Archive of Our Own

"Of all God's creatures, there is only one that cannot be made slave of the lash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve the man, but it would deteriorate the cat."

Mark Twain

---

Michael made three mistakes that day that ultimately ended his life.

First off, he messed up rule number one. He should’ve known not to go into town on a Sunday. He’d been living on his own so long that he’d forgotten the basics. Never go into town on Holy Day. Never forget a hat. And never talk to strangers.

Two out of three. Not bad. It was impressive, even for Michael, to screw up quite so badly.

He clutched at his beanie like a lifeline, though it was useless now that his tail had been spotted. The small black fabric was protecting his personal identity, however, and so when Michael ran, he was sure to keep it tightly fit over his head. He ignored the discomfort it brought to his ears and pushed his way through a large crowd gathered at the foot of a large wooden stake.

The only shoes he owned – a ratty pair of sneakers that were damn near falling apart at the seams – kicked up a fair amount of dirt on the road as he sprinted, the noise of an even larger herd of mindless humans following him like a bad smell. Confident that he could lose them, Michael hopped over a citizen’s small, wooden fence and extended his claws, cutting the cheap wire that kept the latch closed. The animals contained in the gate, ten horses and what looked like a dozen or so pigs, stirred in excitement. Michael just barely got out of the way of the stampede, leaping back from the gate as it flung open.

Grinning like a shark, Michael watched as the screams grew louder with panic, no longer threats and warnings of being hanged, but screams of panic and fear as animals ran amok in their small town. It was well worth watching the chaos for a long moment, but Michael soon shook himself out of it and hopped over the back of the fence.

He heard his name screamed back and forth between the humans as he tripped and stumbled his way through the nearest alley, a barrage of boxes attempting to stop his escape. For a cat, Michael wasn’t exactly graceful; he fell flat on his face when he finally reached the other side. His beanie was lopsided as he scrambled to his feet.

Something big and heavy hit the ground next to him. He could feel the shockwave from the impact with the dirt floor and jumped backwards, shocked to see a large, spiked ball dragging along the dirt, creating a sizeable crater and subsequent trench as it was reeled back in. It was straight out of some medieval bullshit, the wrecking ball attached to a large black chain. His wide eyes trailed up the leash slowly, dreading to see what was on the other side.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, turning and booking it as the Control reared back, a vicious smile splitting the man’s lips, the teeth inside crooked and yellow. Over his head was what looked like a black sock with four holes cut out of it for his eyes, mouth, and nose. His body was dressed in all black, but his boots were bright red, a clear-cut message that this individual was from Control. It was a little unneeded; he was as big as a horse, with broad shoulders that framed a tiny head, legs twice the size of Michael’s body. His hands resembled a catcher’s mitt and wow – he could probably just grab Michael’s head and pop it like a grape.

Well aware that this asshole could most definitely end his life right then and there, Michael pulled no punches as he tried to escape. Not real punches of course – a physical fight would be the equivalent of a paper airplane hitting a wall. The weapon was swung at him in slow intervals, but the guy had immaculate aim. One of the many white, sharp spikes even caught on Michael’s shirt, ripping the fabric slightly.

The man wasn’t able to keep up with Michael for long and soon fell behind. By that time Michael had almost reached the tree line to the forest that surrounded their small village, but the redhead wasn’t dumb enough to slow down. If anything, he sped up.

Control traveled in packs. If that monster was here, that meant that there were more of them probably swarming the town right now. Screams and frantic shouts still pierced the Sunday morning air, and the sound of an army of footsteps made the ground shake under his feet.

Michael smirked when he saw the tree line, leaning forward to seem smaller as he prepared to shoot through the trees. He was clumsy, yes, but not when it came to climbing. Extending his nails, the redheaded hybrid tensed the muscles of his legs as he approached the finish line, ready to jump in three, two, one –

His forward motion was disrupted by something catching his shirt and sending him flying to his right, only to be strung up on a large Oakwood trunk, a large spear having been fired perfectly to capture him in motion. The sharp spearhead was embedded deep into the bark, some of the fabric of his shirt gone with it, and Michael was left hanging two feet off the ground, swinging his legs helplessly as he squirmed, frantically twisting his body in an attempt to wriggle free of his constricting shirt, the upper left corner of his blue t-shirt now impale upon the tree.

It was harder to rip a tee shirt than it looked, especially for someone so thin and lightweight. No matter how he yanked or jerked, he was effectively pinned.

He heard raucous laughter break out in front of him, a woman’s the loudest of all. Wrapping his hands around the metal shaft of the spear to gain leverage, Michael looked up to see a small group of five men and one woman, all dressed in black with red shoes. His heart sank.

Control.

“That was the funniest chase I have ever witnessed,” the girl said, cackling as she bent over, hands on her knees and supporting her as she started to burst into more laughter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lardo run that fast,” one of the men said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. A large gun was latched to his hip, the white metal sending shivers of fear through Michael’s spine.

Heart beating wildly, he growled, ears laying flat under his beanie and tail puffed up in agitation. “Fuckers!” he spat, digging his claws into the bark of the tree, his shoes grinding up and down the trunk.

“I think it’s talking to us,” stage-whispered a man with short black hair, swinging a large battle-axe over his shoulder and grinning at him. He was rather charming, but the way he looked at Michael, like he’d just been scraped off the bottom of someone’s shoe, made the redhead hiss. His ears fluttered wildly, this time knocking his beanie completely off his head. He cared little for the thing now – he was already captured.

He was already dead.

The woman, a tall redhead with gray eyes, strolled forward alongside the man with the white gun on his hip. They circled him, just barely out of reach as he kicked and swiped at them, his claws shredding the air not inches from their faces. They didn’t flinch, looking oddly approving as they completed their wide walk around, both coming to stand in front of him with a finger on his or her chin in thought. Sharing a glance, they nodded simultaneously and turned back to their colleagues, who were patiently waiting for them to finish.

“Definitely good shape,” the woman said. “Tell Gruch he did good – no injuries this time. It’s a little twiggy, but cats are good on the market regardless. Damn, we got a good load this time. How much do you think we’ll pull with all six of ‘em, Mar?”

The black-haired man chuckled, giving her a knowing glance. They shared a grin. “I think we’re gonna get next three month’s rent is what I think,” he said, tapping her on the temple playfully before looking at Michael. His dark eyes raked up and down his body, analyzing and apparently coming to a positive conclusion. Nodding, he continued, “At least twelve, right? At the least?”

“I’d even say fourteen,” a different man piped up, looking eager. He didn’t seem to be carrying a weapon, bouncing happily on the balls of his feet. “He’s in better shape than the others!”

The man hummed in agreement, drawing closer and closer until he was only an inch out of range. Michael stilled, holding his breath and glaring down at the man, baring his teeth in a wide snarl. A tense moment of eye contact caused Michael’s ears to flatten against his skull, a threatening growl slipping through his lips as his teeth ground together. Chest heaving with the result of his attempt to control his panicking body, Michael’s eyes bore into the stranger in front of him. Neither man seemed intimidated by the other, but the dark-haired one seemed slightly intrigued that Michael wasn’t begging for mercy. Michael could only wonder how many of his kind this sick fuck had traded in for money.

“It’s not even scared,” came a quiet whisper, the soft-spoken sentence laced with wonder. It was enough to break Michael from his stubborn stare down, his eyes instead darting to glare at the faces hovering only a few yards away.

“Fuck no, I’m not scared,” Michael hollered, voice rough with anger. His fists clenched on the spear, the bunched up shirt riding up under his armpits beginning to burn. His shoes gained little traction on the annoyingly smooth surface of the tree. “I’m pissed! Any of you come within a foot of me and I’ll fucking claw your eyes out – don’t fucking come near me!”

As if to pack more of a punch in his words, he kicked his feet out, catching the man right in the chin and sending him reeling. The fabric of Michael’s shirt began to tear, the sound like music to the redhead’s ears as his struggles were renewed.

His shirt was almost completely torn through, only an inch left before he would be able to rip free, but before he could deliver a good final jerk, a blade was swept under his chin, the cold metal against his throat stopping him cold. He met eyes with the gray-eyed woman, her red hair splayed over her slim shoulders as she knelt into him, her knee propped up on the tree so she could have better access to slitting his throat. She seemed unnaturally tall; now that she was this close, Michael could see that she towered over him.

Her face was expressionless as she pressed the edge of the knife into Michael’s skin, forcing his head back if he wanted to avoid getting his flesh nicked. Skin crawling with the abrupt sense of vulnerability, Michael’s tail swished restlessly from between his legs before the long red appendage curled around his thigh defensively in apprehension.

“Don’t try that again,” she said, speaking directly to Michael for the first time since impaling him upon the tree. Her eyes fell to her blade as she warningly slid it across his throat, apparently restraining herself from actually injuring the skin. When she finally pulled away, the skin was tingling but undamaged.

Just an inch was left. One wiggle and Michael could –

He didn’t see her hand slid into the space between his animalistic ears, tightening in his strands until his scalp stung. Without pausing, she mercilessly yanked his head forward before slamming it back against the tree, the impact jolting his head to the point of lights flashing in his eyes, his vision unfocusing as pain exploded at the base of his skull.

Dazed, his grip went limp as he struggled to regain his senses. He felt her fingers release his hair, instead shifting attention to his ear, stroking the soft, dense hair in an upwards motion until reaching the top, where she pinched the very tip between her thumb and index finger. It wasn’t rough by any means, but the appendage fluttered under the touch, pulling out of her gentle grip in a quick motion. Like his arms, his ears seemed to have gone lax. His tail was now lifeless as it unraveled from his thigh.

“Good kitty,” she praised, abandoning his ear and instead cupping his cheek, patting it in approval.

“What’re you, a cat whisperer?” the man whom he’d kicked in the chin said, looking sour. On his jaw, a large red mark was blooming.

“Only if whispering involves smashing its head against the tree,” she murmured to him, directing Michael’s gaze into her eyes. She was only an inch or two away, their noses almost touching. The gray swirling in her large orbs was oddly familiar. “Don’t kitties have whiskers?” she asked him, a curious lilt in her tone as she cocked her head.

He opened his mouth to answer, but his jaw failed to listen to the messages in his brain, instead hanging uselessly agape. She giggled, high-pitched and girlish.

“Ooh,” she said with wide eyes. The hand not cradling his face left its spot on the tree, coming instead around to his face, her cold finger hovering in the middle of his mouth before pressing against one of his sharpened canines. She felt the narrowed point with an expression full of pride. “You’re gonna bring us a lotta dough,” she said, smiling.

“Fuck you,” Michael breathed, licking his lips. He could taste the salt from her finger on his tongue, nose wrinkling as disgust turned his stomach over.

She frowned, but quickly was distracted again. Her fingers traveled over the bridge of his nose, presumably trailing over the pattern of his freckles, until she got to the edge of his cheekbones. Her smile was blindingly bright, and Michael made a mental note that her teeth were oddly white and straight for being a bottom feeder. Ironically, she probably thought the same about him.

“Ooh,” she said again. This time she was condescending. The pads of her fingers rubbed a circle over his cheekbone, the skin shifting. Michael realized belatedly what she was doing. “Kitty does have whiskers. Ouchies – under the skin, poking up. Must hurt.”

Michael hissed, a slow, drawn out strangled sound that came from deep in his chest. She clucked her tongue at him, finally withdrawing and allowing Michael to draw a deep breath. His head was spinning, vision still not quite back to normal.

“Get him down,” the girl said carelessly to her coworkers as she strode back into the town. The men rushed to comply and approached Michael with none of the cautious he should’ve been given. Confused and rather dizzy, he still managed to land a good kick to one man’s chest, sending him back on his ass. With the sudden movement, the last inch of the shirt finally ripped, and he fell ungracefully from his pinned position, landing unsteadily on his knees, hands curling in the dirt.

Struggling to regain his frayed sense of balance, Michael blinked and stood, leaning heavily against the tree. One of the men made a grab for him, but he hissed and spat at him, pure cat noises, swiping and scratching the flesh of the man’s arm. Blood beaded along the thin cuts. The man stumbled back and clutched his forearm in pain.

Someone tackled him from behind, thick, burly arms wrapping around his neck and sending them both to the ground. Michael was unfortunate to be the one that ended up on the bottom, the breath knocked out of his lungs as his chest slammed into the ground. Acting as fast as he could, he rolled them over with all of his might, bringing up his hands and digging his claws into the meat of the man’s biceps, a bloodcurdling scream immediately erupting in his human ear.

The man’s arms tightened in response. Resorting to desperate measures, Michael craned his head down and dug his teeth into the flesh, the feeling of skin breaking and blood filling his mouth causing the redhead to gag. It made the man finally let go, shoving Michael back forcefully until he was sitting on his ass in the dirt.

Before he could move, a hard kick was delivered to his side, a follow up immediately sent to his chest. Muscles beginning to ache, he sucked in a few breaths before trying to push himself to his hands and knees, his sprawled out position leaving him open for easy attacks. He didn’t quite make it, another foot flying into his stomach and knocking the air from his lungs. He groaned, narrowing his eyes when he saw a pair of legs right in front of him and reached out, gauging deep gashes into the thin skin of the ankle.

He didn’t react like Michael thought he would; reaching down he grabbed Michael’s cat ears, yanking on the twitching limbs and drawing a pained yelp from Michael’s throat. His grip loosened on the man’s leg, and his arms were instantly grabbed from behind, someone standing over him and bundling his wrists up in a tight grasp. His shoulders protested loudly, bent awkwardly as he was pushed, face first into the dirt, arms used as leverage against him.

He squirmed fruitlessly, kicking his feet up in a useless attempt to kick the man standing above him in the groin.

“Fucking hold it still!” an angry voice screamed.

Michael let out a hoarse cry of pain when his arms were yanked further, shoulders beginning to burn and wrists aching. His flailing feet finally landed a hit on something solid standing behind him and a satisfying thud met his ears.

There was more yelling and scrambling as he wriggled and twisted. His cheek scraped against the ground as he was grabbed by the legs and dragged backwards. He gasped when he heard his wrist make a concerning popping sound, the grip around his wrists releasing him immediately. He scrabbled at the floor, claws creating neat furrows as he was pulled forcefully into town.

He saw the foot coming towards him, but could do nothing but watch as it made a long arch towards his face, the bright red boot tossing dancing lights into his vision. He was too distracted by the bright crimson trails painted in the air to see where the boot landed on his head.

The lights disappeared with his consciousness.

*

The constant rocking under his body lulled Michael into a comfortable doze, despite the discomfort brought on by the awkward position his hands were in. The pain in his shoulders was muted from the concussion clouding his mental state, but the smell was beginning to get to him.

His nose twitched a few times, crinkling when the unpleasant factor registered. It was an odd mix of horse shit and wet, moldy wood, strong and thick as it curled in his nostrils.

Low, murmuring voices surrounded him, one in particular louder and higher-pitched with panic. A twinge of nostalgia sparked in Michael’s mind, and he blinked open sore eyes to gaze in confusion at the scene of black, nearly dead trees passing by.

His cheek was pressed up against something warm and rough, arms suspended over his head. Glancing up, his heart started to hammer at the sight of thick, silver manacles loosely cuffing his wrists to the bar he was leaning against. His legs were tucked up uncomfortably underneath him, the bones of his shins grinding against the floor.

The abrupt silence made Michael turn his head, greeted with the sight of the familiar face of Ryan Haywood.

Oh, no.

“Are you concussed?” Ryan asked him bluntly, not bothering with greetings and instead jumping straight to the point. The blond was looking… rather well, his body sturdier and more firm since Michael had last seen him, but his hands were similarly chained to a bar directly opposite of Michael. Ryan was standing, looking down at Michael expectantly.

Michael looked around, stomach sinking quickly as recognition kicked in. Four other very familiar faces were looking back at him, differing expressions on each face. His heart tightened, memories, equally good and bad, flooding his brain before he could stop them. Shaking his head to rid himself of the haunting thoughts that often frequented his dreams, Michael kicked his feet out from under him to stand, head throbbing. The motion of standing made his stomach do a flip.

“What the hell,” Michael croaked, throat dry and sandy. He coughed into his arm, eyes watering at the intensity of his headache.

“Do you have a concussion?” Ryan asked again. His horns were looking good, too, Michael noted bleakly. Well-polished, they stuck out about five inches from the blond’s cranium.

Michael glanced over to Geoff, who was similarly tied up. Michael realized that they were in the back of a Control carriage – just a simple wooden wagon with six spikes that created the ‘walls’ and a convenient place to handcuff prisoners.

Geoff was looking well. Face a bit fuller, eyes brighter, horns also taken good care of. Michael’s heart seemed to lighten, despite their rather grim circumstances. Gavin was chained across from Geoff, the brunette’s wings strapped tightly to his back with a thick black belt specially made for restraining such large, muscular appendages. The sandy brown feathers looked puffy and irritated by such an obstruction, but Gavin didn’t seem to care at the moment, eyes attentively trained on Michael’s.

Ray was on Michael’s right, and finally, Jack across from Ray. Ray’s ears were poofier, a smile brought to Michael’s lips at the sight. One was flopped over, the other at attention. A nice wisp of beard was growing in and his body looked a bit more toned than what Michael remembered.

Jack looked relatively the same. His mane was unruly and wild, but obviously well-groomed. He was also wearing glasses, a sparkle in his eye rivaled only by his friendly smile as he watched Michael, waiting for an answer.

An answer. Oh, right.

“Um… I – I don’t think so,” Michael said slowly, the words molasses on his tongue. He tugged at the cuffs, a distant concern worming its way into his brain. His eyes seemed to thrum.

“So…” Gavin said in the pause after his words. He licked his lips. “You were in Luca.”

Michael looked at his shoes, feeling the gazes of old friends burning holes into his body. “Yeah,” he mumbled, kicking his feet a bit.

“We were a town over,” Ray offered, leaving the statement hanging. No one said anything, obviously waiting for Michael to speak up, but the redhead just stared into the black forest. He didn’t recognize the exact area, having never traveled so far outside of the cluster of cities by the water before.

“Michael –”

“How did you get caught?” Michael demanded, cutting Geoff off without looking at the older man.

“This group seems to have a certain affinity for weapons,” Jack muttered irritably. He glanced towards the front of the carriage, but the Control were in the closed cabin, the door firmly closed and probably locked. Michael’s manacles clanged as he yanked at them, frowning. The distant concern in his brain started to grow larger. His wrists hurt a fair amount with every pull.

“Where are we going?” Michael asked in a dull voice. The realization that his life was about to end didn’t seem to’ve registered just yet, nor had it for anyone else. A similar look of delayed shock was spread thick across each of their faces.

Michael could see the town far in the distance. They’d just left, Michael being the last ‘package’ to their newest haul. A ram, a bird, a cow, a rabbit, a lion, and a cat – well, they hadn’t been lying when they said it’d be a good one.

He yanked at his binds mindlessly. His gaze was locked onto a spot somewhere in front of him, the trees passing by as the wagon trailed on. He looked back at the town again, breathing speeding up.

“No, no, no, no,” he huffed, trying to squeeze his hand out of the large silver cuff. His palm was too wide to fit but he couldn’t help himself as he frantically tugged. The skin chaffed as it rubbed against the harsh metal.

“No, no!” Michael yelled, eyes stinging. He gave a violent jerk, the pain in his wrist causing tears to build up. “I can’t fucking die!”

He heard voices in the background as he began to panic, breathing reaching hyperventilation levels within seconds. The frenzied beating of his heart in his ears drowned out the calls and shouts from the others, and soon another voice even joined his in the hysteria. Before he knew it, his hands were covered in a thin coating of blood, the skin around his wrist shredded by his brutal determination. He could feel the pain building but was immune to the effects, adrenaline probably having something to do with that.

His freakout felt like it lasted for hours, but when he finally started to lose energy, they were still slowly crawling by the dark forest, having moved only a hundred yards or two. Tears were streaming down his face, the product of an overwhelming amount of emotion walloping his mental state. His hands felt millimeters from falling off.

He screamed in anguish, vision going black with rage. He leaned heavily against the rail, breathing heavily as he gave one last, weak tug. He didn’t expect it to suddenly crumble, but his heart still broke when it didn’t.

Voices bled into his consciousness, the panicked yelling coming from his right immediately drawing his attention the instant he recognized it as Gavin.

The brunette was talking at top speed, the words unintelligible but sharp with fear. He was clutching at his cuffs with bone-white knuckles, the dam seeming to’ve broken with Michael’s own deterioration. Gavin, at least, wasn’t mutilating his arms.

Jack was too far away from the brunette to offer much comfort, but his deep voice managed to reach through Gavin’s delirium. Michael was rapt as he watched Jack’s deep, soothing tones slowly draw Gavin out of his panic. Michael realized belatedly that someone was also talking to him.

“Michael!” Ryan was saying sharply, trying to capture his gaze. Michael quickly rubbed his cheeks on the sleeve of his shirt, leaving the material wet with tears and slightly grimy from the residual sweat and mud on his face. He looked at Ryan, licking his lips and wincing at the sting budding in his wrists.

“Are you done?” Ray asked from his left in a shaky voice. His rabbit ears were laying flat, a position similar to Michael’s, and his hands balled up into fists. Michael could see the red skin of Ray’s arms from what was probably his own struggling.

“No,” Michael ground out, pulling on his wrists. The bonds clanked together, but his hands still did not squeeze out from the manacle.

“Stop that,” Geoff barked at him, his own cuffs clattering as he strained forward. The muscles in his arms rippled with tension. Michael could pick out which tattoos were new in his impressive sleeves of ink, heart aching with the memory of sitting next to Geoff for hours and studying the various designs and images.

“You’re only going to make us stay at the med-fac longer,” Ryan said calmly. It took Michael a long moment to understand what the word med-fac meant; his injured wrists were now going to be treated at the medical facility as well as whatever else they did there. Michael shivered.

“They’re going to kill me,” Michael said dully, expression giving way to a completely blank stare. His gaze drifted away from Geoff’s face to instead bore into a distant spot on the horizon.

By making a stupid decision, betraying the oldest rule engraved into his mind, Michael had effectively hammered the nails into his very own coffin, all by himself. He’d forgotten the day of the week. He should’ve just fucking stayed at home, the curtains of his ratty, one-roomed ‘apartment’ drawn and door locked. If it’d been just a normal day, the townspeople would’ve tolerated his presence as they did every other time he wandered into the city. To top off the cake with a fucking candle, Control had been in town. He couldn’t remember experiencing such an unlucky streak in his life.

Even before he met Ray, Michael knew what happened to those who were taken by Control. In the anarchy of a post-technology civilization, there were few willing to stand up to what was debatably the most powerful cult in the land. Rumors spread like a rash upon skin, though Michael had never really paid much mind to the pointed whispers and dirty looks thrown at him as he walked the streets of his poor town. Never dumb enough to roam with his tail or ears out on display, he managed to slip just under the radar. People in the town of course held their suspicions, most of which already having drawn a conclusion, but they let him be, albeit with a few warnings. He’d woken up to broken windows, a rock having been tossed in with a note scribbled on the side that read, get out of here freak.

He’d had other instances of casual racism, such as being flat out told not to ‘show his ugly mug’ during the day of the Holy. Regardless of his resentment at being told what to do, every Sunday Michael would sit alone in the middle of his apartment, acutely aware that the townspeople could very easily string him up in the middle of townsquare along with the Wiccans and Hunters. He may not practice witchcraft or drain people of blood, but Michael would certainly burn at the stake for tainting the ceremonial ground during the Holy day.

An eerie silence had fallen over the group as Michael leaned his head up against the railing, sliding down so he was once again sitting on the wooden floor of the wagon. His shoulders twinged in protest and his wrists burned, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm building in his mind.

His cheeks felt grimy with dried tears as he scrunched up his face, trying to ward off any more stupid crying fits. He’d always been a crybaby, ever since his mom had died.

Blinking out of his haze, Michael looked at Geoff, who was staring thoughtfully at the sky, the naturally purple-blue tint of the sky covered up with thick, pulsating thunderclouds. It looked like that all too often in this part of the land, and though Michael had heard stories of places where the sky was blue instead of purple, where there were sometimes no clouds, he’d never known anything but this and the sight was annoyingly familiar.

“Which town were you in?” Michael asked suddenly, looking expectantly at Geoff as the tattooed man jumped and stared at him in surprise.

“One over,” Geoff answered obscurely.

“Which one?”

“Bermal… I think.”

“You think?” Michael frowned. “Why were you in Bermal?”

“Why were you in Luca?” Geoff shot back defensively, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. Michael rolled his eyes, well acquainted with Geoff’s circle-back technique for avoiding questions.

“I was in Luca because I live there,” Michael said, stomach hollowing when he corrected himself, “Lived there.” He shook his head. “For, like, a year now, actually.”

“You’ve been in Luca –!” Gavin burst, sounding jittery. His face was contorted in anger, cheeks flushed slightly pink. He’d calmed down from his earlier jabbering but still looked distinctly frazzled.

“This whole time?” Ryan asked, mouth twisting downwards.

“Yeah?” Michael said, shaking his head in confusion. “Why not? They… tolerated me well enough.”

“Obviously not,” Jack muttered, raising his eyebrows.

“Obviously yeah,” Michael sneered at him. “I don’t have horns or wings or a mane or ridiculously large ears. As long as I didn’t show off, I was fine.”

“Then what happened?” Ryan asked.

Michael closed his mouth, the smug expression vanishing from his face at once. Ears dropping in embarrassment, he muttered, “Alright, well, I messed up today. But it was only the first time.”

“One helluva first-time screw up,” Gavin sighed, rolling his eyes. His words were condescending but his tone was surprisingly kind. He met Michael’s eyes without a hint of anger now. The complete one-eighty made Michael narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“Yeah, well,” Michael mumbled. His tail was restless in its movements as it whipped back and forth in the air behind him, sticking out from between the spikes of the railing. His ears were extremely tender and sore from the abuse they’d suffered earlier. Michael winced at a lance of pain shooting through the furry lobes and he vowed to seriously pay the guy back for fucking with his ears.

Gavin licked his lips as he looked at him. Not seeming to be able to take it any longer, he finally burst out, “How’ve you been?”

Averting his eyes, Michael’s voice was high as he said, “Good. Not bad.”

“What’ve you been doing?” Gavin asked, seeming unsatisfied with Michael’s lackluster answer.

“Just walking around town most of the days.”

“How’ve you been eating?” Gavin persisted.

“Mainly stealing shit,” Michael said honestly, shame coloring his cheeks as he saw glances traded between his friends. “What? How else am I supposed to fucking eat?”

“Well, first of all, it looks like you aren’t,” Geoff said disapprovingly. “And secondly, not by stealing.”

“You’re one to talk,” Michael huffed, tail coiling around his neck as he avoided eye contact with Geoff. His headache had receded with the panic attack but it was gradually building up once more behind his eyes. Feeling an itch on his nose, Michael idly scratched it with the tip of his tail.

“You look… good,” Jack said awkwardly. Michael could hear the obvious deceitful tone in the bearded man’s voice. He glanced reflexively at the lion before remembering fondly that Jack’s ears, though soft and fluffy, were not quite as expressive as his. The circular lobes rarely moved atop his skull. They were slightly hidden in the tangle of his orange-brown mane.

“Thanks,” Michael said sardonically, giving Jack a flat stare. The end of his tail gave a careless wave as he rolled his eyes, the picture of sarcasm. Itching one of his ears gingerly on his shoulder, he continued, “So what’s the plan?”

They all shared glances, expect for Ray, whose head was turned away from them as he pressed his forehead into the metal of the rail.

For the first time, real fear glistening in Geoff’s eyes, the wide, gray orbs appraising Michael as if it was the first time seeing him. It made Michael shift in discomfort, but he met the tattooed man’s gaze toe to toe.

“I don’t know,” Geoff said, voice saturated with genuine honesty. He shook his head. “We – they took us when we were… sleeping. Bermal is a little more friendly than a lot of the towns around here but you know how Control is.”

“Why were you in Bermal?” Michael asked in confusion. “It’s dangerous anywhere west of the forest – you know this more than I do.”

“Yeah, I thought you knew that, too,” Geoff said angrily. “There is no plan, Michael. We – we fucked up. In more ways than one.”

“What we can do now,” Ryan interrupted. “is stay together.”

There was a tense pause as the rest of the men digested the morbid atmosphere that had suddenly descended in the back of the wagon. Their bodies swayed with the rocky movement of the wagon wheels traveling over the course gravel. Ryan and Ray sunk to the floor in positions similar to Michael’s.

Of course it was Gavin who had to ask.

“Why did you leave?”

The loaded question made Michael’s ears lay flat against his skull, nestling in his hair and probably displaying his unease to the rest of the men. His tail whisked nervously behind him, the sight very similar to that of a frisky housecat. Taking some time to mull over a proper answer, Michael sucked on his teeth, tonguing the sharp edges of his canines. He shivered, recalling the feeling of the woman’s finger in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have been there anymore,” Michael finally mumbled, adjusting his awkwardly bent legs until they were splayed out in front of him, his shoe just to the right of Ryan’s. His heart stuttered when Ryan playfully tapped the edge of his shoe against Michael’s ankle.

“What does that mean?” Gavin asked, frustration clear in his eyes. The warm green orbs were brimming with mistrust, the sight sending pangs of old regret into Michael’s heart.

“It means that I wanted to leave, so I did,” Michael snapped at him. No one seemed particularly shocked by his outburst, and Ray didn’t even look up. Huffing, Michael forced himself to calm, his ears gradually relaxing until they were once more in an alert position, upwards and facing the front. “I… apologize for suddenly taking off, but I’m not sorry I left.”

Gavin glared at him. Over the brunette’s shoulder, his feathers were becoming more and more ruffled. “You prick,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t even mean that. You were fine with leaving us without a single damn word!”

“I just said I apologize!”

“Because that means a lot,” Gavin scoffed bitingly.

“Fuck off,” Michael retorted.

“Why did you leave?” Gavin yelled, yanking at his manacles. The entire wagon shifted with the force of his pull, causing Michael’s eyes to widen, his hands tightening around the rail. He’d forgotten – Gavin was unnaturally strong, far stronger than Michael and rivaling Jack.

Michael didn’t reply and Gavin continued to glare at him, mouth twisted up in an unhappy grimace. Michael just stared back challengingly, an old spark between the two reigniting as if they hadn’t been apart for more than four years. Michael’s fixed frown shifted into a smirk at the rising tension. If he was correct, there was a hint of playfulness deep within the brunette’s hazel irises, but then again, Michael had never been an expert at reading Gavin’s facial expressions.

“That’s not important right now,” Jack said cautiously, the movement of his jaw evident by the shift in facial hair. “What’s important is how we’re going to get through this.”

“All of us,” Gavin added pointedly.

“You said you didn’t have a plan,” Michael said.

“We don’t,” Jack said, shrugging. “We have a goal.”

“Great,” Michael muttered, rolling his eyes. He itched his nose with his tail again before turning his head up to look at Ray with a frown. “What are you doing, Ray?”

The rabbit’s forehead was leaning against the rail he was chained to, ears downcast as he gazed blankly at his tied up hands. No reply came, even as Michael stared at him.

The wagon jerked to a stop. Michael scrambled to his feet, cringing as pain exploded in his wrists. The adrenaline from his earlier freak out having worn out hours ago, he now could feel the full impact of the damage he’d inflicted upon his skin. The wounds weren’t visible under the metal rings, but blood had coated the inside of the cuff, crimson streaks even marking up the skin of his forearm.

His ears pressed flat against his skull when the door on the side of the carriage opened, two people hopping out. To Michael’s horror, it was the redheaded woman who was the cause of all of his injuries, the ache in his chest, the soreness in his ribs, and the sudden mental anguish he was being subjected to now. Behind her was one of the men that had cornered Michael next to the woods. Michael’s tail swished in agitation and he could see Gavin’s wings twitch from under the tight, black binding tape.

“– think we’re going to have to split them up,” the redhead was saying, closing the door after her friend. “Three for three won’t cut it. Bre is going to skit out on us.”

“She won’t with the bird,” the man grunted. Michael’s eyes were sharp and narrowed as he followed their movement around the wagon. The man unlatched the back of the wagon and allowed it to fall open with a bang, startling Gavin and Geoff, who were the two nearest the exit.

Michael quickly craned his neck around, eyes widening at the sight of a flat, sleek-looking building they’d pulled up to. He hadn’t even noticed, too preoccupied with his reunion with his biggest fears.

“You get that one and that one,” she said to her colleague, pointing to Jack and Geoff. “Kris will get the bird and rabbit thing. I want the kitty.”

The man looked supremely uncomfortable with the creepiness of her last statement, almost as much as Michael. He moved forward, climbing up on the wagon and not hesitating to unlock Geoff’s cuffs. Michael was shocked and confused as to why Geoff put up no fight whatsoever, simply bowing his head and allowing the burly man to shove him aside as he released Jack. The lion didn’t react, either.

Michael’s blood was boiling.

“Pretty horns,” she cooed to Geoff, who didn’t look up. Vaguely unhappy that Geoff hadn’t responded, the woman watched with sharp eyes as her coworker led the duo around to the front of the wagon. No matter how much he craned his neck, Michael couldn’t see where they where being led.

Michael shifted in unease as she climbed into the wagon, grinning at him. If he didn’t know her intentions, the expression could’ve been a playful grin shared between friends. But as she approached with a key in her fingers, Michael knew there was nothing friendly about her.

“Back off,” he spat, leaning away when she neared him. Smiling sweetly, she withdrew a small knife from her belt and stepped close enough to hold it to the redhead’s throat. With the cold press of a blade to his throat, Michael stilled immediately as his back was pushed against the railings. Still holding the knife to his neck, she easily unlocked his manacles with one hand. Her eyes widened when he slowly lowered his bloodied hands.

Her gaze cut to the small group of coworkers who’d gathered near the side of the wagon. They watched with big eyes. “Who did this?” she said in an eerily calm voice. Glances were shared among the men.

“It – it wasn’t us, ma’am,” one said nervously. Michael could see sweet beginning to break out on his forehead.

“Curious,” she said flatly. “I don’t remember it looking like this when I chained it up.”

The man who had spoken gulped audibly.

“Did it to himself,” a different man said. He gave the others a wide berth and didn’t look quite as scared. He simply looked wary.

The woman hummed in understanding. “Thank you, Kris,” she said coldly, her grip on the knife lessening until she dropped her hand completely. Before Michael could reach, she’d taken hold of his neck and grabbed it by the scruff.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Without his consent, his muscles went utterly limp. His knees gave out but she held him standing regardless. An odd tingling sensation spread from his neck down to the base of his spin. His back seized up and he lost control of his limbs, the weakened appendages hanging loosely at his sides.

“Kitty!” she chirped at him. A surge of hate rose in his, but the only sound he could make was a meek growl. Laughing, she then dragged him off the wagon. He couldn’t turn his head to look at Ray or Gavin.

They’d parked in front of a large, multileveled building with blinding white paint and large steel doors. It didn’t even remotely resemble the time period in which Luca had been built in, what with the shiny glass windows and air-conditioned rooms. It looked extremely out of place; surrounded by nothing but woods and dirt trails.

Geoff and Jack had already been escorted through the stainless steel double doors. As the woman approached, practically dragging Michael behind her, two men in white coats came trotting out excitedly, clapping their hands together and smiling largely.

The woman wordlessly handed Michael to them. As soon as her grip was free of his neck, feeling returned to his limbs. The bigger of the two doctors anticipated a struggle and immediately grabbed him by the back of his shirt. At least it wasn’t the back of my neck, Michael mentally muttered.

He was forcefully led forward. With no other options, he walked with them, occasionally tripping over loose roots. His wrists throbbed and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from making a sound.

Cool, crisp air seemed to sweep outside once they opened the doors. Instantly, Michael began to shiver, goosebumps racing across his skin. He squinted against the sudden, sharp glare of harsh lights, the shade of bulbs nearly blue. Smooth, cold hands roughly grabbed him by the elbow and jerked him away from the door. Loud voices hammered against his sensitive eardrums until it just blurred into senseless noise.

And yet through all the noise, he could still hear Geoff yelling something unintelligible from somewhere in the building.

“G-Geoff!” Michael called without thinking, hating the fear in his voice. He couldn’t hear if Geoff answered and was escorted away before he could yell anything more. He was manhandled through a different door, and there were no lights in that room.

Not even one.

Pure darkness enveloped him. Tight, gloved hands around his biceps released their tight grasp and pushed him in the middle of the back. He was sent tumbling forward, the toe of his shoe hitting a small step and throwing off his balance entirely. Landing with a loud thud, the freezing temperature of the metal under his bare arms seared his flesh.

It took him a long few seconds to adjust to the darkness. His slitted pupils took longer to widen than an average cat, but when they finally began to adapt, he was able to see the room in whole.

It seemed to be a simple examination room. He was unsure as to why the lights were off, as he could clearly see them lined in meticulous rows on the ceiling. The walls and floor were bare, save for the single step in the middle of the room. There was only a small, metal bench in the six by six room, but being enclosed in a space such as this was already beginning to make Michael’s skin crawl.

On his hands and knees, he scrambled over to the farther corner from the door and curled against it, squeezing a tight ring a few inches above his wrist as if that would lessen the pain. His eyes prickled with tears at the harsh throbbing in his arms, sorely regretting his earlier freak-out on the carriage. Tail wrapping defensively around his waist, Michael sat with his chin on his knee, ears up and facing the front as he stared unblinkingly at the door.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A sliver of light on the far wall was his only warning before someone slipped into the room. His enhanced eyesight allowed him to follow their movements expertly, but his head was still spinning from a concussion. Though the severity of his head injury seemed to have diminished, he remained light-headed and nauseous. It was hard to keep his eyes trained on the visitor.

They were wearing something gaudy and black over their eyes. When they turned directly towards Michael without hesitating, he had a bad feeling that the goggles allowed the human to see in the dark.

“Subject is a fine specimen,” the man said in a nasally voice. “Young, about 19 rotations, no immediate signs of physical defects.”

Michael was silent, staring intently at the man.

“Traits seem intact,” the man continued, talking to no one. “Tapetum lucidum present, ears fully functional… it seems frightened so it’s retreated into the corner. Further examination is necessary.”

Michael’s eye twitched at the words. He couldn’t stop the low hiss that came from his mouth, eyes narrowing at the claim of ‘frightened’.

The man didn’t react, but kept his sights on Michael. “Subject displays prominent feline canines but the incisors are human-like… Interesting…” the man cleared his throat. “Some traits, however, seem to be missing, such as vibrissae and claws. Will resume when Subject is restrained.”

There was a soft click. Michael realized he’d been talking into a recording device. His hackles rose with the new information and he couldn’t keep his ears from titled back in irritation.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out something clenched in his fist. Watching him carefully, Michael stayed completely still. His tail had unraveled from around his middle and was instead laying on the floor close to his body, tip twitching in unease. The man stepped forward carefully but stopped when Michael let slip a growl of warning.

It was a tense standoff.

Michael blamed his spinning head for not being able to react fast enough when the man suddenly lunged at him. He made a rather sluggish swipe of the claws, but when his fingertips simply brushed against the fabric of the man’s lab coat, he realized that his claws hadn’t extended. Something pricked the skin of his forearm and immediately his vision began to go blurry. He gasped as his muscles began to relax, a much different sensation coursing through his body. It was nothing like when he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck – this was undeniably a drug, powerful and slightly sickening. His lungs slowed of their own accord and he went lax against the man’s chest.

Dammit.

He was picked up and placed carefully on the metal bench. He heard a quiet click and even from under his tightly shut eyelids, he could see the lights come on. Another click and the sound of metal gears crunching together echoed through the room. The frigid surface under his arms slowly began to warm with his body heat, the man taking his time as he prepared for whatever he was about to do to Michael.

“Subject has been injected with 2000 mg of diazepam, but as expected, dosage is not effective as with human subjects. Subject was experiencing disorientation before arriving at Med-fac. No further dosage is required.”

Click.

Michael began to tone the guy’s obnoxious voice out as he droned on. Nothing was of interest, so Michael resigned himself to simply waiting for the torture to be over. Gloved hands ran repeatedly over different sections of his body; raising his arms and legs, testing the joints, pressing on his abdomen, counting his ribs, listening to his breathing, and even checking his genitalia. Michael’s face flushed of its own accord but there was nothing he could do. Not even twitch.

About two thirds of the way through the physical exam, Michael felt something prick him right in the crook of the forearm. And then again, on each of his wrists. Relief flushed through the damaged skin on the last two pricks, and soon Michael’s head was floating at least 3 feet away from his body. He distantly felt cold hands cleaning the raw skin with wet wipes, but he couldn’t seem to focus on a single thing. His eyelids flickered wildly as his drowsy mind tried to understand what was happening.

Something slick and oily was rubbed in a full circle around both of his wrists. The skin had gone numb after he’d been injected with whatever the needle had contained, but Michael felt the slimy substance ooze down the skin of his upper arm, which very much still had feeling. He shivered under the clinical test.

The man talked to the recording as he worked. At least he was professional in whatever the hell was going on here – not once did he speak directly to Michael and his hands never stuttered in their methodical rhythm. Michael wasn’t sure how long the inspection lasted, but when it was over, he no longer felt like the person he’d been when he came in. He felt instead like a science experiment.

“Subject displays medium to well health,” the man said in a rather odd tone. Michael could tell when he pulled away. “Lack of essential features, such as barbs on the genitalia, diminishes the purity of the feline in the hybrid’s DNA. Subject is malnourished and dehydrated, but muscle tone closely resembles that of a healthy male human. Signs of neglect are evident on Subjects body, such as the apparent… plucking of vibrissae. Revising my earlier statement, Subject does have vibrissae, but they are growing in under the thick skin over the zygomatic bone. Small holes in the cheek have half-healed, but I suspect that the vibrissae had been originally clipped or plucked.”

There was a loud snapping sound. “Inspection completed. Estimated time is five point six-seven. Estimated price is twenty one piece.”

Click.

The silence was deafening. Michael’s slow, deep breathing was the only noise to break the monotony while the doctor shuffled around, peeling off his gloves and picking up his needles. He shut off the light.  The door opening and closing was the last thing Michael heard before he was left in complete silence.

His hands began to tremble.

---

Geoff was whacked out of his mind by the time they’d all been gathered back into the wagon.

From afar, Michael watched with worried eyes as the tattooed man leaned heavily against the railing, hands once more chained to the top of the spike. Geoff’s gray eyes drooped, a rather lazy frown pulling his lips down. His legs were collapsed underneath him, sitting on the uncomfortable floor of the wagon.

Gavin and Ray were also back to their original spots, but no one else was back yet. Michael lazily stumbled after a bleary figure in a white coat, wrists tapped with a firm few layers of thick gauze and eyes almost fully dilated. Despite the obvious danger around him, his ears were in a relaxed state, while his tail just hung limply behind him.

He was faring about as well as Geoff.

Led up the steps, Michael almost fell flat on his face about halfway to his personalized post. He practically crawled the rest of the way when a boot nudged him under the tail in encouragement, but he faltered at the sight of manacles crusted in blood. A more motivating push was given to his buttocks before the wagon was rocked with the weight of another person stepping into the carriage.

Bing hands under his arms picked him up slightly and aided him along, albeit roughly. Michael watched with glazed eyes as his wrists, wrapped in gauze, were bound once more with the heavy cuffs.

Fuck, my head hurts.

Gavin was talking to him, looking slightly less disorientated, but Michael couldn’t focus on the loud babble. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal, only dimly aware of Ryan and Jack being led to the wagon in a much more coordinated effort.

No one spoke as the wagon took off once more. This time, they were heading to a place that wasn’t quite as friendly.

Michael knew what was coming. After a hybrid was nabbed by Control, they were taken to the nearest med-fac and checked over for any deformities and mutations. It was there that their price was determined. Michael hadn’t been overly concerned – he knew none of his boys were going to be flagged. The step after Med-fac, however, Michael knew would split them up for good, possibly even killing one of them.

Michael had trouble describing to himself why that thought was so damn haunting.

While Michael had left voluntarily all those years ago, there’d always been the knowledge that he would perhaps see them again in the back of his mind. Now, however, there stood a good chance that these were his last moments, both with them and possibly alive.

Michael was remarkably calm as he mulled over his thoughts. Perhaps it was the drug in his bloodstream that allowed him to sit back and appraise this information with nothing but a raised eyebrow. A purse of the lips. Barely a bat of an eye.

Something tapped against the side of his foot, tilting his dirt-stained shoe listlessly to the side. Ears perking slightly, Michael raised his head to look at Ryan. The blond smiled at him in a cautious greeting, blue eyes worried and slightly dilated. His horns glinted under the mid-afternoon sun, the long structures a milky white and the tips, sharp and dangerous, darkened until they were nearly black.

“How are you doing?” Ryan asked after a long moment.

Michael blinked slowly at him. Haven’t seen this look in forever, Michael thought to himself as he searched Ryan’s face. The expression was similar to the one the blond had worn the night he met Michael. It was curiously gentle – almost fake. Michael could see the genuine worry in Ryan’s eyes, however, and he knew that while Ryan was notorious for being a clever son of a bitch, he would never purposefully harm Michael. He also knew Michael was rather delicate, which was probably why he was looking at the redhead with nothing short of kindness.

Michael’s heart ached.

It took another tapping of Ryan’s foot upon his to realize that he’d yet to answer. “I’m, uh… tired,” Michael said truthfully. If it truly was their last few hours together – spent in the back of a wagon, tied to stakes – then Michael would like to go out with a clear conscience. Maybe not squeaky clean, but he preferred his last conversation not to be based on a lie.

Especially with Rye-bread.

“You look tired,” Ryan agreed with a sympathetic nod. Michael couldn’t help but think Ryan looked strange and out of place, chained up like that. “How’s your head?”

Michael licked his lips, biting on the lower one as he glanced around at the faces of his friends. They were all paying at least half-attention, though Geoff seemed to be having trouble focusing and Ray had yet to look up from his hands.

“A – A little foggy,” Michael confessed with a slow blink of his eyes. “Are you… alright?”

Ryan smiled hollowly. “They take it easier on you if you don’t fight back as much,” he said with bitterness.

Michael’s gaze slid to Geoff, smirking slightly at the realization that Geoff hadn’t been so obedient after all. For a reason he couldn’t name, Michael felt an odd surge of pride.

Gavin huffed and shifted until his bottom was on the ground. Now eye level with Michael, it was harder for the redhead to avoid the hazel glare that Gavin was sending his way. Michael relented and painstakingly met eyes with one of his best friends.

While he looked in better condition than Michael or Geoff, Gavin certainly hadn’t been spared any unnecessary niceties. His feathers were bent and ruffled in all the wrong places, and Michael wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth the disgruntled spots. More binding tape had been secured around the massive wings, and another, singular strip had been wrapped around his torso, effectively preventing Gavin from using the appendages as a weapon. Michael knew from experience that Gavin’s wings were his best chance of winning in a fight. He was absurdly well-adapted to using them as nothing short of giant fans, but even Michael had to admit that they were a better defense mechanism than Michael’s own tail and ears.

There was a long scratch under Gav’s left eye that Michael couldn’t stop staring at. He hadn’t noticed it before. Gavin seemed annoyed, crinkling his nose slightly as he glared at the redhead.

“You aren’t going to say anything?” Gavin asked him after a long moment of mutual staring.

“No,” Michael murmured, eyes still trained on the long, thin line of red across Gavin’s cheekbone. It probably wouldn’t leave a scar, but it annoyed Michael a large amount.

Gavin puffed out an annoyed breath of air. “Shocking,” he said sarcastically. “You aren’t going to at least try –”

“No,” Michael interrupted in the same small, rather mumbled voice.

Gavin’s eye twitched. “I’m serious, Michael.”

Michael. His stupid foreign accident made his name sound so… tame. Michael found it oddly endearing, though at first he’d thought the man was mocking him in their first encounter. After a long few years of close friendship – that Michael had wished had grown closer – he came to think fondly of the butchering of his name.

“I think him and Geoff are a little out of it, Gav,” Ryan said softly when Michael forgot to respond. “Too much to have a heart to heart, I would think.”

Michael could visibly see when Gavin clenched his jaw. Disregarding Ryan’s suggestion, he leaned closer to Michael. If their hands were unbound, they could’ve reached out and touch one another. Michael braced himself for the fateful question.

“Did you leave because you didn’t like us?”

Michael blinked. “That wasn’t the question I was expecting,” he said truthfully, averting his gaze. “Of course not,” he continued gruffly, squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to collect his fading thoughts. It was quite the opposite.

“Was it because… I…?”

“No, no, of course not, Gav,” Michael blurted, shaking his head. He was fairly sure that Gavin was referring to when Michael had begun to distance himself from Gavin – less touchy feely stuff. But Michael wasn’t sure. His world seemed to be spinning. The drugs he’d been given were at least warding off a fair amount of nerves; the conversation wasn’t nearly as terrible as Michael had been dreading. “That wasn’t it.”

“Then why –”

A loud clang of metal hitting the wagon floor cut off Gavin’s frustrated demand. All eyes, even Geoff’s half-lidded and completely glazed ones, darted to the sight of Ray, sighing in satisfaction and rubbing the raw, agitated skin of his now freed wrist. Michael’s gaze slid uncomprehendingly to the unlatched pair of handcuffs by Ray’s feet before he looked back up at Ray, furrowing his brow in confusion. As if expecting his own manacles to suddenly disintegrate, he tugged on his hands, hissing at a distant sting from under the bandages. It didn’t quite come free like Ray’s.

“Ray!” Gavin said breathlessly, a shocked, relieved smile cooling his previously building anger.

“Ray, you beautiful bastard,” Jack laughed. Michael could hear the off-note in the joyous huffs, but he supposed it accompanied the tears in the bearded man’s eyes.

Ray grinned at them and Michael couldn’t understand the small flutter of his heart. He was at a loss for words, instead staring blankly at the brunette as he worked frantically to break Ryan’s bonds using some sort of leverage against the railing. While Ray’s wrists had been completely released, Ryan only had the chain between the two cuffs broken. The blond didn’t complain, instead laying a very hasty, sloppy kiss on a pink-faced Ray’s face. Ryan then clambered over to unlock Jack while Ray moved to Michael.

“Hey,” Ray said breathlessly, patting a clumsy hand over Michael’s hair. “Sorry for ignoring you,” he said in a bumbled rush, standing up from his crouch to carefully grip Michael’s manacles. He began to strategically place them over the railing, leaning on a pressure point as he talked. “I had to hurry but not make it noticeable. They look back at us every twenty minutes or so. And we had to go to Med-fac; otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to get away.”

His words were spoken with an unsaid urgency. Ray glanced over his shoulder at the small, covered window where they must’ve been checking on them earlier. Now, however, Michael could see nothing in the small glass pane. Seeming slightly relieved, Ray turned back and continued to lean against Michael’s hands until the small chain in the middle snapped from the awkward angle. Michael’s arms fell back to rest next to him, but he had trouble thinking through the thick glaze across his mind. Something was attempting to burst from his chest, battering against his ribcage and bruising his heart in the process.

“Michael, get up, let’s go,” Ray urged, pushing at Michael’s shoulders until he was stumbling to his feet. The motion of the carriage threw off his balance, however, and he drifted listlessly to the side, nearly crashing into Ryan, who was still freeing a very glassy-eyed Geoff.

“We jump at the same time so we don’t lose each other,” Ray said in a hushed whisper, as if Control could hear them through the thick wood of the structure.

Jack grunted as he put all of his weight onto Geoff’s cuffs. They were bending but not yet breaking. Ray was glancing at the window every other second, and even in Michael’s drugged state, he could feel the rising panic. If they were spotted, he doubted they would make a clean escape.

Without speaking, Ryan aided Jack in using their weight to break the chain. It finally gave way with an audible snap and Geoff’s fingers instantly curled into Ryan and Jack’s shirts, weakly tugging on them in an obvious, wordless plea for help.

“C’mon,” Michael heard Jack whisper. Closing his eyes, Michael turned from the extremely private moment shared between the two, knowing that he was intruding by witnessing. But even as he acknowledged this, someone grabbed the scruff of his shirt and rushed him to the back of the wagon.

Before Michael even knew what was going on, he was being pushed to climb atop the railing. Without the presence of his whiskers, Michael’s equilibrium and bravado were severely diminished. He clung to the railing with white-knuckled hands, eyes widening and blood pumping. The fog in his brain was lifted slightly by the sudden flood of adrenaline through his system.

Ray said something loud and sharp, a single syllable that Michael couldn’t hear above the wind roaring in his ears. But suddenly, there were bodies flying in front of him, some landing more expertly than others, and only he and Gavin were left on the carriage. It seemed to be going faster than Michael thought possible with only horses powering it.

“Jump, Michael!” Gavin cried out, the only audible sound able to break through Michael’s mental curtain. A pair of hands was shoving persistently at his back, almost tilting him over edge. Michael’s grasp only tightened.

Gavin apparently grew frustrated with him very quickly. Instead of trying to persuade the redhead, he gripped him around the torso and forcibly lifted his feet off the floor. Michael’s already weakened grip was broken further and he lost his balance completely. He fell over the side of the wagon and felt Gavin tumbling behind him.

Michael pinwheeled his arms, but it made no difference. He slammed into the ground and rolled, limbs tangling underneath him while Gavin’s body knocked into his multiple times. They spiraled to a stop and for some reason the sensation of feathers under Michael’s left arm was oddly disturbing.

Gavin’s pained gasp drew attention to the fact that Michael’s weight was resting on the upper layer of feathers covering Gavin’s wing. Immediately, Michael shifted so that he was no longer lying on Gavin’s sensitive appendage, turning on his side and digging his elbow into the dirt in order to push himself up to a sitting position. He placed his spinning head in his hands, the distant sound of wheels grinding into gravel drifting off as he tried to gather his thoughts.

Gavin’s hands around his upper arms made him startle. Having thought the moron was still sprawled out on the floor, he was shocked to see Gavin was already on his feet. Gavin rebounded faster than Michael remembered. There was no time to chew over this new information as Michael was gripped tight and tugged until he was off the trail, a small ditch on the side of the road providing them scanty cover.

Panting, Gavin stood and peaked over the top, watching for signs that they were coming back. Michael sat by his feet, nausea holding him back from aiding Gav. Breathing heavily still, Gavin slid down to sit next to Michael, the two bumping shoulders.

There was a moment of stunned realization.

Michael nearly felt tears beading in his eyes. I’m not going to die, we’re alive, we’re okay –

“Michael?” Gavin said loudly, waving a hand in front of the other’s face.

“Y – Yeah?” Michael stammered, shaking his head to dispel the sense of awe. His life had been in danger before – he shouldn’t be so frightened. Though, he supposed that the past near-death experiences hadn’t been so certain.

“We need to find the others,” Gavin told him. “We jumped a little late and Control is going to notice our absence very soon. They’re going to come looking for us.”

Michael swallowed and nodded. When his friend stood, he took Gavin’s offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, tail limply hanging behind him. The drug was still heavy in his system, causing each step to wobble uncertainly. He tripped over multiple things, such as roots, stumps, and even collections of leaves, but Gavin always managed to keep him on a straight trail through the forest. The blackened wood sent shivers down Michael’s spine, especially when he was forced to place a hand on the dead trunks to steady himself.

“I wonder why there are leaves on the ground if all the trees are dead,” Gavin whispered thoughtfully. Michael couldn’t be bothered to even consider the question.

“Gavin! Michael!” a familiar voice shouted to their right. Both boys jumped, heads swiveling to see Ryan sprinting towards them. Gavin grinned and sighed in relief, carefully releasing his iron-tight grip on Michael’s shoulder.

“Ryan,” Gavin breathed in exhilaration. He practically fell into the blond’s arms, tanned hands gripping the back of Ryan’s shirt as if to ground himself there. Had Michael been in the right state of mind, he would’ve looked away to give the two their deserved privacy. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away, a pull in his chest nearly bringing him a step closer to the visible comfort. He ached to perform a similar act of affection, to wrap around Ryan like nothing short of a slinky, to soak in the soothing scent of the older man.

But that wasn’t his to take. So instead, Michael hung back with nervous, twitching fingers, the tip of his tail managing to puff up in discomfort. He still couldn’t find the muscles to move the appendage voluntarily. His ears were in a similar state, and it wasn’t until he reached up to combat the messy fur that he realized he couldn’t feel them. The nerves were shot completely and the realization made his stomach drop in unease.

“Michael,” Ryan’s voice said warmly. Michael looked up to see the blond smiling down at him, but it didn’t reach his blue eyes. He looked cautious, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. Gavin had moved around to stand behind Michael. The redhead tensed when he realized what he was doing.

You can’t stop me from leaving. “Is Geoff alright?” Michael muttered instead, gaze dropping down to stare at the ground. Even the dirt was an unnaturally dark shade of brown.

“We think so,” Ryan said. He stepped minutely closer. “Let’s make sure you are, as well. Come on, we found a good hide-out.”

Michael followed them automatically. He was in no shape for a grand escape, what with his vision still swimming and muscles lax. Only a few minutes from an inevitable collapse from exhaustion, Michael kept up with the two males as they walked in front and behind him. He knew what they were doing – they no longer held an inkling of trust for him. Expecting him to bolt, they were subtly closing off his exits. Their foresight was infuriatingly accurate and Michael was left with nothing to do but resign himself to enduring their company for a few hours more.

The ground became rocky and unsettling a few hundred feet later, and Ryan had to grip his elbow to keep him upright. Gavin rushed ahead, falling flat on his face a few times himself. The black band was still tight around his wings and Michael itched to cut it off, to see the beautiful wings part and spread. They looked plain wrong restrained like that. Gavin was never restrained.

Michael’s foot slide off a slippery rock when he was busy staring at Gavin’s back. He went sideways into Ryan, instinctively reaching out a hand to grasp at Ryan’s arm. Ryan didn’t react aside from reaching his other hand around to further steady the drugged redhead, but Michael almost hissed.

Touching Ryan – I’m touching Ryan.

He yanked out of Ryan’s hold and grunted when his knee met a harsh impact with the colorful array of stones under the duo’s feet. Ryan watched him with bewilderment.

“I’m trying to help you,” he said in obvious frustration.

“I know, I know,” Michael ground out. Still, he ignored Ryan’s outstretched hand and clambered to his feet. He almost yelped in shock when Ryan spared him no further patience and roughly snatched him by the bicep, practically dragging him the rest of the way.

Michael barely had time to appraise or inspect the tree that’d been raised above the ground, revealing a thick tangle of roots that provided more than adequate protection. He was tugged through one of the slotted entrances without hesitation and gently pushed to sit on the dirt floor. Glancing around, he exhaled the tension that’d been building in his chest at the sight of the complete gang huddled closely together. Gavin was clinging to Geoff while talking animatedly to Ray and Jack had intertwined his fingers with Geoff’s. Michael looked away.

Ryan seemed to’ve grown tired of his skittish behavior. Michael wasn’t spared any niceties as his chin was roughly grabbed and face tilted upwards. A cold pair of fingers was pressed and held at his pulse point before carefully peeling one of his half-lidded eyes open. Ryan peered at Michael’s pupil for a long time and then made an unsatisfied noise as he pulled back.

“Looks like what they gave Geoff,” Ryan said disapprovingly. His grip on Michael’s chin loosened. “Just a lower dose, I think.”

“We need to get as far away from this road as possible,” Jack said, not breaking the gaze he was sharing with Geoff, who seemed to be doing far better. He was no longer half-comatose and was smiling weakly at Jack, giving the bearded man’s hand a squeeze every few moments.

“How are you feeling?” Ray asked Geoff, black eyes searching the older man’s face. “Is it wearing off?”

“Yeah,” Geoff sighed, nodding slowly. He did indeed look much more clear-headed. “Yeah, actually.”

Michael frowned. Either Geoff was lying or the drug had burnt through his system much faster than Michael’s was currently doing.

“We should leave,” Geoff continued, unwinding his arm from around Gavin to rub at his forehead. His handcuff jangled. “I don’t want to face that group again. We cause too much trouble and they won’t care about the money – they’ll just beat us to death.”

“I’d like to avoid that,” Gavin quipped, smiling slightly although his face seemed pale.

Michael shivered and broke away from the conversation, leaning so he could peer out of the trunk of the tree. It was beginning to drizzle in the ailing afternoon light, dusk falling quicker than Michael ever thought it had. The sound of the rest of the boys talking was drowned out by the pattering of thick rain on the forest floor.

He’d found himself in an odd predicament – obviously the rest of the boys expected Michael to follow their lead, but Michael himself had no such plans to do so.  He’d long ago disassociated himself with the rag tag group of misfits and after four years of separation, Michael had no desire to accompany them anywhere.

Especially not back to town.

Michael absorbed himself into listening to the rain and messing with the gauze around his wrists. They hadn’t been bleeding heavily, so blood had yet to stain through, but the wrappings were too tight and uncomfortable. He could barely fit a digit in between his skin and the thick, white material.

Glancing behind him, Michael noted that they were distracted by each others company. Inwardly, a spike of bitter soured his mood further, but Michael didn’t allow himself to feel the sting. He turned his back to them and sat cross-legged facing the slit-like opening of the tree trunk.

He felt their eyes on him for a split second before they apparently lost interest. Michael’s ears switched directions and faced in front of him, deciding that his pride could take a few hits right now. Control coming after them was far more important, and so was getting these damn bandages off.

Carefully extending the claws of one hand, Michael began to cut away at the thick gauze, mindful of the manacle still locked around his wrist. His arms were thin enough that it slid down a good few inches, allowing him room. He worked quietly and diligently as to not draw attention to himself and soon the first bandage was unraveling from his wrist and falling into his lap. He cringed at the thick, yellow paste that was coating the inside of the material, but was amazed to see that the skin of his wrist was already half-healed, albeit slimy with medical ointment.

He worked the other one off of his arm with a bit more grace. It was significantly easier to slice and dice with the claws of his right hand, but even so, he retracted them almost immediately. What he really didn’t need right now was another freak-fest to circle around him. His claws were grotesque and scary – but thankfully retractable.

He tossed the bandages away from himself with disgust and then watched them get soaked in the evening rain. As the drizzle picked up, the material they’d been made out of started to dissolve into the loosening dirt. It was hypnotizing to watch and allowed Michael a few minutes of blissful, mind-numbing reprieve. As the bandages slowly disintegrated into indistinguishable pieces, his cognition grew sharper, but Michael knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

Realistically, if he bolted now, he was going to get caught. While everyone was significantly woozy, Michael was downright disorientated. Ray was father than him and probably more level-headed, too, because Ray wasn’t the type to fight back quite so physically. Ray was more of a subtle character, sly and sneaky in the best of ways. All Michael knew was that he wouldn’t make it far with that rabbit on his tail.

Although… the question remained: Would they even bother chasing him?

A hand settling on Michael’s shoulder made him jump, ears flicking back at the initially aggressive gesture. The ruffled fur of his tail, however, smoothed almost instantly at the sight of Gavin’s slightly embarrassed expression.

“Ah, sorry, Michael,” Gavin said quickly, extracting his hand with lightening speed. He didn’t back out of Michael’s personal space. In fact – he didn’t hesitate to shove his head over Michael’s shoulder, knocking cheeks with the redhead. “Is it raining?” he questioned, looking disappointed. “Damn – I wanted to stretch.”

Michael didn’t understand what he meant until he glanced back to see the various shades and tints of Gavin’s beautiful wings. A feather on one of the lower layers brushed against the bare skin of Michael’s upper arm made the redhead shiver and pull away. Gavin pretended not to notice.

“How are they?” Michael couldn’t help but ask, pointing to Gavin’s back.

Gavin grinned. “My wings?” he teased, apparently remembering Michael’s old discomfort.

A smile broke out across the redhead’s face. He shoved the moron’s head slightly as he said, “Yes, asshole. Your wings.”

“I dunno,” Gavin said, resting his chin fully on the redhead’s shoulder. “How are your little ears and tail?”

Michael could feel the sharp inhale of breath everyone took at the question. They were expecting him to react as if Gavin had crossed a line. With his head still spinning slightly, Michael couldn’t tell if he had.

“I dunno,” he retorted with a smirk. “How about you answer my questions first?”

Gavin chuckled and gave in easily. “Sore, and a few feathers were not treated very nicely, but they’ll be alright.”

“Any luck with flying yet?” Michael slyly asked. Gavin’s eyes lit up.

“Actually –”

“Can you idiots get away from there?” Jack cut in, sounding nervous. “I don’t want to worry about being spotted.”

Grumbling, the pair shifted to face the others. Michael rested his back against the wood and felt his tail curl defensively around his waist. One ear remained trained towards the entrance as a precaution.

“Leaving while it’s raining is not a good idea,” Jack started.

“I think it’s the perfect idea,” Geoff challenged. His color had returned fully to his face. “It’s good cover and it will hide our scent if they use the dogs.”

“In your two’s… condition, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jack pointed out. “Geoff, you’re our navigator. It would be tough enough in the rain, but now you have drugs in your system.”

“I’m fine,” Geoff ground out “We go north from here, by Nawstrang. They have a nearly straight road to a port.”

They all seemed to be in agreement, though Jack still seemed dissatisfied.

Michael licked his lips and rather nervously stammered out, “A – A port?” and as soon as he started the first syllable, he felt he shouldn’t have said anything.

“A waterway port,” Ray explained. He had an arm looped around Jack’s neck to pet the lion’s luscious mane. When Michael still looked confused, he added, “It’s where boats dock to get on land.”

“What do you need with boats?” Michael said, shaking his head. He had a feeling he knew exactly what they were implying. They looked remarkably calm for asking him to travel overseas with them. Fuck that, he thought. I may love them, but I’m not fucking going sailing across the ocean with them.

“Because there are two boats waiting there,” Ryan said carefully.

“For us,” Gavin added, smiling encouragingly at Michael. Their close proximity made Michael’s heart flutter with enthralled anxiety. He could count Gavin’s eyelashes from here.

Momentarily ignoring the plain fact that he wasn’t going, Michael asked, “Where is it going?”

They knew him well. No one mistook that for an affirmation of attendance on Michael’s part like he’d been hoping they would. Geoff was the one to speak this time and his words toted a dark undertone. “It’s going to Texas.”

Michael gave him a blank stare. “Where the hell is Texas?”

“Big section of the United States. About the size of this rotten continent,” Jack said. His chest puffed out slightly. “I was born there, and so were my parents and their parents.”

“Why Texas?” Michael asked.

“When I left, I told a friend of mine where we were going. A little under a month ago, I got in touch with someone called Kdin who now works for him,” Geoff said.

“What does any of this matter?” Michael demanded, patience wearing thin.

“Michael. Kdin is a hybrid,” Geoff deadpanned.

“And he has a job?”

“A very successful one. He talked to Burnie and contacted us via a messenger, who flew all the way across the ocean.”

Michael snorted, snickering with laughter. “Wow – what are they? Part pigeon?”

Geoff fixed him with a glare. “I’m serious, Michael.”

Michael’s smile faded. He shook his head and swallowed at Geoff’s unwavering glare. The words to refuse any sort of offer being extended to him died in his throat.

“The northern parts of the United States have fallen apart a bit,” Geoff continued bitingly. “They had something like huge cities called ‘states’ at one point, but now all of the territories have blurred together.”

“So they’re like here,” Michael surmised unhappily.

“No,” Ray said, shaking his head. “They’re a mess economically, but there’s no such thing as Control there.”

“What?”

“They don’t kill hybrids, Michael.”

Michael gave a nervous, breathless puff of laughter. “Do they even have any hybrids?”

“They have a smaller population of them,” Ryan allowed. “But killing is considered a crime.”

“You get punished for killing?” Michael repeated in confusion.

“You get put in jail for killing another person,” Jack said, grinning at Michael’s disbelieving look. “Even hybrids.”

Michael’s tail mindlessly unraveled from around his waist to whip back and forth in the air waspishly. It was too good to be true. It had to be. Michael narrowed his eyes, both ears alert and pointing forward. “They aren’t completely scot-free,” he guessed.

“Kdin says they have some trouble with racism,” Ray admitted. “But the law stands up for them.”

“Law?”

“Rules,” Gavin clarified.

“They have rules here, too,” Michael said sourly, gaze cutting to bore into the trunk of the tree. “Like if you see a hybrid, you don’t speak to it, turn it in, or kill it yourself. There’s no way that the two places can be so opposite.”

“It does, though,” Ray persisted. “Michael – I talked to the messenger. She was very honest and didn’t seem to be exaggerating. She was shocked that they witch hunt for hybrids here.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “People can be good actors,” he said stubbornly, pulling his knees in. Still, he longed to meet this mystery person and investigate for himself.

“You think you make better life-changing decisions than I do for us all?”

The question made Michael grind his teeth together. Geoff knew just where to push the redhead’s buttons.

“I just know that I can trust me,” Michael shot back, ears flattening slightly. “When it comes down to it, I’m the only person I can trust.”

“You trusted us,” Gavin said quietly, and Michael almost stood up with the rush of anger.

“I’m not having this conversation.” Michael hissed, quite literally, and moved so that his legs were under him in case he had to make a break for it. His tail lay against the floor, tip twitching with agitation.

“Then we’ll go back to the one before,” Ray said calmly, the only one to’ve not shifted in discomfort during the display of hostility. He remained eerily still, still half-pulling Jack into a side-ways embrace. “There are two boats there. Each carries three people. Michael… come with us.”

A desperate ‘yes!’ almost passed his lips before he sealed them shut. Face growing white, Michael’s gaze cut to the side, gazing out of one of the many cracks in the tree trunk. He could still see the rain pouring, collecting outside of the trunk in heavy puddles.

He cocked his head after a few moments. The worrisome thoughts of deciding on his fate were pushed to the side as his eyes detected a small hint of white mist, barely noticeable. It was odorless and nearly colorless, but the rain was adding an odd moisture effect on the floor-level cloud. Noticing it lingering outside the trunk, Michael stared at it intently when it began to ooze in through the trunk’s crack. The two people sitting near it were Jack and Ryan, though neither seemed to have noticed it.

“Michael, you need to say something,” Geoff said in obvious frustration. “No matter how much you expect us to, we still can’t read your mind.”

Such a bitchy comment really deserved a waspish reply. “What’s that?” Michael asked instead, pointing to the mist. He could tell they were irritated with his dodging, but all heads turned to look where he was pointing. As if on cue, the small, long tendril of mist reached the skin of Jack’s big hand.

Michael jumped and bolted from the trunk.

He’d never heard Jack legitimately roar before, and the noise was shockingly loud and frightening. Hair standing on end, Michael was up and out of the trunk with blood-borne, cat-like speed. Ray was right by his side, stripping off his shirt and wrapping it around his nose and mouth for protection. Michael didn’t think to do that.

There was more of the white mist pooling a few yards away, the alabaster shade a stark contrast with the jet black color of the trees. The rain immediately drenched through Michael’s already thin, well-worn clothes. His extra appendages shuddered in discomfort and tucked themselves close against his body.

Jack’s monstrous roar still rang in his ears as he stumbled away. Michael was unsure as to where Gavin had gone and soon Ray was also gone from his peripheral vision as Michael trotted forward. The sound had cut off almost as abruptly as it’d started, but Michael couldn’t seem to stop his feet from moving forward.

Large, thick arms wrapped around Michael’s torso and lifted him fully off the ground. It was just in time to prevent the haunting mist from crossing over his shoes. Whoever had rescued him stepped back unsteadily to avoid touching the toxic fumes himself . He lost balance and the two went crashing to the floor. Landing on his hands and knees, Michael saw that it was Geoff who’d had his back.

“Don’t touch the mist,” Geoff gasped out, clutching at his side with a tight expression.

The low-hanging cloud was rolling over the land sluggishly, crawling closer and closer. There was no time for conversation as Michael rolled over and helped Geoff to his feet, bodily pulling the heavier man away from the slow-creeping fog. Jack was grimacing and cradling his injured hand, where a large pink splotch had stained the skin. Ryan and Ray, meanwhile, were hurriedly helping Gavin try to fit his wings through the opening of two roots he’d tried to fit between. It looked like he’d gotten stuck about halfway through.

There was a thin sliver of land where the mist had not yet reached. Ray was a few steps ahead of the redhead and began ushering Jack and the rest through the parted mist, where a larger stretch of area had yet to be contaminated.

“Is this way north?” Gavin yelled out as they ran. The rain whipped away a fair portion of his words.

“No,” Ray shouted back. His ears were flat against his hair. “We need to turn left!”

Even in the downpour, Michael could see that the mist was covering most of that land.

A realization and an idea struck Michael simultaneously. “Brake at the tree line and go left there!” Michael said. “They’re trying to smoke us out!”

It felt like hours before they finally reached a break in the trees. The larger of the six, like Geoff, Ryan, and Jack, had begun to tire and slow, but Ray refused to let them fall behind even a few feet. He herded them from the back while Michael and Gavin scrambled to keep a straight line to guide the group.

The mist indeed dissipated at the tree line. A dirt road met them and on the other side was a large, wide open field. Slowing to a stop, Michael looked over at Ray, whose ears were at a cute half-mass flop.

“The rain let up,” Gavin observed through the gulps of air he was dragging in at rapid procession. It seemed to lighten even as he spoke, until it was just a few dreary drops splattering occasionally on their skin.

“Christ,” Geoff cursed. Directing their few inches on the floor, the mist was rising and disbursing. It soon disappeared from sight, but Michael knew it was still there. He suspected that what they were looking at now was actually what the mist was supposed to be: a silent, deadly toxin unnoticeable to the naked eye. Michael didn’t know what it was meant to do to him physiologically, but he had no desire to find out.

He glanced at Jack and felt his chest tighten. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer and extending a hand without much thought. Jack seemed surprised but before Michael could rebuke the offer he’d made, Jack had placed his hand in Michael’s.

Michael tried not to think about the implications behind that. He inspected the wound with exaggerated curiosity – it was clearly nothing more than a simple chemical burn. But even as he stroked the injured hands with soft fingertips, Michael couldn’t help his fascination with Jack’s hand. Big and burly, Jack himself was larger than the average human. Hell, Jack was larger than any hybrid as well, except for the elephants and mammoths, perhaps. His hands were larger than Michael’s head, with warm, dry palms and strong fingers. He didn’t have claws like Michael, retractable or not, and his ears didn’t express the lion’s inner monologue as Michael’s traitorous ones did. His mane held all of his feline characteristics, and his canines were longer and sharper. The difference between their hybrid genes had always confused and engrossed the redhead, ever since he was young.

“Michael?”

Jumping, Michael hurriedly released the gentle embrace he’d been trapping Jack’s hand in. His face reddened. To be fair, Jack hadn’t tried to pull away at all, seemingly having been content with Michael’s mellow examination.

“North,” Michael ground out, looking around and avoiding the different gazes. “Which way was north again?”

“Uh –” Ray said uncertainly, sharing a glance with Gavin. Ignoring the two’s obvious unease, Michael looked to Geoff. He, however, was staring at him too, face shrouded in a mask the older man shouldn’t have been capable of, given he’d been pumped full of drugs not hours ago. Michael couldn’t read a single expression swirling in those gray orbs.

“They’re smoking us out, so if we waste time, we’re going to be caught standing here with our dicks in our hands,” Michael snapped impatiently.

“North is this way,” Ray finally said, gesturing with his head. “It’s the only way out of the dark forest.”

Michael nodded and made a shooing motion. They glanced at one another before finally getting their butts in gear, starting with a quick trot before slowly jogging their way to a clean escape.

---

“We go this way, look at the arrow –”

“No, we don’t, we go this way, dumbass –”

“I’m the one who has the map!” Gavin said shrilly, pulling away from Jack’s grabby hands and narrowing his eyes at the older.

“You’re the one who can’t read the map!” Jack snorted, reaching over Gavin’s shoulder and easily plucking the top of the paper. Gavin, however, didn’t let go when Jack tugged, and it almost ripped in half.

“Goddammit,” Ray cursed, throwing his hands up. “There’re only so many times they’ll give me a free one. We’re going to have to send Michael in next time if you rip that.”

Michael glared at him. “I’m not going in there.”

“Why not?” Ray said, slightly offended. “I did.”

“Because,” Michael said setting his jaw. “There’s fish in there.”

“You’re a goddamn cat! You’re supposed to like fish!” Ray snorted.

“Fish is fucking disgusting!” Michael growled.

“Shush!” Jack hissed, reaching over the heads of Gavin and Ray to give Michael a firm slap on the head. “We’re supposed to be quiet. We know nothing about this town – they could kill on sight for all we know.”

Michael huffed and crossed his arms, a frown fixed on his face. His ears fell to the side slightly in a dejected position. The sound of dozens of humans milling about not even ten yards away set the redhead’s teeth on edge. The thought of being this close to unfamiliar and possibly hostile humans was more than a little unsettling. Next to him, Ray seemed to be suffering a similar discomfort; the brunette’s ears were ridiculously puffy.

“What’s up?” Michael blurted, furrowing his brow.

“Nothing, just nervous,” Ray admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the other rested idly on the brunette’s thigh. Like the other three, Ray was leaning back against the wooden plants of the local fish store of the port’s board walk. They’d snuck into the alley way that’s led here and were now trying to figure out which path led to the right dock. Ryan and Geoff, meanwhile, were ‘obtaining’ clothes for them to wear that didn’t scream escaped prisoner!

Michael stared at Ray’s hand. Ray had tiny hands. Well, perhaps ‘narrow’ was a better word. His fingers were long, strong, and nimble. Michael remembered that Ray was always the one to help Ryan stitch someone up, the one to unlock the doors of the houses they’d spend a night in. Michael could also remember his own pale digits intertwined with Ray’s. They used to compare freckles.

Shaking his head, Michael forced himself to look in a different direction. It wasn’t like that. He instead listening to Gavin and Jack squabble about which arrow led to the correct bay. Suddenly feeling awkward sitting so close to Ray, Michael shifted so that their thighs weren’t touching. The urge to reach over and take Ray’s hand was strong.

What am I even doing anymore?

He should’ve fucking flown the coop by now. God knows he’d had plenty of opportune moments to do so, but Michael hadn’t been able to make the move. In fact, he’d been one of the ones helping Geoff move along, the older man’s ribs most likely bruised or cracked. It was a mutual agreement that Michael had let settle over his shoulders, and honestly, he hadn’t complained. He had also been the one to break Geoff’s manacles when they reached an isolate cabin with an axe meant for chopping wood propped up in the back.

It was the goddamn least he could do.

Geoff and Jack appeared very abruptly around the corner of the building two spaces down in the lot. Immediately shutting down his conversation with Jack, Gavin hopped up and excitedly ran to greet them, wings shifting in overt curiosity. Geoff grinned at him and held up the arms full of stolen clothes, laughing slightly as Gavin plucked attire that was obviously his.

Thrilled to be out of his old, soaked t-shirt and jeans, Michael hurried over as well, though he was not quite impatient as Gavin. He followed Geoff by walking in front of him and raking the many pairs of shirts with his eyes.

Geoff handed out the different shirts while Jack was in charge of pants. Michael was thrilled to be given a large, black beanie and immediately fit it snugly over his head. His ears twitched in disappointment to be covered up, but Michael was relieved to find that they could no longer broadcast his train of thought to his friends.

“Fit alright?” Geoff asked him as he handed Ray his own red-colored beanie. It had room at the bottom for the brunette’s ears and Michael could see Ray physically sigh with happiness.

“Yeah, fits great,” Michael said honestly, adjusting it slightly so it wasn’t going against the grain of his fur.

“So do these!” Gavin exclaimed. Michael glanced at him and immediately flushed, turning away with a bright red face.

“Gav, put some pants on,” Jack said in a quiet voice. Gavin huffed and tugged his skinny jeans the rest of the way up, covering his boxer-clad ass and hugging it snugly. Still turned away, Michael wordlessly tugged his shirt off, the unpleasant burst of chilly air on his bare skin causing him to shiver. His nerves were so frazzled that he couldn’t even tell if anyone was looking at him. He fit his own new shirt over his head, savoring the feel of new, soft fabric against his flesh.

It took Michael a solid few moments of mindlessly playing with the fabric of his new jeans and boxers in his hands to remember that he wasn’t wearing boxers.

“Um,” Michael started with red cheeks. “Don’t look.”

Gavin and Geoff rolled their eyes, but all five obediently turned to face the back of the fish store. Michael was fairly sure he’d never changed so fast in his life. He was also pretty certain that he’d accidentally put the new boxers on backwards. Uncaring, he just fit the pants on over them, pursing his lips when he noted that they were a bit too big.

“Okay,” he muttered, and the others started to dress once more. Gavin was wearing a more-than-obvious smirk. “Shut up,” Michael growled to him. The stupid expression only grew.

Michael was smoothing out the front of his new, black shirt when he noticed Geoff was eyeing him with a critical purse of the lips. “What?” Michael asked defensively, pulling the bottom of the shirt down slightly.

“Those pants are too big,” Geoff explained, frowning.

“Not too bad,” Michael said quickly. He tightened the back slightly and pretended that it was only loose by an inch. Geoff didn’t look satisfied.

“That was the same size you used to wear,” Geoff muttered.

Michael said nothing.

“So do you know where we’re going yet?” Ryan asked expectantly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when Gav and Jack shot each other dirty looks.

“I do,” they said at the same time, with the same inflection upon the ‘I’.

“That doesn’t sound helpful,” Geoff muttered to the blond. Ryan nodded and stepped forward, holding out a hand for the map. Gavin grumbled but handed it to him, and the three of them knocked heads over the piece of paper, eyes narrowed and studying the blue and red arrows.

As Michael neatly tucked his tail into the waistband of his pants, his gaze trailed to the large stretch of forest opposite the stores. If he knew this land as well as he thought he did, he was fairly sure that if he cut through this forest and made a long, curved right turn, he’d end up back in Luca. Maybe.

The idea wasn’t nearly as appealing as it’d been back when they’d been stuck together in the carriage.

Michael sighed and leaned down to roll up the lengthy pant legs. He wasn’t sure what had changed between then and now – no, that was a lie. Michael knew exactly what they were doing to him. The familiar, playful chemistry the group held was already infecting him once more. It was all too easy to join in on the bickering, the banter, even the giggle fits they occasionally broke into randomly.

It all hit too close to home, but Michael was subconsciously welcoming it with open arms. With an open heart.

Those bastards.

“What are you looking at?” Ray asked him suddenly, the brunette’s voice pitch lowered. His dark eyes were narrowed on Michael as if expecting him to throw a punch.

“Nothing,” Michael assured him, though doubt was gnawing at his gut. Should he leave? Would Ray catch him? Rabbits were fucking fast as hell – a shitton faster than domesticated cats. Cows and Rams and Lions were no match for an average cat, but a bunny would fucking destroy his ass in a race. Michael knew this fact by heart.

But the moment they stepped into town, Michael wasn’t going to get another perfect chance. Unless he slipped into the crowd, but he had a feeling Ray was going to cling to him tight all the way to whatever fucking boat they had waiting for them.

Another issue Michael was facing was his sudden desire to get on the boat with them. The life Geoff spoke of was the life Michael dreamed of. He couldn’t picture a world in which he wasn’t prosecuted the moment he left the womb.

He wanted to believe Geoff’s words, but they were too good to be true. An entirely different world wasn’t waiting for them. Even so, Michael felt the draw of leaving on that boat with them regardless of whether or not there was something better across the ocean.

And that temptation was too much for Michael.

After Michael was handed his own pair of sunglasses, the ones were assigned to go left one by one to not arouse suspicion. They also made Michael go second, a few moments after Ray.

He was practically pushed into the crowds by Gavin, the swarming of people immediately absorbing him into the giant mass and pushing him to the right. The sudden flood of people made Michael’s fur puff up under his clothes, discomfort causing his slitted pupils to dilate slightly from behind the dark lenses. Warmth was pressed to all sides, bodies bumping into his and jostling him different directions. Michael froze, muscles stiffening as panic began to bleed into his thought process.

Breathing beginning to seize, Michael was pushed and shoved along with the rest of the humans. Intense scents, both pleasant and pungent, assaulted his nose and caused the skin of his arms to prickle and the sound – ugh. Michael flinched and shied away, though there wasn’t a particular source. It was from all around him.

A hand with a grip of iron nabbed his upper arm and harshly pulled him sideways – a new direction. He knocked into multiple people, who all made very disgruntled sounds, and was released from the mob of people. He bumped into Ray, who was staring off in another direction.

Looking for Gavin.

“We’re going this way, right?” Michael said, straightening himself and gently peeling Ray’s hand from around his arm. He was slightly taller than Ray, but the humans here seemed… abnormally tall. All the faces blurred together as well.

“There he is,” Ray sighed a few scary moments later. He relaxed back into a comfortable stance as Gavin’s poofy head of brunette hair bobbed towards them in the crowd of people.

Michael snickered as Gavin detached himself and hurried towards them. At Gav’s confused expression, Michael explained, “You look fat.”

Gavin puffed up even further, if possible. Without the slits in the back to free them, the bundling of his wings under his new shirt billowed the shirt out a fair few inches and created a rather humorous visual of a fat torso-ed, but skinny neck-ed Gavin. The affronted look on his face only added to Michael’s giggles.

“Shut up, Michael,” Gavin grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. Being tall and lanky, his slight hunch of his shoulders lowered him back down to Michael and Ray’s level.

“To answer your earlier question, yes, we go that way,” Ray said with a smile.

“Should we just go around the crowd then?” Michael asked uncertainly.

Ray’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea, Michael.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. That reply was either extremely condescending or Ray suspected that Michael was going to make a run for it. Going through the mob of people enjoying their day on the boardwalk would give him the perfect chance.

The trio walked along the side of the boardwalk on the dirt lane next to it, where few people lingered. Michael noted that none of them seemed outstandingly wealthy, but a fair amount of them were escorting up to what looked like eight children. Offspring in these counties were worth at least a ten piece and it wasn’t rare for household heads to sell the little money bags. To be able to keep all of the ones you pump out was a sign of a man or woman that was taking good care of the family.

And Michael had never seen so many kids before in his life.

They were screaming and laughing, throwing food and trash and rocks at their siblings, and their parents watched with fond looks on their face. Michael’s pace slowed with distraction, staring wondrously at the foreign image these strangers presented.

He couldn’t remember if his mom used to look at his brothers and him like that or not.

The families stayed neatly on the wooden planks of the boardwalk, only deviating from the path when they went inside a store to purchase something. They never came out with much, but the heads of the families always had a sparkle in their eye. It was something Michael couldn’t understand. They looked miserable, most dressed in rags and bags, but somehow all were toting a rather vague smile.

Some had hats on. Sunglasses, too. Scarves, gloves, large boots, and even sheets wrapped around their heads and shoulders were the accessories these people were adorning. It made them stick out, but there were a lot of them. Glancing down at his own unique attire, Michael realized with a jolt that he was dressed similarly.

Hybrids. They were hybrids.

His eyes roamed each figure he could catch, though they did their best to move along quickly and stay discreet. Michael supposed he was doing the same, but he had to admit that they did a much better job. They look utterly average, except for their clothes. It was a dreary day with little to no sun, and yet there were sunglasses on multiple faces, including Michael’s.

Probably for a similar reason.

At the sound of a man clearing his throat nearby, Michael shifted his gaze back in front of him. He was arousing suspicion from a family who was walking down the steps of what looked like a food shop. They had a single, wrapped sandwich.

“Sorry,” Michael muttered as he walked by at a brisk pace. They continued to watch him.

Scanning the path in front of him, Michael’s stomach dropped when he realized he’d fallen behind. He could no longer see Ray or Gavin walking in front of him.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, eyes widening as he slowed to a stop. His hands clutched at his ears under his beanie. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Are you alright, man?” someone asked behind him. Michael spun around, hoping to see a familiar face. He practically saw no face; the man’s sunglasses obscured his eyes and a bandana covered his lower face. His tone was friendly.

“Oh – I, uh. Fine. I’m good,” Michael said quickly. Recalling Geoff’s manner lessons back when he lived with them, he quickly added on, “Thanks.”

“Sure, man?” the guy asked. He had an odd inflection on his voice that Michael had never heard before.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” Michael said, smiling tightly. “I, uh – I’m just looking for my friends.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, no,” Michael said quickly. “I’m good.”

The man seemed skeptical. “You… lost?”

The way he said it made Michael take a step back. Hinting. He was hinting at something.

“No,” Michael said firmly. “No, I’m with some people.”

“Where you going?” the man asked casually. Michael shifted in discomfort. He wasn’t the best at reading people in a normal situation, but with half of this person’s face covered, Michael couldn’t even tell if the man was smiling.

“To find my friends,” Michael answered evasively.

“Right,” the man said with a nod. Michael suspected he was grinning. “Alright, I get it. But if you need any… directions, ask anyone wearing a red bandana on their sleeve.”

He pointed to his own and gestured to the crowd. Michael couldn’t see any others, but the man seemed calm and confident.

“Why?” Michael said suspiciously. “Who are they?”

“They help direct people to their destination, if they see someone that’s lost,” the man answered easily.

“Right. Well, thanks,” Michael said, backing away. “I know where I’m going.”

“Eighth dock?” the man guessed slyly.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “My friends know where we’re going,” he corrected himself.

The man laughed and shrugged. “Alright, man. Good luck.”

He turned and melted seamlessly into the crowd of people, and soon he disappeared from view completely. Michael stared after him in worry – that had been fishy as fuck.

Looking around, Michael once again found himself alone. There were few spaces between the buildings, but he was standing by the large gap between a shoe store and some kind of antique one. From here, he could see where the foundation of the cabins stopped and the forest began to grow.

It was his very last chance.

Michael walked through the gap with unsteady legs. His heart felt torn in two directions, but even as he walked towards the bigger of the two halves, he couldn’t help feel as though he was making a mistake. Geoff wanted the best for him – but Michael knew from experience that sometimes what Geoff thought was best wasn’t what he thought was best. Geoff’s leadership wasn’t, and never had been, infallible.

The possibility of drowning at sea was high, and the likelihood that something really was waiting for them wasn’t. Logically, it was an easy choice. He had no reason to trust them anymore.

And yet…

That wasn’t Michael’s largest concern. He wasn’t afraid of there being nothing for them if they did, in fact, reach a magical plane of existence where hybrids weren’t killed and hunted and sold. The problem was that there was nothing for him. Michael would still be just as lonely, just as defective, and just as sick as he was in this country. The only difference would be location.

Hell, he might’ve even been worse off, going with them. If he left now, he would be able to live in peace knowing that his ex-family was doing more than surviving. They would be kicking it in fucking paradise, if Geoff wasn’t lying. And Michael would still be here, but he would be mentally stated.

He still hesitated when his hand ran out of wood planks to trail along. The end of the buildings stopped just as the grass began. A little ways past that, trees created a neat line of the edge forest. Michael could picture the map of where he needed to go in his head, if he wanted to go back to his little shack in Luca. His belongings, though few, were still there.

An unbidden image came to mind, one of Ray and the guys waiting around for him at the edge of the buildings so they could get on the boats together. He wondered how long they would wait before leaving without him.

Closing his eyes, Michael grit his teeth and growled out a violent curse.

---

“We’re going to have to run with Ryan,” Ray said bracingly as they pushed their way through the crowd of people. Glancing back, he nodded in satisfaction to himself when he saw that both Michael and Gavin were working diligently to keep up with him.

“Why?” Gavin asked, frowning. “That’s not incognito.”

“No shit,” Ray murmured, glaring at a rude woman who bumped into him and shoved him out of the way without so much as a word, stepping on his toes in the process. “His horns aren’t exactly inconspicuous, Gav. And wearing a bedsheet around your head is about as far away from a fashion trend as you can get.”

“It’s better than seeing the horns,” Gavin argued. He grunted when someone elbowed him right in the ribs and held a hand to the sore spot, wincing visibly. “God, these people suck.”

Ray nodded in vague agreement, craning his neck to peer over the wave of heads. He couldn’t miss the end of chains of stores, because otherwise they’d have to backtrack, and there was no time for that. The boats had been waiting for them for a while now, but with their rather obvious accessories, Ray knew they’d soon be pointed out, especially with such a close call with Control. They were still looking for them. His eyes skimmed the crowd anxiously.

Even on the dirt path next to the boardwalk, there were annoying people lingering. They pushed past quietly and quickly, and no one complained when Ray sped up the pace.

“I still don’t think Jack’s mane could be passed off as a beard,” Ray said to Gavin behind him.

“I think it could,” Gavin said stubbornly. “A lot easier than Geoff’s and Ryan’s horns, at least.”

Ray switched topics, nearly tripping over a plank as he walked across the bottom-most step of a souvenir shop. “How do your wings feel?”

“Puffy and irritated,” Gavin answered with annoyance.

“You can take them out once we get to the boat,” Ray answered with sympathy. His train of thought was disrupted when he nearly slammed into a family of five, apologizing hastily and scooting by. Face red, he didn’t dare turn around to see their reactions.

“I think we’re almost there,” Ray said loudly. “Hurry up, they’re going to be seen standing there soon. Doc number… eight, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.”

Ray hummed in thought. His gaze slid from person to person, letting their features blur together until he couldn’t point out a single face. He knew that Geoff, Ryan, and Jack weren’t going to be in the crowd, but Ray felt something akin to paranoia creeping on the edge of his mind. On a normal day, Control probably wouldn’t be in this town, but with the recent escape of six valuable hybrids, they might be on the look out.

“Ray!” Gavin suddenly hissed. A hand snagged the back of Ray’s shirt and yanked him to a rough stop. “Ray!”

“What, what?” Ray snapped, reaching up to assure that his beanie was still fit atop his head.

“Michael’s gone,” Gavin said emptily, waving his hand frantically to the vacant air behind him.

Ray’s stomach dropped. “What?” he snarled, pushing Gavin to the side and viciously raking his eyes down the long, dirt path.

Ray could’ve sworn his vision turned red.

“I – I wasn’t paying attention and forgot to look over my shoulder,” Gavin stammered, brow furrowing. He sounded upset, but his eyes were brimming with anger. Not nearly the amount that was stirring inside Ray, however. “We have to find him, he couldn’t have gotten far.”

Ray shook his head even before Gavin finished his sentence. “It’s no use,” he said honestly. “Cats know how to disappear.”

Even with the background roar of the hundreds of humans enjoying their afternoon, Ray and Gavin were struck with an inexplicable silence.

“Do we just… go, then?” Gavin asked quietly.

Ray’s jaw tightened. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

And even as they continued down the path, both were holding onto a thin flame of hope that perhaps Michael would change his mind and return. Despite it not having happened last time.

Not ten minutes later, they reached the end of the stores. The last one in line was some sort of clothes upholstery shop, and after that there was nothing but weeds and grass in a long stretch. Beyond was nothing but a field that abruptly dropped off into a sharp, but fairly small cliff. The other side of the plain backed up against a forest, and Ray knew that it stretched for miles – all the way into the rain lands. No one lived there, except for residential mermaids maybe.

“Took you a while, didn’t it?” Ryan’s cheeky voice quipped seemingly out of nowhere. Ray looked around and took Gavin’s hand, pulling him to the side and all the way behind the last building in the chain. There, Geoff, Ryan, and Jack were waiting with obvious impatience.

Geoff took one, flat look at the two of them and his eyes seemed to deaden. His face hardened as he said, “He didn’t.”

“He did,” Ray said softly. “We didn’t notice until we’d gone too far.”

Geoff seemed to deflate. “Dammit,” he sighed. His normally full, piercing gray eyes emptied, leaving a rather desolate, crestfallen storm in those dampened orbs. Ray could only watch as Geoff began to spiral into despair – and a part of Ray joined him.

Ray couldn’t remember the exact moment where he last laid eyes on his longest friend. He hadn’t known it was going to be the end, so he hadn’t committed it to memory. And now Ray was left with nothing but bitter resentment and a hole punched through his chest.

Ray was furiously blinking tears from his eyes when Jack finally cleared his throat. It was difficult to read Jack’s face through the soft, abundant locks of hair, but Ray could see the cues he’d grown to recognize.

Jack was ready to punch out a brick wall.

“I guess we should… go, then,” Jack said in a tight voice. No one seemed in particular agreement, but all nodded anyway, and no one moved.

Ray knew they were all waiting for the same thing: Michael.

Needless to say, they left with disappointment.

“Doc eight,” Ray murmured as they bobbed and weaved through the thick bands of people wading by the active docks. There were sizable pin-ups of roman numerals over each entry way to the boats at the far paths. Docks one through four were breathtakingly big, and only the largest boats were parked there. Ray had never ridden on one of those, but one day he wanted to.

The rest of the docks were of varying size. Doc eight was comparatively tiny, and two small boats were sitting at the far end. Though the sight was relieving, there was a sense of anxiety amongst the group as they approached. It felt wrong to just leave.

“Geoff! Jack!” a voice called enthusiastically. A hand waving frantically in the air caught their attention almost immediately, drawing reluctant smiles to their faces at the sight of a man wearing a baseball cap standing unsteadily on the flat nose of a small speeder.

Geoff muttered something about the bespeckled man looking good these days. He’d slimmed down, built up muscle, and his smile was friendlier than anything Ray could’ve imagined by Geoff’s description from years ago. Ray could remember hearing Burnie’s giddy voice over the crackle of a phone not even twenty days ago, when Geoff finally could get a clear phone line through to America. It’d been years since Geoff arrived in these god forsaken lands, and apparently Burnie had been intensely worried about his friend since his departure to find Gavin.

“Burns!” Geoff yelled in excitement, running forward to grab Burnie in a bear hug. Ray had never seen Geoff look so damned relieved. “Goddammit, Burnie – You look good.”

“A lot better than you,” Burnie teased, pulling back. Geoff looked unhappy with that response, apparently able to read Burnie’s expression better than Ray could, and rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be good once we get home,” Geoff said, voice airy with exhausted happiness. Eyes shining, he moved out of the way for Jack to give the older a bear hug as well.

“Good to see you, Burnie,” Jack said quietly. Ray shared grins with Gavin at Jack’s choked-up voice.

“It’s good to see you, too, Jack,” Burnie said sincerely. “God – that beard is getting out of hand.”

Jack laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he allowed.

Geoff stepped back to put a gentle hand on Gavin’s shoulder and pushed him further. “Gavin, you might not remember, but this is Burnie. You were a little young and stupid when you knew him.”

“Sorry, mate,” Gavin apologized, extending a hand. He squinted slightly when Burnie clasped their hands. “Actually, I do remember you a bit.”

Burnie smiled like he’d just been shown the secret to the universe. “Good,” he said and his voice was oddly thick. Clearing his throat, Burnie’s eyes then darted to Ray. “Ray, right?” Burnie guessed. “You’re a lot shorter than Geoff gave you credit for.”

Ray sent Geoff a rueful smile. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically but gladly shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, and, uh… thanks.”

There was only so much genuine sincerity Ray could pack into one word, and he hoped he did it justice. If the light glimmer in Burnie’s eyes was any indication, Ray had gotten his point across.

“Interesting group of people you’ve collected here, Geoff. Oh, and nice to finally meet you in person, Ryan,” Burnie added with a respectful nod. Ryan returned it with a smile. “Like I said – odd group; a cow, a ram, a cat, a rabbit, a bird, and a lion. Honestly, I don’t know how you can get along, especially with Geoff’s mood swings that can rival a pregnant woman during full term –”

“Wait,” Ryan interrupted sharply. Burnie looked surprised but waited patiently. Meanwhile, Ryan was frowning and furrowing his brow as he mulled over his words. “We don’t, uh… have Michael anymore.”

Burnie looked confused and faintly alarmed. “Huh?”

“He isn’t coming,” Geoff said lowly, silver eyes just barely containing the pain-ridden rage and sorrow. “He… said so himself and left.”

Burnie was staring at him. “I know you’ve been in a third world country for the better part of seven years, but you’re communicating skills must’ve gotten a little rusty.”

“What?” Geoff said blankly. His eyes widened. “Did you see him?”

“See him?” Burnie echoed. “Geoff, he’s sitting in the boat.”

“Hey, hurry the fuck up!” a wonderfully familiar voice shouted, a figure standing up on the second boat and throwing his arms up in exasperation. Ray soaked in the image. “I’ve lived here for nineteen years and I’m ready to leave!”

Something unfamiliar and hungry unfurled in Ray’s chest, expanding and bleeding through the old and new cracks in his heart. He wasn’t aware of running down the dock; he didn’t realize he was jumping onto the boat. Not until he was only feet from a shocked and slightly scared Michael Jones.

Ray grabbed the moron’s t-shirt with both hands, twisting the fabric tightly so Michael couldn’t slip from between his fingers again, and bodily yanked him forward. Michael tripped over the step and fell into the brunette’s grip, and Ray could do nothing but pull him even closer until he could connect with Michael in a more substantial, more intimate, more devastating fashion: he slammed their lips together and let go of his clothes with one hand, pressing Michael closer with a palm to the back of the head. The curls were soft against his fingertips.

Not giving the moron time to fret over the simple gesture of a love that Ray knew the redhead thought didn’t exist, Ray shoved him away and let go of his shirt completely to give Michael the room Ray predicted he would need.

“You idiot!” Ray yelled, voice bouncing on the soft waves of the water. “You fucking asshole!”

“I – what –”

“You left!” Ray snapped. “You fucking ran away, and we thought – I thought –”

Ray’s building rant and subsequent lecture was cut short by Gavin barreling past him, clipping him in the shoulder as he went, and throwing himself into Michael’s arms. Gavin only pulled away after a long, suffocating moment where Michael did nothing but blink repeatedly, obviously stunned. Gavin looked as though he was about to kiss the redhead as well, but thank God he didn’t. Michael’s head probably would’ve imploded.

“Stupid, dumb idiot,” Gavin chided breathlessly, pushing Michael gently in the chest as a playful reprimand. “Did you get lost, you donut?”

Michael’s gaze slid sideways, face pinking just slightly. “I fucking hate crowds,” he said by way of explanation.

“It’s easy to get lost in them,” Jack sympathized as he and Geoff climbed aboard, but Ray knew both he and Geoff detected a twinge of dishonesty.

At least he came back.

“Whoa, whoa,” Burnie said. He was still standing on the peer, with a sullen Ryan by his side. The blond had his arms crossed and a frown fixed on his face; he’d been held back from the reunion by Burnie. “Only four on a boat at a time. Three preferably. How are we dividing up?”

Gavin and Ray glanced at one another and spoke before Geoff or Jack had the chance. “Lads and Gents.”

Burnie looked stumped. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Lads,” Gavin said slowly, pointing to himself, Ray, and then Michael. “Gents,” he said, repeating the gesture for the pouting older men.

“Sounds good,” Burnie nodded before Geoff could raise a proper complaint. “I’ll ride with the Lads, then, because I’m guessing none of you know how to operate a boat?” They shook their heads and Michael looked downright clueless.

Burnie smiled. “Didn’t think so.”

---

Burnie was a fucking nightmare to be on a boat with.

Warned early on that he should prepare for a long journey, Michael was most definitely not ready for the tragedy that was Burnie steering the wheel of a small speed boat.

“I thought you knew how to drive this thing!” Gavin cried out, knuckles white as he gripped the armrests of the backseat. His face had paled two hours ago and stayed the same translucent shade ever since. His wings were pitched over the side of the boat, the bottom-most feathers just barely grazing the surface of the water, as he reclined in the seat. Ray was sitting next to him and Michael was perched on the edge of his seat across the isle.

Burnie’s reply was delayed and was nearly absorbed into the wind. “I do, don’t you see my fucking hands on the goddamn steering wheel?”

“Yeah, but that’s not steering, that’s swerving back and forth and guiding us over reefs!” Gavin snapped back, and Michael couldn’t help but agree.

Laying his ears flat against his skull to prevent water from splashing into them, Michael shivered and glowered at the horizon. He felt so far out of his comfort zone that it was beginning to make his stomach lurch rather uncomfortably. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, in this boat, with these people. It didn’t feel particularly right or wrong, but it did make Michael feel on edge.

And his damn lips were still tingling. He licked them occasionally during the ride, distracted from the three’s conversation by the intense vibration sensation buzzing through his mouth. He very carefully avoided Ray’s gaze, staring instead at the sun on the horizon or at the other boat zooming along behind them. From this distance, Michael could just barely make out Geoff’s figure standing at the wheel.

For once, Michael desperately wished to be in the company of the Gents rather than the Lads.

Ray wasn’t acting differently towards him in the slightest, but Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that the brunette was watching him carefully. Michael did nothing to indicate his feelings either way and kept the storm inside his head.

Ray had kissed him. On the mouth. Michael may have grown up in the shithole of the world, where government had broken down centuries ago, but he was once part of a civilized society – even if he didn’t quite remember it – and he knew that kisses like that were not shared between casual friends. His mom used to assure Michael that there was something better out there for him. When she died, Michael had forgotten about her stories for the most part. He’d forgotten about her, too.He sort of remembered she had tattoos like Geoff and a ringing laugh, but even her name was now a blur in his mind.

She taught him how the world worked, the world that Ray grew up in as well, as far as Michael knew – which wasn’t much. Realistically, Michael knew very little about his oldest friend. Jack was an emotionally open sort of man, but Geoff seemed to be a fan of stuffing the feelings away. Michael liked Geoff’s method better, but now he was wishing he knew his friends on a more personal level.

“How did you know where to go?” Gavin suddenly asked him over the roar of the boat sloshing over the waves.

“Um,” Michael hesitated. He couldn’t just tell them that he’d actually been planning on leaving. It’d been pure dumb luck that the stranger had provided the right dock for him to go to. Burnie had immediately jumped down from the boat and introduced himself, apparently already familiar with Michael’s physical description. Michael made a note to ask Geoff how the hell he’d gotten in contact with Burnie and how the hell he’d managed to time this so perfectly. “I think I heard Geoff mention it.”

He couldn’t tell if Ray or Gavin were suspicious of his rather lame answer. It didn’t matter to Michael, who looked away to once more stare at the boat behind them. There was an odd paradox in his mind where being on the boat wasn’t nearly as scary as knowing where it was headed.

Michael zoned out for the majority of the trip. There wasn’t much to be said, even as they approached land. Michael couldn’t make out the brown blur until they were pulling up next to it. Burnie knocked into the wood of the dock a few times before finally pulling to a stop. Michael’s footsteps faltered once he stepped onto the pier, the wooden planks creaking under his weight as he moved forward to allow Gavin room on the dock as well.

Looking around, Michael’s face drew tight with confusion. Rich people were everywhere, with well-threaded and expertly sewn clothes on their backs and bags of fresh purchases hanging from their arms. The fabrics they dressed in were dyed with a multitude of colors, some so vibrant that they hurt Michael’s eyes. A few were shades that he’d never seen before, and Michael could only marvel at the sight. How many other colors had he not seen?

It wasn’t as crowded as the other docks had been. In fact, the longer Michael watched, the more people cleared out. He was so lost in his dumbstruck wonder that he didn’t help unload and reign in the two boats. It wasn’t until someone nudged his arm that Michael tore his hungry gaze away, switching it instead to Ryan’s rather pink face.

“Got a little sun, Rye-bread?” Michael said teasingly.

“A bit,” Ryan admitted, grinning. He reached forward to tap Michael on the nose. “But I’m not the only one.”

Michael batted his hand away. “Some more than others,” he snickered, pointing discreetly to Jack, whose forehead was not unlike a tomato.

Ryan and Michael broke into giggles together as they watched Jack aid Burnie in tying the boats to the dock. Their laughter slowly died and the two were left standing shoulder-to-shoulder in silence.

“You can go,” Ryan said suddenly in a sobered voice. “If you still want.”

Michael swallowed heavily. Somehow his words still managed to get stuck in his throat.

“If you did,” Ryan continued after a long pause. “We’d miss you.”

More silence.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Just thought you should know.”

“I didn’t need the fucking guilt trip,” Michael muttered, scuffing his shoe against the floor.

Ryan sighed. Michael knew he disagreed but the blond was quiet.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Michael finally whispered, because somehow even after four years of separation, only twenty-four hours of being back in their presence was enough for his body and mind grow re-attached to them. Leaving again… just the thought made Michael’s fists tighten. But he couldn’t stay.

“You’re leaving, then.”

Gavin’s flat sentence was a lot like a punch to Michael’s gut. His air was released in a rushed gust as if he’d actually been delivered a blow to the abdomen. Michael didn’t turn to look at the man, but he could damn sure feel his stare boring into the side of his face.

When Michael didn’t deny the statement, there was a long stretch of silence. Gavin was the one to break it with a hard laugh. It was bitter and cruel and shouldn’t’ve come out of Gavin’s mouth.

The sounds of the other four men worked died until there was just the sound of the waves gently sloshing against the pier’s support beams. Michael couldn’t seem to suck in an appropriate breath.

“Before you go,” Gavin said in a bleak monotone. “Can you at least explain one thing to us?”

“What’s that?” Michael said in a rasp.

“Why did you run away that night?”

The question was a gunshot. It hung in the air and Michael felt it crawl into his lungs. His mouth opened, but there was no magical answer waiting just outside his lips.

“You won’t understand,” Michael decided to say. There was a ringing sense of disappointment. Michael floundered to leave on better terms. “I – I just couldn’t stay anymore and – and I can’t now, either. At least I can say goodbye this time?”

“Why couldn’t you stay?” Gavin demanded angrily, his true feelings easily breaking past the crust of fake-calmness. Shoving Michael in the shoulder, Gavin moved to stand confrontationally in front of the redhead, wings puffed and raised slightly in a threatening position. Michael didn’t feel frightened at the sight, but he backed up slightly anyway.

“I can’t tell you!” Michael growled, beginning to feel as though he’d been backed into a corner. The thump of feet on wood signaled Jack, Geoff, and Ray jumping down from the secondary boat.

“You owe us a reason why, Michael!” Gavin yelled, pushing Michael slightly. His hands came to rest on the redhead’s chest.

“I – I –” Michael stammered, shaking his head. He stepped back once more, but Gavin just followed him. “I don’t want your last memory of me to be a fucking excuse, especially one like that –”

“You owe us an excuse, at the very least,” Gavin seethed. His fists balled up in Michael’s shirt. “We – we looked for you.”

Michael licked his lips. “I know,” he whispered.

“You don’t understand,” Gavin breathed with a shake of the head. His hands slid up to cradle Michael’s face. “Four years. We look for you for four years.”

Michael averted his stare. His heart throbbed in pain and guilt. “I didn’t think –”

“Damn right you didn’t,” Gavin hissed. His tone softened as he continued, “You didn’t think about what we thought, Michael, and that’s really unfair. Whatever happened, or was happening, you could’ve talked to us about. Shared it. Maybe then you wouldn’t’ve had to grow up alone.”

“I made it alright,” Michael said defensively. His skin was growing warm under Gavin’s hands. “It didn’t feel like that long.”

“You look so different,” Gavin whispered, each syllable seeming to be in time with the pounding of Michael’s heart. Gavin was drawing closer and closer, until their foreheads were touching and their noses were mere millimeters apart.

“You do, too,” Michael blurted out, feeling his chest tighten. He moved his eyes away, refusing to meet Gavin’s intense stare.

Gavin growled in the back of his throat and Michael could feel the muscles of his brow furrowing. “Michael,” he grumbled angrily, shocking the redhead. It shouldn’t have; Gavin was impatient in the best of circumstances. Forcing his eyes back to Gavin’s, he nearly flinched at the sight of the hazel-green irises swimming with barely controlled rage. “Tell me why you abandoned us.”

Michael couldn’t hold back the scoff. “I didn’t abandon you.”

If Michael hadn’t been the one Gavin suddenly shoved, he wouldn’t have known what had happened. Gavin’s hands were gone from his face and instead flew at his chest, pushing the redhead violently. Michael nearly tripped and fell but managed to steady himself by placing a hand on one of the wooden poles that supported the pier. Gavin, meanwhile, was breathing heavily and glaring at him, hands clenched into fists by his side.

The others had shifted to stand behind Gavin. Michael’s lungs seemed to freeze when he realized he couldn’t read a single one of their faces. Not even Jack’s.

“Didn’t abandon us?” Gavin said quietly. There was a peculiar but terrifying warning in the undertone of his words and Michael didn’t dare respond. “What else would you want to call it, Michael? You were – you were my best friend. I was seventeen when you left – do you know what it’s like to have your best friend practically die when you’re only seventeen?”

“Yeah, no shit, Gavin,” Michael snapped. “I lost all of my best friends when I was fifteen, I know what it’s like –”

“You’re the one who left!” Gavin said shrilly.

“I had to! It was for everyone, I didn’t leave because I wanted to!”

“Then who did you leave for?”

“For you!” Michael exploded, vision tinting red. “I left for you, all of you!”

“We wanted you to stay!” Gavin shouted.

“I couldn’t,” Michael snarled, jaw tightening. He could feel his temper reaching the end of its rope. “I couldn’t stay anymore and it was my fault.”

“What happened?” Gavin yelled, stepping closer.

Michael’s only excuse for his sudden flood of honesty was a simple one; feeling threatened and scared and ultimately betrayed, he couldn’t take Gavin bearing down on him any longer. Closing his eyes and clutching at his hair, Michael roared, “I fell in love!”

There was ringing silence in the space after his words. To Michael, even the ocean quieted.

Michael closed his eyes and bowed his head, hunched over slightly. His tail was under his shirt, wrapped tightly around his ribcage as if afraid his heart was about to burst through. Ears flat against his skull under the beanie, Michael ripped the offending piece of clothing from his head and threw it into the bay.

He had nothing left to hide.

“I’m leaving,” he said tightly, not looking at a single one of their faces. A sudden urge to explain himself hit him just as he moved to step around them. “I – I knew why I didn’t tell you; it felt like the end of the world at fifteen. I wasn’t some sniveling kid, desperate or pathetic or anything, but I… I imprinted.” His face burned hot at the confession. He couldn’t tell what their reactions were, but he could guess. He sounded like a child as he continued his small rant. “And I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t fight it or ignore it or push it away –”

“So you left.”

Geoff’s soft-spoken sentence was a knife through Michael’s solemn determination. Now he had to acknowledge that he’d just revealed this part of himself not to some stranger, or the empty walls of his old residence, but to the actual objects of his imprint. They heard and understood every word.

Every single one of Michael’s cards had just been laid on the table.

“I’m – I’m not –” Michael stuttered. He wasn’t what? Pathetic? Sad? He could argue with himself about whether he was the damn living personification of those adjectives, but at the moment, his main concern was trying not to come off as them. He was doing a shit job; he couldn’t even meet their eyes. He stood awkwardly in front of them, head hanging and hands balled into fists.

He caught Gavin’s movement in his peripheral vision long before the brunette reached him, but Michael didn’t expect the man’s arms to very gently, very cautiously wrap around his shoulders. It was a wary hug, as if Gavin was preparing himself to be pushed away, and it wasn’t all that heartfelt, especially with Michael too confused to return it. It wasn’t until Michael’s tail – utterly of its own accord – snuck out from under his shirt and curled protectively around Gavin’s waist that the dam broke.

Michael couldn’t remember the last time it’d made physical contact with another person. The thick hair brushed against the sensitive feathers that sat on the underside of Gavin’s wing and Michael could feel the shiver that Gavin released and that Michael parroted back at him, before the arms around Michael’s shoulders suddenly constricted Michael into the most intense hug ever.

He didn’t know what it meant. It could’ve been a pity hug, it could’ve been a goodbye hug – hell, it could’ve been an attempt to murder him.

But Michael hugged back with vigor.

His rather scrawny arms came up to grab the back of Gavin’s shirt, fingers tightly curled and pulling Gavin closer. He didn’t know what to do with his head so he simply turned it to the side, one ear pressed flush to Gavin’s chest. The lubb-dubb of Gavin’s heart was only out of synch with Michael’s for a moment before suddenly they were beating in time together. It helped calm Michael almost immediately and he relaxed into the rather desperate embrace.

Gavin squeezed him until it was nearly painful, burying his face into the space between Michael’s ears. Normally, that would have bothered the redhead, but Michael could do nothing but try to focus on keeping his breathing even. With so little space between them, Michael had trouble finding the air he needed.

“Stupid idiot,” Gavin mumbled into his hair. Michael’s ears twitched energetically when Gavin’s warm breath washed over them. “I thought you were about to reveal you were a serial killer or a witch.”

“There’s no such thing,” Michael muttered automatically.

“Maybe not,” Gavin allowed, voice muffled by Michael’s curls. “But there is such a thing as a crush, or five. And there’s also a thing called being oblivious.”

Michael shifted slightly in Gavin’s continuous hug. His shoulders were beginning to ache. “Gavin,” he hissed rather shortly. “Any feelings for a – a man are punishable by death. It’s hard to break that mindset. And – and you were my family. It was weird and awkward and it was mostly the cat part of me and the proximity –”

“Moron!” Gavin interrupted in an exasperated sigh. Michael glared at his shirt, the only place his eyes could reach. “Oblivious as in haven’t you noticed now?”

“Jack and Geoff?” Michael guessed with a leaden heart.

“And me and Ray and Ryan,” Gavin said breathlessly.

Michael blinked. “Wh – what?”

Gavin suddenly tightened his arms, causing Michael to shut up immediately. He could tell the brunette had suddenly been struck with slight embarrassment, and – damn, it was good to be in reversed roles for once.

“Life is short,” Gavin answered without a tinge of sarcasm. He moved so his chin was resting on Michael’s skull, speaking into the space above his head. His words were clear and strong. “We could’ve died any one of those days during the four years. It was a chance worth taking and I don’t think a single one of us has ever been happier.”

Michael was honest-to-god speechless. He clung to Gavin as if scared that the older man might slip away and he would wake up on the dirt floor of his shack in Luca, having just dreamt up his greatest wish. To be reunited and more, to have his feelings justified and returned.

The point still stood that Gavin had yet to mention how exactly Michael fit into their small, condensed puzzle.

Swallowing thickly, Michael finally scraped up enough nerve to speak. “I wasn’t oblivious to all of it,” he pointed out with a slight waver in his voice.

“You were oblivious to the important part,” Gavin said softly, and suddenly he was pulling away. Michael had to force his muscles to relax and not clamp down on Gavin’s torso. It wasn’t needed, however, because Gavin only pulled a few inches away, enough for Michael’s tail to slip slightly but not depart entirely.

Michael did not like this position as much. Gavin could easily meet his eyes by simply looking down and Michael couldn’t just look down when such bright hazel eyes locked his own russet ones in a powerful gaze. A strong spark of intimacy just from being so near Gavin and staring into his eyes made Michael’s chest heat up. His brain shut down.

“I like you, too, Michael,” Gavin said in a hushed voice, leaning closer. Their noses nearly bumped, but Gavin turned his head slightly before there was skin contact. His breath washed over Michael’s lips. “That was what you were oblivious to.”

Gavin pressed forward and their lips pressed together. Gently, just a chaste, bare brush of sensitive skin. It didn’t matter to Michael, however, because the moment they made contact, he was craving more. Every inch of his flesh cried out for Gavin’s touch, for Ray’s, for Jack’s, for Geoff’s, and for Ryan’s. His heart leaked from the spaces in between his ribs and spread into Gavin through their intimate connection. Michael wondered distantly if Gavin could feel it, because Michael could almost taste it on his tongue.

Michael kissed back with his entire body, craning his head up so there was a more substantial area of coverage. His hands rested unsurely on Gavin’s pectoral muscles, fingers relaxed and playing lightly with the material. Gavin held the back of his head with one hand and the other was wrapped loosely around his waist.

All in all, it was a kiss Michael never thought he would experience in his lifetime.

He was left breathless and windswept when Gavin gently broke it, tilting so their lips parted and their foreheads bumped together. Gavin’s cheeks were a faint pink, and Michael was faring no better. Both boys breathed heavily from excitement, continuing to share their air.

“Stupid,” Gavin taunted breathlessly a few long moments later, when the presence of the others became looming. “You could’ve talked to us instead of disappearing for four bloody years.”

“I was fifteen,” Michael reminded him with a weak grin. A hand rested on his shoulder and he leaned just slightly into the touch.

“You could’ve come back,” Gavin argued lightly, keeping the conversation on easygoing terms. Michael knew he didn’t want to raise a fight.

Michael also knew that he could have. At seventeen, he had realized that he might have been able to live with them if he had just kept himself closed off. Distant. But the shame of crawling back to them with his tail quite literally between his legs was too overwhelming for someone with as much pride as he naturally held. And living on his own, while not particularly enjoyable, was easier than hiding that part of him away so thoroughly. Living on the go, in shacks and huts, and with no companion ship had left Michael with a lot of opportunities to release his pent-up aggression and not fear being judged.

He didn’t, however, feel judged as he stood in Gavin’s embrace. A strange urge to share every detail about himself, such as his claws or his clipped whiskers or his heat cycle, hit him, but thankfully that disappeared almost instantly. Swallowing heavily, Michael calmly lied, “Didn’t think about it.”

Gavin hummed and didn’t pursue that matter further. “Are you staying?” he asked.

Michael closed his eyes, sighing slightly.

Was it really his place to stay? After leaving for four years and causing so much trouble in their relationship, platonic or otherwise, Michael felt undeniable guilt rise in the back of his throat. He didn’t deserve this second chance after pulling such a shitty move.

Geoff thought otherwise. Being taller than Gavin, the tattooed man was easily able to consume Michael in a hug while placing his chin atop Gavin’s head. The warmth that radiated through Geoff’s shirt to Michael’s back was welcomed with open arms, and Michael’s tail slid from Gavin’s waist to Geoff’s of its own accord. Michael didn’t try to stop it.

Michael could feel his grin and chuckle, the skin of Geoff’s stomach jumping slightly. “He’s staying,” Geoff announced for him. “Right, Michael?”

Michael bit back a sarcastic reply, because he realized that yeah.

In the end, he really didn’t have a choice.

“Yeah,” Michael whispered into the inches of space above Gavin’s lips. A grin stretched across his own. “If I’m not dreaming, then yeah, I’m sticking with you guys.”

Geoff’s celebratory laugh and roar of victory nearly busted Michael’s cat-like eardrums. He flinched back, but not far enough; Geoff grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and laid a devastating kiss on the redhead’s lips. It was passionate and aggressive – nothing like Gavin’s but everything like Geoff. Knees going weak and shaky, Michael melted against the older man’s body and kissed back with all the effort he could muster.

Geoff broke it rather suddenly, but made up for it when he wrapped muscled arms around Michael’s waist and lifted him completely in the air. Kicking his legs out of reflex, Michael couldn’t help the bubble of jittery laughter from leaving his lungs. He latched onto Geoff’s shoulders to steady himself, but nothing could prepare the two of them for the storm that was Jack.

They were knocked over completely, which in reality Michael knew should have hurt, but the pain of nearly everything was dulled. Jack and Geoff were laughing hysterically while Gavin wriggled out from under the small dogpile, face scrunched up in slight discomfort. Michael couldn’t be bothered to move, too at home under the bodies of his friends.

Friends?

As Geoff rolled off him, leaving a peck on his cheek as he did so, Michael decided that ‘friends’ was not a big enough word.

Michael didn’t move from his sprawled out position on the pier floor and was glad he hadn’t when Jack slowly bent to connect their lips in a slow, overwhelming kiss that spoke volumes about how Jack felt about the entire thing. Michael’s chest shuttered with warmth, even as Jack pulled back – not without rubbing his cheek against Michael’s in a show of feline solidarity. His beard tickled the redhead’s neck, but he butted back with enthusiasm.

Ryan offered him a hand, which Michael gladly took. The blond kept pulling him closer until Michael was pressed to his chest with Ryan’s toned arms wrapped around his shoulders. Ryan chuckled into Michael’s hair, “I didn’t get my kiss, but I want one later.”

Michael huffed out a gasp-like laugh, ears relaxing into a comfortable position and brushing against Ryan’s chin. “D – Definitely,” he said bravely, silently thankful that the blond was so in-tune to Michael’s limits. Michael was thrilled with the sudden progression of today’s events, but he was very quickly approaching overload.

“I got mine,” Ray said smugly when the two parted. He’d also discarded his hat, floopy ears languidly falling to the sides. His dark eyes were glimmering.

Michael grinned reluctantly. “That didn’t count.”

Ray smirked at the challenge. “Fine,” he said easily. “I’ll save the best for last, then.”

The promise made Michael’s gut shiver. He thought Ray’s last kiss had been pretty damn good, but he had no doubt that Ray could do some serious damage to Michael’s mental functions using just his mouth.

Hands cupped his cheeks and turned his head. Suddenly finding himself staring into Geoff’s big, gray eyes, Michael blurted out a surprised, “Hello, there.”

“We’re okay?” Geoff asked unhesitatingly. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, and he wasn’t lying.

“We’re okay,” Geoff said, and it wasn’t a question. “Fucking four years and we’re finally okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael murmured and this time, he felt it in his heart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The mantra ran like a tornado through his mind, but the redhead could only manage to mumble one of them.

“I’m sorry,” Geoff answered. He touched noses with the younger. The chanting in his head stopped instantly and Michael sighed, butting the tattooed man’s chin with his head.

“Dear God, love birds,” a different voice groaned. Geoff gently released Michael and they both looked over to Burnie, who was still standing in the boat. He was wearing an amused expression, but Michael could see his watery eyes.

“Shut up, Burns,” Geoff replied lightly, snatching up Michael’s hand and tangling their fingers together. Geoff’s palm was warm and large, enveloping Michael’s own.

Burnie grinned and hopped onto the doc. By now, dusk had begun to fall and the other doc-dwellers had cleared out. No one else had been audience to their little party, thank god.

Michael still expected this to be a dream. Any moment he would open his eyes and be back in the barren wasteland that was Luca, and his chest would be cold and his palm would be empty. Michael clutched it tighter to reassure himself.

But he didn’t wake up. In a way, he was in a dream, but honestly, Michael was content with living in it. He didn’t care if he was in a goddamn coma or what.

This was truly the good life.

“I’m glad to see that things worked out,” Burnie said with sincerity as he slowed to a stop in front of the group. His hand came up to adjust his baseball cap atop his head.

“Thank you, Burnie,” Jack said with genuine gratitude. “So much. Especially for waiting for us. I’m amazed that Kara was able to keep tabs on us and time the arrival just right. We had Control on our tail.”

“No problem, no problem at all,” Burnie assured him. “You know me – my employees are top priority.”

Geoff seemed to freeze. Burnie’s grin just grew larger.

“I haven’t filled your position,” Burnie continued conversationally. Michael was confused at the awe-struck look on Geoff’s face as he stared at his friend. “Or your department. Four years and there hadn’t been many people around to play videogames, what with all the blooming economy and such. The job market was too tempting, so now we’re sorely lacking workers.”

“They’re still selling video games?” Geoff asked in surprise. His eyes were like saucers and there was an undeniable excitement to his tone. “That’s still a business?”

Burnie grinned like a shark. “Oh, yeah. Man, you’ve missed all the good releases, too.”

“Is the Internet still a thing?” Geoff asked curiously.

Burnie couldn’t seem to help a disbelieving chuckle. He shook his head and looked at Geoff with a secretive smirk. “Geoff,” he said formally. “You won’t believe how much the world has changed in the four years you’ve been gone. Roosterteeth is in business, my friend.”

Geoff seemed to be having trouble talking. “And… my department still exists?”

“It does indeed,” Burnie nodded, eyes sparkling. He and Geoff seemed to be having a silent conversation with unspoken cues, but Michael could follow none of it. Geoff’s hand was iron-tight around his own. "The market is actually just beginning to boom, so your timing is perfect." Burnie took a moment to pause. "If you're planning to take your position back, that is."

Geoff playfully glared at him, barely suppressing a smile. "Only if I get a raise from my last pay check."

Confused and still smiling a bit timidly, Michael glanced uncertainly at Ryan over his shoulder, but the blond’s focus was firmly placed on Burnie. His expression was unreadable, the tightness around his icy blue eyes the only indication that Ryan’s mental wheels were spinning frantically.

Jack, however, was lit with a dumbstruck sense of joy. His grin was infection and Michael found himself mirroring it without much conscious thought, a feeling of great excitement mixed with tingling relief billowing out from his bulky bones. Michael almost released Geoff’s hand and stepped closer to Jack, in order to soak up the enthralling aura, but Geoff was clasping his hand like a lifeline.

“It’ll probably be split down the middle, actually,” Burnie said, rubbing his chin with a smile. His intelligent eyes roamed across Geoff’s companions, skimming over each before resting back on his friend. “Split in sixths, actually.”

Michael would bet his last sock that when Geoff next spoke, the tattooed man’s voice was choked with emotion. “I think we could compromise.”

Burnie’s cocky smile faded into a softer one. “I think we can agree on something,” he agreed, stepping forward to clap Geoff on the back before turning around to grab a large duffle bag from the lip of the boat. Burnie checked to make sure his keys were in his pocket before looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad y’all are light packers. We have to all fit into one car on the ride back to the office, where I can give you some clothes.”

Geoff nodded and pressed his lips together, eyes shimmering. Michael grinned at the sight and met eyes with Burnie, and for the first time, he was able to share a silent conversation with the man himself. Very plainly, Burnie and Michael agreed: Geoff is a big baby.

“Don’t be so gratuitous, Geoff,” Burnie said jokingly. “I’m giving you Joel’s old clothes.”

This time, Geoff’s nose crinkled in distaste. “You mean the colored tissue paper he passes off as a shirt? No thanks, I think I’ll embrace my inner nudist until I can get access to my bank account.”

“Good luck with that. When my bank account was frozen, it took four fucking months for them to finally understand that it was me trying to unfreeze it,” Burnie replied, shaking his head in false pity. “Have fun sleeping in the office for four months. Don’t overstay your welcome, or else Barbara might forcibly kick you out.”

“As long as we have a welcome to start with,” Jack answered warmly. “Thank you, Burnie. Really.”

“Don’t get soft on me, Jack,” Burnie laughed, holding out his duffle bag, which Jack automatically took in hand. “I already have you holding my purse.” And with that, Burnie took the cap off of his head, revealing two distinctly animal-like ears. Michael had never seen anything like them, but his breath caught in his throat at the realization.

Eyes wide, Michael watched the two hybrids laugh.

“That you do,” Jack said good-naturedly. Burnie grinned and patted his shoulder, gently directing Jack to begin walking down the pier with him. To the main boardwalk.

To an entirely different world. Michael could hear it from where he stood frozen. The ocean behind him was quiet and calming – at least partly familiar. The land in front of him was clustered with buildings, some eerily resembling a Med-fac, and the noise of loud metal could be heard in the far distance. Michael’s ears lowered until he could no longer hear the frightening foreign sounds.

Geoff began walking forward, still holding Michael’s hand, but his progress faltered when their arms pulled taunt. Michael couldn’t move his feet, a sudden, cold drip of fear oozing into his heart. He could see Geoff’s face twist with confusion and slight pain when Michael’s hand locked down on his.

“What’s wrong?” Geoff whispered in concern. Ray, Ryan, and Gavin followed obliviously after Burnie and Jack, a friendly conversation blooming between the men.

“I’ve never been here before,” Michael answered nervously, tail flicking waspishly in the air behind him. His ears shifted to an alert position.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Geoff assured him, glancing at the group, who stopped to wait for them. Jack pointedly turned the rest away to give the two some privacy. “I have. I lived here before I came to find Gavin.”

“And Gavin lived here?”

“When he was little, yeah,” Geoff said with a nod and smile. “Before he was sold to the slave trade.”

“Does he remember it here?” Michael asked, watching Gavin’s feathers adjust themselves in the late afternoon breeze. He’d never thought to ask how Gavin ended up in the shithole of the world. No one had ever wanted to talk about how they came to be a makeshift family, especially Ryan, who Michael knew had been working in the slave trade when he met young Gavin. When Geoff and Jack left ‘home’, as they had referred to it, to find Gavin, they encountered Ryan and the four grew close. From there, Michael’s knowledge grew fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered meeting and only liking Ray. Being only eleven, the sight of tall men with big horns scared him, but Ray was nice and quiet and sweet. Michael couldn’t place who Ray had reminded him of, but he stuck to the brunette like superglue.

“I’m not sure,” Geoff said a long few moments later. “I doubt it. Jack does, though. He knows Texas better than I do. Ask him about how long he’s lived here and you’ll get an entire family tree sketched out for you and a lecture on what it means to be a fifth generation Austin-ite.”

Michael grinned, his gaze moving from the bearded man to the blond standing next to him. If Michael squinted, he could make out their joined hands. “What about Ryan?”

“He knows his way around,” Geoff answered evasively, and Michael was suddenly struck with the memory of the hard nights, where Geoff and Jack would stay up with a sleepless, dark-eyed Ryan, who couldn’t find any words and who couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

“Okay,” Michael said firmly to Geoff to indicate that the subject was dropped. “So… you know where we’re going?”

Geoff smiled, ruffling Michael’s hair with his free hand. “Good, always look for direction in life, Michael,” he said encouragingly. Michael brightened, having forgotten Geoff’s ‘life lessons’ after so long. “Yes, I know exactly where we’re going. Jack and Ryan do, as well.”

“And we won’t get lost,” Michael double checked, speaking the words slowly. He met Geoff’s eyes with intensity, trying to convey his underlying meaning silently. He’d get the hang of speaking with just his eyes, dammit.

Michael wasn’t sure if Geoff really got what Michael was trying to say, but the tattooed man assured the younger nonetheless. “We won’t get lost, I promise. See, look,” Geoff said, holding up their conjoined hands. “We’re connected, in a few different ways, but this,” Geoff tugged on their hands, “means that I’m going to guide you.”

Nodding, Michael bit his lower lip. He tugged back to show Geoff he understood and beamed at the smile Geoff gave him. “It’s been a day and you’re already pulling this shit,” Michael told him jokingly. It was him, this time, to take the step forward. Geoff allowed him to take it slow, matching their footsteps, all the while maintaining a solid grip on his hand.

“It’s been a day and a half and we’ve made a new life for ourselves,” Geoff said lightly, but Michael couldn’t agree more.

They rejoined the group and Burnie led them to their temporary home for the next few days, or months, depending on how quickly Geoff could get his money. Michael had no idea how the next few months of his life were going to go, but the fear was surprisingly small.

Michael’s life had indeed ended with three mistakes the day he was cornered by Control in Luca. His first had been fucking up and going into town on Sunday, because if he hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been a small riot in his honor, and Control wouldn’t have known he was there. The second was allowing himself to be captured, where he’d been beaten down and physically dragged around in the dirt. If he’d just gotten away, if he’d just ran a little faster, just slipped into the forest, then he would have been able to escape them and start anew in a town or two over.

The third mistake was the biggest and most important.

Michael had made a decision to no longer trust himself. Instead, he had placed that trust in the five people he had betrayed four years ago. It scared him, even now, to think about how close Michael had come to missing out on this golden opportunity. How just a few missteps would have led Michael down a different path, where holding Geoff’s hand wasn’t at the end. Where his lips would still be cold, where his chest would feel permanently empty. Where Ray wouldn’t kick his ass in a race and where Gavin wouldn’t test-fly with him. Where Ryan wouldn’t outsmart him with every word and Jack wouldn’t let him braid his mane.

A path where Michael was still alone.

Michael had made three, glorious mistakes that day that did end his miserable life, but he made a choice to start a new one. And Michael knew he wasn’t going to mess it up this time.