail compared to Liz's massive frame. It could have sat comfortably in the palm of her hand. The resemblance to a tiger cub was uncanny, its fur a shade of rusty orange. There were more, two with fur in slightly different shades of blonde, one with brown fur, and another with a slightly redder tone.

"It worked," Liz said, a blend of giddiness and exhaustion making her voice waver.

"You did it," he gasped, unable to take his eyes off them.

"We did it," she added with a weary chuckle. "Two girls and three boys, just like they told us. They're strong, Jamie. You should feel them wriggling around."

"Can I hold one?" he asked, his question more directed at the nurses than Liz. Doctor Atherson was standing nearby, his eyes fixed on a tablet computer.

"Sterilize your hands and forearms first," he replied without glancing up from his work. "Their immune systems are still developing, they'll be vulnerable for the next few days."

The nurse guided him over to a nearby sink, and he rolled up his sleeves, washing his skin vigorously. His heart raced as he made his way back to Liz's side, his exhausted partner giving him a warm smile as she reached into the mass of fur.

She plucked the orange one from the pile, cradling it in a single hand, Jamie reaching out to take it from her. He held it like he would a human baby, supporting its proportionally large head in his palm, its stubby little limbs flexing. The fur was so soft, and it was dry, suggesting the babies had been wiped down since the delivery. If adult Borealans resembled cats, then the coat of fur on the kittens furthered that comparison even more.

"That one's a boy," Liz said, grinning as she watched him gaze at the infant.

"Why are his eyes closed?" Jamie asked. "Is he alright?"

"His eyes will stay closed for a few days," Liz replied. "It's normal for Borealans."

Jamie felt a swell of unexpected emotion as the tiny creature wriggled in his grasp. He had made this, he and Liz. This was his child.

He reached down, letting the kitten grab his finger, feeling the little pads through its fur. It didn't have any claws yet, its hands were like stubby little mittens. Jamie laughed as he felt the baby wrap its tail around his wrist like a spider monkey, opening its mouth to let out another weak mewl.

"Don't keep him away from the others for too long," a nearby nurse advised. "They have to be kept warm."

Jamie returned the baby to the pile that was nestled in Liz's bosom, then took her hand, the two sharing a tender moment as they watched their offspring wriggle around. The babies clung to one another, and to their mother, little limbs and tails grasping for purchase. Still blind, they seemed to favor their sense of touch, their tiny hands delving into each other's fur.

"We'll want to keep you in the hospital for observation for at least a day or two," Atherson said. "If there are no complications, and the infants remain healthy, you can be discharged. We'll also want to have you bring them back in for periodic checkups so that we can keep tabs on their development and ensure that there's no latent genetic instability from the splicing process."

"We've spoken with some experts at the UAS about Borealan childcare," one of the nurses began. "But we think that the best thing to do in this case is let Lizka take the lead. She knows more about the subject than we do."

"I spent a lot of time with my sister's litter back on Borealis," she reminded Jamie, cradling the nest of mewling kittens in the crook of her arm. "I have a pretty good idea of what to expect."

"We've got everything we needed," Atherson said, addressing his team of nurses. "Transfer the data that we gathered directly to the UAS servers, and prepare a full report. It's time to let the patient rest a while."

"We'll be back to check on you once every hour," another nurse added. "Just press the call button if you need anything."

The army of medical staff filed out of the room, leaving Liz and Jamie alone for the first time since they had arrived. Jamie leaned in, sharing a quick kiss with Liz.

"How are you doing?" he asked, pulling up a chair so that he could sit beside her bed.

"I'm tired, but I'll live," she chuckled. "They ran so many tests on the kittens, I didn't think they'd ever give them back to me. They weighed them, took blood samples, scanned them, all kinds of things."

"It's over now," Jamie said. "The scariest part is behind us."

"The little brown one didn't want to breathe when he came out," she continued, reaching down to stroke the tiny kitten on its head. "I told them an old Borealan trick that my sister taught me. You just pull their tail to make them cry, and that gets them started. Kind of like slapping a baby's butt."

"We've barely talked about names yet," Jamie mused. "We can't keep referring to them by their fur color forever."

"There'll be time for that later," she said, holding them close to her chest. "I don't think they're going to thrust the birth certificates on us just yet."

"I can't believe you're still awake," he said. She was glistening with sweat, and there were dark bags under her eyes. "You look about ready to pass out. Try to get some sleep. I'll be here to keep an eye on you and the kittens."

She was too exhausted to protest, nodding her head as she closed her eyes. In only a few moments, she was fast asleep, the kittens slowly rising and falling along with her chest.

***

"This feels so strange," Liz chuckled, wincing as one of the kittens locked its lips to her nipple. It kneaded her breast like a cat, which Liz had told Jamie helped to stimulate the flow of milk, the sound of its sucking loud enough to be audible. She lifted a second kitten in her hand, the little feline sniffing at the air blindly, seeming to somehow know what was happening. When it located her nipple, it drew it into its mouth, its little paw-like hands rising to massage the flesh around it.

Two of the nurses were on hand to help with the feeding, and they were wrangling the other babies, Jamie cradling the last one in his arms. The brown one, which still hadn't been named yet, seemed smaller and less active than the rest. He felt oddly protective of it, like some kind of primal instinct had been triggered in his brain. The babies had been given diapers by now, which contrasted with their colored fur.

"They'll have to take turns," Liz said, wincing at the sensation. "A Borealan usually wouldn't be without their pack, and when one woman starts to lactate, so do the rest."

"So, it's a kind of communal feeding?" one of the nurses said, nodding her head as she stroked the baby's belly to keep it calm while it waited to be fed. The nurses took any opportunity that they could to be around the infants. They were a source of endless fascination for the staff, combining the cuteness of babies and kittens to create an irresistible allure. "That explains why you don't have more teats."

"Just make sure that they all get fed an equal amount," the other nurse added, gently bouncing the orange kitten in her arms. "These first few days are crucial for their development."

"I read about colostrum," Liz replied, drawing one of the suckling infants a little closer. "It contains all of the antibodies and bacteria that they'll need to get their immune systems off the ground."

"Your milk should come in soon," the nurse continued. "Once that happens, you can start using a breast pump, and dad can help out with the feeding."

"A breast pump?" Jamie asked, grimacing at the thought as the women chuckled at his reaction.

"At least their teeth haven't come in yet," Liz muttered. "They're already treating my nipples like gummy candy."

"Babies bite," one of the nurses replied solemnly. "If you get sore and you need a break, don't be afraid to bottle feed. My boys used to bite me until I bled when I was nursing."

They slowly cycled the babies through one by one, Jamie eventually passing off the little brown runt to Liz. She brought it to her bosom, helping it locate her nipple, the kitten starting to suck ardently.

"Was the brown one a boy or a girl?" Jamie asked.

"She's a girl," Liz replied. "You seem to have taken a shine to her," she added with a smile.

"She just looks so small."

"I was the runt of my litter, too," Liz continued, holding the baby as it drank. "That's why my parents brought me to Earth with them instead of leaving me with my siblings."

"Maybe she'll get as big as you," Jamie suggested. "So, I did some more thinking about names. Maybe a blend of human and Borealan would be good."

"I like that," Liz replied. "We're one kitten short of an even split, so it would have to be two and three."

"Maybe two human names, and three Borealan," he suggested. "You contributed most of the genome and did most of the work, after all."

"Oh, you're gonna have plenty of work to do," Liz chuckled. "Don't worry about pulling your weight. Come on then," she added, giving him a grin. "What did you want to name the brown one?"

"Hazel," he said, Liz nodding in approval.

"She certainly looks like a Hazel. I wanted to name one of them after my father, Toza," she said as she gestured to one of the blonde kittens. "That one has the same skin tone as me and my dad under his fur. I think it's fitting."

"There are so many of them," Jamie laughed. "We're going to need to make a chart to keep track of them all."

"We can bring you the appropriate documents to sign once you've decided," one of the nurses said.

Once the babies were done feeding, they returned them to Liz, the kittens forming a writhing pile in her bosom. She kept the top of her hospital gown pulled down to expose her chest most of the time, as contact with her skin kept the litter warmer and helped them to bond with her.

"They're all eating well," one of the nurses commented, her hands on her hips as she watched them settle. Now that they were full, they were all falling asleep. Only the orange one was still active, grumbling as it dug itself deeper into the mass of fur. "That was our biggest concern. As long as they're all feeding, there should be no reason not to discharge you tomorrow. We'll keep you overnight for observation, then you can be released in the morning."

***

There were no complications overnight, so in the morning, Liz and the kittens were discharged. The nurses had bagged up Liz's amniotic fluid-covered clothes in a plastic bag, and Jamie returned them to the apartment, bringing Liz a fresh set so that she didn't have to leave the hospital in her gown. He also cleaned up the mess from the day before, as nobody had been back to the apartment since Liz's water had broken. He didn't want her to have to think about anything other than caring for the children when she went home.

Transporting the babies safely was another issue, there were so many of them. Jamie had considered going out to find the largest stroller that he possibly could, but fortunately, the UAS had already stepped in with a better solution. They had created a carrier for Liz, a harness with straps that ran over her shoulders and around her waist. Attached to it were three pouches that could accommodate a kitten each, all arranged in a row across her chest. It looked like some kind of tactical vest that should have had ammo pouches to Jamie, and maybe it was based on one such existing design. For Jamie, he had a more conventional carrier that could hold two, as such products were readily available.

Loaded up with kittens, they thanked the staff profusely, then made their way to the exit. The medevac shuttle was no longer available to them, so they took an elevator down to the hospital's lobby, drawing a lot of stares as they left the building.

The question of how exactly they were going to get home was a confounding one. Eventually, they settled on calling a taxi. Jamie specified that they needed a minivan with five car seats suitable for babies and a trunk with room enough for Liz to ride comfortably. He didn't like the idea of her sitting in the back so soon after giving birth, but they had no other options.

They had to wait around quite a bit longer than usual while the company prepared a suitable vehicle for them. When it arrived, they underwent the lengthy process of removing the struggling kittens from the carriers and strapping them safely into the car seats. The babies weren't happy to be separated from their parents, and they didn't make the process easy. When that was finally done, Jamie climbed in behind the wheel, and Liz squeezed into the trunk. There was a third row of collapsible seats, and with those down, there was just enough room for her.

It wasn't a long drive back to the high-rise, and they were soon loaded up with their mewling charges, riding an elevator up to their floor. When they entered their apartment, it was with a sense of both relief and apprehension. There were no more nurses and scientists anymore. They would have to take care of everything themselves from now on.

They had already stocked up on supplies in preparation for the impending birth. They had diapers, bottles, a breast pump, baby clothes that were expected to fit, and more. The first thing on the agenda was assembling the playpen. Liz was adamant that Borealan kittens needed a pen where they could be safely contained, and although that sounded more like something designed to house wild animals to Jamie, there were human equivalents. He had ordered a pen with twenty-five square feet of foam padding, surrounded by a plastic fence with a lockable gate that should keep even the most energetic infant from escaping.

She moved some of the furniture around in the living area and set it up there, then they brought the kittens over one by one, releasing them from the carriers. Soon, they were rolling around on the soft foam, blindly seeking each other out. They weren't very mobile yet, but they still outstripped a human baby. Jamie was surprised to see them wriggle their way into a pile again.

"Will you watch them?" Liz asked. "I want to take a shower, inspect the, uh...damage."

He nodded, pulling up a chair beside the pen as she disappeared into the bathroom, watching the kittens shift around.

They had finished naming them at the hospital. The brown one was Hazel, as Jamie had wanted. The blonde boy was Toza, after Liz's father, and the blonde girl had been named Dazka. According to Liz, the name had some significance in the Elysian dialect, where it referred to the reflection of sunshine on the surface of a lake. Jamie had named one of the orange boys Kenneth, an old Gaelic name meaning a person born from fiery flames. The last little orange kitten had been named by Liz, who had chosen Bren in honor of her human upbringing, a name of German origin with a similarly fire-themed meaning.

Jamie rose from his seat, making his way over to the panel that controlled the thermostat, raising the temperature a little. The nurses had impressed upon them how important it was to keep the kittens warm.

Liz eventually emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around her. She lowered herself onto the couch, relaxing as she let herself dry off.

"How is it?" Jamie asked, sitting down beside her.

"I read a lot about tearing," she replied, "but the doctor didn't mention it. I didn't need stitches or anything like that. Everything looks more or less normal down there."

"Well, the kittens are about the size of human babies," Jamie replied as he glanced over at them. "And you're a lot bigger than a human woman. Maybe birth is just easier for Borealans?"

"We do have the hips for it," she chuckled. "No sex for a little while, though," she added. "Just because I'm not torn open doesn't mean they didn't do some damage. I need time to heal."

"You act like I'd complain about it," Jamie replied. "I can use my hand for a while, take as long as you need."

"I have hands too, if you hadn't noticed," she said as she nudged him with her elbow. "How are the kittens?"

"They made another pile," he replied. "Shall we get them out?"