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?”

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[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.

[hell_in_highheels]

She can't be apart from him any longer. She rises and crosses to him, stopping just a half step away, trying to find the words.

So many facets to him, all of them dark and beautiful, she thinks. Wolf, the most simple and direct; soldier, not far behind in singularity in purpose; the man, whose belief in doing what needs to be done is implacable; the lover, her protector, her mate, who would do anything to keep her safe. She knows she addresses all of them, even if she picks only one name to call him by.

"You didn't kill them, Captain." she states, as plainly as she can with her heart in her throat.

"They saved your life. If only for a few moments more."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps," Ryan says tonelessly to the air in front of him.

"It does not change the fact that I ate them."

He's brought this up to make a point and he hasn't forgotten that.

"I can't be trusted in that form."

[hell_in_highheels]

She knows by now she can't rationalise with him when he's thinking this way. She can only accept that he believes this. Even if she believes differently.

She lowers her gaze and moves to stand beside him, facing the opposite direction. Her shoulder is just beside his, but not quite touching. When she speaks, her voice is low and quiet, almost reverent.

"It is dangerous to approach any wild creature as if it were tame."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"You agree, then."

Something tells him it's not going to be that simple.

[hell_in_highheels]

She can only turn to look at him, her eyes moving over his profile, overlaying it in her mind with the line of his other form's muzzle.

"I must take your word on it, Richard. My ability to judge objectively has been -- compromised."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He turns his head to look at her, across their shoulders. He gazes for a long moment, blinking every now and then.

"If you understand and accept the predator aspects of it...I'm willing.

"But please, River. Please be certain."

[hell_in_highheels]

His words take the air from her lungs. She swallows hard and sways a bit, her shoulder leaning against his.

The trepidation and longing in her scent changes almost instantly to relief, joy, hunger, giddiness and the same fierce and powerful emotion he already knows.

"I am. I am certain."

She had no idea that she was until the very moment he spoke.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Tell me."

It's quiet and sombre and serious. He can feel the hope building in him, the joy faintly behind that, but he won't let himself be blind sided by his emotions. He's going to make damn sure she knows what she wants.

"Tell me what you're certain of."

[hell_in_highheels]

Her eyes close and there's a look of soft wonder on her face. Her breath is coming shallow and quick, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows and her lips part slightly.

She's remembering the woods at night. The bloody haunch of flesh and fur and bone. The feel of the wolf's breath on her face. The resonance of his howl in her chest and head.

She exhales and opens her eyes again. I want to hunt with you.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

She couldn't have said anything better.

He just looks at her again, studying, searching, for what he's not sure. Some sign that she truly knows what she's getting into.

But in the end, he just has to trust her.

The corner of his mouth twitches up ever so slightly as he pulls her into a fierce hug. "All right.

Please don't let him regret this.

[hell_in_highheels]

The air goes out of her lungs again, this time from the strength of his embrace. She clings to him, shifting to press her face against the side of his neck. Her hands fist in his shirt and eventually wind around his neck, pulling him down to her.

Her mind is racing, her chest aching. She thinks perhaps, in this moment, her feet aren't quite touching the ground.

Right now, she just wants to breathe in his scent and feel his arms around her, holding her close.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Her reaction sends a thrill through him, truly, and his smile broadens a bit as he buries his nose in her hair. His heart's pounding a little faster than usual, from anxiety or excitement he's not sure. Probably both. To say he's already wondering if he's making a mistake would be a lie; he's been worrying about that since he first found her note.

Agreeing to her request has done nothing to alleviate it, but he can ignore it for at least this small moment.

[hell_in_highheels]

She pulls back just enough to look into his face, her palm coming to rest on his cheek. Her eyes search his, and she's biting her lower lip.

"I passed my research on the recorder back to Ray, today. He's going to finish the tricky bits."

She strokes his face, leaning forward just enough barely touch her nose to his before retreating again.

"I didn't want -- any distractions."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

She's been planning, he can see.

"A distraction might have been good," he admits a bit wryly, pushing against her hand. "The smells can be overwhelming at first.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Tell me," she says, leaning forward, nuzzling his cheek. Her breath feathers over his lips. "I want to hear you tell me. I'm tired of reading about it second hand."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Hearing it from me is still second hand," he points out, smiling.

Then he frowns a little, thinking. "It's...everything. Who a person is: male, female, young, old, human, not. It's who else they've spoken to, what they've eaten, where they've been, how they feel. There's more Intel every time the Door to the bar opens, if you bother to sort through it.

"And that's just the people."

[hell_in_highheels]

She leans in close as he talks, her hands holding to his, her gaze intent.

"You said you could smell silver. How is that possible? And what does it smell like?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Everything has a scent, unless it's a computer sprite. Metals are more subtle, but I've had a few years practise working with them. Copper doesn't smell so much like blood as everyone would have you think.

"Silver, though, silver is...spicy, almost. A little irritating. Have you ever smelled something that's jalapeño flavoured? It's a bit like that, where it sticks in your nose and makes you want to sneeze."

[hell_in_highheels]

She wrinkles her nose in sympathy. "Black pepper." She grins, her imagination running ahead of her. "Mmm, I want to smell iron. And glass, and wood."

"I want to smell you," she smiles.