Page 58 of Flight of the Omega

Jack leaned against the wall, gazing down at him. He looked over at Dr. Vogel. “You think we should move him again?”

She shook her head, her short blonde locks flying. “Not until the eggs hatch. That’s two moves already—what do you think, JP?”

JP lifted his head. If he could frown while he was in his feathers, he would have. Instead, he gave her his bestI don’t fucking think solook, then dropped his head and started to preen his feathers.

He didn’t particularly want to sit in Hank’s barn for another … however long it was going to be, but he also didn’t want to move again. He wanted to stay put until the eggs hatched. The more they moved around, the higher risk there was some would get broken or lost or too cold and not hatch.

“All right,” Jack said, patting JP’s bill. “We’ll see what Hank will let us set up out here, hm? And then we’ll talk about getting you back to the city after the hatching’s all done.”

Ninety days was a long time when all one had to do was sit on a bloody nest and wait. And, of course, JP’s eggs were late hatching, just like they’d been late to be laid. Ninety-one days. Ninety-two days …

JP lost count somewhere around a hundred days. There was sleeping and not sleeping, sitting and not sitting. He was beginning to wonder if all these eggs were duds too. Maybe they’d never hatch and he was just sitting here like a fool, waiting for the impossible.

One day, he was roused from sleep by a small chirruping, the kind of sound that songbirds often make in the spring. He let his eyes flutter open, then yawned. He looked around, wondering where the darn bird was. He hadn’t heard many songbirds, not this far back in the barn. He hadn’t been outside much, but most of the trees were at the other end of the barn, closer to the house. The birds liked to sit there and sing.

But there was definitely an incessantcheep-cheep-cheepgoing on.

And something wriggling under him.

He stood up like a shot, worried there was a rat or a snake or something trying to get at his eggs.

Instead, he laid eyes on a broken shell and panicked. Had he broken one of the eggs in his sleep? Maybe he’d been too restless. Oh—

“Cheep-cheep-cheep,” said a little bird that wasn’t far from the egg shell. It was … so fluffy. Completely covered in down. “Cheep,” it said again and looked up at him with Jack’s eyes.

A hatchling! JP craned his neck down further and knocked them with his bill. They protested loudly, then nuzzled up against him. JP cooed at them—his fuzzy little chick. His chick! Oh, they were so cute. He wished he was in humanoid form so he could pet them and cuddle them.

Instead, he nuzzled them a little, then preened them—very gently, very cautiously, noting how large he was and how small they were—to remove the last of the egg shell from their down. They closed their little eyes and trilled.

He encouraged the chick to crawl out from under him. Then he settled back down on the nest, and the chick clambered up on his back, their tiny claws scratching at him. They settled there, peeping softly, until they fell asleep. JP tented his wings over them, keeping them safe and warm.

A little while later, Jack knocked on the stable door. “Mornin’,” he said, “ready for the shift change?”

JP shook his head. He didn’t think he should shift today, not with the little one and not if the other eggs were going to hatch.

Jack frowned. “No? Don’t you wanna go get some breakfast?”

JP lifted a wing. Jack tilted his head to the side, so JP stood up and turned around, ensuring Jack could see the sleeping chick on his back.

“Oh!” Jack said. “They hatched.”

JP cawed in protest. The other eggs were clearly still intact. The chick peeped softly, protesting that their parent was too loud. JP ruffled his feathers and closed his wings over the chick again.

“Just the one then,” Jack said. “Do you think there are others?”

JP wasn’t sure. He kind of hoped there were—laying ten eggs for one chick seemed like a colossal waste of time and energy. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted more than one chick. The little ball of fluff sleeping on his back was good enough for him.

Jack leaned over the door. “And in avian form,” he murmured. “Guess your genes are stronger. You think they’re a shifter?”

JP had no idea. He couldn’t remember learning to shift himself, just that he had, regularly and often. He twisted his neck and nuzzled at his chick, who nuzzled back against his bill.

That was nice. That was all that mattered, actually, that his chick was here and warm and safe and he loved his chick, more than he’d thought was possible.

“What do you want to call them?” Jack asked, and JP glared, because Jack knew he couldn’t answer in this state. The ranch hand snorted. “All right. Sorry.” He scratched at his head. “I just … wow. You got a real cute chick there, birdie.”

JP crooned, because hedidhave a cute chick. A very cute chick he loved a lot. He closed his eyes and went back to nuzzling said chick.

“Guess this’d be easier if we, uh, actually mated, huh.” Jack was blushing, which was also cute.