Time to April 24th

[captainryan]

River’s reading on the sunseat in Ryan’s flat today, not unusual. The werewolf steps up silently behind her, also not unusual. She’s reading the same book as she was yesterday, slightly unusual, and staring at the exact same page. He can tell by the picture.

Very unusual.

“What’s so interesting about that plant?”

Comments

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Some people can do an awfully lot of talking without thinking a thing.

Richard and River are not those people.

Quite the opposite, in fact, as Richard stays silent.

"I just want you to be aware of what you're getting into."

[hell_in_highheels]

River leans into him, turning her head to rest her forehead against his jaw. She could talk about the research until she's blue in the face. And she knows, after having met the Wolf, the research is not sufficient.

He must know that, too.

"I'm not afraid of that. What I need to know is whether you... I mean... It's not a whim, Richard."

For either of us.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I know that. I'd flat out refuse you if I thought it was." Again he falls silent, rubbing his stubbled chin across her forehead a bit.

"You can't change your mind after it's done, unless you know something I don't. And if you don't like it-"

He doesn't know how to finish that.

[hell_in_highheels]

"I don't expect it to be easy. But if I have you there..."

She closes the book, setting it aside so she can curl against his side, holding him tight for a long moment.

"I have something I want to show you. But it's in the Library."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's only one man. Nor is he certain he's the best person to model a new existence as a werewolf after.

But, "Of course I'll be there." How many times has he told her he's not going anywhere?

"All right. Now?"

[hell_in_highheels]

It's still nice to hear. He can smell the effect his reassurance has on her, washing away a bit of the tension. Perhaps, if he gives it a moment's consideration, he might recognise his own fears reflected in her.

She nods, and a bit reluctantly begins to extract herself from his embrace. "Let me get my shoes. I think you'll like it. At least, I hope you will."

He'll notice she keeps one hand on him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

And he on her, if it doesn't get in the way.

"Is this more research?" he asks, shadowing her.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Of a sort," she answers, slipping her flats on. "It's a -- bit of science and a bit of extrapolation."

"You saw the three dimensional models I worked up from the photographs, of the Scottish pack? It's akin to that."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ah, more holograms.

"All right. I won't mind having a look at that." He won't. They're only photos.

[hell_in_highheels]

She waits while he locks the flat and slips her hand through his arm as they descend to the bar.

"You read my notes, then."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Yes," he admits.

"I want to see your research," he adds firmly as they cross to the wall where he knows the Door is.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Anything you want. I'd appreciate your input, really."

She opens the Door and leads him through into the wood and marble appointed hallway. Her office door is just a few steps away, and things are pretty much the same as the last time he saw it.

The library table is still covered with books, but her desk is cleared, only a few schematics rolled up by the terminal. The sea outside her window is not placid but neither is it raging. A stiff breeze is blowing up white caps, and a bank of dark clouds huddle on the distant horizon.

He may not even notice that, as the wall where they departed for the Cloud Forest is now covered in a mosaic of pale blue windows, the visual representation of layers and layers of her research. There's a few images obvious on the top layer, one a double helix structure he might recognise as a DNA strand. One window is churning away at a series of calculations, numbers scrolling passed. Next to it, there is a 2D image of a form he might recognise.

Wolf transformation, female, red as opposed to the usual grey or black colouration.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Most of it is data that's beyond him. Deitmar may understand it, but Ryan's just a soldier. He watches the windows impassively, a frown blossoming when he sees the wolf. It's fur matches her hair and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what it's supposed to be.

She's standing alert, ears pricked forward, mouth shut. It's not at all representative of any time he's seen them, teeth bared and claws splayed, red with blood. Does River find those records? Does she see those pictures?

"Artist's rendition," he nearly sneers, fists clenched.

[hell_in_highheels]

She sees his body language change and her grip on his arm tightens.

"No, actually," she says carefully. "That's a simulation. It's based on my own genetic material, evolved. Do you want to see it in three dimensions? It's programmed to follow my postures, so I can take it through a range of motions."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He hides his teeth as he turns to glare at her.

"Every time I've come up against one of them, every time, they've tried to tear me to pieces." Even the one in his own god damned head (http://captainryan.livejournal.com/4330.html).

"Will you have it do that too?"

[hell_in_highheels]

"No, love." River looks at him for a long moment, trying to understand why he would think such a thing.

Then again, his experience is different from hers.

She draws him away from the wall, and the images, taking his hand and leading him over to the window seat. The sky outside has gone dark but the sea is calm, almost glassy now.

"Sit with me," she asks, gently.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's agitated, she can see that. "Not now." There was a time when sitting in this mood would be easy, but right now he'd rather pace.

[hell_in_highheels]

"All right, then." She lets him go and sits, watching him pace. She tries to use the tone when he goes into debriefing mode. It sounds more academic, and she can't quite keep the emotion out of her voice, but she tries.

"It's all there. Everything. Some of it quite gruesome, forensic reports and the like. But there's my ecological studies, theories on a population that survives without being in conflict with humans, without needing to hunt them. My sociological data, on pack behaviour and the instincts you seem to both benefit and suffer from. You're welcome to all of it."

"And I know there are gaps."

She watches him turn and shoot a glance at the interface.

"I know there are things you haven't told me."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He stalks a short little path in front of her, back and forth. He glances at her a moment, then the windows, gaze lingering on the data and images flashing past.

He doesn't really want to see some of that.

"There are things I haven't told anyone," he says shortly, resuming his pacing.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her gaze follows him intently, and she holds him in her eyes like she would hold him in her arms, if he would let her. Holds him in her heart.

And she waits for him to continue, knowing that there is nothing she can say or do to make this any easier for him. She can only listen and accept.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He paces.

And paces.

He can't- he has to tell her. She needs to know this, more than anything her research has shown her. She needs to understand just how powerful this thing is, how strong its instincts are. How much what you, as a human, want is insignificant.

"River-"

He can't face her. For all that he firmly believes humans are acceptable prey for a wolf, he can't look at her when he admits that the wolf isn't concerned with who that human is. Not when he's hungry.

He turns away, looking at one of the gorier images on the screen. When he speaks, it's barely a whisper.

[hell_in_highheels]

She does not look away. She can't. It has been plain to her for some time now that he's held tightly to the deepest, most disturbing memories of his transformation, and subsequent death.

She has questions but she keeps her mouth shut. As much as it pains her to do so, she forces herself to stay seated, to remain passive witness and receiver of this information.

This is one problem she can't explain away or attempt to solve for him. Even if there is a rational explanation for what the 'wolf did, he has to live with the consequences.

And if she wants to be with him, she has to live with them too.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's tempted to look at her, to test the air for her reaction, but he knows its better to finish everything first.








God, it's hard to talk about.

So he does what he's done every time before when his feelings have gotten in the way. He shoves them down, buries them.

Mission debriefing. That's all this is.

"They'd been killed," "the night before. The pack that attacked us dragged their remains away, to their house. The same house is where Wells' squad ended up taking refuge the next night, and I with them."

It was easy there, for a moment. He had to figure out how to summarize it quickly so she'd understand what happened.

"Which is how I found them in the cellar after I changed." His thoughts, like his tone, are detached and blank. Simply reporting what happened and nothing more.

[hell_in_highheels]

His first transformation. Without having eaten for hours before, his body would have been starved for energy, literally insane with hunger. He hadn't killed his men. The pack had done that. But the 'wolf needed protein, and it didn't bother to read their dog tags or look at their faces before tearing into their flesh.

He'd eaten his men because he, in turn, was being eaten alive by whatever mutagenic forces, magic or science -- it didn't matter which, were changing his body. He'd consumed their flesh, and they had probably saved his life. If only he hadn't remembered doing so.

She silently curses whoever or whatever was responsible for letting such a gift go so horrifically awry.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"That's where Private Cooper found me," he continues, completely immersed in repeating his mission to a superior. Clinical. Facts. They weren't interested in anything else. His stance shifts to that of an at ease soldier, wrist clasped behind his back, eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing.

"I fought him and was attacked by the dog. Cooper found a bit a of silver, stabbed me with it, and then recovered his pistol. I was shot in the head. My next memory is that of Milliways."

Dry. Almost boring, if it weren't for the story it told. His superiors were good at filling in the gaps, but there are always things he missed in his oral reports.

He falls silent, now, waiting for questions.