Grayscale Ch1

Since I forgot to post for a few days, here's a double-update!  This is the start of the second arc of the This Isn't How it Works on Teen Wolf! series.

***

The days after Jack was bitten were a blur. Koz was numb. Exhausted His body fully focused on the singular task of getting them both to the cabin before the full moon. He remembered even less after he finally slung Jack’s feverish body onto the bed and bolted the cabin door.

This was unsurprising; it was always like that when Koz changed on the full moon. The nights were a blot on his memory and the days smeared together, a warped painting of nausea, headaches, and stiffness that never left no matter how much he flexed and stretched.

At night he blacked out and during the day he was too feverish to stay conscious for long. He dreamt of jagged teeth-crack-breaking-crack-bones, of blood and viscera, of rolling over to face Jack’s corpse – his eyes sunken and lips bloodless, of a shadowy man leaning over his still form, monsters scuttling under the floor, claws scritchingscratching beneath his feet, and Seraphina opening the note he’d left behind and shattering into a thousand pieces.

His only distraction, his only drive, was in sustaining Jack. A few times the boy woke, but only long enough to open his eyes, blink, and close them again. A few times he was conscious enough that Koz could prop him up and get some water in him.

In his lowest moment he considered letting the boy starve or simply not giving him any water. He didn’t have any bullets, but he wasn’t without options. But then he thought (remembered or dreamt, he wasn’t sure) that he’d heard werewolves that starve or die of dehydration returned to life as vampires. His more wakeful mind might have dismissed this notion if he hadn’t remembered all the accounts of blood-drinking wolves from South America and stories from Eastern Europe where werewolves and vampires were thought to be one in the same.

Regardless, once the moon had passed and he began to feel more himself he realized he couldn’t let Jack die. He shouldn’t have tried to kill him in the first place. He wasn’t even sure now why he had attempted it. He tried to insist to himself it was to save Jack from the miserable existence that lay before him, but he couldn’t help the niggling doubt that it was an attempt to destroy evidence of his own mistake. He lay awake thinking on it, wringing himself into a condensed ball of self-hatred before vowing that he would do all in his power to ensure Jack’s safety and quality of life.

The full moon passed. The best comparable experience was going to bed, miserable from days of illness with the flu and then waking to find yourself completely recovered.

Koz’s spirits were lifted just enough for him to venture into the forest for food. The supplies in the cabin grew less and less as the days passed, but he didn’t dare leave Jack’s side for as long as it would take to find real food.

It was a few days later that Koz returned after foraging and found Jack awake, looking around himself in blurry confusion.

Koz hurried to grab a cup of water as he always did when Jack managed to open his eyes. He approached Jack’s bedside and crouched down, watching as the boy’s pale blue eyes struggled to focus on him.

“Hey.” Jack’s voice cracked.

Koz licked his lips as Jack blinked sleepily at him. He’d waited so long and committed himself to caring for him, but he’d forgotten he’d have to talk to the boy. He didn’t know what to say to him.

He settled instead on helping Jack prop up his head enough to sip at the cup he offered him, making sure he didn’t drink too much. The last thing Jack’s body needed after so many days of little water and no food was to vomit up what precious fluids he could get down.

“Where’re we?” The young man murmured as Koz settled his head back against the pillow.

“The cabin.”

“Oh.” Jack looked around. His eyes glanced over the open door, evening sunlight streaming in and cutting through the gloom of the cabin’s interior. He’d spent more time there than Koz, yet there was not a trace of recognition on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Koz asked, then winced. Of course Jack probably felt awful. And it was Koz’s fault.

Koz wanted to retreat. To find something to do until Jack inevitably passed out again, but this was the most alert Jack had been and he owed it to him to do this, to be here while Jack clung to the shred of life he had left.

“I’m feel…” Jack blinked slowly. “I have a headache…” He licked his lips, his wits seeming to settle in. “Naked,” he said. “Where’re my clothes?”

“I was afraid you’d tear them when you turned,” Koz said, his tone apologetic as he stood to retrieve the clothes from where he’d stashed them in the bathroom.

When he returned, he found Jack gently touching the smooth patch of skin where he’d been bitten. He fingers moved sluggishly while his brow pinched in confusion.

Koz’s mouth was dry. He’d done that.

He set Jack’s clothes beside him on the bed. The young man’s eyes drifted towards him and he let go of the scar and reached over for the clothing, pulling it to his chest, but not moving to get dressed.

“Are we swimming?” He asked, looking at Koz’s trunks.

“They were the only clothes I could find.” Koz said.

“You’re cute.” Jack smiled. It was sweet, but a little confusing; he was acting so nonchalant. Maybe he was more out of it than Koz had thought.

He propped the boy’s head up again and offered him another sip of water before pulling away, hoping the drink would clear his head. He wished he could retreat but forced himself to move only as far as the edge of the bed. His fingers tapped against the cup. “Jack… how much do you remember?”

“I remember… “ Jack’s eyes went distant. “A wolf attacked me, but I killed it... Then I heard you yelping and I went to go help you.”

Koz’s heart sank. Jack was coming to help him and he’d gotten bitten. A wave of nausea washed over him. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep the wavering in his voice under control. “I know there’s nothing I can do to make it right…”

“It’s… it’s fine. I mean - it’s not fine, but it’s not your fault.”

“Not my fault? I’m directly responsible!” Koz couldn’t help the emotion that tangled through his words. He swallowed hard.

“No.” Jack shook his head and his eyes rolled shut. For a moment, Koz thought he’d passed out again, but then his eyes blinked opened and focused in on him once more. “You tried… You tried to help me. You stopped him from killing me.”

Koz’s eyebrows rose. “Him?” Who was ‘him’? Jamie?

“You know… the albino wolf. He attacked me and you fought him off.” Jack’s eyebrows pinched together. “Sort of. I think he mostly just walked away.” He shrugged and winced. “It could’ve been worse.”

Koz frowned. “You have no idea.” He remembered a flash of bloody teeth and a crunch of bone and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory. “So it wasn’t me?” He asked finally. “It wasn’t me who bit you?” He opened his eyes to see Jack looking at him – unbelievably – with concern in his eyes.

“No,” Jack said. “You saved me.”

And then he’d tried to kill him. His wolf side had more decency than his human one.

Koz sighed and Jack frowned in response.

“Am I going to turn all wolfy tonight?”

Koz merely nodded.

Jack’s frown deepened. “I feel like it’s been days… I thought the full moon past, maybe?”

“It has past, you’ll just be weak to it for a little longer.”

There was a quiet moment where Koz felt a slow wave of creeping relief steal over him. Jack’s life was ruined, but at least it wasn’t entirely his fault. The relief was followed by guilt. Jack’s life was still ruined. And he needed to tell him that he’d tried to shoot him.

“Will it hurt?” Jack asked in a quiet, wavering voice, his eyes wet. “It looked like it hurt when you… when you changed.”

The way he looked at him. Like Koz was his only hope. That gaze forced him to swallow hard and think. Would telling Jack Koz had almost killed him be good for Jack, or just for Koz’s consience? He let out a breath. No. That was a sample of Koz’s failure at human decency that he’d simply have to hold in himself forever.

In regards to Jack’s question though - there was no sense lying to him. “Yes,” Koz said. “It’s… painful but also not painful. Your endorphins kick in, so you’ll feel a sharp pain that fades to numbness and then another pain and – well,” he cleared his throat, smelling Jack’s fear. “It’s… not pleasant… but more disorienting than anything else.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He clenched and unclenched his hands around the bundle of clothing in his arms and blinked the dampness from his eyes, breathing heavily.

Koz sighed. He had little practice looking after others. The only exception was Seraphina - but tending to her needs was easy, instinctual, and relatively uncomplicated. He couldn’t reassure Jack by telling him a story or offering hugs and kisses. Nothing could fix this.

“I’m gonna try to get dressed,” Jack said finally, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I’ll step out a moment then, shall I?” Koz stood and went to the bathroom to give Jack some privacy. No sooner had he closed the door however, than he heard a loud thud.

“Jack?” He asked loudly, opening the door a jar.

Jack didn’t respond.

Koz felt a prickle along the back of his neck.

He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Jack on the floor by the bed, clothing scattered around and blankets tangled in his limbs. His eyes were closed and his whole body was trembling in great heavy jerks. For a moment, Koz was afraid he’d given him too much water and the boy was going to vomit, but the prickling on his neck only grew. He glanced out the window. He hadn’t realized how late it was.

He pulled off his trunks and folded them neatly. He didn’t need to turn, but he sort of wanted to. He’d be famished in the morning, but he always slept better this way. Koz felt the moon’s influence on him grow stronger and he watched with a sort of horrified fascination as his nails darkened and curved.

Jack’s body jack-knifed, throwing the blanket off his pale form as white fur spread out from his spine and over his shoulders. He was unconscious, which was probably for the better, Koz thought, as he watched the younger man’s face lengthen and narrow, contorting into a snout. He began to whimper, then yelp, the wolf crying out as he came into the world.

Koz closed his eyes as the change came on, his senses filling with the sounds of Jack’s pained cries and the scent of his fear.

***

“I’d hoped to stay in the cabin until you stopped changing,” Koz said when Jack woke the next morning. “I know you probably still aren’t feeling well, but we’re almost out of food. We need to get more, but I can’t leave you alone, so you’re going to have to come with me.”

If Jack could have moved, he would have probably made a remark that they were already starving – what harm would a few days of no food do? But he couldn’t muster the energy and the thought disappeared like a leaf in the wind. Instead, he just licked his lips and let out a breath that he sort of hoped sounded like an ‘okay.’

Koz frowned down at him, face pinched with concern. He reached an arm under Jack’s head and helped prop him up for a quick drink. Jack felt like he could have drank a river, but Koz didn’t let him have more than a few sips.

Koz settled his head back against the pillow. Brushing the hair out of Jack’s face, he pressed his palm to his forehead.

Jack’s eyes slid closed. Koz’s palm felt deliciously warm.

“You’re freezing,” Koz said, pulling the blankets up around Jack’s chin. Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry over his perturbed tone. “How do you feel?”

Jack opened his eyes sluggishly and tried to speak, but his tongue felt strange and foreign. “Lousy,” he managed.

Koz totally ignored what he said and simply seemed relieved that Jack had spoken. “Do you need anything? Could you eat?”

Jack shook his head.

“Would you like a shower before we go?”

Jack thought and then nodded. Maybe he’d feel better after he was clean.

Koz helped him up, which was when Jack remembered he was naked. He tried to reach back for the safe modesty of his blanket, blushing furiously as his embarrassment roused him from his lethargy. His plan backfired when he stumbled and ended up pitching into Koz.

Thankfully, Koz was much steadier on his feet, but the fact that Jack hadn’t fallen naked on top of him was only slightly better than the actual outcome – Jack pressing full-bodied and naked against Koz with only Koz’s arms around his lower back to support him.

Jack looked up into the man’s face, utterly mortified. Koz looked back at him, eyebrows raised as they both took a moment to mentally assess: yes, this is quite the awkward situation, isn’t it? Thankfully, Koz chose not to say anything, but helped tip Jack back onto his feet and then, supporting the younger man with one hand, he reached for the blanket and draped it around Jack’s shoulders.

He walked Jack to the bathroom and turned on the water for him. Koz politely looked the other way as Jack hobbled into the bathtub. The younger man got left the blanket with Koz as he pulled the shower curtain closed behind him.

The water felt nice, but heavy. Jack had to sit down on the shower floor or risk letting the stream knock over his wobbly, malnourished form.

He hadn’t ever taken a shower the whole time he was in the cabin. At first it was because he was worried that the cabin owner would return suddenly. Being caught in someone else’s shower sounded like a horrific first meeting, so he’d avoided the temptation. By the time he realized no one was coming, he was too focused on escaping the woods without becoming wolf food to think about hygiene.

Thinking of the Bennett pack only brought back bad memories.

He forced himself to focus on what was before him, lazily running his hands over the rim of the tub. It was one of those free-standing tubs like Jack had seen on TV and was clearly very old. There were subtle scratches around the inner walls and the paint was chipped in several places. The shower head was nothing more than a pipe sticking out of the floor with a nozzle attached. He forced himself to focus on the swirls of the pipe’s welding until he felt better. Then he took a moment to assess himself.

He’d never looked so thin, not even when things were their worst at home. He looked like the sort of person they staged eating-disorder interventions for on daytime television, stick-thin with his ribs sticking out prominently. He wasn’t hungry though, more nauseous than anything - nauseous and thirsty.

He gathered some of the shower water in his hands and drank some. It tasted vaguely of dirt, but he didn’t care. He took a few greedy sips before he remembered that people who were starving couldn’t eat a lot right away or they’d be sick – did the same apply for people who were very dehydrated? He didn’t want to risk it, so he only took a few sips more before letting the water fall between his fingers.

He reached a hesitant hand up along his neck and found the foreign lines of smooth scar tissue running jaggedly across his flesh. He wondered how bad it looked. It had felt awful – magic healing or not, it must look awful.

Jack rested his head against the rim of the tub, water dripping from his hair. For the first time in many days, he allowed himself to think of his family.

How would this affect them?

The healing factor might come in handy with his father, he thought ruefully. ‘Now when I don’t go to the hospital, it will be because I won’t actually need to go.’ And he wouldn’t have to make up excuses for cuts and bruises – they’d heal all on their own.

This could be a good thing, Jack decided. He could help his mother and sister with this. He could even – the thought prickled, fresh and new – he could even kick his dad out of the house. A little growling and some super strength – what could his dad do against that?

Call the police. Call the newspapers. Shoot him.

It might be worth getting shot, if it meant Emma would be safe – presumably if his father killed him, he’d go to jail. But then, his father probably couldn’t get his hands on silver bullets, he wouldn’t be able to kill Jack. He’d just be able to hurt him a lot.

Jack shuddered and brushed his dripping hair out of his face. He sighed as logic set in - all this changed was that he’d be even less welcome in his own home and his father would work harder to keep him in line.

He let the water run down his face, swallowing around a lump in his throat; reality was a terrible place.

*

Jack felt better, but not stronger, after his shower. He toweled off and dressed quickly, feeling chilled and shaky. Koz had obviously attempted to clean his clothes for him, but there were still a series of extremely suspicious stains all along the front, and the shoulder was torn to shreds on one side. He supposed he couldn’t complain. All Koz had to wear was a pair of swim trunks which belonged to somebody else.

When Jack emerged from the bathroom, he immediately went to the bed and sat down, proud that he’d managed to remain standing as long as he had.

“Tired?” Koz asked from his place at the kitchen table.

“Exhausted.”

“That’s normal,” Koz said, rolling his fork across the remains of a microwaved pie. “You’ll probably feel terrible for a few more days at least.” There was a bowl next to his plate, steam rising from whatever was inside it. Koz picked the bowl up and retrieved a spoon from the sink and brought them both to Jack.

Up close, Jack could see the bowl was full of chicken noodle soup. Looking at the steaming soup, he only felt only disgust. “No offense, but I don’t think I can keep it down.”

“Humor me then. Please.” Koz said, “You don’t even have to eat any of the chunks, just the broth.”

Jack didn’t want any, but he had realized in the shower that he was actually probably close to starving to death. He managed a few swallows of the broth before he couldn’t tolerate it any longer – but Koz seemed satisfied.

“Where are we going to get food?” Jack asked while Koz finished off the soup. “It actually doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, “I can’t walk that far.”

Koz almost cracked a smile. “If you’re well enough to snark, you’re well enough to walk.”

Jack made a face and was about to protest when he saw Koz was actually smirking. “You liar,” he said.

“I’m not lying, I might make you walk a little. You’re light, but not light enough that I can carry you the whole way. We’re walking for the island. That way I’m sure you’ll be safe when you turn. Then we’ll go to the campgrounds and acquire food and clothing. But whenever you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”

“Oh, Sam,” Jack sighed.

“If you’re well enough to make pop-culture references, you’re definitely well enough to walk.”

Jack groaned. Using humor to mask your problems could be quite a bitch sometimes.

Koz sneered and pulled Jack to his feet. “Come on now, Mister Frodo,” he said.

They’d lost their cooler and Koz’s pack, so Koz wrapped their meager food supplies in the blanket from the bed and fastened it with a safety pin he found in a stray drawer. He carried this, leaving Jack to hobble along, empty-handed, behind him.

Jack wanted to stop and rest shortly after walking down the cabin steps, but he also wanted to at least try. He forced himself to remember every word of encouragement his physical therapist had given him back when he’d broken his leg, but it was hard. Everything he’d learned was to help him push through pain - this boneless exhaustion was quite different.

Koz was quiet the whole morning. His brow was drawn and his jaw clenched in a way Jack was coming to recognize as his ‘brooding’ face. Koz seemed more upset about Jack getting bitten than Jack was. Maybe it just hadn’t hit him yet, or maybe he was too distracted by his surroundings.

Everything felt too loud and too bright. Jack would hear a bird fly by over his shoulder. Hear each feather rustling against the wind with each wing flap. Then he’d turn and see the actual sparrow some forty-feet away. They made their way through the underbrush and sometimes it seemed like just that and sometimes the snap and shift of the branches sounded like the rumble and crack of thunder. Light reflecting off the grass burnt his eyes like he’d stared directly at the sun. It was intense and uncomfortable. Koz was right. Being a werewolf was disorienting, and the ever-present exhaustion and thirst didn’t help.

Jack didn’t walk in a straight line the entire morning. Instead he tottered one way or the other, legs heavy and eyes itching for sleep. He came up with a system of making his way from one tree to the next, pausing briefly at each. Of course this technique could only last him so long. After the fourth or fifth time he fell down, Koz stopped.

“Do you want to rest?”

“No,” Jack said, not getting up from where he’d fallen.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’d carry you,” Koz said, putting down his bundle and kneeling beside him.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get going again if I stop,” Jack said.

“It won’t be much further. We’re moving in a less roundabout way this time.” Koz took Jack’s arm and hauled him up.

Koz carried Jack piggy-back – which Jack would have felt more embarrassed about if he weren’t too tired to feel self-conscious.

His senses were still going haywire. Jack’s ears actually hurt. He’d known this must have been physically possible – Lord knew he’d heard enough old people complain about loud music hurting their ears – but somehow he’d never actually believed it was a real thing.

At the worst of times, Jack would bury his face in the back of Koz’s neck. There was something grounding about Koz’s smell. He’d been a comfort to Jack for so long, Jack shouldn’t have been surprised that he felt so safe with him. He even managed to doze a little.

It was probably for the best that they hadn’t stopped. It was nearly evening by the time they reached the lake. Jack could hardly keep his eyes open.

Koz set him on his feet for a moment. He gave Jack the food bundle, then took the boy’s other hand and led him into the water.

Jack’s heart sped up as they walked the first few feet into the lake. He took a few deep breaths, wincing as the water lapped higher and higher on his weakened frame. When the water was just touching Jack’s neck, Koz wrapped an arm around him and began to swim with him across the lake, using a slow but steady backstroke.

The water was over Jack’s ears, dimming the sounds that had plagued him the whole day. It would have been pleasant, if he weren’t so terrified. Jack shivered and the water trembled around him. The sky was darkening overhead and the water was cool. A wave lapped up high against Jack’s face and he squeezed his eyes shut. “C-can werewolves survive drowning?” He asked, teeth clacking together.

“I’m not sure,” Koz said, panting as he swam. “Let’s not find out.”

Water sloshed across Jack’s face. He shuddered and opened his eyes. And saw the moon.

*

Jack woke slowly.

“Ow.” He ached all over. His head was throbbing, he was thirsty, and he was starving. He curled up in a ball of miserable agony, trying to breathe through the pain. He smelled food.

Jack jerked up and his head spun. “Oh,” he groaned, clutching his head. He blinked back tears of pain as he slowly looked around.

The sun shone brightly between the leaves of the island’s lone tree. Koz had thrown the blanket across him. It was still damp from the swim over but it had been heated by the warming day. Jack pushed it down his body and slowly rolled over.

“Koz?” He croaked. He swallowed. His tongue felt like sandpaper.

He glanced around again.

There was their food supplies.

He looked behind himself.

There was the tree.

Where was Koz?

Jack struggled to stand, panic overriding his exhaustion as he leaned against the tree and looked frantically across the waters, but all was still. Jack was on a tiny island in the middle of a lake he couldn’t cross and he was entirely alone.