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PARAGON prologue

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PROLOGUE

June 1st, 3002:

It's blazing summertime outside. Quite the night for a party. The temperature is still very high, even though the sun has gone down. My childhood friend's birthday was two days ago, but because of his work, he was only able to celebrate with family and friends today. I'm happy he invited me, even though I would probably be more of a burden than a companion. I've already vomited twice after eating his special homemade salsa. Maybe the third time is the charm?

I'm kidding myself. My stomach is getting weaker and weaker by the passing day. I've had to give up most of my favorite foods to avoid getting sick. I've even started eating food that I hate—er, it's more the combination of foods that make people around me want to puke. Who ever heard of pickled eggs with peanut butter? I live off of those, now. So when I saw a plate of pickled eggs on the party table, and when I opened the closet and found a jar of peanut butter, I just couldn't help myself.

I had to go and sit in a room alone for a while. I'm not feeling my best today. My little one has been very restless lately. He's gotten quite big in the last few weeks, and I think it's getting close to his final days inside there. There is less room to move around, but he's still trying to find the exit. Persistent little guy, isn't he? Just like his Papa. But I'm afraid his numerous jailbreak attempts are like trying to swim laps in a kiddie pool—it just won't work. Ultimately, it's my body that will decide when to set him free. I read something online, once, that out of all demonic species, elves have the longest gestation period. It's about nine months, the same as a human. Maybe that's why we're one of the least abundant species of demon. That's saying a lot, considering that the Demon World is twice the size of the Human World. If that's the case, then the Spirit World must be humongous. After all, it has to contain both demons and humans. Demons die naturally all the time. But humans…well, if it's not a murder, it's a suicide, or genocide, or some other form of killing. Those stupid creatures kill themselves all the time. They're born, and then they die. They live for death.

Filthy, disgusting creatures. I'm a bit glad they all died from that virus, wherever the hell the pestilence came from. They would have eventually figured out a way to travel into our world. Then what would happen? They would want to enslave us, capture us for study, or maybe they would just kill us. They would be jealous of us. We are superior to them. The universe is a better place now that they are gone. Really, what in the name of god is actually decent about those animated meat sacks? Who in their right mind would find them affable? I mean, besides me—but I never did, actually, they were not human. They appeared human, which had me questioning my resolve for such a long time. But once they were brought here, to the Demon World, everything changed, and I saw them for what they really were—the superior race, demons. I sure am glad that I never liked a human.

It makes me sad being away from the ones who made me doubt myself. I miss them. I used to have great conversations with Channing, even though most of them were just him panicking about Benjamin's birth. And life is a bit boring without listening to Toby and Elliot's incessant bickering. I still do wonder if Claude's children are growing up healthy. I would lose myself if anything happened to him or his spawn.

I'm sure they are in good hands. The Drake household has strong family ties. They were welcomed like family, so they will always be family. Especially since they brought little lost Nathaniel with them. Stupid boy. He almost gave his parents a heart attack, running away to the Human World like that. It was rash and foolish. Not to mention the fact that he dragged Eonian along with him. The humans would have nuked him if they had the chance.

I digress. This party is great. I haven't seen Tino is quite some time. He's doing well. I'm glad. Oh, and did I mention that he found his soul match last month? The two of them hooked up behind his favorite restaurant, but they got caught, so they moved to his house. Two weeks later, they moved into this house, and now they're throwing a party. It's a bit like a combination birthday-slash-you-just-moved-in party. His mate, Sam, is quite the looker—but he's nothing compared to my sweetheart Evander—and he's such a nice guy. Just about an hour ago, they announced that they were thinking of starting a family. How precious! I wonder which one of them is going to take the pregnancy.

I heard my name being called. I'm thinking it's about time to leave the bathroom and see who wants me. Will journal tomorrow.

Jacob Alvey, signing out.


--

The blonde sat up from the lip of the bathtub using one arm for support against the wall. He took a sturdy position on his feet, put a hand over his belly, and unlocked the bathroom door. The step forward was somewhat blind, because when he took it, he bumped face-first into someone who was standing right outside.

He staggered only slightly, his girth throwing off his balance, but then he righted himself and looked up at, Tino.

"What were you doing? You've been in there for almost a half hour." Tino asked, one hand in his pocket and another holding a drink. "You aren't sick, are you? I told you to stop eating the salsa."

"No, I'm not sick." He smiled. "I was journaling."

"At a party?"

"Sorry. I kinda needed to write."

"…In the bathroom?" He raised an eyebrow, looking past him and peering into the white and chrome room. "Were you…multitasking?"

"No, no." He waved his hands in front of him. He laughed a little. "I needed a place to be by myself. The bathroom is the only place I can really be left alone, right?"

Tino tilted his head to the side, but then he finally understood. "Ohh…so you wanted people to think you were taking a shower?"

"No, Tino."

"…A bath?"

"No, Tino."

He looked confused again, but only for a small second. Then he looked both ways, suspiciously, and leaned in to whisper something. "Can I give you an update?"

Jeb was immediately curious, knowing that this was obviously related to his friend's relationship, and he smiled widely. "Yeah. Tell me."

"All right, here goes…" He blushed suddenly, getting a little bit embarrassed, before looking both ways again. "I wanted you to be the first to know…"

He nodded. "Yes?"

"…Sam and I were talking…and we agreed…" he was having trouble containing his excitement, "I'm going to take the pregnancy."

"Really?" Jeb's face lit up. "That's great news! Oh, Tino, I'm so proud of you!"

Tino, unable to contain his excitement, squealed in joy and flung his arms around his friend. Jeb hugged him back, smiling, starting to praise him for being such a good mate, when all of a sudden he began to fall to the side. He gasped as gravity took him, and he thought he was going to fall. But then he felt someone grab his arm.

"Ah! I'm sorry!" Tino exclaimed, helping his friend regain his balance.

He grinned sheepishly. "No, it's not your fault. I've been a bit topsy-turvy lately with all this extra weight on me. Don't feel bad."

"A-are you sure? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I told you, I'm fine. Don't—" Suddenly, it felt as if his stomach was churning. "Urgh…"

He placed a hand on his stomach, his face turning slightly green. For a split second, his belly felt hot, and he saw a few bright spots. Before he knew it, he felt the very familiar feeling start to swell.

Tino, panicked, put a hand to his friend's face with deep concern. "You don't look well, Jacob…"

He hiccupped, his unused hand hovering near his face. "I think I'm gonna be sick…" Then a sour feeling shot up his esophagus, and he tasted the bitter smack of bile. "Oh, I am gonna be sick…!"

Hand slapped over his mouth, he turned tail and sprinted back into the bathroom, only to not make it to the trashcan in time and vomit all over the marble tile floor.

Tino was right behind him, holding up his friend's long platinum hair so as not to let him empty the contents of his stomach on the tips. He started rubbing the boy's back with the other hand, trying to calm him down. "It's okay, it's okay…just let it out."

"Tino?"

Tino swiveled his head around and found himself making eye contact with his soul match. Sam's eyes were startled—and, upon further inspection, exasperated—and he cried out in mere disappointment, "We just got that floor installed!"

--

"Oh, god, I am so sorry." Jeb sighed out in tired embarrassment.

"It's fine, don't be ashamed…" Tino said softly, handing him a glass of water. "Here, drink this. It'll help with the nausea."

"Thank you," he said, taking the beverage and trying a tiny sip. It felt good going down his acid-stung throat, so he took a bigger one. Then he sighed, placing a hand over his swollen girth. "God, I'm ruining your party, aren't I?"

He nodded. "Don't think like that. It's not your fault you're pregnant." He winked.

Jeb laughed.

"Besides, the floor is tile. It's not hard to clean." He took a seat next to his friend on the couch, helping himself to the plate of saltines he brought for the nauseated one. He chewed and swallowed. "When my mama was pregnant with me, he said, he would get sick all the time. It didn't matter what he ate, he would just throw it up again."

"That sounds horrible," Jeb said, squinting one eye as a slight twinge of pain zapped up his abdomen. He swallowed down the bitter flavor that still lingered in his mouth.

"I hope it doesn't run in the family. I don't feel like going through that hell when I get pregnant." He laughed, turning to his friend. "Hey, I was thinking…"

Jeb looked back at him, blinked, and asked, "About what?"

He started wiggling his toes nervously. "Well…you're pregnant, and you're kinda…well, you seem to know what you're doing."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" He blurted, thinking it was rather funny that he came off that was to other people. "I'm a first time mama."

He nodded. "That's why I need some advice." He started twiddling his thumbs. "You know how easily frightened I am. I'm always scared that something is wrong with me. So without some advice, I probably won't be able to maintain a pregnancy like you are."

Jeb took a short look down at his own stomach, grinned, and then looked back up at his friend. "Maintain? Tino, I'm just taking it as it comes." He started drumming his fingers on his girth in response to some sharp movement. "There's not much I'm able to do other than wait for things to happen. I try to relax and let the bad things pass, and once I do that, everything gets easier."

"Really?"

"Really. And it also helps to have your mate by your side to help you through it all." He smiled. "Sam loves you. He's good to you. I'm sure he'll be a great lover, and a good parent when the time comes."

One of the partygoers from outside came in for a little rest and spied the two childhood friends sitting together on the couch. He waved to them and continued on his way. He saw that the downstairs bathroom was taken, so he went upstairs to use the other one presumably to use the sink.

Tino looked back at his friend, feeling a little bit better, but for some reason, a lingering feeling of concern still dwelled inside his chest. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Jeb."

He looked back. "For what?"

"For trying to help me," he replied, giving him a smile. "You're my only friend that I can go to for advice. I trust you."

"This is about that advice, again?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how helpful it was, but if you say so, then I'm glad I could help you. That's what I'm here for."

Tino smiled. "You're a good friend, Jeb."

In response, he opened his mouth to speak, but his breath hitched and he closed his eyes, wincing.

He placed a hand over his girth, feeling a little nauseated again. Maybe he really was sick and he wasn't supposed to be ignoring it.

"Jeb?" His friend interjected, looking him straight in the eyes with a worried glance. "…Oh, dear…Jacob, you look ill." He lifted a hand and placed it on the clammy cheek. "Oh, my, you're burning up! Your face is pale, too!"

He raised both eyebrows, his eyes open again. "…Huh?" He winced again, this time groaning. "You're right. Tino, I really don't feel well all of a sudden…"

Maybe it was just his worrisome nature, but Tino could swear he heard a subtle undertone of anxiety in his voice.

Jeb put both hands on the couch on either side of his body, sighing as he waited for the cramping to subside. Once relieved, he forced himself onto his feet with a small crackle from the lower part of his spine. He flinched, still managing to keep his balance perfectly like he had practiced. "…I think I need to leave."

Tino stood up with him, concerned. "You're leaving? Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No, I think I can manage."

"But…you look really sick! Are you sure?"

He shook his head. "Stop worrying about me. I'm probably fine. Maybe my body has had enough partying for today. Besides, Evander is probably wondering where the hell I am." He chuckled. "I was stupid enough to forget my cell phone at home. He's probably worried sick. I was supposed to call him and tell him what time I'd be back."

Tino looked a little sad. "I suppose so."

He smiled at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Stop worrying, Tino. For the last time." He wanted to still sound kind, but by this point he was a little more on the side of being annoyed. "I'll drive myself home."

He walked over to the table by the front door, grabbing his bag that was on the floor by the corner. It seemed heavier than it was when he arrived, but he paid no mind to the realization. As he lifted his bag onto his right shoulder, he turned around and gave his friend a nod. Tino responded with a wave.

"Drive safely," he said.

Jeb smiled, ignoring a tingling numbness in his pelvis.

He stepped over the threshold and softly closed the door—he never slammed doors, because he happened to catch his fingers in a car door once when he was small, and it still made him shudder just thinking about it. He had parked his car at the curb, because he had gotten to the party a little late and the driveway was full. He took out his car keys in advance, anticipating that it would be too dark for him to search for them in his bag by the time he reached his car.

"Sorry, Evander," he muttered, realizing how late it was. His husband was probably worried sick about him. Being pregnant, Jeb was vulnerable to all sorts of things—he wouldn't be able to do anything if someone decided to come up behind him and steal his bag. Petty thievery was hardly common in this area, but it was still something he had to think about. No one could anticipate everything, especially not crime.

It would have been best if he started driving off as soon as possible. But as soon as he closed the door and reached for his seatbelt, a horrible squeezing pang pressed through his lower abdomen, and he hunched over in his seat and held his breath. His jaw and eyes were clenched shut, and his eyebrows were nit together.

"Owowow…" he hissed out, clutching the steering wheel as the pain fluctuated. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but all he wanted was to get home. And this annoying cramping was getting on his nerves.

His index finger stroked a panel on the car's dashboard, and the vehicle came to life, the engine purring electrically and the headlights glowing brightly. The sound of a tiny bell confirmed that it was safe to pull out into the road, and the small red Jeep began backing up.

The pain had faded by then, and Jeb wasn't going to let it bother him. He was tired from partying, and he normally didn't stay out this late. Now, heavily pregnant, he was careful not to overdo anything or push himself too hard, including forcing himself to stay active at night. Evander didn't like him being out of reach for more than a few hours. Jeb kept reinforcing in his thoughts that he had a child on the way and he shouldn't be doing what he was doing.

The speakers in the car sparked to life along with the main generator, and began playing smooth jazz and talk shows, sometimes even simultaneously, a saxophone in the background. Jeb hummed along to the songs he knew, and listened quietly to the ones he didn't. There was something about jazz that always gave him an urge to paint. A night scene with orbs of light came to mind first—a dancer in a red suit holding his partner's hand, face lit up in excitement and happiness, stars dotting the sky, and a band, standing on a raised wooden platform, plucking strings of bass guitars and rata-a-tat-tatting on symbols and drums. Jeb bobbed his head ever so slightly, getting into the swing of the music, when he hit a red light. He eased on the breaks.

An entire line of cars motored perpendicularly forward in front of him, and he watched them sluggishly. The way the headlights reflected against the road reminded him of something familiar, and he suddenly remembered that his brother lived nearby.

He had two choices when that memory came to him: keep heading straight for home, or use his brother's phone to call Evander and tell him why it was taking so long to contact him. A recurring tingling pang was rising back up in his gut, and he decided to go with the latter. His body was trying to tell him something, and he would rather not find out if what was happening to him was bad in the middle of a busy roadway. So he turned right at the intersection.

It took a little over ten minutes to finally reach his brother's house. Jeb pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, the engine purring and subsequently humming down to a halt. Jeb's hands released the wheel, and immediately curled around his girth. He leaned back into his car seat, groaning as his stomach did back flips. Now he was worried.

He threw open the car door with nervous energy, thrusting his body out of vehicle and forcing himself to stand straight up. His legs were shaking horribly, and he was feeling dehydrated. The wind was blowing, but he was sweating. Keeping his balance was half the battle—he still had to walk up to the front door.

The sudden onset of what felt like sickness was so unsettling that it almost made him cry, but he composed himself as he raised a finger to the doorbell. The wait was agonizing, and it felt like hours before his brother finally answered the door.

He looked shocked. "Jeb? Why are you here?"

Jeb tried to smile, laugh it off, or do whatever—no such luck. A string of sobs burst from his chest and he hid his face in shame.

"Jeb? Hey, what's wrong? Jeb?" He instinctively reached his arms out, embracing his brother. "Hey, hey, you're all right. You're all right. Come on, I got you." He led him inside, closing the door with his foot so as not to let go. He rubbed his brother's back, only to scare himself further when he realized how shaky Jeb's body was.

"Brian? What's going on?" Came a voice from behind the corner. Brian's husband, Jeb's brother in law, stepped out from the kitchen when he heard the sobbing. He gasped. "Is everything okay? What happened?"

Brian brought his brother into the living room and carefully set him down on the couch. He placed a hand on his sweaty forehead and went pale. "Oh my god, you're burning up."

"Who is this?"

"My brother," he answered, turning to his husband. "Gabriel, get me the thermometer. Please."

He did an about-face and threw himself at the medicine cabinet, fishing around for the thermometer. He grabbed it and practically threw it at his husband. "Here."

"Thank you," he said quickly, removing the safety cap and placing the flat metal surface on his brother's cheek. It gave him a beep when it gained a reading. "…Oh my god."

Brian's heart exploded out of his chest as he looked down at his brother and saw him slipping out of consciousness. Panicking, he held his face and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Jacob, stay awake. Stay with me. Gabriel, call an ambulance," he cried, not even making eye contact with the one he loved. The slightest moment of hesitation set him off. "Hurry! Please!"

The elf ran off, fumbling for the phone. His trembling fingers dialed the 3-digit number as fast as they could.

Jeb's eyes were clouding over, and he had stopped crying. His stomach bucked like his insides were caving in on themselves, and his lungs began to burn as quickly as the onset of his symptoms overtook his body. He couldn't gasp or choke or even breath. His brother's voice could not reach his ears.

"Stay with me. Jacob! Stay with me!" Brian pleaded, giving him a slap on his cheek, trying to wake him up, feeling his own hot tears well up in his eyes.

He truly broke down when he heard the haunting wail of sirens.
Here we go! Off on another journey!

We have another time lapse here, about six months to be exact. I hope it's not too confusing. Enjoy!
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AndaliteXD's avatar
a;skldjf;alksdjf these are still as good as the first ones omfg KEEP IT UP!!