"Where's my baby?" Catherine asked. Though weak, she lifted her head up slightly from the pillow, eager to see the baby who she already adored so much.
"Right here, Catherine." Peter answered, placing a small bundle in Catherine's arms. "Here is your baby girl."
"Girl?" Both Catherine, Meg, Vincent and Mary cried at once. Mary had been at Catherine's side, pressing cool clothes against her head and such when the baby was born.
"12:04 PM." Father shut his pocket watch. "A beautiful, healthy, normal girl."
Suddenly Catherine gasped in pain, then moaned.
"What's wrong, Catherine?" Vincent asked concernedly, with Father, Mary and Peter all about to ask the question, only a split second too late.
Mary swiftly took the bundle out of Catherine's arms and placed it into Vincent's, handing him a bottle full of warm milk from God only knows where. "Go meet your daughter in your chamber, Vincent and stay there until I tell you." she told him.
My chamber? But Catherine... Vincent thought as he obediently left the chamber and went into another his, only a few feet away from the chamber where Catherine lay. The corridor was empty – likely everyone was trying to avoid being underfoot.
The last thing he wanted to do was leave Catherine side, but he knew he was doing what was best. Mary wouldn't have told him to leave if it wasn't for the good of Catherine and him. Catherine would be taken care of, for sure, he had no doubt. Something was going on, something odd and unexpected, but Catherine certainly wasn't in danger. If she were, he'd feel it.
He carefully pulled the cloth away from the baby's face, just enough to actually get a look at it. And what he say made him gasp in surprise.
The baby was normal. Normal face, normal mouth, normal nose – and thankfully bald instead of a mane like Vincent was fearing.
And it was a girl! Vincent could not believe that. A girl? They had been expecting a boy since day one... it just seemed... natural. They had never really even considered that Catherine might have a girl. Not that anything was wrong with that. Vincent was pleased as could be that both the baby and Catherine made it through alive – and that the baby at least appeared normal was more than he could have hoped or asked for.
Tentatively and gently, he brushed her little cheek with his free index finger. She was so beautiful, so delicate! Each feature shaped perfectly... her chubby, bright red cheeks, her little nose, her intricately-shaped little lips. She was beautiful. Perfect. Words could not describe Vincent's pride. She looked as he imagined Catherine must have when she was a baby.
She is rather quiet for a newborn, Vincent mused, She cried when she was born, but only a few moments after, fell asleep after being tightly wrapped in the blanket. So of course she was quiet, but it just struck him as a bit unusual.
She opened her tiny mouth and gave a itty-bitty yawn, to which Vincent smiled, baring his white fangs fully. No fangs, or signs of teeth at all.
Cautiously, he put the nipple of the bottle into her mouth. She was asleep, yes, but she just might suck just the same. She was less than ten minutes old, but needed something, to be sure. Most children born were given to their mother's breast only minutes after delivery, but this baby unfortunately didn't have this luxury.
What is wrong with Catherine? Vincent's thoughts went back. What is going on in her chamber that I should not be present for?
He took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't just not be there. Yes, someone did have to hold the baby, but he could do that by Catherine's side.
Without further thought, he left his chamber and headed back into Catherine's.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"Breathe Catherine – just breathe!" Mary urged Catherine on, wiping the younger woman's sweat off her forehead.
Catherine groaned loudly. The pain was getting more and more intense... the room wasn't so clear anymore... then she was surrounded by darkness. No pain – just darkness.
"Catherine!" Peter ran to the woman's side and started immediately checking for a pulse. She was alive. She was fine.
"She just passed out." Meg said to Peter. "The pain..."
"But the baby is out, and thats the most important thing." Mary said.
Father wasn't listening to their conversation. It was as if they weren't in the room. He just looked at what was in his arms, but gave up when his vision blurred, thanks to tears.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Vincent quietly stepped into the chamber. Catherine lied still on the bed, but she was alive, Vincent knew that. Not only could he see her steady breaths, but he could also feel her, inside. She was asleep.
Father, Peter, and Mary were huddled in a little circle, exchanging extremely quiet whispers, talking about something with urgency. They were looking at something in the middle of their circle... what could it possibly be?
Vincent crept closer, not meaning to sneak up on them. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, even though his hearing was so keen. Whatever they were whispering about though, it likely involved him, his baby, or his Catherine though. He knew deep inside he wasn't supposed to listen to their conversation, thats why he had been sent into the other chamber, but he was not a child.
"I cannot believe this." Mary said, shaking her head.
"It was unexpected." Peter agreed. "But we should have been able to tell that there was another. With modern medicine and knowledge... even though we were not using all the modern equipment and methods, we could have at least suspected..."
What were they talking about? And what was Father holding? Vincent peered over Father's shoulder and immediately heard a cry of surprise and pain, not even realizing it was his own.
He stumbled backwards, in complete shock. He could not believe this. His world was so perfect a few moments ago, and now...
Father, Meg, Peter, and Mary all turned to face Vincent in shock, startled, not having known he was behind them before Vincent had cried out. And it did not take a brain surgeon for them to know why he had cried out so; it was simple – he had seen the other baby Father was holding.
Mary quickly took the sleeping baby girl from Vincent's arms. He would never hurt her, drop her, or let anything happen to her, but just for her safety, it would not be wise for her father to be holding her at such a time. When he was deep in emotional pain, he was unpredictable.
"Vincent," Father tried, barely being able to keep himself from breaking down into tears for his son, Catherine, and grandchildren.
Vincent did not respond. He just leaned against the stone wall and breathed heavily, his eyes rolling back into his head. It could not have happened. Everything was going amazingly well – nothing was supposed to go wrong now.
"It will be all right, Vincent." Mary gently tried to offer him words of comfort, but they had the opposite effect; Vincent ran from the chamber.
Father silently handed Peter what was lying in his arms and started after his son. He knew where Vincent would be going.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Vincent ran blindly from the chamber. He could not believe it. Catherine had twins? There was another baby?
Father had been holding a baby. A baby who had been wiped off after leaving the womb, but still very wet and sticky, thanks to the fur that it was covered with. A baby with a head full of hair, or should one say, mane. A baby with a flattened nose, broad cheekbones, the works.
Other tunnelers gave Vincent curious stares as Vincent ran by, but did not say anything to him. Vincent was running too quickly for them to say anything to him, and by his obvious condition, it was not
Tears blinded Vincent, but it didn't matter; he had been where he was going so many times, it wasn't necessary for him to actually see where he was going.
He did not stop until he reached his destination; the bridge over the abyss. There, he stopped, leaning over to catch his breath, trying to re-gather his thoughts.
Whilst Catherine had been in intense labor, he hadn't given much thought at all to what the baby may look like, and of the baby's nature. And then when he saw the baby girl, he allowed himself to think that everything would be fine, that everything was perfect. And then, not five minutes later, there was another baby – like Vincent.
There are no words to describe the sheer pain ripping through Vincent at that moment. The great anguish and torture he felt, for his responsible at that moment was too great to even describe. When one has a time like that, they know that mere words cannot describe the pain, agony, and torture one feels, and if one has not experienced a time like that, no matter how remotely similar, they cannot possibly imagine it.
"Vincent," Vincent heard a voice behind him say firmly, but gently. Vincent did not have to turn around to know who it was; it was Father.
"Vincent, Father repeated. "Catherine is doing well. The babies are both healthy. You are the father of twins."
Vincent did not answer that. He had already found that one out; the second infant lying in Father's arms made that one obvious, though he was relived by hearing that the second baby was alive and well, despite the baby's outer appearance.
"He's a boy." Father continued after a pause.
Vincent did not answer. His mind was in a whirl of thoughts, all plaguing him down.
Father shook his head. He could not imagine what was going on in Vincent's head right then. No matter how many times he had tried to prepare Vincent for what might happen, no matter how many times he had rehearsed this moment in his head, it all did not matter any longer. What words of comfort could he give his son?
"Catherine will be waking soon." Father reminded Vincent. "She will likely want you there when she awakens."
"I will be there." Vincent said non-chalantly. He would know when Catherine was soon to waken, and would be there to support her, if needed.
"Your children, Vincent." Father said earnestly, trying to break through to his son. "They need you as well right now."
Vincent let his head fall back against the stone wall and didn't answer Father. He just did not know what to say. There were no words to say.
He is in shock. Father realized. And he's hurt and angry – at himself. He blames himself for the second baby's appearance, and perhaps nature as well. And whilst its not exactly Vincent's fault, it is, though its something that is unfair to cast blame on... he feels miserable for the child, for the life ahead of him.
Father attempted to block the few tears threatening to burst from his own eyes. Although he had seen what Vincent's life was growing up, he could not imagine what it was like. And now, his grandson had the same fate...
Grandson! He was a grandfather! The thought hit him hard. It was so hard to believe...
He wrapped his arms around his son. There was not much more he could do to comfort Vincent.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"Remarkable," Peter breathed, holding the small, weak child. "He looks just like Vincent when Vincent came here."
"Only bigger." Mary remarked, also gazing at the tiny child lying contentedly in Peter's arms, content to suck from a bottle instead of Catherine's breast.
"You think?" Peter questioned, looking from the baby, to Mary, back to the baby. "I don't think so... and this one is a twin, so he'd be naturally smaller than most babies..."
"Maybe Vincent was a twin as well." Mary said quietly.
Peter looked up, his eyes wide. "Do you think?"
Mary shook her head. "I don't know... I have never thought of it before. Maybe he was, or is, a twin, maybe not."
Peter looked back at the child and chuckled to himself. "What are they planning on calling the little fuzzball?"
"Peter!" Mary admonished. "Don't make fun of him!" She tried to hide her smile at the term of endearment, for it described the baby perfectly.
"I wasn't making fun." Peter said. "I was just saying... he does look like a ball of fuzz. Like a kitten."
"Like Vincent did." Mary reminded Peter. She cocked her head. "Didn't we have this same conversation before?"
"Almost forty years ago." Peter said. "A similar one, yes... a very similar one seeing is how it was a foursome there and a foursome now."
"Foursome?" Mary looked around the room. "Meaning me, you, and the two babies?"
Peter nodded. "I'm not counting Catherine, as she's out like a light."
"How was it a foursome last time?"
"You, me, Vincent – and Paracelsus." Peter said 'Paracelsus' as if it were a curse word.
Mary shook her head. "I don't remember Paracelsus being there."
"He was." Peter affirmed. "Its the first time I started to get suspicious of his motives with the child."
Mary sighed, once again shaking her head. "Well, this time, there is no Paracelsus, thank God."
Meg came over to them, from Catherine's bedside. "Are you sure she is all right?" She asked concernedly about her cousin.
"She's fine." Peter assured Meg. "If she weren't, we would tell you."
"Do you remember the pain of having Cameryn?" Mary asked Meg. "Well, imagine that, but a lot rougher. Poor Catherine did not have pain medicine or anything... and she is so weak from having been in the bed so long. In a few hours, she should awaken, alive and well, and ready to nurse and nurture her children." She smiled at the young woman who was so concerned over Catherine, so kind and caring. "She'll be fine; would you like to hold the baby?"
Meg nodded and tentatively took the wrapped-up baby from Mary, and took her place in Mary's chair, after Mary stood up and started busying around the room, cleaning up the catastrophe that they made in the past ten hours.
"How much do they weigh?" Meg asked suddenly.
"We haven't weighed them, yet." Peter told her. "But they are very small, especially the boy... I would doubt the girl weighs more than 6 pounds, likely a lot less."
"'The Boy', 'The Girl'." Meg sighed. "What are they going to name them?"
"I don't know." Mary answered. "I know they were thinking something along the lines of Jacob or Charles, in honor of their fathers for the boy, but I don't think they even really considered a name for a girl... the naming ceremony won't be for at least a week or so, so they've got time to decide on a name. And that is probably going to be the last thing on their minds, anyways."
Meg peered at the little baby boy. "Wow." she giggled. "Just how you described Vincent as a baby."
"He's identical, isn't he?" Mary agreed.
Suddenly the baby opened his eyes and look up at Peter sleepily, to which Peter laughed. "Not quite." he said. "He's got green-blue eyes. They look like they'll turn green as he gets older, like Catherine's."
"What color does she have?" Meg referred to the sleeping girl in her arms.
"Haven't barely had time to see." Peter replied. "Everything has been a whirlwind for the past half hour... hopefully when Vincent comes back, things will calm down."