Page 59 of Flight of the Omega

JP clucked in agreement. It would be easier. If they mated—properly—then Jack would have access to his thoughts, even when he was in feathers. That would make communication easier, especially when JP shifted.

The chick shrieked in his ear, and JP startled. Jack laughed. “Think our little hatchling is hungry, birdie.”

JP stared at the chick, their gaping bill. He had no idea what to do about that. He looked helplessly at Jack, who grinned. “I’ll get you some breakfast, and then you can work on feeding the hatchling.”

JP let his gaze bounce around, watching Jack smirk and then saunter off, even as the chick pecked at JP’s bill.

Oh God. He was going to have to throw up, wasn’t he? He looked at the incessantly peeping chick, who flapped their wings and peeped more angrily. The chick was suddenly not as cute as they had been.

Jack brought him some seed and some grasses, as well as some leaves. “Try a few things,” he advised. “Stuff that’s easy on you, stuff that will be easy for the chick.”

JP huffed, then started pecking at the seed. The chick watched him curiously, then tried to mimic him. JP pushed them away from his food. It was good the hatchling wanted to do what he was doing, but he didn’t think their little tummy could handle the food raw and totally unprepared.

He glanced at Jack nervously. He didn’t want his mate to watch this. Hell, he didn’t want to do it at all. He swallowed some of the seed, then started in on the grass. The chick pecked at his bill, and when he looked at them, their little mouth wide open, hewantedto throw up.

Ugh. Maybe it was a good thing Jack hadn’t given him a second clutch. He wasn’t sure he’d get through this.

Jack thumped his hand on the stable door. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said. “Holler if you need anything.”

JP sat on the nest a few more days, and in that time, two more eggs hatched—another fuzzy blue chick and a little red one. All three of them were impossibly cute, and they liked to ride around on JP’s back, peeping loudly. JP hated feeding them, and he wished Jack could help with that, but Jack was shapelocked. Wide open beaks didn’t trigger the regurgitation urge in him like it did in JP.

So JP was stuck feeding the three little balls of down, who ran around and flapped their little wings and chirped a lot and pooped even more, and JP was very, very glad he’d been thwarted in his plan to get with a second clutch immediately. Three chicks was more than enough.

He stayed in bird form for the first few weeks, because the chicks didn’t seem to be able to shift. He wondered if that came later or if they were shapelocked. He thought it would be a bit funny for them to be shapelocked in avian form when their daddy was stuck in humanoid skin, but then, nature was strange.

Turned out, they were just waiting for someone to model it for them. JP had to shift into humanoid skin for the move to the city; he was more help with thumbs and when he could talk to other people. Shortly after he shifted, the chicks shifted too.

The nice thing about shifters was that they stayed about the same developmental age, so the chicks in human skin were capable of crawling and babbling, not totally helpless, although they still wanted someone to feed them and they pooped like nobody’s business. JP supposed that was par for the course, and he was grateful for Jack’s extra set of arms—he couldn’t carry the three chicks on his back when he was in human skin.

Watching Jack with the chicks was funny but also sweet; Jack didn’t seem to want to let go, not now that he was helpful. He carried a baby with him everywhere, whether he was signing papers or cooking dinner or carrying boxes around. JP didn’t think he could have found a more dedicated mate. It was almost like Jack was trying to make up for how much time JP had spent on the nest.

JP was pretty sure the chicks liked Jack more than they liked him. They fawned over Jack, crawled over him, fell asleep in his arms. They didn’t seem to mind when JP left, for a doctor’s appointment or therapy or whatever. Sometimes, JP wondered if they’d be better off without him. He’d get out into the city streets and almost lose himself, just wander for a while. He wondered whether he should go back.

When he did get back, whether it was directly after his appointment or hours later, the chicks were invariably asleep. “They miss you,” Jack assured him. “They’re fine until they realize you’re gone, and then there’s no consoling them until they tucker themselves out and fall asleep.”

JP didn’t really believe it, but he wanted to. He wanted to believe they missed him and wanted him to come back. That they loved him like he loved them, and if not love, then at least that they needed him.

“You’ve got post-hatch depression,” one of his therapists told him one day. He didn’t really believe that either—hadn’t he already been depressed? Before the eggs, before everything? How could you get another kind of depression when you already had one? Did they just … layer on top of each other? How depressed could a person be?

She wrote him a couple of prescriptions, which was more than anyone else had done so far—the one therapist just wanted to talk about his childhood and the GP kept telling him to change his diet, exercise more. He went to the pharmacy and got the prescriptions filled.

He dawdled on the way home, pausing every few blocks to look at the pill bottles again, pondering the labels. Did he really need these? Was therapy helping him at all? Maybe he was just a hopeless case, damaged beyond all repair.

He made his way home, slowly ascending the steps to their third-floor apartment. It was the best they could get; William had frozen access to JP’s accounts, leaving only the trust fund from JP’s grandmother available, and Jack was unemployed, with nothing but modest savings. Jack was trying to get a job, but it wasn’t easy. And he was worried about JP, leaving him alone with the chicks all day, every day. JP felt guilty and angry by turns: angry that Jack didn’t trust him, then guilty that Jackcouldn’ttrust him. He wished he was better at this. He wished he wasn’t so fucked up.

JP wondered what would happen if he left. Jack would have to get a nanny or a babysitter or send the chicks to daycare, which he couldn’t really afford. But maybe he’d fall in love with the nanny, who wasn’t screwed up like JP was, who would take better care of the chicks than JP could ever hope to.

He opened the door to the apartment and toed off his shoes, wincing at the sound of one of the chicks bawling. The sobbing was drowning out Jack’s soft humming, his shushing.

A moment later, Jack bustled into the entryway, Azul in his arms. Azul was red-faced, almost purple, that’s how hard they were sobbing. Their breath kept catching. “There you are,” Jack said, and he looked so tired, so worn. He leaned in and kissed JP’s cheek, then looked back at their wailing chick, ruffling their downy hair. “See, I told you he was back.”

Azul wailed again, long and hard, then gasped for another breath before they finally turned to see JP. How they saw through their tears, JP didn’t know. “Papa!” they shrieked, then held out their arms, making grabby hands at JP. Then they wailed more, even as Jack handed them off to JP.

JP bounced the baby in his arms, rubbed their back, and tried not to wince when Azul nuzzled against him, wiping snot and tears all over JP. The baby whimpered and curled their hands into JP’s shirt, clinging. Jack took JP’s prescription from him. “Told ya they fussed without ya. Not a moment’s peace without you unless they’re asleep.”

Azul was settling already, their thumb jammed firmly in their mouth. JP stroked their downy head, glanced down at the baby, who continued whimpering and whining.

“What’s this?” Jack asked, shaking the bottle of pills.