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Chapter 22: Growing Pains

Kate's P.O.V.

The next couple of months saw a slight improvement in our marriage, if you'd believe it. Or, I guess, as far as my latest prescription of rose-colored glasses would let me see it did, anyway. Sure, there was always the underlying issue of what we had created for ourselves, what twisted pattern we threw ourselves into, but we didn't seem to care. The vicious cycle of finding reasons to fight, and then engaging in mind-blowing, angry sex had become something of a game to us and I gladly accepted the emotional, sometimes physical abuse that he would dish out to me. Because, to me, that just made it all the better. The more I hated him, the more worthless he made me feel, the more I wanted him, and he was very quick to take notice.

In those couple months, he had claimed every fiber of my being. Inside and out, I was entirely his and at that time, I wouldn't have had it any other way. It was honestly a perfect, though HIGHLY unhealthy, distraction from everything that had happened that year: Flint's suicide, being raped, several near-death experiences, Candu's murder, my miscarriage, nearly losing my husband, being forced to relive my rape... All of those things had been living in my head for what seemed like forever. They haunted my dreams. They distracted me all day. They even fueled some of the anger that I threw at my mate in the evenings when we would have our nightly row and plow.

Obviously they would never truly go away, but for those blissful, intense moments in the evening once I got home from work and Humphrey would purposefully stumble into the den half drunk just to upset me, I was free. As he treated me like property, all those thoughts left my head and I would quickly lose myself to the raw intimacy that those evenings would bring. The pain, the degradation, the pure, unadulterated anger... It all sent me to heights I can't even describe, and I hoped to never come back down. In this time we seemed to grow apart emotionally, but physically we were better than we had ever been, and I think that was because during that time it was as though we weren't even married anymore.

Humphrey was just some stranger who visited me at night and fucked my brains out. There was no pressure, no commitment. It was like we had hit a giant reset button on our lives and for the briefest of moments, I hoped that it would stay just the way it was. What we had was toxic and broken, but in its own weird way, it worked, and I think that after everything that had happened that year, it was just what we needed. It's weird to say this about someone you love, but he had no idea how to be emotionally available to me, and I was the same. All either of us had done for our entire lives was repress, so emotional intimacy was practically a foreign concept to us. Sure, we were there for each other when one of us had a rough day, but we had never been pushed to the point that we were during those tumultuous couple months.

It was like the words were always right there, but we didn't know what to say- like the remedy for our pain was in our sights, but always lied somewhere just beyond our reach. We both knew that we were drowning, but at least we understood that we were drowning together. We wanted better, and we knew that we could have better. Hell, we had all the tools we needed in order to save one another, but we just didn't know how to use them. Many attempts were made, but each time one would try to save the other, we would ultimately drag each other down. It's hard to say exactly what would have happened if we continued to tread water together the way we did, but thankfully before we had to find out, the gods threw us a lifeline.

Humphrey's P.O.V.

I know it's kinda weird to say, but looking back at those couple months that followed my separation from A-School, it feels as though we had taken a vacation from ourselves. So much had happened since we got married, and though there were moments of bliss mixed in, most of the life that she and I had started together was pure chaos. We tried to not let it get to us, but I guess as time wore on, we eventually became so sick of everything that we just needed to find a way to escape, and, though our method of escape was not in the least bit healthy for either of us, it allowed us both to temporarily become someone else. Sure, who we had become hated one another, but at the time, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

As the angry, violent strangers we had become, when we set our gazes upon one another, we did not have to think about the many, many traumas that our lives had bestowed upon us. No longer did we haunt one another as we had in the days prior, when the mere sight of each other was enough to flood our minds with the awful memories we fought so hard to bury. Previously, the burden to speak to and comfort one another would smother us each time we shared a glance. The desire to speak or offer words of comfort to one another always lingered, and though on most nights, when I would stumble into the den, so drunk that I could barely stand, she would immediately start in on me and a night of hate-filled bliss would follow, there were nights when the woman I married would bleed through and it made me realize just how lost we truly were. As our eyes met and I saw the pain and turmoil that burned within, I could see how desperately she needed me to help her, and in those moments, I would realize just how desperately I needed her. But she was just as fucked up as I was. So, honestly, what could either of us say?

After all, there were no words to mend the wounds that our lives had scourged upon us, and since we were the only ones who knew what we did, we were the only ones who could offer ourselves any forgiveness. But we both knew that we didn't deserve it, so rather than offer ourselves or each other any kindness, we punished ourselves with each lustful thrust and throb, with every snarl, every slap, every bite. With each painful, pleasurable affliction upon each other's flesh, our bodies would become one, but our hearts and minds would drift further and further apart, lost amid a dark, turbulent sea.

Beaten and battered by the violent waves, they longed to find shelter in each other, but were too afraid to search through fear of finding that what they sought was merely a figment of their imagination. We had both lost so much of ourselves in these days. Though the means by which we had lost each other and ourselves was indescribable, deep down, I knew that unless something were to change, our life together would surely end.

I know I desired such change. I'm sure that at one point as I reeled from the pleasures my mate had delivered to my body and the booze caused my head to spin as I slipped off into slumber, I may have even prayed for it. All I know is that one day, my deeper hopes and desires became reality, and when that happened, it felt as though someone had flipped a switch inside of me. For so long, an impenetrable darkness had settled in around me, but as I placed my paw upon my mate's belly and basked in the joy that was brought about by the resplendent miracle with which we had been blessed, that darkness was instantly banished by radiant light. I wish I could say the same about my mate, but since the moment we discovered that we would be starting a family, she started acting... weird...

Kate's P.O.V.

Part of me always knew that I had gotten pregnant again, but in spite of the biological wonder that grew in me, I was petrified. It had only been a couple months since my miscarriage, and I had only just started to feel like maybe I was ready to try to rebuild my life again. If I lost another litter at that point in my life, I didn't know if I would be able to handle it. And you'd think that after my previous failure, I would have aired more on the side of caution, but I was so deep in denial that I refused to even entertain the possibility that I was pregnant again. This overwhelming sense of denial is why I got hurt on that hunt that morning. Looking back I feel incredibly lucky that only my leg had been broken that day. Had I been hit even a few inches higher, I could have been seriously, maybe even mortally injured and the new lives that grew in me would have likely been snuffed out. If that happened, I honestly don't know what I would have done, but personally I don't think I would have been strong enough to face that pain again.

Ya know, it's funny: Having my leg broken that day was almost like being given a second chance, and when our healer revealed my secret to my husband and our parents pure excitement and joy filled the air. I remember Humphrey lying beside me and talking to the strangers who lived inside of me. He was so... proud, so hopeful, so happy, and it was clear to me that any reservations he once had about starting a family had immediately faded. He always had been reluctant to start a family. He claimed that the state of the park was his primary reason for such hesitation, but honestly, I think he was scared of being responsible for another life when he felt that he could barely be responsible for his own.

This, of course, was a perfectly rational fear, and if I'm honest, I shared it- especially then. I had already been given that responsibility once, and somehow I screwed it up. Humphrey didn't know any of that, of course, so once again I lied alone with my fears and worried about what the future would bring. As I fully knew, pregnancy was a delicate dance. One wrong move could bring dire consequences. Previously, the results of my wrongs were mine alone to bear, but this time, if I lost the pups, it wouldn't just be my soul that would be crushed. I couldn't do that to Humphrey.

As I had when I discovered that I was pregnant the first time, he immediately fell in love with the pups inside of me, and he was so excited about becoming a father that he could hardly contain himself. As soon as he learned what we had created together, he began to make plans and weave together wonderful dreams about the pups, but as I lied there and listened to him dream, I couldn't help but think about what would happen if his plans were ruined and his dreams were deferred. That was a pain that I prayed he'd never have to feel, but I knew that, given my history, the possibility that he would come to know that pain as I did was all too real.

I knew that there were some things that were beyond my control, but as I watched my husband come to life again after he had been dead inside for so long, I vowed that he would never have to know the pains that I knew. No matter what, I would bring our pups into the world. Even if it killed me, he would see their faces, hear their first whimpers, and burst with pride as he watched them nurse from my breast. So much had gone wrong in our lives, both apart and together. We had both suffered so much and the world had beaten us down until we could hardly stand. We needed a win. We needed something to go right. Looking back at it now, our marriage more than likely depended on it.

Humphrey's P.O.V.

Once we received the news of Kate's pregnancy, things went back to normal between us pretty quick- or at least as normal as they could be for us. Our relationship had become so complicated over the past couple months that I didn't even know who or what we were to each other anymore. I didn't even know who I was to myself anymore if I'm honest, but the little miracles that dwelled inside of my mate showed me who I was and reminded me who I had married. After that, everything just sorta fell back into place. Though our inner turmoils remained, we didn't have time to dwell upon them, and we had to grow up basically overnight.

As a result of her injury, Kate was put on quarters until her leg healed, and our roles were suddenly reversed. I had to assume those of her duties that I as a humble omega could assume, and as much as it drove her nuts, she became my dependent. I catered to her every need and stood ready to die if necessary in order to protect her while she was invalid. Though we had tried to avoid it, new intel suggested that a terrible conflict was imminent. Nobody knew for sure when it would happen, but the Traditionalist ideology had begun to run rampant through the pack, and with each day that passed their sympathizers seemed to grow more bold. At first they merely harassed us omegas, but that quickly devolved into verbal abuse, and at the rate at which the tensions between the Traditionalists and the omegas grew, we knew it was only a matter of time before things got physical.

Unfortunately, I know I did little to help the situation. Though I had shadowed Kate for a while and had gained some leadership experience, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and between a pregnant, and if I'm honest, completely neurotic mate, and the insidious Traditionalist presence, I was far too distracted to even keep track of everything. And the alphas in the pack were quick to take notice. They made it clear that without my mate around they held absolutely zero respect for me or for my future position, and it was quite disheartening. In the evenings as Kate and I would sit across from each other and have our supper, I would ask her for advice, but in those days it was impossible to predict who I would get.

I can't even begin to explain why, but ever since the day we discovered that we would be starting a family, it seemed as though she had lost her mind. She had always been organized and kept a tidy den, but once she discovered that she was pregnant, she cleaned and nested compulsively, and if there was even a single speck of dirt out of place, you would have thought that the world was coming to an end. Her life had been consumed by the pups, and she became so obsessed that she seemed to believe that even the slightest misstep would result in tragedy. So while there would be some days in which light would shine through the cracks of the craziness that had enveloped her and reveal some semblance of the woman I knew and loved, on most days, she would be so neurotic and over-protective of the pups that I didn't even dare to go near her.

Thankfully, I always had a good excuse to be out of the den. If it wasn't to fill in for my mate, it was to keep tabs on her friend, Miles, who was... well... there's honestly no nice way to say this, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: Miles was a CRIPPLING alcoholic. His life had been on a downward spiral for a long time due to his addiction, but since he was fired from his position as an A-School instructor, he had become a menace to my mate and to the rest of the pack. His behavior was an emotional drain upon my mate and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why she would wish to keep him in her life, or why she would want to name him our pups' godfather, but in spite of my many, MANY protests, she refused to budge. We went round and round on this issue for what must have been hours before I finally agreed to allow him to be a part of our pups' lives. However, I made it quite clear that the only way I would ever let him anywhere near our pups would be if he managed to get sober before they were born, and since Kate was so hellbent upon him being our pups' godfather, and since I apparently am some sort of masochist, I took it upon myself to help him overcome his addiction.

Honestly, volunteering for such a task went against every bit of better judgment that I possessed, and ordinarily I wouldn't have gotten involved in any way, but it was important to my mate, so, unfortunately, it was important to me. I had no idea how I would ever be able to help him, because at that point in his life, the fact that he woke up on any given morning was a small miracle. He partook in the fermented berries until his bloodstream turned to poison and on the path he walked back then, he likely wouldn't have survived another month without my help. Hell, he may not have survived the day had I not found him when I did.

I went to fetch him from his den so my mate and I could talk to him and give him the news together, but when I arrived at his den, I saw that he, in a fit of drunken hysteria, had begun to make an attempt on his own life. Blood trickled from the cut he had inflicted upon himself and flowed down the length of his leg to the ground, where it pooled beneath his paws. Fearing the worst, I immediately rushed in to administer aid, but I knew that if he had hit the artery there was nothing I could do. Thankfully, he was so drunk that he had missed his mark, so I was easily able to get his bleeding under control, and once I had calmed him down enough, and after enough time had passed that he was able to speak at least semi-coherently, I told him why I had come that day.