(Vincent's POV)

I have been silent about seeing the babies' sexes on the ultrasound for eight weeks now and I'm ready to burst, along with Catherine's belly. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out from telling Catherine. The doctors told her today, that she could deliver at any time, even though they put her on strict bed rest weeks ago. The babies kicks have been seriously bruising her stomach lately, and even though she tries to muffle her cries from the pain, I can hear her heart rate increasing rapidly when it happens. Even with her healing abilities, it's beginning to become too much for her to handle. These babies are seriously strong, and having two separate kinds of mutated DNA makes them even stronger than Jonathan was. Catherine is miserable being on bed rest. She's never been one to sit still for long, but regardless, of being miserable and in pain, she's dealing pretty well.

I sneak into our bedroom to check on her while she's napping. Even though she's not had a full night's sleep in months, she never complains. She's peacefully curled up on her side, pillows stuffed everywhere around her, and I move the pillow from behind her, taking their place, laying my arm over her once tiny belly. I must have fallen asleep too because I was awakened by Catherine's rapid heart rate and breathing. She was gripping the side of the bed, knuckles white, and then and there, I knew our babies were about to make their entrance. "First contraction, and it's…." a growl escaped her throat, and veins started appearing. With the end of the contraction, her transformation reversed. Was this her body's reaction to labor, or was she trying to transform? I was interrupted from my thoughts by Catherine's voice. "Vincent, that was excruciating, and it was only the first contraction. What's happening?" I shook my head. There was nothing about this pregnancy that we could predict, let alone what the delivery would be like. "Catherine, I'm not sure, but I think we should get you to the medical unit."

It took a while to get Catherine where she needed to go, making several stops during contractions. This isn't right, labor is supposed to progress, not start out like this. Several door facings from our bedroom to the delivery room had been destroyed from the force of Catherine's hands gripping them, but after a half hour we finally made it, and she slumped against the wall, ass and feet on the floor, and belly between her knees. I saw her eyes changing, and I knew another contraction was close. I ran to her side to try to encourage her not to change, but to try to breathe through it. She managed to breathe, through that contraction, though filled with deep vocal growls, and I helped her to the bed, so her doctor could check her progress. One centimeter. Catherine had a long way to go. She refused heart monitoring for the babies, knowing full well she and I could hear both of their heartbeats perfectly. Instead, she tore her clothes from her body, and went into the shower, turning the water as hot as she could stand it. I held her, while she stood beneath the hot water, trying to help her breathe through her contractions for the better part of an hour.

Catherine has been in hard, excruciating labor for almost ten hours now, and she's only at four centimeters. There is nothing that can be given to speed up her delivery, or for her pain. With her DNA, even if we tried, she would metabolize it too fast to do any good. With each contraction, her ability to breathe through them has become non existant, and she's now unable fight some form of transformation. Her father insisted on spending a little time with her while she labored, and left Jonathan with me. I take Jonathan outside to play, while he's in there with her, trying to keep my mind off of the fact I can't do anything to help her.