Anniversaries
(Meta note: this is based upon [real science](%5C) that will make many people happy if it comes to fruition.)
Anniversaries
Jake was quite nervous. It was a special date with a charming young lioness named Sasha. His father had given his congratulations, and as he was stepping out the door, Uncle George -- whose relationship he understood was not by blood -- gave him some advice.
"Kid," he sighed, fur greying with age, but eyes still sharp, "I know your nervous, but no matter what happens, trust yourself. I have a feeling tonight will be good."
"You're just saying that because it's your anniversary."
George bounced his eyebrows twice, and Jake left with a chuckle.
Jake would have been more confident in this advice had uncle George actually met Sasha. Somehow, it felt wrong to have her in his house, even if its structure was fairly rare and well tolerated. Like many, Jake was sure of himself, but felt social pressure from his parents, however understanding they might be.
He left down 23rd street, headed for where he would meet her: a large park, on a quiet evening, two hours before sunset. As he saw her sitting on a bench, not yet noticing him, he wondered wondered if his mother had ever been nervous about his father. Jake tried to tell himself that didn't matter.
Sasha was reading her math textbook. It was neither of their favorite subject, but one that he needed to be an architect, and she for a career in teaching. When he approached, she looked up and spoke first.
"Hi," she said with a smile, her soft yellow eyes looking up at him.
Jake's heart accelerated, and his jeans became less comfortable.
"Hi," he repeated, his brown eyes unable to break from her face.
He sat down next to her, very close; she did not object. Without even thinking, he just wrapped their muzzles together; his somewhat longer than hers. Not only did she did not object, but tried to push their heads closer together.
He wanted to stay that way forever, but she pushed back. "Can't we have dinner first?" she asked jestingly.
"Okay," Jake replied, too nervous for humor. He was trying to focus on his uncle's advice: trust yourself.
They went three blocks to the diner, and Jake tried to start some conversation as they sat down. "How's math?" was all he had managed to think of.
"I hope they don't make me teach it," she sighed.
She was smiling, so it was at least a good thing. In fact, to Jake's surprise, she talked about math class for quite a while, and even did some impressions of Mr. Leopold.
Jake laughed, eyes never leaving her, and their food arrived before they knew it. Jake knew she would be good with kids; she was able to talk about anything, it seemed like, even if some of the subject that interested her he could care less about.
However, he was hoping tonight would not be about talking; it was their three month anniversary -- something of a linguistic paradox, but he didn't care. All he knew was that when she left briefly to use the restroom, it seemed like all the light got sucked out of the room.
Jake just stared back at his reflection in the glass, and a mixed breed jackal looked back at him. He never knew what the rest of him was; the ears were too short, the spots were different, and while he had his father's long nose, he guessed he had his mother's teeth; they were small, sharp, and the wrong size for his mouth. He had to be careful what he ate -- for both that and other reasons.
But it was his mother he always wondered about; his father never talked about her, and his uncle always told a story of some other sort whenever she came up. He didn't even know her name, and had never seen a picture. His father seemed to believe she didn't exist, but he never could. He just knew something was missing, and that Uncle George seemed to be doing his best to fill in for whatever it was.
When Sasha returned, and all the light came back into the room, it pushed such gloomy thoughts back into the dark corner of his mind from whence they came.
"Shall we go?" she suddenly asked.
"Go?" he repeated.
"This is our three month anniversary," she purred, and kissed him on the cheek, "I'd like to do something... unforgettable."
"Yes," he said, voice considerably more excited than he wanted it to sound.
"Well? Any suggestions?" she purred, brushing her foot against his leg to give him a hint.
A thought came to him momentarily. "How about -- we go over to my place. My father said said he and Uncle George would be going out." The subject always made him nervous, and it sounded odd, but she did nothing but smile.
"Okay," she answered, and even paid for dinner.
Jake silently vowed to repay her when they returned home.
***
Fortuantely, Jake found the front door locked; that was a good sign. He got his key, and opened it, bringing them to the front room. He fervently hoped that the house was in good order, and wasn't disappointed.
Once they were both through the door, and he closed it, Jake said what social reflexes told him to.
"Please, sit down."
Saying it made him feel like she was one of his father's business partners instead of someone who loved him, being so formal; but her eyes made it clear she thought of him as much more than that.
He locked the door again, and sat down beside her on the couch.
Sasha said nothing else. When he sat down, she simply stared longingly at him. He stared back. He could smell her, imagine the feel of her fur from all those kisses, and began to wonder her undiscovered body looked like. He decided there was only one way to find out, and started leaning toward her for a kiss.
She leaned back, and their muzzles met sooner than he had expected. As the imagination became reality, as their fur coats rubbed against each other, the rest of the world disappeared for Jake. When he closed his eyes, only three things existed: their fur, her smell, and the taste of her mouth.
However, suddenly a thought struck him, and knocked him out of the kiss: if he was going to do this, he felt that she should know what she was getting into. He knew that he wasn't the most handsome, especially being a mixed-breed of two species which were quite unlike each other. To make matters worse, before he even said a word, she seemed concerned.
"What is it, Jake?" she asked quietly.
"It's -- I just want you to know," Jake managed to drag out, "what -- what you're getting."
She smiled. "Don't be silly, I love you."
"No, I'm serious," Jake whispered firmly, "I want you to know."
She pulled him gently onto his back, and wrapped her body around him. He willingly put his head on her chest, feeling her modest breasts through the fabric of her shirt.
He started talking as she stroked his chest. "Sasha, I'm -- well, I'm a mess. I've had medical problems all my life. I'm genetically strange, my father says. I used to have sickle cell disease before they redid my bone marrow, I might still have macular degeneration, I have stomach upset often, I mean -- I don't know what I'm going to be like in another 5 years. I could get diabetes, or alzheimers, or -- I don't even know."
She kissed him. "Jake, don't worry about that. I --"
"I wasn't born with a face," he shuddered, "and a surgon put me together. I had to wear leg braces for years..." Jake just started babbling on, one thought tumbling out of his mouth after another. Jake wondered if she was determined to say she cared for him no matter what, like it was some kind of test.
Eventually, when words ended, tears began. "I don't, don't know what else to say," he concluded, "Sasha, I love you, and I don't want you to have to go walking down the street one day with me, and my tail falls off, or I have a heart attack, or --"
"Shhh," she whispered, "I will always love you, Jake."
She started petting down his chest, and held him.
"Even -- even if I can't see you, or hear you or -- ever kiss you again?" he whimpered.
"That's what love is," she whispered, "caring about someone, no matter what."
She started licking the tears from his face, and that tickled enough to make him laugh. And once he got laughing, her ray of sunshine brightened him once again.
Before he knew it, their maws were once again interlocked. All the sensations returned of her; smell, taste, and touch. But just as he was trying to add another sensation, feeling for the button on her pants, he heard faint laughter outside. He was about to ignore it, until it got close enough to insert a key into the lock.
He panicked, broke off, jumped up, and dragged her with him. Without even thinking, they ran through the kitchen as he heard the door's latch retract, and were around the corner and into his bedroom as he heard the door close. The laughter now walked into the living room, and its rhythm and tambre made it instantly recognizable as George and Raymond.
As he sighed, and flopped down onto the unmade bed, in the dim light of him room, he realized his room was a mess. His girlfriend was staring at a large pile of clothes, part on the floor, part hanging down on the dresser by the television set.
"I'm -- sorry about the mess," was all he could muster, quite embarassed that in his haste he was unable to present this room to her any other way.
"It's okay," she purred, "all I want to think about right now is you."
She laid down on the bed next to him, and they picked up where they left off.
As they were fondling, and Jake got down to her private parts, however, she seemed to take a different tack. Perhaps practicing safe sex -- because a 40% chance of natural pregnancy was still a risk -- she went for his pants instead, and pushed his head toward her crotch.
He was glad to do anything that might please her, and so quickly put his tongue to work on her lips. It was the strangest thing he had ever tasted, but the quien moans that started rising from above him made him try to ignore it and continue on. He just concentrated on trying to give her the best gift that he possibly could.
But after 5 continuous minutes of licking, and even daring himself to get his tongue further inside by an inch or two, she seemed to be just about where she started. He did feel an occasional spasm, but not much seemed to be happening other than that. His jaws and tongue getting tired, he changed to instead using his finger, running it in and out like he guessed a boy might feel.
"Oh, Jake," she moaned, which he took to be a good thing.
He sped up a little, getting reactions for her hips to resist him, and maybe one more twitch or two. However, the acute awareness of the sensation that he was inflicting made his already-hard cock want to feel the watching sensation instead of his finger.
But just as he was having this thought, and rubbing himself against her leg wouthout really thinking, she suddenly scooted down a little bit beside him, and got her own mouth tho his crotch. She seemed so powerless before that he was surprised to suddenly find her tongue upon him, making him loose concentration upon his finger working around inside of her wet warth.
The sudden sapping of his concentration into a sinkhole of his own sexual pleasure made Jake want to work even harder. As much as it was about pleasing each other, it became a competition of sorts to him: who could concentrate while their nervous system was under siege. Jake's brain did its best by unconsciously synchronizing his arm with a series of involuntary thrusts. However, she was starting to do the same, but at a different pace.
He responded to try and avoid hurting her; and in so doing, turned a clashing of wits into a smooth machine. He poked, she thrusted and grunted, she moved his dick against her mouth, he thrusted, he moved his hand inside her. It was a feedback loop, and each time through it got stronger, making him both feel more and give more.
Jake was groaning continuously, and starting to leak precum into her mouth, by the time that not only her hips but also his finger itself felt clamping occasionally. He presumed this meant she was getting as close as he was. Arm quite tired, and mind quite desiring of his own pleasure, he tried to concentrate on one final fast jitter of his finger.
That last jitter did it. There was more clamping, and it didn't stop, as a groan came from the back of her throat, and her mouth slowed down on him a lot. He felt her spasms coming in an uncontrollable wave, and he decided that she was finishing before he did. While he tried to be happy for her, his own dripping cock made him far too needy to accomplish his thoughts of goodwill.
But before long, when she seemed to relax, her tongue slathered itself all over him in a similar fit to his finger. Like her, it was just enough stimulation to get him riding a wave, which he rode to his climax with a groan. His muscles pumped out his thick seed, but he felt her swallowing it without difficulty. His happiness gave him a sense of emapthy and comfort, as he imagined she felt the same thing.
"Jake," she murmured as he turned his head back toward her face, "that was wonderful."
He felt he could trust her, and said just what was on his mind. "It was. But I have -- no ability to have a child. You needn't have worried."
The lioness didn't mind in the least. "I'll remember that. I guess we'll have to get one merged for us.
"I've been told even that won't work, actually," Jake answered without thinking, "I'm too hard to repeat."
This seemed to puzzle her for a moment, but she continued on anyway. "Or we could adopt. Or, perhaps if your father makes headway in his genetics work, he might be able to..."
"All I know is that I want to stay with you for the rest of my life," he whispered, and wrapped her in his arms.
She hugged him back. Still naked, and more than comfortable with each other, they got under the covers and went to sleep in each other's arms.
***
The first thing Jake was aware of was the light coming in his bedroom window. Then he could hear gentle breathing, and felt soft fur. He knew instantly, to his delight, that Sasha was with him, and they had the memories of last night.
And then, as he sat up, he realized he was in his room, and that his father or his Uncle would catch them if he couldn't get her out of the room right away.
"Sasha," he whispered gently as he shook her, "wake up."
She stirred, but didn't open her eyes.
"Sasha!" he whispered in a stage voice, "we have to get up before --"
His father as he opened the door, bringing his available time to an end.
She finally stirred, and rubbed her eyes open. "What is it?" she yawned, but when she saw the tall jackal, and the almost-as-tall hyena behind him, her mouth dropped open.
Jake regained his voice first. "Dad, Uncle George, I -- well, Uncle George," Jake babbled as the first thing that entered his mind came out of his mouth, "I did what you said, and you were right."
His father's look was stern but not disapproving. "Do her parents know?" was all he asked.
Jake looked at her.
"Yes, they know," she replied, "I'm, I'm sorry, Mr. Tailias."
"You have nothing to be sorry about, as long as they know. This is Sasha, right Jake?"
"Yes," replied Jake meekly, "I was intending to introduce you, but you weren't here, and ..." He never finished the sentence.
"Well then, you two get dressed, and come right out. Jake, your Uncle and I have something we want to discuss with you more important than this." His voice suddenly lost its edge.
Jake's fear changed from his father's reaction, to his father's next action. What could possible be more important than discussing the relationship he had with Sasha -- when they had just been caught in bed?
The door slammed, and Jake's heart started racing. The two young lovers put on the clothes they wore yesterday, and awkwardly walked out of the room. Jake found his uncle and father standing outside, waiting for them.
"Do I get breakfast?" he asked.
"We can get it on the way," replied his father quickly. "Sasha, I really would like to better meet you some other time, but this is very, very important." His voice almost shook.
"I understand," she replied, her face still blank, and left through the front door with a "see you later, Jake."
Before Jake could even begin to apologize, uncle George interrupted. "Raymond," he interrupted an unspoken word, "maybe we should deal with Sasha first."
"No George," he growled, "I've waited twenty years for this, I'm not waiting another hour. I don't want to change my mind." Turning more gently toward his son, he urged, "let's go, Jake."
"Where?" asked Jake, wondering what the five years before his birth were about.
"We're going to Dr. Randolph."
Jake was perplexed. "Why?" he asked blankly.
"You'll see," interrupted the uncle, "trust us."
On the way to Jake's family doctor, George explained while Jake ate a bagel. "Many years ago, as you know, I met Raymond here, and I think you know," he smiled mischeviously with a wink, "a little more than we've told you about us."
"I suspected, yeah," replied Jake flatly through his full mouth; he was too un-nerved to be humorous.
"Well, we had a long talk last night, and it's time we showed you something important. It's incredibly important to both of us. It's about us -- and your mother."
Jake's eyes lit up, as the female whom he had been dreaming about came into focus. It put a quickness in his step which his uncle emulated, apparently just as nervous as Jake was.
They walked into the office, and to Jake's surprise, the cheetad was waiting.
"Ah, George, Raymond, good to see you. What's this about? You scheduled this meeting yesterday, apparently in rather a hurry."
"Today we are publishing a paper which will change shake the foundations of genetics, and we want you to be in on it." Announced Raymond nervously.
Jake was quite baffled by this statement, waiting only for his mother to be referenced sometime in this interview; to finally hear about her whoever she was.
He took some solace in the equal bafflement of Dr. Randolph. "What do you mean?"
"Would you pull up Jake's file, and tell us who his mother is?"
The overweight cheetah relaxed back in his chair. "Very well. This had better be worth cancelling two appointments," he growled.
He spun back to the computer on the right-angled desk, and punched up Jake's file. "Yes, just a minute ... Yes, you're the father, you match 43% ... and the mother isn't on file. That's odd, I thought Myrial was his mother."
Myrial, Jake thought: a name he had seldom heard. Wasn't she one of his father's lab assistants?
But Jake's thought was cut short. Raymond smiled a grin Jake had never seen before, and with a crack in his voice Jake had never heard either, instructed, "now check George."
The cat sighed, typed, and then as the screen came up with the result in several seconds, stopped cold.
"This can't be right," he grumbled, more in horror than anger, typing furiously. More typing came up with the same result. "How -- how is this possible!?"
Jake, on the edge of his seat, was almost unable to take it. "What?" he burst out.
Dr. Randolph looked at him solemnly. "According to this, a 35% match, and a one in millions chance of error... George is your mother."
The hyena instantly reached over and hugged him. "My son," he whispered, "you have no idea how long I've wanted to call you that. My son..."
Jake was still stunned; biology class told him that was impossible. But his uncle was so incredibly happy, he just sat there as he felt tears running from uncle George's eyes. He kept repeating "my son, my son, my son..."
"How?" Jake faintly heard Dr. Randolph ask.
"We are going to publish a paper on defeating imprinting," replied Raymond nervously, though Jake could hear a faint smile, "whose final effects have been 15 years in the making."
When his mother dropped off the table again, Jake revived the subject, still feeling anxiety he wanted relieved. "Who's my mother, really?" he insisted, breaking out of his uncle's embrace.
The cat looked at George, and Jake turned to see a stunned and distraught face. He didn't know that would hurt so much, but he simply couldn't believe it.
"Jake," sighed Dr. Randolph, "it's true. Uncle George, genetically, is your mother. Let me explain, please."
Jake dropped into the only chair in the room.
"Now, you've taken biology. Why can't two males have a child?"
"Because --" He tried his best to put it tactfully. "Because the parts don't fit," was the best he could come up with.
"More than that, the genes don't fit." Randolph's explaination continued looking at Raymond, as if justifying his position. "The way the genomes are organized does not permit the zygote to assemble itself unless a female half and male half are present. This is imprinting. Two males, both imprinted the same way, will not mix, even if the genetic material is transplanted.
"That's correct," continued his father, this time to Jake. "But I was absolutely certain this was not always so. I had done enough work to see what the mechanisms are, and they were mostly just making bits of the genome that would bump into each other instead of connecting. So, I spliced my DNA with your uncle's..."
He sighed, and smiled. "It seemed absolutely impossible at the time. Your DNA would stretch from here to the moon if it were all strung out. Which was inactive, which affected celluar chemistry, which affected your bones, your eyes, your fur -- I still don't know what half of them do. It was trial and error on a massive scale, with an even more massive computer.
His eyes started tearing up, as Jake still struggled to process this information.
"I'm amazed you're even here today. I never thought you would survive the surgery..."
"Someone had to give birth to me," Jake insisted, still wanting to find some female whom he could call 'mother.'
"Would you like to meet her?" asked the cheetah.
Jake trembled at the thought of this long-held dream, source of great wonder and mystery, about to be fulfilled. "Yes," he whispered, his voice failing him.
"Myrial," called Dr. Randolph calmly into the intercom when he pressed the button, "please come into my office."
A female hyena walked quickly in; she took one look at Jake, and seemed to have a sense of familiarity. Jake, even without one, suddenly jumped up and hugged her.
"Mom!" he cried.
She didn't say anything. Once he had embraced her, he backed up to stare at her face. He wanted to burn this face into his memory; replace it with all those he had dreamed of for over ten years.
"Myrial is my lab assistant," Jake faintly heard the cheetah continue, "I've just never understood why your father would just leave her like he did. Now I know why."
"I've been dreaming about you for years," Jake continued, almost defiantly, not seeing her react in nearly as dramatically a way as he did. "Dad never talked about you."
"Well, I'm -- I'm not really the one you should be hugging," she nervously stated. "You wouldn't be here were it not for George."
But Jake just couldn't look at George; he had only ever had one father, and that was the jackal behind him. Jake just couldn't do that.
"I want to see you," he insisted, "I want to -- I love you Mom," he babbled, "and I wish I could just --" he started crying again. "I wish you could just come home with us."
"I knew this would happen," Jake faintly heard George growl to Raymond, "why did you have to do this?"
"Because he would find out sooner or later," snapped Raymond, "if anyone ever did a genenic test on him!"
"Dad?" Jake asked through teary eyes, "why can't Mom live with us?"
"Because -- because I don't love her. I love George, you know that."
"But --" Jake just couldn't bear the thought of being without the female whom he finally got to meet. He wanted to know everything about her; he wanted her to be in his life. But he knew his father would never agree to that.
Instead of finishing the sentence, adrenaline took over. Without warning, he jumped up, and ran out still crying. His father -- both his fathers -- tried to stop him, but he was out of the office before they could even get up. The next instant, before Dr. Randolph could call for a nurse, he was around the corner, down the hall, and out the front door.
***
Jake wasn't sure where he was going. He couldn't go home, or they would find him. There were few other places he even had to go; he went to the one his feet took him to: the cafe where he had his first date with Sashsa. The neon was off, but the glass was clean. As luck would have it, just as she was the first time, she was watching him through the third window from the door.
He walked quickly past all the tables, dodging an exiting patron, and sat down. Even her face was not enough to lift his spirits. "Hi, Sasha," he whimpered, tear trails still coating his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked in empathetic distress, reaching across and taking his wrist.
He took hers back, and looked at her. How was he going to tell her, he silently demanded of himself. He opened his mouth, and tried to do the best he could. "Sasha, I -- I met my mother, today."
She didn't react; he knew she knew how much that meant to him, but she just asked, "and?"
"And... and she's not my mother," he managed to say. To Jake, this was just as impossible as he made it sound.
She looked just as puzzled as Dr. Randolph, but said nothing.
"It's just," he started again, "that this is why I'm all messed up. Dad never told me why. Well, now I know."
She looked sympathetic, but kept waiting for him to say something.
"Sasha," he sighed, as he gripped her wrist, and tried to hold back the tears, "I'm just an experiment. My father finally told me that I'm one of his experiments."
"Experiments?" Sasha repeated, shock now on her face, "did he really say that?"
"No, but I'm wondering if he thinks it. He just --" He never finished the sentence. He didn't understand the biology, and still could not believe the young hyena who gave birth to him seemed to mean nothing to his father. But Sasha interrupted after some silence.
"Jake," she asked quietly, "has he ever treated you badly?"
"No," Jake replied, not seeing what the question had to do with it.
"I mean, if he thought you were an experiment, it'd be like biology class. Did you have to do that experiment on the nemotode worms?"
"Yeah," Jake shuddered in disgust, "cut their heads open, and watch them grow two."
"If your father thought you were an experiment, wouldn't he treat you like that?"
"I suppose," Jake replied, thinking it over.
"But he loves you. I can tell by the way he looks at you. You're his son, Jake, not an experiment."
Jake just couldn't process it all; it made sense, but he just wanted to believe something other than what he heard in that office. "But I am an experiment. He's going to write a paper on me."
"But he loves you, Jake. No matter what--"
"But he won't let me see my mother!" Jake insisted.
"Really?" she asked, somewhat skeptically.
"Well, okay, I suppose he will, but he won't let her mov--" He realized how stupid his complaint was about to sound, so stopped.
She answered after another long pause in the conversation. "Listen, I don't know what you're getting at. But even if your father -- I don't know, even if he used his genetics to give you two tails, I would still love you, and he would too. And I bet even you're uncle would too."
Seizing this opening, Jake blurted, "he's not my uncle -- he's my father."
"Well, wait a minute, who's Raym--"
Jake lowered his voice, and found the words. "He's my father, too. That's the experiment."
Sasha, who was sipping at the moment, just about lost it through her nose.
"You mean you're --"
Jake waited for her to finish the sentence; he would love to be given a name for the type of freak he was. And some part of him gleefully anticipated Sasha to dump him on the spot for it.
But she didn't do either. "Jake, that's nothing to be ashamed of."
That idea set him off. "I'm not ashamed, I'm angry!" he growled, "Do you know how often I've dreamed about meeting my mother? A mother he never admitted but always implied!? Do you know what it felt like when I saw him say no to her!? I met her!! She was the one who gave birth to this experiment!!"
He was clenching his fists inside of her grasp of his wrists, and ignoring the looks he could feelbehind him. "He lied to me!!" he shouted.
"And I think this is why, Jake. Think about what you're doing right now; he didn't want to put you through that."
Jake sighed, and rolled his eyes. "If he had just told me when I was, like, five or something, then none of this anger would have happened in the first place!"
Sasha's voice got quieter as his got louder. "I'm sure he wanted to," she whispered, "hundreds of times."
"Uncle George -- who's not my uncle, whatever -- kept him from it."
"Doesn't that mean he loves you too? He wanted you to avoid all this anger."
Jake just then realized the fact he was never really aware of until that moment: George said he had been holding back all that time; he had been waiting to call him "my son" for Jake's entire life. The difficulty, the desire to tell him, the act he put on for Jake's entire memory of the affectionate but distant uncle, all of it hit Jake all at once.
Though it felt a shadow of his original epiphany, he mumbled, "I suppose it must have been hard on him."
Sasha just nodded.
And then, following the chain of reasoning, he realized George must be worrying about him. He thought nothing of his father Raymond the monster, but saw the hyena as a victim.
"I'd better get back," he suddenly said aloud as he got up.
"Back?" she asked.
"I -- I ran out on them to get here. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He hustled out, and returned to the front door of his house. He was now dreading the moment that was going to occur in five seconds: he would open the door, and either they would hug him, or yell at him, or both. The former was more likely, but in his mind, worse.
He opened the door even more slowly than he had walked here, trying to be as silent as a burgalar. But no such reaction occured. He found his uncle sitting in the den, and could hear the clicking of computer keys furiously upstairs.
"Jake," George whispered, "c'mere."
Jake walked over, and sat down on the end of couch nearest his chair.
"Jake," continued George, "I want to tell you what happened. I'm sorry about grabbing you like that, I -- I just feel like Raymond has gotten all the benefits."
"I understand," Jake replied. He meant it rationally, if not emotionally.
"Listen, son. It was your father's idea. We loved each other very much, and when two people do, they want to have kids. You know what biology says, and your father said, 'I think I can do it, George, but it's going to be messy.' I said, 'I can live with it, Raymond, even if it doesn't work out.'"
Jake shuddered at the thought of his not being here at all.
His new father reached over, and silently invited him into his lap.
Jake sat, but was about as tall as his father was, coming up to George's neck.
The hyena didn't seem to mind in the least, just leaning his head back, as he started stroking Jake's.
"It was twenty years ago. Your father and I moved in, and he worked at nothing else. He almost lost his job, because he had to 'borrow' some of the equipment. You have no idea how hard it was to watch you die on a computer screen tens of thousands of times. He nearly gave up more than once, but I said, 'Raymond, if you give up now, it will all have been wasted.' And he didn't."
George's eyes were tearing up. "Finally," he whispered, "just as he was about to give up for the last time, your stem cells panned out the way they should on that screen."
"You should have seen," he waivered, choking up, "the look on his face -- when -- when you didn't die. M-m-myrial was called, who was his lab assistant at the time, and she said yes, being a hyena and all like me, thinking about the natal environment, and -- and you were born, but," he said with what smile he could muster, "you weren't a pretty sight."
Jake, however wanted to break all of his dreams at once. "Please," he whispered, "how was I? Tell me."
"Well," sighed George, wiping away a tear, "if you really want to know: your eyes were backwards, your liver was in two pieces, your heart was in your leg, your bones weren't growing right, your lungs were too small, I don't even know everything -- but your brain and spine were perfect.
"Dr. Randolph managed to save you by three days of surgery. I still don't know how he did it. I cannot be thankful enough you forgot, or your life would have been a nightmare. Being hours old, you grew back together, and from looking at you now, you'd never know. I just --"
He hugged Jake again, almost crushing him. "I wanted to tell you so many times," he whispered, Jake feeling the tears on his face, "but --"
Jake swallowed, and finally managed to say, "I know ... Dad."
That was enough for a new wave of silent tears, as their embrace continued, neither wanting it to end as Jake stewed in this new information, and searched his heart for the love of a son to give to George.
It seemed an eternity before George called, "Raymond! There's someone here to see you!"
"Tell them I'm --"
George shouted over it, "it's Jake!!"
A crash followed, presumably part of the computer, and the jackal dashed into the room, skidded around the corner, and ran to embrace his son.
"Jake!" he cried, "I was so worried about you!"
Jake was silent, but hugged back, as the visions of his mother started finally to fade in the back of his mind. Over the next few moments of feeling the affection of both his parents, he managed the final feat: taking all the feelings for his father, and hanging them on the hyena's shoulders.
"I'm just glad you're alright. Do you -- forgive me?"
Jake couldn't say no. "Of course, Dad."
"Give me some time to make up what I couldn't get when you were younger, would you?" asked George when they finally let go of each other.
"Sure, Dad," Jake repeated.
The rest of the day was spent talking to George; about the past, about the future, about everything. But all of it had one thing in common: the truth. As promised, Jake spent several months with his former Uncle; his father was there, but this time he was playing the distant Uncle. Jake suspected they had a conversation out of his hearing to this effect.
Jake told him about Sasha, his problems, a few of his secrets -- in short, everything he could think of he wanted his father to know. He was surprised to find that George was even more understanding than Raymond was, but kept the lines of behavior where Raymond had drawn them. He could only conclude they knew each other so well, they must really be in love.
Jake also only visited his "mother" once after that. He discovered he didn't need her; two loving parents were enough.
Sasha entered the picture later, and seemed to get her head around the idea much more quickly than Jake did. And with his fathe George in charge, she was quite quickly accepted into the family as well.
The End.
(version 1.0)