(no subject)

((From here))

 

Ryan makes his way to his own door and heads straight for the bathroom. He’s halfway tempted to just bin the clothes he’s wearing, except they’re his BDUs. And, well, they’re his BDUs. Best to see if he can’t get them clean first.

He removes the ordinance that managed to avoid being slimed by being in a pocket: a few stun and incendiary grenades and the ammo for the P226. The pistol itself was not so fortunate.

But he absolutely has to get out of these clothes before he cleans it.

A minute later there is a slimy black pile on top of a clean white sheet waiting to be taken to the laundry room. He digs out the gun cleaning kit he purchased when Bond first agreed to bring him a firearm. He didn’t expect to be using it before that, but he’s not going to complain.

That was wonderful, wasn’t it? He enjoyed holding a firearm again, even if it was one as strange as a Korlian XT-17. Magnificent weapon. He’s missed being active, the thrill of a firefight, the satisfaction of winning and completing the objective. Even if only one was successful. The infiltration and recapture of MiB headquarters went well, as far as he can tell. Unfortunately, that was only his secondary objective. The first was the protection and safety of Suzi Darley, and she was eaten by a giant alien worm.

That’s failure as far as he’s concerned.

Now she was suffering from PSD and hallucinations, causing her to say things she didn’t mean.
Couldn’t mean.
It never should have happened. He should have gone after her as soon as she disappeared. Instead, he had assumed she would be safe.

Stupid, moronic, incompetent mistake.

Bitterly, he sets aside the P226 and finally steps into the shower himself. With the water set to near scalding, the alien gunk finally begins to slough off. He washes again because he can still smell it clinging to his skin and once more for any traces he may have missed. And then he just stands there, soaking up the steam. He’s grateful that the Milliway’s showers never seem to run out of hot water. It’s good to be home.

Home? Did he truly think of the Bar as home? He’d been here a little over three months, and it wasn’t as though he was going anywhere else. It was as good a place as any to call home. Which also explained why he’d been on edge as of late. Putting it in terms of his condition, another werewolf in the Bar was a threat to his territory, as foolish as it sounded. Thrice damned werewolf instincts. He sighs in annoyance as he shuts off the shower.

Thinking of Witherspoon has already put him on edge, but he knows he’ll adapt to the new werewolf’s presence. No, that won’t be a problem. The problem is will Witherspoon adapt to his presence? Or is Ryan going to have to be wary every time he goes downstairs?

He’s going to be thoroughly annoyed if it’s the latter. He was here first, after all, and the only werewolf who is always here. The Bar is his home, and just a visiting place for the others.
It’s not fair!
He’s just going to have to watch his step for a time and see what develops. He’s nothing if not patient. In the meantime, my God, those clothes stink. The steam had been masking them, but now the shower is off. He throws on a robe. These are going to the laundry room right now. Gingerly he gathers up the corners of the sheet and holds the bundle away from him, trying not to gag, and failing.

But it's not nearly enough to make him wish he had declined the offer to go out of Bar.

(no subject)

The full moon lights the Scottish landscape making it easy for even humans to see tonight.
(Throw away my dreams,)
Which is good because otherwise he would have tripped by now.
(this fight for my life isn't getting behind me.)
He’s running, fleeing, jumping at every shadow. That’s the thing about light. Light always casts shadows. He knows what’s behind them, in them, knows that he can’t really escape them. But he’s trying anyway.
(And I've been told to scream.)
There’s dirt in his mouth. He doesn’t remember falling, but he starts crawling, trying to escape the massive weight on his back.
(When no one can hear me, it doesn't mean nothing.)
He can hardly move until it’s off of him, dragging him back, flipping him over. He’s in its shadow, seeing nothing but its silhouette.
(So make me believe.)
“No!” The teeth are already flashing towards him.
(Just take me away from this hell I've created.)
The blood is ecstasy. He cleans his muzzle before looking back down at the kill, his own body.
(And I'm afraid)
Except it’s not. Its Suzi’s, throat torn open, blood burbling out, pooling around her on the ground. He crouches to lap at it, following the flow back to its source.
(I'm breaking my own vows)
Her eyes are open, watching him, face smiling.
(knowing I'll go down in flames)
“I really do love you, Richard,” she says, extending her tentacles to his muzzle.
(I know this can't be right.)
Ryan jerks awake, mouth open in a silent cry. After a moment-a moment of horror, disgust, and fear-he realizes it was just a dream. The same dream he’s been having for a week. He doesn’t heave. He hasn’t since the first time he had it.
(There's got to be something more that I can live for.)
Spoon woke the memory up. Suzi made it terrifying.
(And I can only hide,)
He throws the covers off and pads to the bathroom. Bare-chested, he glares at the scars in the mirror.
(inside of this sickness for so long again.)
This is ridiculous. The same dream for a week? Utter nonsense. Yet here he is, looking at himself in the mirror once more. He turns on the faucet till it’s spewing forth ice-cold water.
(So make me believe)
She said she loved him. She said it and he starts having nightmares. He splashes his face. This is why he doesn’t connect with people. It made him weak. If he didn’t love Suzi, he’d still be sleeping right now. He pauses in his movements.
(Just take me away from this hell I've created)
If he didn’t love Suzi?
(And I'm afraid)
He loved her, Lord help him. Lord help Suzi. The faucet is shut off. It’s a dangerous position, especially with Witherspoon coming to the Bar. She’s in danger because of him. That man was insane. Yes, Ryan was using the new soap Bar gave him to help mask his scent, and that would help some. The problem was would it be enough?
(I'm breaking my own vows)
There are other options, he’s aware, grabbing a hand towel. He could avoid her completely, but he already knows that wouldn’t work. Not only would Suzi never agree to it, there’s that part of him screaming that she’s pack.
(knowing I'll go down)
Pack?
(Make me believe.)
He turns the term over in his head a few times, but it’s really no surprise. It only reinforces what he already knew. He starts patting his face dry. Another option would be to simply kill Witherspoon. Unfortunately, he told Wells he would only do so if Witherspoon attacked again. He could always provoke the other werewolf, but he would honestly rather not.
(Just take me away from temptation that's calling me.)
The final option, then, would be to keep Suzi out of that situation. He flashes back to the two of them being eaten and he realizes that it’s easier said than done. He already failed her once. They were lucky that they both made it out alive. She should never have been in that position. It was his responsibility to keep her safe and he failed.
(And I'm afraid)
Live and learn, Ryan. Yes, he failed, but what’s done is done. Learn from it. Don’t let it happen again.
(I'm breaking my own vows)
He can do that. He can try harder.
(knowing I'll go down in flames.)
He only hopes it’ll be enough.