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Dan Heng is silent about a lot of things when it comes to his true nature.
Not because he does not trust the Astral Express crew, but because he prefers to keep those things very tight-lipped. It is a force of habit, one created by lost memories now regained and a heavy sense of trauma that sits in his bones. It isn’t that he thinks that they will hurt him, it is that he is afraid to be hurt.
However, all of that seemingly goes out the door when his heat comes along. It hits him one morning when he wakes up in bed, the scent of his oncoming heat cloying and stuffy to his nose. His stomach cramps, sending a shiver of pain down his spine that has him losing his breath and arching his spine. Dan Heng doesn’t exactly remember the last time he had his heat, but he remembers why he hated it so much.
The slick between his thighs has him quivering in disgust, the need for a hot bath desperate in his bones. But getting up means leaving his room and leaving his room means coming across the other members of the crew and he doesn’t want them to see him like this. So instead, he lays in bed, frame shaking in pain and fists clenched in his blankets.
He can ride out this heat on his own for the next few days; he’s done it before. He won’t eat or drink anything, but it’s a small price to pay for keeping a tiny sliver of his composure. But eventually, the need for a hot bath gets the better of him and he finds himself ducking into the bathroom down the hall, clothes and towels in his hand as he locks the sliding door. He turns on the water as hot as it can go, burning his flesh when he sticks his hand in.
It feels just right.
He slides off his clothes, tossing them in a corner as the steam fogs his surroundings. The water jostles around him as he sinks his body into the tub, sighing as the water washes away the slick. All of the aches in his body release themselves and he melts. He sits there for an unknown amount of time, letting his hand run over his body.
His hands met his stomach and something catches against his fingers.
The feeling is electric in all of the wrong ways, a pain that feels more like a stab wound than anything. He bends over himself, breath knocked out of his lungs once again. His fingers, still in their place, run over the spot one more time. It’s there that Dan Heng feels it, a tiny bump that sits high in his stomach.
The relaxation quickly turns to panic.
His heart lurches into his throat, the steam feeling like chains around his neck. For a moment, his vision blurs and he isn’t in the bathtub at the Astral Express, but back in the past, back to soft hands and a softer smile before it was all taken away from him and replaced by someone who wanted him dead.
He snaps back to reality with a gasp, violent and unsteady. His hands cling to the sides of the tub and he barely has time to regain himself before leaning over the side, vomit spilling from his lips and falling to the floors. Tears, unwilling on his part, well in his eyes and he sobs regretfully. The heat in his body rises higher, the hot water aiding in making him feel sicker.
Without getting up, he leans forward, undoing the clog to the drain and leans back as the water slowly drains. With a few shaken breaths, he forces his eyes to look down on his stomach. His belly is flat, but he knows that it will not last for very long. How much time does he have before it finally fills in, before he has to lock himself in his room and never come out? How is he going to get rid of them before anyone sees them?
His mind spins and spins, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that make him feel even more nervous than before.
He turns the dial above the knob, making go to a lukewarm temperature and he turns on the shower, refusing to take another bath. Dan Heng uses the wall to stand, leaning his body weight against it. Now that he notices them, he can feel the weight of them, sitting against the bottom of his ribs as they wait for their descent.
He runs a finger over his ribs, feeling the little bumps inside of him and he gags, bile burning at the back of his throat. He can’t do this, he firmly decides, he absolutely can’t for far too many reasons that he can’t explain. A knock on the door startles him and he nearly falls over, his feet nearly slipping out from under him.
“Dan Heng? Are you okay?” Caelus’s voice rings from the other side of the door. “Breakfast is ready if you want to join us.”
The idea of eating twists his stomach even further, but he can’t let them know. Some part of him, the one that isn’t clouded by fear, reminds him that the crew isn’t going to hurt him, that they will do everything in their power to protect and help him. But the him of now, the him that can feel the nausea peaking, does not think about that.
“I’ll be out soon.” He says, keeping his voice normal.
Through the sounds of the water, he hears Caelus walking away, footsteps fading until all he can hear is the drain running. He leans his head against the wall, willing back the urge to start crying. The only bright side of this whole matter is the fact that they aren’t fertilized, so there’s no risk of having them run around the Express.
Still, it does not make him feel better.
Dan Heng turns off the shower, resigning himself to starting his day despite wanting to go back to bed and sleep off the rest of his heat. If he’s lucky, maybe he can also sleep off them coming out of him. Somehow, he doubts that it will be the case. The clear pair of clothes feels tight and scratchy against his skin, a side-effect of his heat and he sighs through his nose, the release careful.
The door to the dining car slides open and the crew is already gathered, the tip of Sunday’s halo sticking out from the rest of them. The smell of breakfast makes him feel sicker, but he pushes it off. He can grab an apple and go back to his room and lock the door and pretend that everything is fine.
At least until Caelus raises his eyes to look at him and concern falls over his face.
“Dan Heng, are you alright?” Caelus stands from his seat next to Sunday, about to move away from the table. “You look pale.”
He opens his mouth to say something, a false reassurance that he’s fine before the scent of eggs wafts across his nose. On March’s plate from where she’s paused in the middle of putting a piece of toast in her mouth, scrambled eggs sit next to the toast with a piece of butter melting next to it.
The sight turns his stomach and it’s the last shove his stomach needs for him to slap a hand over his mouth, a gag sounding through his lips.
Chaos erupts around him, noises and voices blurring together and something is shoved under his mouth. He holds onto it, vomit once again dribbling from his lips. Something in his belly drops slightly and he groans around another wave of vomit. A hand rubs up and down his back, soothing motions that are trying to calm him down only serve to make him more agitated.
He doesn’t want to be touched, but he can’t find it in himself to vocalize that.
Eventually, the nausea fades into a low enough him to where he can think. Slowly, Dan Heng opens his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes. A trash can sits in his hands, Caelus holding it to make sure that it doesn’t fall from his shaking fingers. Himeko’s hand is pressed against his forehead, checking for his temperature and brushing the hair out of his face at the same time.
Behind him, someone who he can only assume as March is continuing to rub his back, but the motion seems jerky as if it had never been done before. He looks over his shoulder, ignoring the spin of the world, and his eyes meet Sunday’s. The Halovian looks uncomfortable with the gaze digging into him, his hand stuttering as if he expects for Dan Heng to tell him to stop.
Instead, he bites his tongue and pulls his eyes away from him.
“Are you okay?!” March asks from somewhere behind Sunday. “I’ve never seen you get sick like that before! Did you come down with something?”
His heart flops down into his belly and back up to his throat, a motion that has the heat in his body fluctuating. He doesn’t have to tell them, he reminds himself, he can lie to them and go back to his room and pretend that he is fine. But another wave of nausea, stronger this time, has him gagging once more.
Nothing comes up; his stomach was too empty for that.
“Dan Heng.” A voice calls from over his right shoulder and he turns his head again, finding Welt uncomfortably close to his personal space. “Is something wrong?”
He could lie, he reminds himself again, there’s no harm in lying.
“I’m… I’m in heat.” The truth feels like tar, like one of those overly sticky sweets that March likes eating. “T-That’s all.”
Himeko hums, letting her hand run from his forehead and into his hair. “When did this start?”
“Today.” He replies, pushing the trash can away from him. “T-There had been no warning of when it would come.”
Not that he expects one for how bad his cycles have been.
“You are a Vidyadhara, correct?” Sunday tilts his head as if he is trying to analyze him. “Did their heats always include this much vomiting?”
Dan Heng flinches, a grimace crossing his face. “That’s…”
He reminds himself, through no sheer amount of force, that the truth is like ripping off a bandage. The sooner he does it, the faster he can get back to his room before this gets worse. He takes a breath, wincing at the faint taste of bile.
“My heats are… different from the other Vidyadharas.” Dan Heng ignores the racing of his heart, inhaling another breath. “Whereas the female Vidyadharas have a heat that comes and goes within days, the male Vidyadharas have a different process.”
Caelus looks surprised. “Different process?”
“The male Vidyadharas lay eggs with their heats.”
Behind him, March chokes on her spit.
Welt furrows his brows. “Would the term for that not be ‘rut’ then?”
March chokes on another lodge of spit.
“For some male Vidyadharas, that is the case. However, some have the… unfortunate fate of having heats instead of ruts. The process is the same, just instead of giving someone the eggs, they’ll…”
Dan Heng’s cheeks color red, a deeper hue than the one from the fever. “T-They’ll… lay the eggs.”
“Ah…” Himeko nods, painfully slow.
“It is nothing that you need to concern yourself with. I will be fine.” Dan Heng forces himself to stand straight, pulling himself away from the brief comfort of the crew. “I will need to isolate myself in my room for a few days until this passes. I will be back to normal once this is over.”
He turns, about to go back to his room without food, when Caelus grabs his arm, pulling him backwards. He stumbles into March’s arms, her hands catching him before he can catch himself. Caelus stares at him with a stern look, hands on his hips and he’s reminded of a mother scolding her child.
“You are not going to isolate yourself when you’re feeling like this.” The Trailblazer says. “We’re a crew, Dan Heng. We go through things together and you’ll go through this with us.”
March nods. “Exactly, we’re a little family! We take care of each other when we need help!”
Sunday looks away, eyes pointed to the floor as his gaze shifts somewhere far away. “Family…”
“But that’s…” He sighs, knowing them far too well. “Fine, I will let all of you help, just please let go of me.”
Dan Heng rights himself when March finally lets go, the world once again spinning. Welt grabs his arm as he leans too far off to one side, vision blacking out for just a moment. His breaths feel heavy in his lungs and sweat drips down his forehead to soak into the collar of his shirt. All in all, he feels like a mess.
Himeko grabs his other arm, helping to keep him upright. “What do you need us to do?”
“My bed, please. I’m not… going to be able to do much like this, so comfort would be nice.” He replies. “This is… I’m not…”
He takes in another breath. “This is going to hurt badly. I–”
“It’s okay, Dan Heng, we get it.” March smiles, nodding her head again. “We’ll take good care of you.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
The care can only go so far when he becomes too weak to move.
Another round of vomit leaves his lips, dripping into the bowl under his chin. Caelus holds him up with one arm around his shoulders while the other helps him hold the bowl. He feels sicker than he did two days ago when he first came clean about this and he’s felt a shift in his abdomen since then, the eggs detecting from his ribs to sink lower in his body.
Now, there’s a prominent bump that forms his stomach, the shape indicating that there’s more than one egg in there. Somehow, that feels like it explains why he’s been so sick. He moans as the nausea settles down, Caelus slowly letting him down to sink into the nest. He doesn’t remember when he made it, too caught up in the haze of sickness and fever, but he does remember what is in said nest.
Thick blankets that they once reserved for when they docked on colder planets make up the bottom layer of the nest, making sure that he’s always comfortable even when he doesn’t feel like it. Pillows, an unneeded amount of them if he was being honest, sit behind his head and at his sides to hold when his stomach weighs far too much for him to get comfortable.
Articles of the crew’s clothing, scented by the people who they belong to, round out the layers leading to a mildly comfortable Dan Heng.
“Are you done?” Caelus whispers. “Do you still feel like you’re going to be sick?”
He always feels like he’s going to be sick, but he shakes his head. The Trailblazer puts the bowl down on the ground, crossing his legs as he situates himself next to the nest. Out of all of them, Caelus has been here the most, to a point where Dan Heng is starting to wonder if he’s actually slept the past few days.
A shift in his belly, another uncomfortable moment, causes a pained gasp to leave his lips. By his own calculations, they should be here in another two or three days, but the idea of this lasting any longer is making him want to cry.
“Dan Heng?!” Caelus panics and he whines pathetically. “Are you–”
“It’s the eggs.” He replies in a chipped tone. “They just… dropped lower.”
Caleus settles, panic still on his face as he lets out a slow breath, letting the motion take the last of the pain away.
“Are they coming now?”
He shakes his head. “No, not for a few days. I will inform you when they do.”
“Can I… do anything for you?” Caelus’ eyes shift away, locking to one of the pillows behind him. “I feel a little useless.”
Despite how awful he feels, Dan Heng still manages to raise an eyebrow. “You have been far from useless, Caelus. Aren’t you the one who has been here for the past hour making sure there’s a bowl to catch the vomit?”
“I know, but that’s–” Caelus stops, sighing through his nose before continuing. “It’s not fair that we have to sit here and watch you suffer in pain like this. We can’t take away your fever or your sickness or even the pain. We can just… watch.”
For a moment, he doesn’t understand. He’s been through heats like these before, better and worse. But Dan Heng knows what it must looks like on the outside looking in. Hesitantly, he reaches out a hand to place it on the Trailblazer’s knee, getting the boy to look at him.
“If you wish to be of more assistance, my back has been hurting.” It’s a lie and a truth, something in the middle ground to make Caelus feel better. “You could massage me if you wish.”
Dan Heng does not focus on the light that sparks back into Caelus’ eyes.
━━━━━━━━━━━
If there was one thing that he hated about his heats, it is the fact that it is rare for him to keep anything down.
Case in point, March is currently sitting next to him, bowl of broth in her lap and a spoon in her hand. In front of her, he’s vomiting into a bucket, the broth unable to stay down long enough for him to feed anything off of it. It burns his throat and he lets a few tears fall, reaching for the glass of water next to him.
Unsurprisingly, water is the only thing that he can keep down.
“You need to eat something, Dan Heng.” March says, her voice lowered into a gentle mutter. “It’s not good for–”
March catches herself before she can finish her sentence, but he already knows what she was about to say.
“The eggs aren’t alive, March. They haven’t been fertilized by anyone.” They would have been, once upon a time, back when he was still Dan Feng and the love of his love had held his stomach, kissing each spot of his belly as if he knew exactly where the eggs were. “They won’t die if I don’t eat anything.”
“But you’ll die!” March suddenly yells, brows contorting into concerned anger. “You haven’t eaten anything in days! The eggs are about to come in less than a day and you–!”
“March.” He sternly cuts her off and her mouth clicks closed. “I know. I’m aware. I’m trying my best.”
The girl deflates, sinking into herself. Her eyes water and he grabs the bowl and spoon from her, setting it on the hard ground as she wipes the tears from her eyes.
“I don’t want to lose you.” March sniffs, a sob escaping her. “I can’t...”
His eyes soften. “I’ll be fine, March. I’m not going to die from a heat. I’ve had them this bad before and I’ve always been fine. This will be no different.”
She falls onto his chest, her forehead hitting against one of his sore breasts and he refrains from wincing. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around her. It isn’t often that they hug, even less so if he’s the one starting it, but he doesn’t mind doing it this one time.
“I’m going to be okay, I promise.” He whispers into her ear. “Me and the eggs will be fine. We’ll both come out of this okay.”
March sniffs, a wet sound that indicates that she isn’t exactly done crying yet. “W-When you give birth, can we… put them somewhere safe?”
Dan Heng resists the urge to tell her that there is nowhere safe enough to put his unfertilized eggs without worrying his head off. “Where would you like them?”
“Here.” March buries her head further into his chest. “On the Astral Express. They’ll be safe and we can always visit them, even if they aren’t alive.”
Once again, he’s flashed back to a past that he can never have, back to the love of his life who held his stomach when their first clutch failed that he would always love him, that they could always try again, that they would always remain in their hearts. He doesn’t remember much of that first clutch anymore, buried beneath feelings that he doesn’t want to untangle.
He rests his lips in her hair, the scent of the strawberry shampoo she has making his stomach turn, but he has no need or want to push her away. “I think… we can do that if Welt and Himeko allow for it.”
The girl nods her head. “I’ll ask them later, just let me stay here for a while.”
He’d let her stay there forever if it meant that she stopped crying.
━━━━━━━━━━━
It’s the day before he gives lays the clutch and he has never felt more exhausted.
Between the morning sickness that Caelus so affectionately calls it, to the aches and pains in his body, to the lack of decent sleep that he hasn’t been getting, Dan Heng feels frayed around the edges and he wants this to be over already. He’s thankful that he’s able to get a few naps in when he can, the tiniest amount of sleep making him feel just the littlest bit better.
It’s with one of these naps that he wakes up to Sunday sitting next to his bed.
He sits there with a book in his lap, a prayer whispered off his lips even though he can’t hear it. For a moment, he wonders if Sunday is trying to get the eggs out of him faster before the prayer stops, his halo faintly glowing before it fades back to its dim golden sheen.The Halovian opens his eyes, the two of them locking gazes and Sunday is the first who looks away, head aimed downwards towards the book.
Dan Heng, despite the lower half of his body aching due to the descending eggs, rolls himself over to his back so that he can listen for every word. For a while, the Halovian says nothing, quiet as a mouse if it weren’t for the way he clutches and unclutches his book.
“The only family I liked was Robin.” Sunday finally says, breaking the quiet. “Out of everyone in the Family, she was the one that I liked the most. She had her ways, but she always loved me, even when we never saw eye to eye on things. When I had lost her, I had once thought all concepts of family to be lost on me. I was fine with that.”
Sunday turns the book in his hands and Dan Heng realizes that it’s the book he has with him in combat. Something tightens in his chest and he bristles, sitting up on his elbows to push himself into the other side of his nest. Subconsciously, he puts a hand over his stomach. He's in no condition to fight if Sunday starts something, but he will not go down without a fight.
“I was in your position once before.” Sunday mutters as if he’s lost in thought, somewhere far away that isn’t here. “My puberty had hit and I had my own clutch. My Father had been furious despite my body doing what felt right. For months, he resented me until I gave birth to them. He had taken them from me the moment they entered the world, barely even alive inside their shells.”
The Halovian leans forward, resting his hand under Dan Heng’s on his stomach. Sunday’s eyes finally met his own and a shiver of dread runs down his spine. His breath quickens and he realizes in that moment that it is just the two of them, alone in a room where he’s at his most vulnerable. The door is shut and if he screams, he isn’t sure if anyone is going to hear him.
Sunday stares at him as if they were back in Penacony again, the two of them on opposing sides and Dan Heng wills the urge to summon his weapon.
“My Father had smashed them.” Sunday says and the room goes cold, his heart leaping into his ears. “They were unfertilized, no life at all, just empty shells that contained nothing. I had been devastated, but Father had told me that my womb was not a gift at all, that only Robin was allowed to have that gift. My Father had someone remove my womb when I was merely ten.”
Dan Heng swallows, throat dry. “You–”
“This is your clutch, is it not?” The Halovian blinks. “Lifeless, empty, unable to form anything but pain and misery.”
Sunday removes his hand, reaching behind him and Dan Heng strikes. He summons Cloud-Piercer in his hand, the tip of the spear stopping just inches from one of Sunday’s arteries in his neck. In his hands, Sunday holds the sash that was around his neck. The Halovian stares at him with awkwardness, a sign of hesitancy that wasn’t present before.
“I hadn’t realized until I joined your crew how wrong it was of my Father to do that to me, to make me suffer like that. They all supported you, took care of you, reminded you that you were loved. None of them ever made you suffer.” Sunday looks down at the spear still pointed at his neck. “It was your crew that had shown that to me.”
Dan Heng lets the spear fade, his arm falling to his side. He stares at the sash, trying and failing to figure out Sunday’s reasoning. “Why give me this?”
“March mentioned that you were family, all of us were.” Sunday mutters. “I had felt complicated feelings around that given that Robin was the only family I truly loved. I had wanted to accept it, but it had felt wrong to do so. But seeing how you all treated each other, how you all supported each other, reminded me that I could have two families: The one I have with Robin and the one I have with the Astral Express.”
Dan Heng picks up the sash from Sunday’s hands, letting it fall into the nest. He lays down on his side, still facing the Halovian. He buries his nose in the sash, feeling something that had been missing slot itself into place at that moment. He opens his eyes from when he had unknowingly closed them, suddenly far too sleepy.
“Please keep them safe.” Sundy flips open his book, the verses on the pages blurring his vision. “Do not let anyone take this dream from you.”
Dan Heng looks up with half-lidded eyes, nodding his head. “I won’t.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
From the moment Dan Heng wakes up, he knows that something is wrong.
The fever that he’s had for the past couple of days feels like it is cooking him from the inside out, clothes sticking his skin. His body trembles with shivers, fluctuating between too hot and too cold. His stomach, which had once been a mild bump, is now distended, looking more akin to six months gestation. Hesitantly, he presses a hand to the eggs and a contraction rips through him like lightning.
His back arches off the nest, mouth open in a silent scream that takes all of the breath from his lungs. The eggs shift lower with the contraction and he gasps, the air finally back in him. He reaches for his phone, turning it on and going to the group chat for the Express. He does not expect for anyone to answer, but it is nice to keep them in the loop.
[ Dan Heng ]: Please do not panic, but I am currently in labor.
[ Dan Heng ]: The eggs should come on their own in a few hours, so please do not worry.
With that, he shuts off his phone and closes his eyes to another contraction. He counts them in his head, sliding into a mindset that he had once thought lost. The contractions are far apart right now, barely coming together. He has just enough time to prepare everything and get it ready.
Pushing himself out of bed on shaking legs, he moves through the Express, gathering food that he knows that he can keep down and enough water to last for hours. He grabs towels, bowls, and washcloths on his way back, stopping a few times to breathe through a contraction. The door to his room slides closed, dropping the items in the far corner of his nest where it won’t disturb him.
He cracks open a water bottle, chugging half of it and pouring part of it onto a washcloth. He pats down his face, removing the sweat that cakes his bangs to his forehead. He stripes himself naked, tossing his clothes onto some books as he climbs back into the next. Another contraction passes as Dan Heng is attempting to make himself comfortable, forehead buried into the pillows. He breathes as he adjusts himself to get on his hands and knees.
He sits a finger inside of his hole, grimacing at the slick that coats it. He doesn’t feel the descending which relieves some part of himself. The eggs aren’t here yet. He has plenty of time. He needs to focus on himself for now. Dan Heng lays down on his side, ignoring how badly the sweat sticks to his skin. He grabs the half-empty water bottle and chugs the rest of it before opening another one and putting it off to the side.
He buries his nose in the scent of the Astral Express, of the little family that has grown around him. He wonders where they are, but he’s also happy that they aren’t here to see the mess that he is becoming. Then again, he doubts that they will mind at all.
It’s a few minutes into his next contraction, the eggs moving down lower, when the door slides open and Caelus almost falls to the ground. March nearly runs right into him, both of them out of breath. He looks at them, furrowing his brows.
“What–” He stops, grunting through another contraction. They’re getting closer now, he notes. “What are you doing here?”
March immediately climbs into the nest by his knees, grabbing the wet cloth that had fallen from his head at some point to wipe down his face. “We got your text message, silly! Did you think we were going to leave you alone?”
“Yes.” He answers without missing a beat. “I would have preferred that.”
Caelus climbs into the nest after her, having the decency to take off his shoes. He sits against the pillows, adjusting Dan Heng so that he has his back against Caelus’ chest, their hands slotting together in a tight grip.
“We wouldn’t leave you like this, not when we promised.” Caelus brushes the hair out of his face, unbothered by the sweat. “Sunday is with Welt and Himeko. All three of them are trying to make it as fast as they can.”
Dan Heng grunts. “A-Are we really going to have everyone in my room?”
“Why not? Don’t you want help welcoming them into the world?” March shrugs a shoulder as she pats his knee.
Before he can say anything, a contraction far more severe than the last ones stings right through him. His vision whites out and his back arches off Caelus’s chest, a raw scream releasing from his lips. Caelus and March are yelling into his ears, but all he can feel are the eggs getting lower and lower, pressing against the opening of his hole.
Throwing tact and dignity out the window, he opens his legs and sticks a finger into his hole. Instead of feeling soft flesh, he feels the very top of an egg. It’s too high up for it to come down and far too early for him to push, so he’s stuck in a limbo of suffering. He leans back against Caelus, holding back a whimper that threatens to escape.
“A-Are they coming?!” Caelus panics into his ear. “D-Do you need anything?!”
He wants them to leave him alone to suffer, but getting them to ignore this is akin to pulling teeth. His tongue licks across dry lips, the fever rising to coat his cheeks in a faint red hue. Dan Heng finally shakes his head in response, leaning it back to rest on the Trailblazer’s shoulder.
“No… I’m fine…” He feels tired, drained of everything in his body and he hasn’t even given birth yet. The words March once said to him days ago come running back into his brain, the distant fear that he might actually die. Even more distant, he’s aware that something is wrong. “March… Go get… Welt and Himeko…”
Dan Heng swears that he has never seen her run so fast out of the room before and he burns it into his memory for later.
“What about me?” Caelus asks. “Do you need me to leave?”
The response he has is instantaneous. The grip he has on Caelus’ hands tighten and he leans further back, planting his weight into his lap. “Don’t… go.”
His body shakes, a wave of hot and cold washes over him and he feels sick. The boy must catch the paling of his face because he grabs the bowl that was next to him for such emergencies. The vomit burns coming up, his nose runny and he lets the first batch of tears fall from his eyes.
Dan Heng thinks that he has never been this miserable.
“...Thank you.” He sinks into Caelus, closing his eyes. “I’m… sorry.”
The Trailblazer doesn’t say anything at first, just puts the bowl off to the side before patting his shoulder. “No need to be sorry if you felt sick. I’m just glad that you got it out of your system.”
“Right…” Dan Heng nods, feeling sleep attempting to claim him. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a bit. If anything gets worse, I’ll… let you know.”
He doesn’t catch what Caelus says before darkness takes him.
━━━━━━━━━━━
Dan Heng wakes up to the feeling of three things.
The first thing is Caelus, his hands still holding onto his, a comforting reassurance that he has not left yet. The second is Welt and Himeko, the former of the two is sitting between his legs and spreading his thighs apart. The latter is dabbing a cloth over his forehead, picking up the beads of sweat. The third, and the worst one, is the contraction that runs right through him.
It’s a guttural scream, one that tears into his vocal cords and makes the hearing of everyone in the room ring. Welt is trying to say something to him, but the blurriness of his eyes and the ringing in his ears makes it hard to understand. He blinks away what he realizes are more tears, vision clear as the ringing stops.
“-an Heng? Can you hear me?” Welt’s monotone voice feels like an anchor in his moment. “Are they arriving?”
Dan Heng really wants that question to stop being asked. A part of him, one that lingers from a time that seems so long ago, notes that if he was by himself that this process would have gone a lot faster. Another part of him, one rooted in reality and logic, reminds him that he vomited once and nearly blacked out twice.
Dan Heng brushes his eyes around the room as another contraction settles over him. March and Sunday are absent from the room, a thankful sight as he really didn’t want the Halovian to watch this knowing his own complicated history. He reminds himself to talk about that with Sunday later.
He closes his eyes again, letting his hand drift back down to his hole. The cervix is wider now, dilated to fit the space of the eggs and one touch with a finger shoved inside of him tells him that he’s ready whether he likes it or not. He nods his head, unable to use his words.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready. Let us know what you want us to do.” Welt says.
Stay with me , is what he wants to say, I can’t dare to be alone . But he isn’t alone, not like he would have been in the years before his lover. He has Welt who still has his hand on his thigh, Himeko who lets him hold one of her hands in a vice-like grip, Caelus who is behind him and whispering words of strength, March and Sunday who are somewhere on the express and waiting for the all-clear to see the eggs.
He isn’t alone anymore, not when he has the comfort of his little family.
Dan Heng tucks his chin to his chest, pushing with all of his might on the next contraction. The egg slips further down and he gasps, losing the current momentum he had. He pushes again, ignoring the fact that he doesn’t have a contraction and the egg moves slightly without it. Welt furrows his brows at him and the hand that’s on his thigh moves to his stomach.
He pushes again, a desperate attempt to get this over with so he can have his body back. Over him, Welt and Himeko communicate with their eyes and the woman brings his held hand to her chest, the scent of her rose perfume making his body relax.
“Dan Heng, sweetie, you’re going to wear yourself out doing that.” Her voice is soft despite the admonishment. “Push with the next contraction, dear. We’re right here for you.”
He looks over at Welt who nods his head and Caelus’ hand squeezes his left. He takes a deep breath, waiting for the next contraction to push. He grits his teeth, moaning past them as the egg slides further until it’s pressed against his hole. Dan Heng stops, out of breath and tired, but continues to push with the next one.
And then the burn comes.
It takes his breath away, puts dots into his vision, and he cries out with a sob. He digs his heels into the nest, physically trying and failing to push himself away from the pain. Welt’s other hand steadies itself on the tip of the egg, the thumb of the hand on his stomach rubbing in soothing motions.
“You’re almost there.” Caelus whispers. “You’re almost done.”
He is not done, he wants to correct. He can still feel another couple of eggs inside of him, but he can’t find enough energy to snap at him. Instead, he redirects the anger towards the egg begging to come out of him, the contraction ripping him in two and he feels something tear as the egg finally descends out of him. Dan Heng gaps, tears rolling down his face as he sobs.
Welt grabs the egg, placing it off to the side as they all wait for the next one. He doesn’t stop sobbing even as he delivers the other two eggs, both just as painful as the other one. Slowly, he opens his eyes, green hues staring down at them. The eggs are colored in a mixture of gold and red, hints of his original form leaking through them. Himeko brushes the hair out of his face like a proud mom and Caelus tells him that he did such a good job, Welt nodding his head at him.
He’s spent, tired beyond all measures and he’s just glad that this is over. He pushes himself up out of Caelus’ grasp, fully intending on getting clean when a contraction, far more painful and far more intense, surges through him like water to rocks. In an instant, he goes from being tired to being hunched over on the ground, screaming in pain as if someone had cut out a vital body part.
Welt’s hands grab him to pull him back up, righting him against his shoulder as he screams again. He feels something thick and wet run down his thighs and he reaches a hand down. Blood coats his hand, dripping down onto the floor as it dawns on him what the wrong feeling was.
Before he can even make an understanding of it, another contraction rips through him and he seizes on Welt’s shoulder, mouth opened in a silent gasp. Himeko grabs his other hand, squeezing it tight.
“What’s going on?!” She exclaims.
“A-Another egg!” He gasps, his blood coated hand pressing down on his stomach. Dan Heng can feel the faintest edge of it sitting high up in his stomach. It must have been hidden by the other eggs in his body and before he can even begin to mourn that fact, the contraction sends the egg lowering.
It presses against his hole, pushing against the rim and burning like no other. He pushes with the next contraction and finds that the egg isn’t moving, stuck in place. A quick check with his bloodied hand shows that the egg is big, bigger than its kin and Dan Heng, nicely, freaks out. His breaths come in hyperventilated pants, the knowledge that he will have to get it out shaking him.
But he needs to do this.
Shaking off Himeko’s hand and Welt’s shoulder, he leans forward, one hand on the ground and the other guiding the egg down. He pushes with the next contraction, putting everything he has into it. The egg, unfortunately, refused to come down. It’s still stuck against his rim, frozen in place as if his insides were made of ice. He keeps pushing, face redding as he forces it to come down. He loses his breath, sniffling up the snot in his nose as he decides to attempt something a little more dangerous.
Sending a glance to Welt and Himeko, Dan Heng shoves his fingers inside of him. He cries, the two adults asking concerned questions that he ignores answering. The egg is pushed upwards i the motion and he grasps the bottom with his hand. On the next contraction, he pushes, forcing the egg to come with him.
It presses against the rim again and the burn steals some of his breath away, but he continues to pull the egg down. He grits his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this attuned to his body before, the all-encompassing need to see this be finally over. He grinds his teeth, sinking his hip further into the floor as he gives one last hard tug.
“Get… OUT!”
The egg rips out of him, tearing him even further as it falls from his fingertips and onto the floor. Blood gushes after it, running in a stream down his thighs and the last thing he remembers before passing out was thanking Celesta that it was done.
━━━━━━━━━━━
Everything is one giant spot of pain when he wakes up.
He’s not in his room anymore or in the comfortable nest. He’s in the infirmary, the low buzz of the lights over him stinging his eyes. He blinks, the temptation to go back to sleep strong, but he ignores it in favor of seeing the eggs on the other bed. All of them are lined next to each other, red and gold sparkling across lifeless shells. However, one of them catches his eye. One of the eggs, the very last one that ripped him even more, is speckled with green and black, the shell cracked down the middle.
He sits up, wincing at the burn between his legs to get up from bed. Almost immediately, he collapses to his knees, a cry leaving him. His body is weak, far weaker than he had once thought, but he still pushes himself up. He inches his way towards the shells, leaning against the railing as he runs his fingers over them.
As expected, the lives within them don’t have a heartbeat, left to rot as a memoriam of memories that he will never have. His fingers run over the crack of the last egg, jagged edges digging into his flesh and he wonders if his former lover would have loved them too, if he would have held them to his chest even if they had no life in them.
Dan Heng has done this before, his body worn and torn apart by heats so many times that he has stopped keeping track. And yet, he doesn’t know why this one in particular hurts him emotionally. He does not know why this heat, this one alone, was the reason for the tears that rose in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks with a heavy layer of grief.
He knows that they were never going to have life in them, that they were never going to survive once out of his womb. And yet, some part of him gives him the answer without asking for it. His mind flashes to a daydream, one much more peaceful and quiet than what he has now. The arm of his lover is wrapped around his shoulders, soft laughter filling his ears as they watch the children play with the crew, so loved and adored.
And just like that, he falls to his knees again, the ache in his legs nothing compared to the ache in his heart.
“Y-You…” He swallows, choking on the words that he’s wanted to say for years but never could. “You would have… loved them.”
Somehow, that hurts so much more than anything in his life.
The doors open and footsteps track across the space to stop next to him. He looks up, Sunday’s now washed sash hanging off his neck. The Halovian doesn’t say anything, just stands next to him in silent support. Dan Heng swallows back more tears, pulling himself together before they can actually fall.
“How many times have you done this?” Sunday asks.
“I’ve lost count.” He replies, knees aching. “I’ve done this for so many years that it feels so normal now.”
The Halovian looks down at him. “Was it really normal or was it something that you had convinced yourself it was?”
“What do you mean?” Dan Heng asks, furrowing his brows.
Sunday’s hand drifts to his own stomach, a foreign look in his eyes that he can’t exactly pull apart at the moment. “If it had been me, if I had been the one to give birth to children that would never be able to breathe or live, I too would have convinced myself that it was normal.”
Suddenly, Dan Heng understands what Sunday is trying to say, the words that seem too painful for both of them to admit out loud. He inhales a breath, tears rising to burn his eyes. He nods, unable to say anything else.
“Did…” He hesitates, worried about the reaction that he might get. “Did you ever mourn them?”
“Every day.” The Halovian replies, voice toned into a whisper. “I mourned them every day for years. I dreamed about them, about the life they could have had, about what my father had done to them. I’m aware that they weren’t alive, but it still hurts even now.”
Dan Heng grabs his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“And I for you.” The Halovian squeezes back.
They don’t move from their spot for hours.