Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I opened my eyes to the darkness of our bedroom. Once my eyes adjusted to the little bit of light seeping into the room from the nightlight across the room, I wondered what had woken me up from a deep sleep. I reached over to the lamp that sat upon my nightstand and clicked it on its dimmest setting. It only took a second for my brain to supply me with that answer to that question. It was the same answer to that same question I had most nights as of late.

David had woken me up.

I looked over to discover he was moving around and mumbling something, meaning he was in the middle of another nightmare. Images and memories of that awful, tragic trauma assaulted him every night since. I never pushed David to talk to me about what exactly he saw. Sometimes, he’d jolt awake before I had the chance to try to intervene. Other times, I’d try to break through his cries and pleas to get him to come back to reality. Usually, David refused to talk about what he had seen. Occasionally he’d recall bits and pieces of the general experience, but as far as his nightmares went, there were never any specific details. At first, he’d half-heartedly claim he didn’t remember what he dreamt about. That was a piss-poor excuse and David knew it as soon as I met his gaze. He gave up on that story after the second night. When I’d try to remind him how much better he had always felt after talking about the nightmares he’d have as a child, he’s scoff at me before bluntly informing me that he was an adult and there was no reason that I needed to hear about the details of something that I couldn’t change.

I think it was the first time David purposefully shut me out of a part of him since we fell in love. And as much as I hated it, I decided to respect his choice.

So instead, every time David had a nightmare, I’d find myself gently reminding him that when he was ready he could tell me about it, but until then, I’d be there with him to do whatever it took to help him get back to sleep. I was not sure if he ever fell back into a real sleep, but at least in my arms, with my fingers combing through his hair as his chin nestled into my collarbone, David could at least find some respite from his memories. I’d whisper anything that I thought might be of comfort to him. I’d tell him how brave and strong he was. I’d repeat how much I loved and admired him. I’d celebrate how he saved so many people. I’d proclaim over and over again how thankful I was that he and the rest of our family somehow stayed alive even as they protected all those people. I’d tell him how proud his dad would be of him, not just for the way he handled this tragedy, but for the full, happy life he’d made for himself. Sometimes, I’d even hum little bits of songs, making up the melody to soothe away David’s tension.

David never really responded, but the fact that he’d allow himself to cry into my shoulder spoke volumes. Eventually, his tears would stop and his breathing would even out, though he’d always stay pressed into me for the rest of the night. I'd never realized how lucky I was that we were both stationary sleepers. We could count on the fact that we'd awake the next morning right tucked into each other. Some nights, I think David might’ve actually fallen asleep pressed into me. Others, he did not quite get there, though he did let himself get to a drowsy headspace that at least gave him some sort of break from his racing mind.

I wished I could do more for David, but I was happy that I could at least do something for him. He’d been through so much that day. For those hours he was locked in without any way for me to know what was going on or how he was faring, I was nearly out of my mind with worry. He was there, in the thick of it all, with no options but to keep fighting what probably seemed like an entirely futile battle. I suffered so deeply, and yet I still couldn’t even imagine how much he suffered.

I wished he could just have one night of peace.

“Ash? Asher?!” David cried, still ensnared in sleep. His legs, still probably sore from the remnants of bruises left behind from the healer, twisted under the sheets. He twisted from side to side, his head leaving behind a deep indentation on his pillow as he panted. I could see David’s chest rise and fall with each ragged breath he sucked in between his clenched teeth. “Why aren’t you answering?” he called desperately. “Asher?”

I rolled over, lightly palming across David’s cheek so as not to startle him. “Hey, Davey,” I murmured gently. “Wake up, Sweetie. It’s okay. It’s just a nightmare.”

David turned away from my touch as he stretched his arm out in front of him. He growled something that sounded like a threat, a light sheen of sweat forming along the crease between his brows. “Please…” David hiccupped. “No… Ash, no!” he whined through a pitiful sob. “Please, no…” He clawed at the sheets.

Undeterred, I slid myself closer to David and rested one hand along his back, which faced me, and one on top of his head. It wasn’t rare for David to need a little bit of time to stir out of his nightmare, though this was certainly the most worked up I’d ever seen him. I could feel his shoulders quake underneath my hands.

“Shh, Davey, it’s okay,” I said, kneeling beside him and letting my chest inch closer to his fidgeting body. “Open your eyes. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.” I reached my arm around his chest to try to roll him back over towards me.

David lashed out at my touch, slamming his weight into me with enough force to knock me off of my knees. The bed squeaked as I unceremoniously fell onto my back. “I said, get the fuck off of me!” David’s yell came from the back of his throat, deep and menacing at whatever he saw behind his eyelids. Without warning, he kicked out at me again and I tumbled off of the bed, landing in a heap with my elbow bearing the brunt of the fall.

“Oww,” I said as my body collided with the floor. After a moment, I scrambled to my feet, feeling a tingling sensation run up and down my arm before it settled into my elbow. I used my other hand to cup my elbow, already feeling the beginnings of a hot bruise forming as it swelled. “Oh, fuck.” Before I could move myself closer to the light to see where the bruise was forming, a small voice that sounded so unlike the gravelly, grizzly one I had heard caught my attention.

“Angel?” David asked slowly, rubbing the back of his fist along his eyes to chase away the last remnants of his nightmare. “What… I thought…”

“Davey, are you awake?” I tried to ignore the pain radiating from my elbow as I climbed back onto the bed.

David reached over and flipped his own lamp on its brightest setting, flooding the room with light. “I am now.” He squinted against the brightness before his gaze settled onto me. “I…” He blinked rapidly, shaking his head from side to side. “I thought it was a shade, but it was you.”

I nodded sadly. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Your arm!” he gasped, noticing how I held it at an unnatural angle gingerly against my chest. Even before he spoke again, I knew exactly what was running through his mind. “I… I pushed you,” David recalled, fighting through the fog of his memory. “ I hurt you…” he whispered, sounding like he had just hit rock bottom. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He reached a long arm out towards me, but hesitated, like he didn’t know if his touch would be welcome.

I never thought there would ever come a time where David Shaw didn’t know that constantly craved his touch. A spike of hatred blazed through my chest. These shades had taken so much from our city. They took over 1500 lives. They took what little confidence our society had in the Department. They took our sense of peace. They took our sense of safety. Our trust in each other.

And, they did something I would’ve thought impossible. They took David Gabriel Shaw’s belief in himself.

I did not waste any time. I closed the distance between David and myself, pressing my upper body against his and wrapping my uninjured arm around his shoulder. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” I reassured him, taking care not to give any visible indication that my elbow was bothering me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide the bruise from David forever, nor did I have any plan to do that. But for right now, when I saw how spooked and embarrassed and just plain droopy he looked, I knew the last thing David needed was to see the physical evidence that he’d hurt he accidently caused me.

“Yes, I do,” David rebutted, pulling me closer and tucking his head into the nape of my neck. “How could I…” His voice broke, like he couldn’t even form the words to describe what he felt was a heinous crime, even if he did commit it in his sleep. “Angel…” I felt David’s body begin to quake in time with his breathing as he began to cry. It was like David’s body wouldn’t let him show any vulnerability until he was fully enveloped in mine. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean it.”

For one of the few times in my life, I was at a complete loss for words. I wracked my brain to come up with something that might ease some of the crushing burden I knew was balancing atop David’s shoulder’s every minute of every day, but for the life of me, I didn’t know how to get through to him. I closed my own eyes, feeling a few tears trickle down my cheek and into David’s sweat-soaked hair.

“Shh,” I said huskily. “Everything’s alright. We’re both safe. We’re right here, at home. It’s okay now.”

“How can you say that?” David demanded, his distress evident from how his muscles shook. They were probably tired from the rigid way David held himself as tried to deal with the far-reaching, day-to-day consequences the ordeal left on his pack and himself. “How can you say everything alright? Nothing’s alright. Nothing’s okay!” He let his hands slide down my sides until they rested at my hips. “I can barely sleep anymore, and when I do, I’m right back there, in that stadium, running towards Asher, still getting attacked by those shades…” He shuddered, peeling his body away from mine with a huff, like he wanted to punish himself for struggling with his trauma by isolating himself from me. "I'm so fucked up in my head, I can't even trust myself to be around you."

I wished he could’ve realized that his doing that hurt me more than any nightmare-induced panic-flailing ever could. I’d fall off our bed one hundred times every night if it meant David could get a moment’s reprieve from his guilt.

“Davey, I’m fine,” I began to protest. “It’s just a little bruise!”

“I could’ve really hurt you, Angel,” David admitted. He stared at my arm like it was a gorey mess. Maybe to him, one bruise that arose from his own hand was one in the same as a bloody, gnarly bite. “This time, I shoved you off the bed. But what about next time? What if I throw a punch? Or what if I shift in my sleep and attack you? What then?” he demanded intensely, a bit of fire flickering in his eyes before he hunched into himself again. “I can’t… I can’t let that happen…”

I sighed heavily, resisting the urge to shake my head at David’s misplaced anger. "Don't worry about all that now."

“Why can’t I just make myself stop thinking about it?” David fisted a hand through his hair, making it seem all the more unkempt after his twisting and turning while in the clutches of his nightmare had mussed it up. “I can’t go on like this without sleep. I can’t keep waking you up every night. Unlike me, you’ve got a job to go to in the morning…” Traces of embarrassment flickered onto his furious scowl. I had an eye to recognize the more vulnerable emotions that often hid behind David’s harder default expressions. I knew that David’s lack of having something to do during the day, other than remembering the events of the Inversion, was contributing to his sleepless nights.

“It’s still fresh in your mind,” I reminded David patiently. “That’s normal. I’m just sorry that you’ve got to keep living through it all these days.” I wrapped my hand around his wrist to pull it away from his hair. David’s hair was thick, but I wouldn’t put it past him to start ripping it out as he grappled with the onslaught of emotions I knew hit him every minute of every day. “You don’t deserve any of this, Davey.”

“No one deserved what happened in there,” he lamented sadly. “All those students, their families, the pack… Asher and Milo are struggling, too. Asher with the injuries, Milo with his…” David grimaced, always one to take the suffering of his loved ones hard. “Y’know.” He shrugged, trusting that I knew he was referring to Milo’s inability to shift. It was something so unthinkable for shifters that David didn’t even want to verbalize it. "Christian is in complete denial over Amanda leaving. Linda’s more withdrawn than I’ve ever seen. The next pack meeting is going to be hard.”

“You’ll find a way to get through it,” I said steadily. “All of you.”

“I hope so,” David hummed indifferently. “At least our group will have the chance to catch up at dinner on Sunday.”

Despite the evenness of his tone, I knew how nervous David was for the upcoming dinner we were hosting. It was going to be a small, fun night. Asher and Milo, along with their mates, were coming. David had also invited Sam, the Solaire vampire who fought alongside the wolfpack during the Inversion, and of course, Sam’s mate would be joining him. David also invited the other vampire who had fought with him, I believe his name was Vincent, but he was unable to attend. His partner wasn’t feeling well or something, but he sent his best regards. The dinner was supposed to be a fun, casual hang out to give us all a chance to relax and unwind. In a way, the first step towards normality for our pack. As we got closer to Sunday, however, David grew more nervous. It was hard for him to see the effects of the Inversion on the faces of the people he loved, but he did not want to set a precedent that would make it seem like the trauma of the Inversion would tear apart the strong bond we all felt for each other. As alpha, David refused to let that happen. What David didn’t know is that I wouldn’t let that happen either. David had worked too hard and cared about his pack too much for me to just sit idly by and let it all get shot to hell.

“Yeah,” I agreed without pushing the subject too far. “I can’t wait to see them all.”

Nodding, David intertwined his fingers into mine and tentatively reached out to point at my arm, which was still throbbing. “Can I see?”

The last thing I wanted to do was shove tangible proof of my hurt in front of David’s face. He was already feeling immense guilt over having been the one to make the call to lockdown the stadium.

I hesitated, still keeping my arm close to my body. “Umm…”

“Please?” David added after a beat. He looked at me with such sad, wide eyes that my heart nearly dropped into my stomach. It was unnerving to see David so unsure of himself. I absently wondered if this might’ve been the side of himself David hid away from the rest of his pack when his father died. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want me to,” he quickly amended, like he even regretted the offer. “I don’t blame you. It's fine.”

I pulled myself back to reality, suddenly realizing how David was misinterpreting my reluctance. He thought I was afraid of him? After all we’d been through? After all these nights I’d held him in my arms as he wept for all the people who were dead? After all the times I’d fall into him as soon as I arrived home from work? After he’d opened up to me about his struggles to be the alpha he wanted to be for his pack? After I shared with him how difficult it was to take care of my mother as her health declined and worse, to admit that I couldn’t take care of her any longer? After we’d laughed together, slept together, star-gazed together, vacationed together, and built a damn fine life together? After all the lazy mornings and steamy nights and slow dances and stolen kisses we shared, David actually thought that something like an accidental push could make me afraid of him?

Without a second thought, I closed the distance between our bodies, crawling over to David on my knees and one hand. “I just didn’t want to bother you,” I said, the ruffling of the sheets and the groan of the California King sized mattress almost drowning out my little confession.

David gently took my arm in his hands, his large palm enveloping my forearm. “It’s a little swollen,” he noted, brushing his fingers along my arm. “Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

“I can wiggle a lot more than that for you,” I instinctively winked. I blinked a few times, realizing that might’ve been the first time I overtly flirted with David since the Inversion. It felt right. Natural. Maybe even a small little snippet of the normality that I had too long taken for granted. Before the Inversion, if someone ever asked me how content I was with my life, I certainly would’ve said that overall everything was wonderful, but that I still wanted more out of my job, or the opportunity for David and me to take more vacations together, or that I wanted to redo our bathroom, or enlarge the driveway so that David’s truck and my Subaru could fit with a little wiggle room.

All of that seemed meaningless now. What I really wanted was David, the confident, snarky, grumbly, loving alpha David Gabriel Shaw back. I wanted him to heal from his wounds, both mental and physical. I wanted him to forgive himself for a crime he didn’t even commit. I wanted him to stop being plagued with nightmares of seeing innocent people be drained of life, or Asher dying in his arms, or discovering that Milo had fatally sacrificed himself to make the ward disappear.

I wanted Davey to be happy again.

Sitting there in bed next to David as the faint glow of our lamps illuminating the silhouettes of our bodies so he could examine my bruised arm made me feel so small in the grand scheme of the universe. Smaller than I think I had ever felt before. Everything suddenly seemed so difficult, like I could try my absolute best forever to help David to no avail. I was out of ideas as to how to help him. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. It was as if the worry, guilt, and all the unknowns that accompanied the Inversion slapped me hard across the face and stunned me into dumb shock.

David leaned over so that his face was closer to mine. “Angel?” he said expectantly. I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing that David probably asked me a question.

“Umm… Sorry,” I dismissed. “What’d you say?”

David frowned. I could feel his eyes slowly sweeping over my body. “I asked if you felt any pins and needles.” When I finally met his gaze, I noticed it was clearer than it had been for days. Like he had a fraction of that spark back in his eyes. Not the flame that usually burned so brightly, but an ember that held the potential to be reignited. “In your arm,” he clarified slowly. “I’m checking to see if you pinched a nerve or something.”

I realized I would have to reply, lest David think I had a concussion or something. “Oh, no, no,” I answered. “Nothing like that. It’s just a little bruise. No biggie.”

“You’re right,” David nodded, satisfied that I was telling the truth. “I’m sure it'll fade in a few days. Maybe a week.” He let his thumb trace along the outside of the oblong mark. He felt cool against the heat that arose from my freshly-swelled skin. “Or, I think… it’s simple enough that I could heal it now. Y’know, with magic. If you wanted.”

My eyebrows practically leapt onto my forehead at his offer. “But you don’t know h‒”

“I do,” David quickly interjected. “A little bit, at least. I… I learned on the fly to heal Asher when that shade got him.” David’s words were slow and deliberate.

I fought the urge to ask a million follow-up questions. I knew Asher had been gravely injured while fighting alongside David. According to Asher’s mate, Sam and David had somehow healed Asher, snatching him from the brink of death and ensuring that he lived to see the shades banished so that he could have a real healer tend to his injuries. David had barely talked about the details, and as much as I wanted to know, I hated to pry.

“Sam didn’t have enough magic to heal Asher,” David explained. I may have been able to keep quiet, but I’m sure the puzzled look on my face prompted him to elaborate. “And like I’ve said before, I don’t know much magic. I didn’t know any healing magic. I… I…” He swallowed shakily. “Asher was bleeding out in front of me, and he was going to die because I didn’t have the patience to set aside time when I was younger to learn even a bit of first aid. It’s hard for shifters to learn healing magic, because of the way our magic runs in our bodies. But it’s not impossible. Marie learned. And there are plenty of shifter-healers. It’s just a matter of priority, discipline and the commitment you make to study it.” David sucked on his teeth. “And clearly, I didn’t have that.” He shook his head for a second, as if to steer himself back to the matter at hand. “But Asher needed me. He would’ve died. Sam talked me through the process. He said that what was most important was that I wanted to help Asher. That’s the thrust of healing magic. The desire to help!” His voice broke at that simple fact, like he was privy to a secret he had no business knowing. “And somehow, with Sam’s guidance. I did it. I externalized my magic in a way that saved Asher’s life.”

As David’s words sunk into my brain, I realized that he learned to heal, something that was notoriously difficult for any empowered person, but especially a shifter such as David, on the fly, in the middle of a crisis, as his best friend in the entire world was close to death.

He amazed me. And just when I thought he couldn’t get any more amazing, he went and did something even more amazing.

“It was difficult,” David recalled, his eyes taking on a distant look. He leaned back a bit, taking my arm, and the rest of me, with him. I took the opportunity to curl closer into his body, not yet sealed into his chest like I used to do without a second thought, but close enough so that I could feel his breath as I hovered near. “I manipulated my magic in a way I never thought I could. I barely knew what I was doing at the time. All I knew was that I had to help Ash. I… I just had to. And with Sam directing me, we did it. We healed Asher. Not perfectly, but good enough to keep him alive and get him to safety.”

“More than enough,” I chimed in, crisscrossing my legs underneath me as I let my free hand rest on David’s bent knee.

“Hmm,” he grimaced in acknowledgment. “Well, I’ve been practicing a bit to sharpen that skill. I’m not a healer by any means. I can’t imagine I’d ever be useful other than in an emergency, but I need to know if there is ever an emergency, and my being able to heal someone is the difference between life or death, that I can do it. That I…” The timbre of his voice darkened. “That I can help. Even if it is as a last resort.” David’s attention turned back to my arm. “Something as simple as a bruise, I think I can do it. Would…” His lips pressed into a thin line, the stubble surrounding his chin somehow becoming more prominent even in the shadowy lightening. “Would you want me to heal you, Angel?”

Maybe a few weeks ago, I would’ve shrugged off an offer for someone to heal my stupid, little bruise with healing magic. I knew that healing an unempowered person was frowned upon in the eyes of the law, and I would never want anyone to risk a reprimand on my account. David might have been a straight-laced kind of guy, but his law-abiding moral compass could be bent a bit when it came to protecting the people he loved. Not that D.U.M.P. would ever be able to find out about anything we did behind closed doors in the privacy of our own home. Still, I could handle one lousy bruise. I made it a point to show David, his pack, and any empowered person I encountered, that even if I didn’t have magic, I sure as hell could wield my own kind of power. Deep down, I knew that impulse came from a place of insecurity. I wanted to prove to them and to myself that I deserved to be with David. I didn’t want him to feel like he’d have to take care of me or pick up some slack that I never knew I had. I wanted us to be equal partners, although to convince myself of that equality, I usually tried to tip the scale a bit, ensuring that whatever I lacked in magical ability, I made up for in any way I could.

I certainly didn’t need David to draw from his own energy reserves just to speed up the healing process on something that would resolve on its own in a few days, maybe a week tops.

But then, when I looked at David’s clenched jaw, dropped shoulders, and the tracks of nearly-dried tears that reflected light off his face, I realized that David needed to heal me. He needed to see that out of all the horrific, tragic, indescribable agony he and so many others endured during the Inversion, that some small bits of good came from it, too. David was the type of man who sought out improvement like he was addicted to it. If he could learn from the tragedy, then maybe it would make at least an iota of sense. It was a manifestation of his need to control everything he could so that he could protect himself and the people he loved from being hurt. It was endearing, admirable, and if I were being honest, damn cute.

What could I do but grant David a shred of the control that had been so cruelly stripped from him during the Inversion?

“Yes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Yes, as long as you think you can do it and it won’t, y’know…” I patted his chest. “Hurt your wolf. I don’t want you to do anything that would hurt you,” I warned.

“I’ll be fine,” David assured me. “I promise.”

“Then, yes. You can heal me.” I squared my shoulders and crept closer to him so that a mere hair’s width separated us. “Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” David quickly answered. “Of course.” He stared at my arm. "Healing magic works best when there's physical contact." I could tell by the stilted way David recited that statement it was as much a reminder for him as it was an explanation for me. He firmed up his grip on my arm, covering my bruise with his palm. "This might hurt a bit, but it'll dissipate pretty quickly." He took a few deep breaths, stilling the slight quake in his fingers. "I'm going to send my magic into your body and shape it into healing your bruise."

I blinked as I considered the information. Maybe on a surface level I understood, but only just barely. Still, that wasn't what was important to me at that moment. "I trust you, Davey."

David's eyes flickered to mine, offering a lopsided half-smile before he closed his eyes.

"Take a breath and hold it," David instructed.

I suppressed the urge to come up with a witty remark. This was too important to dismiss with a joke. At David's request, I sucked in a big breath, taking in as much air as my lungs allowed.

"Good, good," he praised. "Now, when you feel the magic enter your body, exhale. Breathe through the sensation. It'll help with the healing process. You understand?"

I nodded dutifully, still holding my breath.

"Okay." He pressed into my arm a little, knitting his brows together. His stomach ballooned up with air and David's eyes remained closed, gripping my arm between both of his hands.

Suddenly, he exhaled and a rush of sharpness flooded into my arm, spreading every which way. Down to my fingers. Up into my chest. Wrapped around my ribs. Slithered into my legs. Bounced up into the crown of my skull. And it was like it all happened in an instant. I felt dizzy and hot, but also like someone had injected me with a shot of Vitamin B12. The energy made me restless. I was disoriented, like I couldn’t quite reconcile all the different sensations that entangled themselves inside my body. But there was something else to it, too. Something warm. Supportive. Protective. Like a combination of a big hug, a passionate kiss, and a chest to lay on filling me up and surrounding my whole body.

After a moment of shock, I remembered David’s instructions and I slowly let out the breath I had been holding for what seemed like hours. “Ohhhhh,” I vocalized along with it.

“Good, good.” David’s steady cadence helped anchor me as I reached out for a way to recapture my orientation. “That’s it. You did really good, Angel.” David quickly went to work, massaging all along my arm as the dizziness dissipated and the only sensation I felt was located in my arm. “How do you feel?” David wavered from side to side a bit, probably more spent than he let on. I knew that empowered people only had a set amount of magic from which they could draw. I presumed healing even something as simple as a bruise was a strain if someone wasn’t a bonafide healer like David.

I briefly wondered how he ever found the strength to heal Asher of his nearly-fatal wounds after having spent hours fighting off shades. He was nothing short of amazing.

“Angel?” David repeated, making me realize I never answered his question.

“Fine. Yeah, I’m all good,” I quickly said. The last thing I’d want was for David to think he healed me wrong because I was too enamored with him to speak. “I feel really good. It was weird for a second there. Like I could feel something, I don’t know, swimming around inside me?” I struggled to articulate what exactly it was that I felt. “And I can still feel a little something in my arm, but…” I took a look at the injured arm and found it looked perfectly healthy. “Look! The bruise is gone.”

Relieved, David sighed. “Yeah. It is,” he smiled. “I’m just massaging you a little because that can help. There’s still going to be some residual magic in your body for a little while. It might make you a bit sleepy, maybe more so than normal because you’re unempowered. Your body’s not used to housing magic.”

I considered David’s warning. “That’s kinda trippy to think about,” I slyly noted. “Magic in me.” A new thought crossed my mind. “Your magic, isn’t it? Your magic’s in me?”

David paused the rhythmic movement of his fingers. Judging by the look on David’s face, he understood what I was getting at. Yes, healing was a practical skill that I had no doubt he’d continue to hone to the best of his abilities. Yes, he saved me a week of soreness and stiffness. All of that paled in comparison to the intimacy we had just shared together. Here I was, an unempowered human who did not have the actual capability to grasp a major part of David’s life. Sure, I accepted magic’s existence. I learned everything I could about shifter culture so I could participate in it and support David as he served as alpha for his pack. But I never really could say that I understood what it meant to have magic.

Tonight, David and I had found a way to grant me just a little bit more of an understanding. His magic thrummed inside of me. That’s why it felt so intimately comforting. It was like David gave a part of himself to me.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he verified thoughtfully before a wry, lopsided grin pushed its way onto his lips. “Guess even after all these years, I still had a little bit more of myself to share with you.” He slid his hand up my arm to the side of my neck. I instinctively leaned in to meet the kiss I knew was coming. “I’m really glad to have the chance to share this with you, Angel.”

“Me, too, Davey,” I whispered, shuffling into his chest, tipping my head into his broad chest. I let my arms wind around his waist as I turned my head to let my cheek come flat against him.

"Magic is…” He struggled to put whatever it was he wanted to say in words that would capture his meaning. I knew David tended to select his words with care so that he expressed himself clearly and cogently. “It’s personal. It’s me. It carries my aura with it. And to know that, even if temporarily, that my magic is in you right now?” David shrugged shyly. “It’s really special. I never even considered something like that was possible for us.”

"Me neither,” I agreed. “Thinking about it gives me goosebumps. It…” I rubbed my arm. “It feels like you, you know? It really does.” I shifted my weight to lean a bit more heavily on David. A rush of tiredness hit me suddenly, but I was determined to finish this conversation with David. “You learning to heal? That's amazing." I blinked, my lashes trailing along David's skin. "I mean…" I stuttered, not wanting to be misinterpreted that this consequence of the Inversion was more important than the loss it incurred. But at the same time, I wanted David to acknowledge that he found a way to excavate maybe just a little bit of good or of something so atrocious. "Well, err…"

David curled closer into me, his jaw fitting perfectly into the nook of my shoulder. "I know, Angel." I could feel the vibrations of his speech reverberate into me because we were sealed together so closely. "Maybe it's time I try to think about the small moments of good that came out of the Inversion. I know they don't erase the bad. Not at all," he grimaced. "But it's important I don't let the good get erased, either." I felt David tilt his chin, a tiny physical nudge to ask for my input. "Isn't it?"

"It is, Davey," I verified, my voice imbued with the deep conviction I felt in my heart. "It's so important." I tipped my head to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You've got to let yourself see the good you did that day. Because I do." My arms tightened around him. There was so much good that I was thankful for every day. The pack had survived. David came home to me. Dahlia was saved. "And there was so much good you did."

I felt David’s lips graze against my hair. "Then it's up to me to follow your lead," he declared solemnly, pushing up from me so we could look at each other clearly.

I winked. “Lucky for you I know a thing or two about good leadership.” As I felt the tension in David’s body ease away at my remark, I was about to make another smart comment. When I opened my mouth, all that came out was a yawn.

“Hmm,” he scoffed. “Sounds like you might be feeling a little drowsy from that bit of magic.”

“Maybe,” I answered, realizing I let my eyes close and had no real interest in opening them again. It was the first time things felt normal again. “A li’l bit.”

“Sure.” My eyes didn’t have to be open for me to know David rolled his eyes as he said that. “Well, then let’s lay back down,” he proposed, gently guiding me backwards until I was lying down beside David. My head seemed to roll into his head on its own accord. “Are you comfortable? Need anything?”

“Jus’ you,” I said, barely parting my lips. The tiredness crept up on me all at once. I somehow both sank into the mattress and felt like I was floating. Probably another side effect of the healing magic, not that I could be bothered to care about it at that moment. “I love you, Davey.”

“I love you, too, Angel,” David answered, settling next to me and pulling the covers up over us. I could tell he was in for a restful sleep where he would be safe from the nightmares. “Thank you for…” He paused again, and I almost thought I had fallen asleep as he spoke. “For everything you do for me. And everything you are. I don't know what I'd do without you. Sleep well, Angel.” David’s arm hung across my torso and I felt him kiss my forehead. “I’m right here with you, where I’ll always be.” David kissed my forehead and made a soft noise that could only be described as pure contentment.

At David’s hushed vow, a buzz of healing magic pulsated in my chest, as if to lend weight to David’s words. I knew in my heart that each and every time David had made that promise to me, he meant it. But now, it felt like he somehow meant it more. After going through this turmoil with him and feeling for the first time since the Inversion happened, it finally felt like we were coming out the other side of it, maybe a little worse for the wear, but intact and together. The thought let me breathe a little easier as a sleepy smile spread across my face. David healed my bruise, but I felt like he might’ve gotten some healing of his own tonight. Like maybe in that small action, we healed each other.

The last thing I remember was that we both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

I watched carefully as Sam sat on his couch, sipping from a blood bag. I had spent the last few nights over at Sam's place, which was rapidly beginning to feel more like ‘our place.’ Sam had given me his key and to my own surprise, I used it. I never felt like an imposition when I was there. Sam said he wanted my company and he said it in a way that let me believe him.

My leg was lazily hanging over the edge of the couch as I scrolled through my phone. I had hit a bit of a dead end with my pursuit of Quinn, though Sam had assured me he’d bring the circumstances up at his next clan meeting. My pack, too, was privy to everything I had done over the course of my vendetta, as David called it, although that seemed quite dramatic to me. Not that I was surprised. As much as David always claimed to want to call things as he saw them, he had a flair for the dramatic, just like Gabe did.

David and his mate had invited Sam and me over to their house for dinner on Sunday, so I knew that Sam would want to make sure he was fully fed beforehand. He explained to me that feeling sated for blood helped him to eat human-food because that way, he wouldn’t be reminded of the fact that the human food wasn’t giving him some sort of sensation of satiety. That made sense to me.

What didn’t make sense to me was a few other habits Sam had seemed to develop since he had gotten involved in the Inversion.

For one thing, I noticed that Sam had been much more on edge than he typically was. Even with all of his worry-warting, as I liked to tease, this was something else entirely. Sam was the kind of person to worry for the people that meant something to him. I expected him to worry about Vincent, who was quite busy helping his now-newborn partner adjust to their life as a vampire. I expected him to worry about William, who was checking in with every clan member to touch base about how the Inversion might’ve affected them and to see if there was anything he could do to help like the responsible King he was. I expected him to worry about David and Asher, especially after Sam had fought alongside them, witnessed their gruesome injuries, and even managed to help heal Asher from what should have been fatal wounds while giving David a crash course in healing during the process. I expected him to worry about me, even if I assured him there was no cause for that because I could take care of myself. Not to mention, I wasn’t even involved in the Inversion. At least, not until I got wind of the call that went out to Dahlia’s empowered population that something had gone wrong at the E&E Games and a large amount of magic might be needed to fix what appeared to be a shade infestation. I knew how many pack members were working that large job, plus I knew that Sam had decided to tag along with Vincent, so I hightailed it over to the stadium as quickly as my wolf-legs would run, which, I have no problem saying, was quite fast. When the ward had dropped, I used my wolf form to attack any shade I saw, as did every other empowered person, and in a flash, the stadium was cleared.

All of that worrying would have seemed obvious, understandable, and well within Sam’s realm of character. What I had been noticing lately, for lack of a better term, wasn’t.

And that worried me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge Sam’s new, quirky behaviors. I knew firsthand just how jarring experiencing a traumatic event could be and how it often precipitated big, unexpected behavioral changes.

But I worried nonetheless because this wasn’t just anyone. This was my mate. This was Sam Collins.

I wanted to help. I wanted him to be okay.

“I think I’m going to order something for dinner tonight,” I said, eyeing him intently as I pretended to be looking at my phone. “You want anything? I’ve got a promo for ten dollars off an order of thirty-five dollars or more.”

Sam absently swallowed the last bit of blood through his metal straw, choking when he realized that he was sucking in air. That told me he was distracted. “Umm, maybe,” he slowly responded. That was also odd. Sam was quite a definitive fellow, but lately, he seemed to shy away from that quality of himself. “What are you going to get?”

I pursued my lips trying to imagine what kind of food I wanted. A drawback of liking nearly everything was that ordering delivery was that I wanted everything that popped up on my phone as I looked through the options. “I can’t remember the last time I had Chinese, so probably that.”

“Hang on, Darlin’. I got this.” Without warning, Sam leapt up from the couch and took long strides over to his desk, which was uncharacteristically messy. “Well, I can tell you when that was,” he volunteered a little too brightly. He searched through the stacks of notebooks that were strewn across the large, oak desk. Some of the pages were ripped out and crumpled into the wastebasket. Lately, it seemed like Sam was always writing in one of those notebooks or, even stranger, he was marking them off with post-it notes or brightly-colored tabs. There had to be some system to his coding, even if it looked like a bunch of nonsense to me. “Monday morning, Monday mid-morning, Monday afternoon,” he mumbled to himself, flipping through the pages. “Monday evening. Ah-ha!” Sam announced triumphantly, tapping on the open page. “We got Chinese food two Mondays ago for dinner.”

“Two Mondays ago then,” I acknowledged. “I stand corrected.” I resisted the urge to frown as I watched Sam slam the notebook shut before he placed it back into one of the tall stacks. Something was very off about this, but I couldn’t put my finger on what just yet, so I decided to remain calm. “You really have been journaling quite a bit lately.”

“It passes the time,” Sam shrugged, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “And comes in handy for situations exactly like this one.”

“Oh, yeah,” I recalled. “Wow. That was only two weeks ago?” I leaned back onto the couch, letting my feet rest on the pillow that Sam had left behind. “Feels like ages ago, doesn’t it?”

I remembered that night we got Chinese fairly clearly once Sam reminded me of it. There was nothing overtly special about that night. I had slept in that morning purposefully so Sam and I could spend some time together. When dusk rolled around, it started to rain, which led me to suggest we get delivery because I didn’t want to carry the food home and risk it getting cold or ripping through the bag. Sam liked the idea and before long, we were enjoying our food on the couch and watching reruns of Cheers. We had unspoken agreement that whoever didn’t pick the food we ate got to pick what we watched. I often made fun of Sam when he picked Cheers because I’d claim he liked that he and Sam Malone shared the same name. It was a damn stupid joke, but Sam laughed every time I said it.

Sam bristled at my abstract description of time passing slowly. “Seems like the exact amount of time to me,” he countered, staring at the floor. I realized it wasn’t as if he was trying to correct me. He was trying to convince himself of that claim.

“Ehh, what’s the difference anyway? Time’s a metaphysical construct.” I joined Sam at his desk, surveying the notebooks for myself. Had he acquired more notebooks since I was here yesterday? I picked one up, opening it to a random page. The paper crinkled beneath my fingers. I skimmed the text, reading all about his errands to the D.U.M.P. blood distribution center and the hardware store in painstaking detail. I admired the looks of the curly loops and slight slant to Sam’s cursive, but the words filled me with destress. It was like the ramblings of a madman who had lost the ability to filter between his stream of consciousness and his speech. “Any particular reason you’ve chosen to pass the time writing in these journals?”

Sam took a sharp inhale, nervous but not entirely taken back by my line of questioning. It was impossible to ignore his sudden penchant for collecting them.

“Because, Darlin’, I just thought it would be a good thing to do,” he answered slowly, each vowel drawing out longer than the next. “Now, we’ve got a record of what happened, so if we need to know what happened or when, we’ll know.”

I turned Sam’s words around in my head. Back and forth. Up and down. There had to be a small crack for me to get in there and see what was inside his head. I just had to find it. Sam was depending on me. “These are pretty detailed notes,” I mentioned with a bit of a grin as I took a few steps closer to him. Our hips bumped together. “Why would we need to know that I got dinner delivered over two weeks ago? Or…” I glanced over the page that happened to be in front of me. “Or the fact that you had to buy the clean-linen scented cleanser because the citrus scented one was out at the store?” I flipped through a few more pages. “Or that you bought $35.89 worth of gas on Thursday?” I snapped the notebook shut, careful not to pinch my thumb in between the binding.

Sam squinted, letting his hand curl around my side body. “Just because?” The sweat from his palm felt chilly against my skin, but I didn’t flinch.

“Because why, Sam?” I asked earnestly. I tossed the book onto the desk without a backward glance. “This is a lot of effort you’re putting into this. And it’s clearly starting to take over your life. I can’t even imagine how much time this must take you every day, even with your different sleep needs. Why would we need to know this mundane shit? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“So I…” Sam hesitated, his lips disappearing into his facial hair. “So I…”

I angled my body to press into Sam’s. It was a shifter-mannerism, one I found comfort in myself, so I tried to offer that up to Sam. I got the feeling that he appreciated the gesture, or at least, the thought behind the gesture. Sometimes Sam would sigh and make a comment about my ‘wolf ways,’ but he somehow always seemed to reciprocate with his own body, and tonight was no different.

“So I remember,” he finally spit out. “I don’t want to forget, Darlin’.” He slid his hand along the curve of my torso and up my chest until my face was cupped between his palms. When I met his gaze, I noticed the misty tears that sat under his silver eyes. “I don’t want to forget any part of my life with you.”

“You don’t want to forget?” I echoed, trying to make sense of Sam’s logic. “Why are you worried about that?” My stomach flipped over itself when the possibilities began to generate in my head. “Are you okay? Is something happening to your memory?” I wrapped an arm around him and tugged him back over to the couch so we could sit down as we talked. Sam didn’t resist my guidance at all.

“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” I hated how distressed my question made Sam look, but I knew in my heart we needed to be on the same page if we were going to figure this out. I needed to help him figure out whatever this was. “My memory is fine, physically. It’s just...” He sighed deeply, a sign he was preparing to unburden himself. “I’ve been thinking about how clearly I remember all those awful sights and sounds and…” He smothered a gag reflex. “And smells of what happened with the Inversion. Seeing David cry over Asher’s body, hearing Vincent call out as his partner had their life force drained, blood everywhere, people screaming, so many bodies.” He shuddered. “It ain’t no surprise I can’t get those memories out of my skull. And mixed in with them are good memories, too. The cheers when that ward fell and all those people were there to attack the shades. Watching family and friends hug as they reunited. You, standing there in all your glory waiting for me.”

I gently patted Sam’s thigh, a tactile reminder that I was there for him after the Inversion and I’d be there for him every day after it, as well.

“And one night it hit me: as clear as those memories are right now, they’ll fade. Eventually, they’ll fade. It can’t be avoided when you’re immortal. It takes decades, even centuries. But it’s only natural that things blur and get lost as time goes on. I haven’t been a vamp long enough to really have ever experienced that before. Neither has Vincent. But someone like William, who has lived through so much. So many events and people and changes…” Sam scratched his beard, which I noticed had gotten a little longer than he normally kept it. Probably a symptom of his journaling habit as of late. “A person’s bound to forget things. Important things. Things he thought would be burned into his memory but can’t withstand time’s influence.” His fingers jerked tensely. “Right now, what happened at the Inversion is so crystal-clear in my mind. And, that makes sense. It should be. Hell, it was a traumatic, tragic, horrible thing to experience. I pray to God that I’ll never have to go through something like that ever again!”

“So do I,” I whispered fiercely, letting one hand trail through his beard. I brushed his own hand away, encouraging it to relax out of the vice-grip claw it had curled into as Sam relived his harrowing Inversion experience. “So do I, Sam. I’m so sorry you were there for all that.”

“But to know that one day, even something this awful, this painful, this fucking horrible is some day going to be a fuzzy haze to me?” He squeezed his eyes shut and slumped into himself a little bit further. “Somehow, that makes it all worse! It makes me feel like a monster, Darlin’. An inhumane monster.” He looked at me sadly, his eyes more desperate than I had ever seen. “And I hate it.”

“Sam, no. No,” I countered fiercely. Part of me wondered if I were getting a glimpse of what Sam had gone through shortly after he was turned. “You are not a monster. Don’t ever, ever think differently.”

Sam reached out for my shoulder, tentatively at first. Maybe he was still a little gun-shy just yet, unsure of how much trust he could put in someone. I could hardly blame him, not to mention I often made similar calculations in my head regarding trust and openness. As he curled his fist around the material in a vice-like grip, he let himself fall towards my waiting shoulder. He wasn’t exactly crying, but if his shudders and shaking were any indications, Sam was as close to tears as he could get. I wrapped my arm around Sam’s back, applying slight pressure to encourage him to stay pressed to me. I knew how hard it was for him to seek solace in anyone. I had a hunch that Sam had always been a more stoic kind of guy, but after his turning, I could see how such a heinous betrayal might leave him wary of any sort of trust again. I considered it my utmost privilege for Sam to seek me out, rather than to push me away, at such a difficult time. What I really wanted to do was keep Sam safe and sound, tucked into my body as I protected him from anything the world could’ve done to hurt him forever. But I’d settle for being his shoulder to cry on for as long as he needed.

“How can you say that?” he choked out through tight lips. “How can you be so sure? Maybe I ain’t an outright monster, but I’m not fully human, either. And some days, it’s a tough pill to swallow. More days than not, lately.”

“I’m so sure because I know you, Sam Collins. I know how kind you are. How generous. How ready you are to help anyone and everyone in any way you can.” I bent my arm, letting my tricep remain on his back as I made a move to tangle my fingers through his hair. “Is that okay?” I asked, letting my fingers dangle in the air until he answered.

Sam nodded once. “Mhmm,” he affirmed through a sigh, his muscles relaxing just a bit once my hands made contact with his scalp.

“Not to mention,” I continued in my list of all the attributes I knew Sam to possess. “You’re funny as hell. Did you know that? I can barely keep a straight face when you slip those little sarcastic one-liners into your conversations. Sometimes, I have to bite my tongue just to keep from laughing.” That was absolutely true. It was disarming as all hell, but no one could make me laugh like Sam could. Our senses of humor were synced in a way I didn’t realize was possible.

One corner of Sam’s mouth curled up, despite himself. “I love seeing you smile.”

“And,” I added. “You have a slight tendency to be sort of petty. That’s a very human quality, too,” I reported slyly. “Just because you see a menu with a typo in it, no reason we can’t eat at that restaurant.” I broke my pattern of stroking his hair to ruffle it playfully for a moment. “It’s bullshit we can't eat at Terry's Pub anymore. That place has the best steak I’ve ever eaten.”

“If they’re not careful enough to proofread their menu, then what the hell kind of care are they taking behind closed doors in the kitchen?” Sam grumbled, sounding like he might’ve come back to himself a bit. “Where else are they cutting corners? Cleanliness? Safe food prep? I’m tellin’ you, Darlin’, menu typos are nothing to mess around with.”

“That’s a human sentence if I ever heard one,” I chuckled. After a slight pause, I turned serious again. “Sam, all the things that come with being a vampire aren’t in contrast to all the things that make you a human. One part of you can’t cancel the other out. That’s not how it works.” I let my chin rest along his forehead.

“You think so?” he asked in a small voice.

“I know so.” My answer was quick and vehement. I felt like one wrong move or one brief pause would push Sam back into the thought patterns I was fighting to pull him out of. “If anything, all of that complex, complicated, and ‘confounding…” I teasingly adopted his accent for that last word. I would’ve bet that Sam was the only person I knew who used the word “confounding” unironically. Or maybe at all, for that matter. “... y’know, that whole tangled mess of shit going on inside of you.” I waved my hand to gesture at his core. “All of that just makes you more human. Not less. Never less, Sam.”

A strangled sob shook Sam’s broad frame. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until I heard you say it.”

“Want me to record it on your phone and set it as your ringtone?” I smirked, earning another sound that was a mix of grief and relief. “After all, take it from a shifter.” My head tipped to the side, a sardonic smile spreading across my face. “Parts of you can coexist. Wolf and human aren’t mutually exclusive. The same goes for vampire and human. No matter what kind of magic is within, no matter what kind of threads you’ve got, no matter how powerful your magic is, nothing can even touch your humanity.” I shrugged. “For better or worse, we’re both human.”

Sam gingerly lifted his head from my chest, though the rest of our bodies remained close, like we both needed that contact to keep us grounded. “Thank you, Darlin’.” He swallowed thickly. “Guess I never thought of it in terms of shifting before. But you’re right.” A bit of tension eased out of Sam’s clenched jaw.

“What you do or don’t remember has no bearing on your humanity,” I told him. “It’s the actions you take and the way you move through the world every day that determine that.”

“Mmm, so eloquent,” he complimented with a little snark. “But that doesn’t change the fact that someday, the Inversion might all be a big blur to me,” Sam repeated. “David kneeling on the ground, holding Asher and crying as he begs me to help. Feeling a white-hot rage within me as I grabbed the first shade that was solid enough and ripped it in two. Watching as Vincent carried his partner to the underground, and knowing that maker-progeny bound was beginning to show up in his threads. Don’t you see, Darlin’? If something so awful as that can deteriorate inside my head, I got to thinking, what about the rest of my life?” Sam placed his palm over mine, covering it like he meant to protect it from harm. “What about the days we spend together? What about our first meeting? First kiss?” Sam chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to forget even one second of my time with you, Darlin’. Not a single second.”

That was when everything clicked for me. “So you started keeping those journals as a way to preserve things,” I verbalized, finally understanding the motivations behind Sam’s strange behavior.

“To preserve you,” Sam gently corrected. “I can’t risk losing you to time. I…” He faltered, slumping a bit at the mere thought. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” I declared liked it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You won’t lose me. Because I’m not like a memory in here.” I gently knocked on the crown of his head with my knuckle. “I’m in here.” I slid my hand down his face, along his neck, and stopped at his heart. “It doesn’t matter if you remember what I ordered for dinner last week or which shirt I’ll wear on the third Thursday of the month.”

A glimmer of a scoff crossed Sam’s features. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and I was thankful for it. The silver of his eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter, no longer filtered through tears that clung to the rims of his eyelids.

“You’ll remember the important stuff. Like how I frustrate you when I set seven different alarms to get up out of bed and still sleep through them all. Or how I made you eat my dust when we race along the water when we go on those moonlit picnics.” I felt my own vision get blurry with unshed tears as I thought about Sam. “Or how surprised you were when I baked you that blood-velvet cake for your birthday a few months ago. Or, how it feels when we sit together in a comfortable silence, knowing we can say anything and yet not needing to.” Now it was my turn to pull myself closer to Sam. Without missing a beat, he draped an arm around my shoulders as my head pillowed against his bicep. “The details. Hell, they come and go in a flash. But the feelings? They find a way to stay in your heart for as long as you want them there.” I patted his chest. “I know those feelings are all in there, tucked away, safe and sound,” I explained warmly. “Because…” I patted my own chest. “That’s where I keep mine of you.”

“Oh, Darlin’,” Sam whispered, pulling me in for a hug that somehow squeezed me tightly but filled my lungs with air. It was always easier to breathe when Sam was with me. “I feel them all, and then some.” We stayed there a moment, content to just be with each other. It was like the rest of the world melted away, and along with it all its problems that plagued us to no end. When Sam and I held each other, it was as if there was no more Inversion. No Quinn. No pack drama or clan culture. Nothing but us and our love.

It wasn’t as if we had delusions of grandeur about the situation. We both knew the root of Sam’s anxiety. What Sam was bringing up was the beginnings of a subject that we strategically avoided, even during our late night chats when there was nothing else to do but hold each other tightly and say all the things we never dared to speak outside of the safety of ourselves. It was impossible for the thought not to cross our minds. Vampires are immortal. Shifters are mortal. It was a simple fact of life. Often, it was enough of a reason for vampires not to get involved with non-vampires, at least when that involvement came with the deep feelings I knew were attached to my and Sam’s relationship. Neither of us had any intention of this being a fling, and we knew it. At the same time, we also hadn’t ever discussed the possibility of what might happen in the future. If we were somehow dumb enough to pretend that thought never did cross whether of our minds, Vincent’s situation was certainly more than enough to put it front and center of our attention.

I knew them well enough to know that neither Vincent nor his partner regretted their turning, but damn if it wasn’t a tricky situation. They had been together for a long time, longer than Sam and me. They had the chance to have that future-immortal-talk, and even they chose to procrastinate until the choice arose in an emergency situation. It’s a hard talk to have. I would be lying if I said I never considered what we were supposed to do. I loved being a wolf. The thought of losing that part of me scared me. And I knew Sam would never pressure me into being turned, especially with how he was turned nonconsensually. He’d never do such a thing to me. And at the same time, the alternative seemed just as horrible. In a best-case scenario, I would age alone, forcing Sam to watch as my life ended while his remained essentially frozen in time. He’d have to live on after his mate died, an emptiness that was always a possibility for anyone but would be grimly inevitable for Sam. I despised the thought of leaving Sam to experience that, and I hated to admit that it scared me, too.

Even as all those thoughts competed for space in my head, I knew that right now was not the time to have that conversation. We were both too raw. Too traumatized from the fallout of the Inversion. Too distracted from what to do next about Quinn. Too caught up in our love and ourselves to have that conversation in the productive, objective way that conversation needed to happen.

After what felt like hours, I finally remembered how to speak again. “I promise, we’ll talk about… what we’re not talking about… soon. But, I just need time,” I said into his neck. “It’s a lot for me, you know. A lot to contemplate. A lot to consider. I don’t want you to think that my needing to wait to take that step indicates any sort of hesitancy or regret or, I don’t know, second thoughts,” I explained in a rush. “Because, that’s not it. It’s just… I need more time to sit with it all by myself before I invite you into that.” I pivoted my gaze to Sam’s face and framed his face with my hands. “Please,” I requested, feeling so damn exposed.

So much of my life was laced with uncertainty, unpredictability, and too many questions to count. Amongst it all, there was one constant that withstood that tempest: When I was with Sam Collins, I was safe. When I reflected on that unwavering fact, I found myself able to relax even when confronted by the concept of an eternity I couldn’t quite imagine from a mortal’s perspective.

As I breathed in Sam’s steady support, I realized it was the first time things felt normal again.

“Of course, Darlin’,” Sam rumbled, the words reverberating first in his chest and then in his throat. “You take all the time you need. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what you need.” He settled us back against the couch. “I would stop the world from spinning if that gave you what you needed.” What blew my mind was that Sam meant it. “I know that I’ve asked you to take things on my time table, and you’ve been so patient. Staying in step with me every moment.” His hand came to rest on my jawbone. “I appreciate that so much, Darlin’. Of course I’ll treat you with the same respect.”

“I’m sorry you’re not used to being shown that respect,” I noted. “Because neither am I. It shouldn’t be something either of us considers a rarity. It really sucks that we do. But at least we know how important it is to show each other. So, thank you,” I summed up. “Thank you for waiting. I promise when I’m ready, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Until then,” Sam vowed. “And only when you’re ready, then I’ll be happy to continue that discussion with you." He kissed my face where the corner of my eye met my cheekbone. “I love you, Darlin’.”

“I love you, too, Sam,” I purred, nuzzling into his throat and kissing him. It was uncanny how each of us knew the other’s bodies that we could so easily locate the most sensitive of spots. One graze from his fingers and I could feel all of those feelings I had just described to Sam and more I had left unspoken rush up at me. A tingle sparkled in my chest when I thought of all the memories we’d soon make together as he stumbled our way into the future, whatever that future may look like.

“As much as I’d like to continue holding you like this and perhaps, holding you in other ways…” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I remember,” he winked to emphasize that concept, “that all of this started with you saying you were hungry for dinner. Chinese, was it?” He kissed the back of my hand before retrieving my phone and placing it in my palm. “I would hate to leave you hungry on my account.”

“Good priorities,” I grinned, opening the app. “Food first, and a show after,” I said coyly to let him know I was picking up on his not-so-subtle cues. “Let’s see here.” I opened the app and began the order. “I could go for some wonton soup. We could split a large chicken lo mein. And I know how much you like moo shoo, so I’ll get some moo shu pork, too. Maybe a couple egg rolls.” I paused as I added each item to the cart. “Wait, do I like egg rolls or spring rolls better?” I wondered aloud. “I forgot which one I like.”

Sam twisted his head to look at his notebooks again. He paused for a moment but remained seated. I was about to say something to help dissuade Sam from probing through his writing to find the answer, but before I had the chance, he swiveled his head back to me. “Just get spring rolls and egg rolls,” he advised. “I’ll eat the ones you don’t want.”

“I can always count on you,” I winked proudly.

The gravity of my words hit me when I realized that I meant them. I could trust Sam, and I didn’t have to be scared or upset or bitter that he had somehow tricked me into trusting him without my knowing it until it was too late. I freely gave him my trust, just like he gave me his. It almost felt foreign to let myself depend on someone not out of necessity, but of my own volition.

“Order placed!” I announced, showing Sam the confirmation on my phone screen.

As much as I appreciated his offer to eat whichever food I left for me, I knew that Sam realized I was not only talking about the dinner order. I was so proud of his ability to resist looking in those obsession-driven, anxiety-inducing notebooks. It was hard to break habits formed out of trauma, but Sam’s willingness to try showed me that he was a formidable opponent as he battled the negative thoughts and worries that would no doubt stick with him for a long time. It gave me hope that Sam would come out the other side of this, even if it was one hell of a trek.

“Always, Darlin’.” Sam was clearly privy to the more subtle meaning of my words. “And it means the world to me that I can count on you, too.”

Sam gently pushed aside my wrist as he moved in for a deep kiss. I fumbled to place my phone on the nearby nightstand to keep it safe before I leaned into the kiss so that I could reciprocate Sam’s enthusiasm.

According to my app, the food was dropped off thirty-eight minutes later.

We didn’t eat for another hour.

Chapter Text

I dried my hands on the faded dish towel that sported the Vulcan salute. “Asher… Honey, please just wait a second and I’ll help you,” I told him, turning off the faucet.

I don’t know why I even bothered. I could see Asher push himself up from the couch to stand, albeit quite shakily. He began to make his way across the room, holding an empty water glass in one hand and reaching out to cling to each and every piece of furniture as he stumbled with every step.

Ever since Asher had returned home after the Inversion, his injuries had rapidly improved but his mood had steadily declined. We spent that night hugging and crying for hours on end as we told each other over and over again how much we loved each other and how happy we were that Asher had survived his attack. The morning after, however, Asher began to pull inwards. He became sullen, withdrawn, and as much as I hated to admit it, aggressive. It was like every word I spoke or move I made annoyed and frustrated him. I wasn’t even sure what his problem was, but he made it clear to me that he did, indeed, have some problem.

I was starting to worry that his problem was me. That somehow, some way, the Inversion had changed Asher. Like maybe enduring such a traumatic event that included magic made him regret being with an unempowered partner. After all, it was the factor of the unempowered population of Dahlia that led David to make the call to close the ward. Maybe Asher resented me. Maybe he didn’t want to be in a relationship with someone he’d have to protect at his own expense, now that he knew just how costly that protection could be.

Still, it felt selfish to judge Asher’s recent abrasiveness. He went through something awful. Something I couldn’t even really imagine. He had sustained painful, potentially fatal, injuries after pushing himself to the max fighting those shades alongside David. I was in no position to judge him, and I could’ve kicked myself for even allowing those fleeting thoughts to take hold in my head. Asher needed me to help him through this, and a little bit of hostility was nowhere near enough to divert me from my goal of helping Asher fully recover from his ordeal.

“You don’t have to help me,” Asher grumbled through clenched teeth. He leaned heavily on the kitchen table, gripping the glass in his fist. “I can get a glass of water myself. I’m not an invalid. And I’m not some idiot who needs you to wait on him hand and foot.” With a scowl, Asher pushed past me and threw his weight into the counter. “I’m perfectly capable.” He sighed deeply, the effort to get there clearly taking a toll on his weakened body.

I didn’t know whether Asher was trying to convince me or himself that he was perfectly healthy. Only a fool would have taken Asher at his word. I was there when he received his follow-up healing treatment. The healer had told Asher that due to the large amount of magic used to patch his wounds, his recovery would be lengthy. They warned us that Asher would be feeling quite feeble over the next week or so. He might tire easily, experience bouts of soreness around his wounds, and the healer had even specifically instructed me to help Asher get around to prevent him from falling and injuring himself further. They even cautioned Asher against heavy lifting, strenuous exercise, and extensive shifting for a few days. I listened carefully to every single instruction the healer gave me to help Asher recover and I took them all to heart. I made sure he kept hydrated and ate well. I encouraged him to get plenty of rest. I would remind him periodically to walk and to stretch his muscles to help with the scarring. I learned how to massage his wounds to help prevent the healing magic from settling into his body and causing any more discomfort. I did everything they told me to do, and still, it felt like Asher was determined to resist every piece of advice the healer gave him, and at my and his own expense.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable,” I gently chided. “But being capable isn’t a reason to overexert yourself. I’m right here!” It felt like I was reminding him of that fact for the millionth time. “I took the whole week off from work to help you recuperate as your injuries heal. I might as well make myself useful.” The brightness in my voice sounded fake in my own ear. I could only imagine how ridiculous it sounded to someone as astute as Asher.

Asher said nothing, but he begrudgingly slid the glass over to me. As I reached for the pitcher to refill his glass, I fought the urge to stare at his chest. I saw the full extent of the injury at the healer’s and it shook me to my core. Asher nearly died, alone and in pain, fighting valiantly for the sake of his pack and the empowered community of Dahlia. It was such a tragic thought I could’ve burst into tears. Although Asher probably thought he was being sly about hiding his discomfort with his scars, I noticed how he rubbed at his chest when he thought I wasn’t looking. I caught him lingering in front of the mirror after I helped him in the shower, trying to flex or pose in ways that minimized the harshness of the scars. I saw the conflict cross his face when he’d go into the bedroom to lie down for a nap and pull at the hem of his shirt with shaking hands, only to let it go like he couldn’t bear to see his own skin anymore.

I wish the healer had told me how I could fix that, too.

The water sloshed into the cup, breaking the spell my own worries had cast upon me. “Maybe in a little while, you’ll feel like having some dinner?” I suggested. “There’s leftover pasta primavera in the fridge. Or, if you feel like something else, I could get started on it now. Or, I could pick up pizza and wings, if you want?” I handed Asher the glass, waiting for his response.

“Whatever you want,” Asher said after taking a sip. “I don’t care.”

I tapped my fingers along the counter, staring at Asher. “Pick,” I told him, trying to keep the hurt that formed when I realized Asher was not going to look at me out of my facial expression.

“I said, ‘I don’t care,’” Asher repeated, emptying half the glass into his mouth. “You do whatever you want, okay? I don’t need you to remind me to eat. I don’t need you to get me a glass of water. I don’t need you to take off of work so you can babysit me. I’m fine, Babe. Perfectly fine.” He stalked back to the couch, dragging one foot and still using whatever he could get his hands on as support. The kitchen counter, the wall leading into the living room, the love seat, and finally the arm of the sofa as he returned to his seat. “Why don’t you just go back to work tomorrow? There’s no reason for you to be here.” He sat straight, keeping his hand on the glass to let it balance on his bent knee. It looked like an uncomfortable, unnatural posture, especially for Asher, but I figured he probably took it to underline his point that he didn’t need help. It was so fucking obvious that he did. Was he that far deep into his denial, or did he want me gone so much that he’d even jeopardize his health to get me to leave?

“I already got the time approved,” I defended. “It’s a real bitch to rescind it now.”

Asher rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. The gesture not-so-subtly covered up a particularly nasty looking scar that lurked underneath his T-Shirt. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” Asher’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

I had tried so hard to give Asher everything he needed over the last few days, but his bad attitude and ever-increasing rudeness had me hanging onto my sanity by the last thread. “What, you think I’m lying?” I challenged, even as a small voice in my head begged me not to twist Asher’s words like that. He was hurt. He was tired. He was traumatized. I knew all that, and still, I couldn’t keep my temper in line? I wished I had even a fraction of the patience Asher had. Between the stress from worrying about Asher and the tangled ball of emotions rolling around in my chest, I couldn’t help but let my anger seep through the cracks in my voice. “You think I’m doing all of this for you for my benefit? Because I like to stay home and do all this for you? Is that what you’re saying?”

Finally, Asher gave me the honor of meeting my gaze. “That’s not what I said,” he retorted, clearly exasperated. I could see a tenseness creep into his body as he let a hand swipe through his hair. He hadn’t bothered to comb or style it in the morning, but after obsessively pushing it back, it was staying in place and out of his eyes.

I seized the opportunity his eye contact afforded me. With wide strides, I made a beeline for the couch and perched myself right across from Asher. “You implied it,” I corrected smugly.

“Did not!” he seethed.

Maybe if I could get Asher to open up a little bit, he’d feel more at ease accepting my help as he recovered. “I’m not doing all this for me,” I stated explicitly, gesturing my open palms all around the room to point out the physical evidence of what I had been doing for the last few days‒ dishes from half-touched meals, laundry made up of what was left of Asher’s blood-soaked clothes, D.U.M.P. paperwork to submit Asher’s statement, documents the healer left as instructions for Asher’s care. He probably didn’t notice the open notebook that I used as my current journal, a habit I had picked up years ago to keep myself centered even as the chaos and business of my life seemed to steal my ability to breathe. “I’m doing it for you!” I jabbed my finger towards his chest, careful not to let it touch out of fear I’d hurt him. “You heard what the healer said about the risks of reinjuring yourself. The last fucking thing either of us need is you doing that. You’re acting like I’m the bad guy because I give a fuck about your well-being. What is with you?”

“Nothing is with me,” Asher refuted. He coughed slightly, perhaps because this was the most energetic he had been in days. I reached over for his glass of water and drained it. "Nothing is wrong."

“If nothing is wrong, stop pouting all day long,” I ordered sternly. The vitriol imbued in my words surprised even me. This was not at all what I knew I should be doing, but couldn’t stop myself. It was like Asher’s behavior had opened a floodgate of all my emotions, and true to form, the one I chose to express was not worry or concern or fear or doubt or wonder or relief or anything else I felt. No, oh no, of course not. Like the abrasive, hot-headed, obnoxious person I constantly feared myself to be, anger was the emotion that led the charge. I wish I could’ve just taken a deep breath or even just walked away, but instead, I found myself unable to cease laying into Asher. “Stop yelling at me any time I open my mouth. Stop acting like a petulant child and start doing everything in your power to help yourself get better!” I let out a humorless laugh. “And you have the nerve to think I’m, what, staying home to help as a way to finagle vacation time from work? Because this is fun for me?”

Asher’s nostrils flared as his fingers curled around the empty glass, little droplets of moisture forming under his grip. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Babe. I didn’t say that and I’m not doing any of that!” he exclaimed, finally a bit of the energy and zest I knew he had within his heart. “So get off my back. Look at me! I’m an adult, okay?” His face hardened, but his eyes got soft and a bit misty. “I can take care of myself!” He stood up quickly to prove his point. “I don’t need you to take care of me! I don’t need you.” Asher was about to take a step forward, but a wave of dizziness clearly hit him. He whined a bit as the headrush overtook him. Asher pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand to try to steady himself, but that looked like a losing battle as he teetered back and forth.

I quickly stood up so I could break his fall, supporting him under his arms so he could stay upright. As Asher struggled to find his balance, the glass slipped out of his hand. It shattered upon impact with the hardwood floor. I heard the shards scatter across the floor, so I expertly maneuvered Asher back to the couch, mindful not to step on any of them or let him do so. Besides, there was no way in hell that some stupid glass could ever cut me as deeply or painfully as Asher’s words had.

“Are you okay?” I said thickly. This time, I was the one avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah.” Asher gave a short, slow nod. It was a sign that some dizziness might still be lingering. Typically, his communication style was more demonstrative. It was strange to see him so subdued.

“Good,” I sighed, willing my blood pressure to lower so Asher wouldn’t pick up on my anxiety. I meant what I said. And it was good that Asher was okay.

But I sure as hell wasn’t.

When Asher said that he didn’t need me, it was like he had just confirmed all of my fears. If he didn’t need me, did that mean he didn’t want me anymore? Rather than grapple with that gut-wrenching fact, I decided to focus on the matter at hand: cleaning up the glass so no one would have to worry about cutting their feet. We both often went barefoot in the apartment.

I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to keep my hand busy. All I wanted to do was take Asher’s cheek in my hand and hold him, as if to get in all the physical contact from him I could before the opportunity to do so was gone.

“Dustbuster,” I mumbled to myself before I raised my voice to make more sense. “I’ll get the dustbuster to clean this up. Just stay on the couch for a sec. I don’t want you getting cut.”

Without a word, Asher placed his feet flat on the sofa and bent his knees so that they faced the ceiling. He wanted me to notice that his feet were nowhere near the mess of glass.

I dashed to the closest to retrieve the dust buster and a wet paper towel to help me pick up anything left behind. When I returned, I absently realized that Asher hadn’t moved a muscle since I left. I didn’t think much of it, especially because I was too busy trying to concentrate on the task at hand so I wouldn’t fixate on Asher’s stinging comment. The hum of the dustbuster filled my head and I welcomed it. Anything was better than the echoes of Asher’s declaration and the silence that followed them. Once I was satisfied that I had cleared the area, I turned off the dustbuster and began dragging the wet paper towel over the area, just in case any last little bits of glass that had been left behind.

“I’m sorry,” Asher whispered, his voice wispy and uncertain.

“It’s no big deal,” I quickly dismissed with a fake laugh. “We’ve got a bunch of glasses. One won’t make a difference. And besides, I‒”

“No,” Asher interjected, pushing up from the edge of the couch and pulling his knees closer to his chest. He shuffled along the couch to be a little closer to me. “Not for that. I’m sorry for…” Asher’s mouth parted slightly and his tongue twisted along his teeth, as if he were about to say something only to amend his speech. “For…” he began again, his eyes jumping wildly from me to the spot I had cleaned. “Everything,” Asher finally confessed. He brought his hands to his face and turned away. His shoulders shook with every deep, loud breath he took. “I’m so sorry, Babe.” His speech was garbled, but I understood him perfectly. “I’m sorry.”

I quickly wadded up the paper towel and tossed it in a nearby garbage can so I could take a seat next to Asher. “What? Asher, Honey, no, you’ve nothing to be sorry about.” I placed my hands on his wrists, but not putting any pressure on him to move them. “You don’t need to hide your face. No way.” To my relief, he slowly revealed his face. The tears collecting along his eyelids were no surprise. “You have nothing to be sorry about, okay?” I repeated hastily. “It was my fault. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I blew up at you like that. I didn’t mean to. I was just frustrated and scared and it came out the wrong way, but I promise, I won’t do that again.”

Asher let his head dangle from his neck, swinging back and forth like a pendulum losing its energy. “No, no. You were right,” Asher admitted. “You shouldn’t have to be stuck here taking care of me. It’s not fair to you. I just can’t stand seeing you bend over backwards for me when I can barely walk across the room without help. I hate that I’m so weak, and you’ve got to pick up the slack. All these scars on my chest and back, they’re just reminders of how I failed that day and how I keep failing every day. I shouldn’t need you to get me water or cook all my meals or remind me to stretch. I… I can’t stand to know that I’m the one just making you run yourself ragged, that I’m the one who is causing that tightness in your forehead and the yawns I see you try to hide and the heaviness in your steps because you’re goddamn tired of all this. Don’t even try to tell me that’s not what’s happening, Babe. Because it is. I see it. And I don’t know how to make it stop.” His breath hitched as he tried to stifle a sob. “I don’t know how to make it stop.” Asher pitched forward, the crown of his head coming to rest on my chest.

In a flash, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly as he cried. “It’s alright,” I soothed, blinking back my own tears as I realized what Asher was telling me. “It’s okay now. I’m right here.” I ran a hand through Asher’s hair as I spoke. “That’s what all this was about?” I huffed in disbelief. “You’re not weak. Not weak at all, Honey,” I told him definitively. “You are, by far, the strongest person I know.”

And that was the complete, absolute, utter truth. How could Asher ever think anything differently? He was an incredible man, serving as his pack’s beta and David’s right hand for years. When he walked into a room, he lit it up every time. And not just with some false smile or fake charm, but with an authentic enthusiasm that I craved every minute of every day when he was gone.

Asher was quick-witted, astute, and an exceptional communicator. In a lot of ways, I discovered Asher was something of a paradox. He was gentle and sweet, but a predator with more grit and determination that I could’ve thought possible. He was laid back and breezy with a hidden layer of anxiety just below his surface that he fought to quell for the good of those around him. He was goofy, funny, loving, and someone who supported me in more ways that I could count. How could he possibly even entertain the notion that he was weak, especially after his valiant fight against those shades?

Asher scoffed at my comment, peeling his body off of mine so he could look in my eyes. “I tried to be,” he admitted. “I tried so hard. But when that shade caught me off-guard,” he explained haltingly. “And I got hurt, there was nothing I could do, but just… lay there and wait for death. And even after David and Sam brought me back, which had to be so hard for David. It should’ve been impossible!” he burst. “And they put me in the underground, and I still just kept laying there. Useless. Drained. Unable to move or to speak or to do anything that might help anyone. And so many people down there needed help, Babe. So many of them! I don’t even know how long I stayed there. It felt like hours, but it could’ve been a few minutes. Everything was all mixed up in my head,” he recalled. “And then… And then…” A strangled whimper escaped his lips.

After a beat, I let my hand migrate to his back and move in a spiral pattern. “Then what?” I nudged, fully recognizing that Asher needed to get out whatever was weighing so heavily on his mind.

“And then, someone brought David to the underground,” he whispered brokenly. “I recognized him. An earth-elemental who competed in the games, a big hulk of a guy. He put David next to me and said he tried to get him here as fast as he could, then he ran back up to the stadium. He saved David’s life and I don’t… I don’t even know his name.” Asher shrugged. “David was all clawed up and bruised, barely conscious. At first, I thought he was dead.” His words were barely audible, but his grief was loud and clear. “I thought David died up there, alone and exhausted, fighting by himself when I had promised that I’d never leave his side. David saved me that night, and what did I do? I fucking left my best friend in the entire world to face those monsters alone!” Asher sobbed harder, clinging to me for dear life as he relived those awful memories.

I held him fast. As good as I knew that Asher’s breakdown would be in the long run to process the Inversion, I sure hated to see him go through it. “I can’t imagine how scary it was to see David be taken into the underground. I didn’t realize you were awake for that.”

“I was. Just barely,” he added. “But awake enough to know what was happening, even if I couldn’t exactly say anything to him. I tried, but I just couldn’t make my mouth work.” Asher shuddered, clicking his jaw a few times. “I couldn’t reach out to touch him. I just kept staring at him, watching him breathe and hoping he’d keep breathing.” Asher shut his eyes, weeping through his narration. “Some backup I ended up being.”

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from interrupting Asher. As twistedly foolish his ideas about himself were, I knew that the most important thing was that he had the space to express himself.

“I should’ve been there with David, fighting by his side and having his back. Or at least, I should’ve been the one to carry him to safety. But, that’s not what happened. I was too weak to do anything then, and I’m too weak to do anything now. And you’re the one suffering for it. You are, Babe. I’m sorry, I’m just really sorry and I don’t know what else to do,” he cried into my chest, his words finally fizzling out into small hiccups and grunts of frustration.

Without realizing it, I gently rocked forward and back, trying to console Asher as best I could. “Shhhh,” I told him softly. “It’s okay, Asher.” I traced my palm up to his wet cheek. “You are so hard on yourself. Way too hard. You know that? I mean…” I almost lost my ability to speak as I processed Asher’s words, but I fought through that obstacle for his sake. “You really think you failed that day because you got hurt?”

He gave a few short nods against my body.

“Well, you’re wrong,” I argued with a steady, controlled voice. “You’re wrong about that day and you’re wrong now. You fought by David’s side like the capable, steadfast beta that I know you to be. And David knows it, too.” I turned my head to kiss the top of his head. “Following him into that stadium before the ward reappeared, staying by David’s side to fight and to protect all those people, shifting back and forth like that to fight and to strategize…” I gave him a quick squeeze to take hold of his attention. “You amaze me, Honey,” I said with the exact intonation Asher often used when he told me that. “You are such a strong wolf. You saved who knows how many people that night. You put yourself in danger to help everyone. The fact that one of those shades attacked you doesn't say anything about your skill as a fighter, or the strength I know you possess, or your commitment to David. All it says is that you knowingly risked your life to keep everyone else safe, including people outside that ward like me.” I pressed my lips to his forehead. “You saved me twice that day, you know.”

“Twice?” Asher wondered. “What do you mean?”

“Once when you jumped into the ward to fight off those shades so that they wouldn’t escape into the rest of Dahlia. And then again when you found the strength to survive such a brutal attack. Those injuries were so bad.” I trailed my fingers along his chest. “These scars aren’t a measure of your weakness. Far from it. They're proof of your strength. Of finding a way to hold on until David and Sam could heal you.” I balled my fist into his shirt, almost scared that if I let go, he’d disappear. “You were the reason David was able to keep going. If you’d died, I think…” A wave of worry clawed at my voice. “I don’t think David would’ve been far behind you,” I predicted gruesomely. “Don’t you realize how much he values you? Depends on you? Loves you?” I paused to wait for an answer. I knew for a fact that Asher would do anything to fill the silence, even if it was with begrudging agreement.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. I… I didn’t think about it like that.”

“And if I lost you, I…” I couldn’t even finish that sentence because I had no idea what the rest of it was. I couldn’t fathom a future without Asher. It was like my brain stopped working when it conjured such a horrific possibility. “I’m just really glad you’re here,” I finally rephrased. “And if that means I’m helping you get around or reminding you to stretch or fetching food and drinks with you, then so be it,” I declared. I felt my eyes mist over and my throat swell a bit as I struggled to share my own heavy emotions I’d been carrying since the Inversion, too. “When you were trapped in there, I was so worried I’d never get to see you again.” I tipped my forehead so that it met his. Even at that gentle contact, a spark of warmth exploded where we met each other. “I love you so much, Honey. And you were so brave for so long during such a scary thing.” I swallowed, suddenly feeling so raw and exposed, like Asher had stripped me of the stoic facade I relied on habitually. “I just want to help, you know. I… I need to help you. I need to do everything I can to help you heal properly. To ease your pain, and your stress, and your sadness.” I huffed at myself. “Maybe I’ve been going a little overboard lately, and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you or annoying you. I’m struggling with how to deal with all this shit, too,” I admitted. “You were kind of right when you said I've been waiting on you hand and foot when there's not a need for me to do that. I think I've been taking every opportunity to be right with you because," I faltered. Usually, it was hard for me to say I was wrong, but somehow, Asher made it easy. "Because I need that physical, tangible reminder that you're here with me. Maybe my coping mechanisms haven’t been the best. We both know I’m a walking, talking definition of a control freak.” Both Asher and I let out a teeny laugh at that blunt description of myself. “But I just, I just need to know I’m doing everything I possibly can to help you, to make you feel better.” I pursued my lips. “That’s all I want, but if I’m making things worse by hovering over you, I can back off.”

“No!” Asher gaped, quickly enveloping his palm around my fist that was still yanking at his shirt. “No, I don’t want you to back off,” he clarified with a little bit more composure. “I want you here with me.” He ran his thumb along the back of my knuckles, carefully ensuring he reached every finger before reversing his movement. “I was annoyed with myself, but I misdirected it onto you,” Asher explained. “I was never, ever annoyed with you, Babe. Never.” He moved my hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. “I am so grateful for everything you’ve been doing, but mostly, for just being by my side through all this.” He blinked away the last few droplets that clung to his eyelashes. “I want you here with me. Please.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” I asserted.

“I know that I don’t always make it easy. My mood swings aren’t exactly the pleasant Asher O'Connell-content you’ve come to know and expect.” An apologetic half-smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “And I’m sorry about that. Really. My attitude has been unacceptable and I promise I’ll try to be better about that, Babe. This is hard enough for both of us. You don’t need me making anything harder with my self-pity.” He cradled the back of my head with his hands, angling his chin so that our faces were close enough to feel each other breathe. He moved closer for a deep, lengthy kiss. “I need you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Not just this recovery stuff. But just…” His half-smile grew into a full-blown grin. “Everything up to this point, and everything that’ll come along in the future. I love you so fucking much, Babe.”

Asher’s speech had me tearing up again, this time full of happier tears. “I love you, too.”

He cleared his throat nervously. “Y’know,” Asher added. “Y’know how you said I saved you twice that day the Inversion happened?”

I curiously nodded, not knowing where Asher was going with this. Whatever he was thinking about, it was clearly important to him.

“Well, I think you saved me right back.” His grey-green eyes rolled up a bit as he considered his words. “Err, saved me first, I guess?” He waved his hand through the air to get himself back on whatever track he was on. “Whatever. Not the important part.” I was elated to see Asher’s trademark animation and commentary return to his speech pattern. It gave me a sign that he was returning to himself after having been lost for so long. “When that shade nabbed me, I thought I was going to die. But I knew that I couldn’t let go just yet. Too many people were counting on me. The civilians in the stadium, the rest of the pack, David, and…” He trailed off, a bit more serious. “And you, Babe. You kept me going. You gave me the strength I needed to hang on.” He gave me another kiss on the cheek. “You saved me. I would’ve never been able to withstand that if I didn’t know you were on the other side of that ward, waiting for me to come back.”

“We saved each other, I suppose,” I hummed, leaning into Asher’s chest. It was a familiar position for us, one we’d assumed and maybe even taken for granted a little, many nights and mornings as our relationship formed and grew. “I… Oh, sorry!” I quickly straightened up. “I know the scars are still sore. I didn’t mean to aggravate them.”

Asher’s brows furrowed. “Actually, it…” He slid his hand under his shirt, rubbing his hand along his chest. “It didn’t hurt when you rested on my chest. At all. It felt good. Really good, actually.” He wiggled a little bit as he reclined against the pillow, stretching his legs out around where I sat. “Like a little zap of, I don’t know, warmth.” Asher patted his chest. “C’mon, Babe. You’ve been on your feet all day every day since I’ve come home from the healer’s. How about a little power nap?”

I looked at Asher’s warm, inviting gaze as he opened his arms to beckon me to cuddle on top of him. “You sure?” I hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you or anything.”

“You? Never, Babe,” Asher winked confidently, though I think I caught a glimpse of insecurity, or maybe longing, flash through his eyes. “Please?” He paused a bit. “You feel so good against me. Even the scarred parts of me. I’ve missed you these last few days. I mean, you were right there, but I was a million miles away,” Asher said saliently. “I’m back with you now.”

“I’d love to.” I quickly took Asher up on his offer, settling onto him and holding on tightly as I lined up our bodies comfortably. Once our legs were properly tangled, his hands framing either side of my body, and my arm thrown up around his shoulder, I let my head rest on his chest. The subtle, strong beats of his heart vibrated against my cheek and I felt like I could let go of tension I didn’t even know I was holding.

“Yeah, just like that,” Asher praised huskily, squeezing my hip and offering me a kiss on my neck. “You’re perfect, Babe. So strong and kind and smart.” A group of butterflies swarmed within my stomach and I smiled not because Asher said those words, but because he made me feel capable of believing them. “But,” he said, clicking his teeth together cheekily. “You’re not some invincible robot. I don’t even think you’ve left the apartment in the last few days, other than to take out the trash.”

“I went to buy milk yesterday,” I defended. It was a piss-poor excuse that only proved Asher’s point of how clingy I had been lately. The convenience store I went to obtain the milk was on our block. “And we’re going to David’s house for dinner on Sunday. I’m looking forward to that, which will most definitely include me leaving the apartment.”

“Hmm,” Asher evaluated playfully. “I guess that counts, but only because I’m looking forward to it, too. Actually, I was kind of nervous about it,” he confessed. “Because, even on our video calls with him and the rest of the pack, I can see them all looking at my scars that show through my shirt. I got it into my head that they were, I don’t know, judging me or something. Reading them as proof I fucked up.”

“Honey, that’s not true,” I declared. “They know it was bravery that you earned those scars. They are your pack, your family. They love you!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Asher relented. “As always, Babe, you are right. Sometimes, my head isn’t always convinced, but you’re helping my heart to believe that. And we both know that when it comes to important stuff like that, the heart always wins out.” He kissed the top of my head. “But even if you are right, you are not going to distract me from the original subject!” He raised an accusatory eyebrow. “You’ve been taking such good care of me for days barely taking time to sit down, let alone sleep.”

I was about to protest, but he cut me off with a kiss before I could speak, chasing away the lingering stubbornness that faded away as I relaxed into his embrace.

“Close your eyes,” Asher suggested, apparently leading by example and taking his own advice. “I’ll be right here for you.” He nuzzled his chin into the crown of my head and let his own breathing slow as mine did. “Always, Babe.”

Despite Asher's proposal, I had every intention of staying awake and enjoying the moment as he napped under me. It was the first time things felt normal again. I wanted to savor every bit of the love that seemed to radiate between us as our bodies locked together. But, it seemed that I couldn’t resist Asher’s gentle pull into sleep, even if I tried to convince myself that I wanted to stay awake. Maybe it was just my body instinctively responding to the fact that I didn’t have to be awake. As messy as it had been there for a little, I knew in my heart that Asher made such a major breakthrough for his healing process I had no doubt there would be more trauma to process, more flashbacks that would pop up, more insecurities and miscommunications, from both of us, to be honest. But at that moment, all that shit could and would wait.

We were alive and home together. We had each other to lean on and to take care of as we both found our way to the other side of this experience and maybe, find ourselves closer than ever before, even if a bit more scarred.

Chapter Text

I squinted against the glow of my laptop in the otherwise-dark room. I had the brightness turned down as low as it would go and still have the text of my screen at least somewhat readable, but it was still making me strain my eyes, which was making my head hurt. I didn’t want to turn on the light and risk disturbing Milo. If I did, the light that would flood the hallway that led to our bedroom might have dragged him out of his sleep, and I hated to wake him. He’d been working so hard to piece together anything and everything related to the Inversion and the dangerous, fanatic cult CloseKnit. The notable overlap between the Inversion and CloseKnit grew each time I dived into my research. While neither Milo nor me could say anything for certain yet, we were committed not to stop until we had all the answers.

Blinking slowly, I rubbed at my eyes to clear them. I also adjusted my crossed legs so I wouldn’t cut off any circulation after sitting for so long. The loose pajama bottoms I wore made indentations on my legs in the pattern of wrinkles. I felt like I could’ve let my head pitch forward onto the desk and fallen asleep right there, so I rolled my shoulders forward and backward to give myself a little zip of energy.

“Sweetheart?”

It took me a minute to realize that Milo’s voice was not coming from inside my head, but from his own mouth. He turned on the light as he yawned, stretching his arms up above his head so that his loose shirt rode up to reveal his lower torso. “Sweetheart, what are you doing up this late? Or should I say, early?” Milo shuffled closer to me, the floorboard squeaking a bit underneath his bare feet. “Are you still working?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered in a hushed voice. “Go back to bed.” I confidently flicked my wrist towards the bedroom. “You need all the rest you can get.”

I was absolutely right. It had been over a week since Milo’s heroic sacrifice of using his own body as the means to disrupt the ward closing off the stadium during the Inversion, but he was still feeling a multitude of side effects from it. He’d tire quickly, sometimes even falling asleep during the day. Soreness lingered in his muscles. He’d suffer from occasional headaches or dizzy spells. What was most encouraging was that those symptoms seemed to be plaguing him less and less frequently. I hated to see him suffer so, but I knew that Milo barely gave a second thought to those physical symptoms. Understandably, he was much more concerned with his inability to shift. He’d tried a few times, only to fail miserably. He was worried that his control over his magic would never return, like he’d somehow permanently burned his threads.

After a healing-school student had looked Milo over, confused at his injuries but too shy to ask, I took Milo straight to his mother so that she could evaluate him with the actual information of what happened. Not only was Marie a skilled healer who was well-versed in shifter physiology, but I also knew Milo probably just wanted Marie to be with him after such a harrowing experience. Marie was the first person he told after he enacted his half-baked plan, which I felt was for the best. They had a special, indescribable bond. As much as Milo liked to put up a nonchalant bravado when it came to Marie’s often-overbearing antics, I had a hunch that what he needed most after we were allowed to leave the stadium was his mother. And, even if Milo would never admit it to another soul, I knew it had been the correct choice. Milo could barely get two words out before he collapsed into Marie, holding her tightly and sobbing through his explanation.

I was more than a little relieved once David had reached out to get the full story with what happened to Milo during the Inversion. Milo didn’t have the chance to tell David when we all met up at the healing station, but I saw David’s long stares at the criss-cross of burn marks and bruises that littered Milo’s body. He knew that Milo was outside the ward the whole time during the Inversion, so I knew the grotesque injuries would immediately tip off David that Milo had somehow found a way to involve himself in something. Even exhausted and in pain, David couldn’t turn off that alpha part of his brain. It was a small comfort to know that Milo had since filled David in on what exactly caused him all those injuries and his current, hopefully temporary, inability to shift. I felt it in my heart that he would recover his ability to shift with time and rest, but I recognized how hard that wait must be for him.

Milo had been through so much after taking on such monumental risk to himself. The last thing he should be doing was getting up during the middle of the night to drag me back to bed.

“Go on,” I told Milo, turning back to my laptop. “Before Aggro notices you’re gone and takes your side of the bed.”

Milo leaned against the doorframe. “But what about you?” he wondered. “You need sleep, too. Put that away and come back to bed!” He cocked his head to the side. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, I can help with that.”

I swallowed an exasperated huff. I would’ve had no trouble falling asleep. What I currently had was trouble staying awake, but I was determined to finish this cross-referencing before the sun came up. “I’m sure you could,” I said, feigning coyness to placate Milo. “But I’ve really got to get this done. I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I would join him when I finished, though as I looked at the rest of the work I had to review, I didn’t expect to finish anytime soon.

Milo let out a scoff tinged with a growl. “Fuck these D.U.M.P. clowns!” he burst. “This is too much. It’s just too much! I’ve seen them work you into the ground before, but this is ridiculous! It’s not enough they’ve got you working double overtimes so that you can work on your normal caseloads, which, by the way, were already way more than one person should handle, while also smoothing over the fallout of this Inversion shit, but now they’re assigning you so much work that you’ve literally got to work at…” He craned his neck to check the clock on the wall. “3AM on a Saturday to finish your paperwork? This is nuts, Sweetheart! I know the Inversion has the Department stretched thinner than ever before, but I presumed by now things might’ve calmed down a little bit for you. But they’re just getting worse! You can’t be doing this to yourself. They can’t be doing this to you. I have half a mind to go down to headquarters myself and have a little chat with your sergeant to say‒”

“It’s not D.U.M.P. who gave me this work to do, Love,” I quietly interrupted. My eyes stayed trained on the screen in front of me. “I finished my caseload for the week.”

“What?” Milo gaped. “But then, what are you doing?” He made his way over to me, snatching a chair along the way so he could take a seat.

“I’m checking through any violent complaints involving vampiric suspects from the last six months.” I pointed to my screen, showing him the column of reports. “And then I’m comparing those reports to the little information that David gave me about Quinn’s possible whereabouts. To see if there is any crossover. I told David I’d have this done by tomorrow,” I answered. “Err, today, I guess. It was my own fault that I’m so behind. I miscalculated how many cases I’d get assigned this week. By the time I finished, I was already trying to play catch up with trailing that CloseKnit contact you wanted me to check out, and like I told you, that took up a chunk of my time this afternoon, though it was well worth it. And you were absolutely right! We’ve now got a possible lead into infiltrating CloseKnit’s online platform.” I shook my head to get myself back on track with answering Milo’s question. “Anyway, umm, just seems like I didn’t plan well enough this week,” I shrugged, trying to downplay how overwhelmed the thought of continuing all these inquiries made me feel. "My own stupid fault."

“Oh.” Milo straddled the chair, angling it so that he faced me. It almost looked like his eyes took on a hint of embarrassment, but I figured I must’ve been wrong because Milo had nothing to be embarrassed about. “I… I guess I didn’t realize how much time the CloseKnit stuff has been taking up.” His front teeth caught his bottom lip. “Nor did I realize you were still working that Quinn-thing on the side at David’s request.” Milo took the liberty of straightening out the piles of papers that precariously sat upon my desk before they fell onto the floor in a haphazard cascade. “I mean, I remember you were doing that. I guess I just forgot.” He tapped the stack of papers as he pushed them into the middle of the desk so that they wouldn’t have a chance to tip over the edge.

“Thanks, Love,” I acknowledged, grateful he prevented what was about to be a big mess. He kept fiddling with the corner of the top paper, indicating to me that something didn’t sit well with him. “I’m making some progress on tracking Quinn,” I reported brightly to soothe the anxiety and worry I knew he felt for his packmember after learning about their experience with Quinn. “And I’ll work it until the case is closed. I promise.” I offered him a smile to emphasize my point, but the tight pull I forced into my cheeks to plaster the smile on my face probably didn’t calm Milo like I wanted. He had such a knack for seeing through me even if I were fully materialized and completely opaque.

Milo placed his hands on the back of his chair, gripping the wood until the skin of his knuckles stretched over his hands, which still showed some of his burn scarring from the Inversion. “Sounds like you got a lot on your plate.” He reached out to gently trace his fingers along my cheekbone and down my jaw. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It took such monumental effort for me to keep my head up as it was, but once Milo’s hand was there to support me, it was all I could do not to collapse into him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I told him. I wanted to pull away from him so that I could get back to my work, but it was like Milo’s hand had captured the side of my face with a force that even a magneto-energetic couldn’t hope to break. “I… I don’t really have time to take a break right now, though. Not if I want to finish this and brief David on what I find by tomorrow.” I winced. “Err, this morning.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed that I was so behind, I was mixing up the date. “We’re going over to his house for dinner on Sunday, err, tomorrow!” I corrected harshly, causing Milo to flinch. “And I don’t want to mix business with pleasure. David’s having a hard enough time as it is with D.U.M.P.’s interrogations and follow ups to the Inversion. He deserves to just have a day to spend with his family. We all do,” I added under my breath. “But if I can’t finish this soon, I won’t get to enjoy myself having this hanging over my head.” When I realized what I had said, I was quick to yelp, “I mean, David! David won’t be able to enjoy himself.”

“Right.” Milo’s eyes narrowed a bit. “David won’t be able to enjoy himself.” I wasn’t surprised at Milo’s echo that clearly signalled he knew that was a veiled excuse.

He was too sharp not to pick up on the tiniest bit of details and I was too damned tired to keep up this charade for much longer. If he would just leave me alone, I could’ve gotten a grip on myself.

“You sure you're okay?” Milo asked huskily, his other hand landing on my lap to give my thigh a slight squeeze. As disarming as his touch was, it was the concern in his eyes that pierced through any defense I attempted to erect.

I wanted to tell Milo that I was absolutely sure that I had everything under control so that he’d return to bed. I wanted him to sleep well so that he could heal and be none the wiser that I was drowning in the workload needed to get done. I wanted to just go back in time and figure out a way to prevent that awful Inversion from ever happening, or at least to figure out a way to end it without Milo having to fry his magical core in secret, never to receive the hero’s respect that he deserved. I wanted to stop thinking about all the civilians that the Department couldn’t save that day because we had to consider odds and risks and ulterior possibilities, even as our family and friends were hidden behind that ward. I wanted Milo to be able to shift with ease and joy again. I wanted to sit with him and talk about something, anything other than CloseKnit or his theories about their role in the Inversion.

As much as I believed in Milo’s endeavor to investigate the cult’s inner machinations, as well as to seize any opportunity for me to take down that horrible hate-group, I resented that it was just about the only thing Milo and I ever talked about anymore. I understood why he was so obsessed with getting to the bottom of whatever the hell the Inversion was or why it happened because I felt that burning desire, too. But there were times, more frequently in the last few days, that I also missed how Milo and I used to be together; close and safe and warm, like being in each other’s arms could make the Earth stop spinning and keep away all of our problems because they seemed so small compared to the love between us. I knew that the best way I could help Milo now was to dive deeply into the work that consumed his every thought. I was desperate to do everything I could to help Milo work through his trauma, but I couldn’t deny that I was running out of energy to follow through with that goal, even if my intention to help persisted.

“Sweetheart?” Milo nudged, making me realize I never answered his question. “Are you okay?”

Still, I never could lie to Milo.

“N-n-no,” I answered truthfully, small and embarrassed and suddenly more exposed than I was prepared for. With that one syllable, I felt like I was admitting complete and utter defeat. “I’m sorry.” The weight that I had been balancing upon my shoulders suddenly fell into my chest, crushing each rib. I felt my whole body break out into a sheen of sweat. I dug my fingernails into my palms in an effort to stop my hands from shaking so violently. I would’ve jumped up from my seat and ran away if I had the strength to budge my legs. “I can’t do it. I… I…”

Just as I started to instinctively bring the back of my arm across my eyes to turn away so that I could hide my shame, Milo stood up to flip his chair around, never taking his hand off of my face, as he readjusted himself to pull me into a hug. The tenseness and humiliation at verbalizing how I was failing had spread throughout my body and kept my spine rigid. The last thing I deserved after admitting I was incapable of fulfilling my responsibilities was to fall into Milo’s chest. He was too kind to offer that to me, but how could I let myself seek comfort in him when I was failing him despite my best efforts?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Milo lulled, a tinge of worry finding its way into his tone. “It’s okay now. You’re alright, Sweetheart.”

“No, no,” I denied as I shook my head sadly against him. My breaths came short and fast as I fought to keep my impending tears at bay. “It’s not okay!” As much as I wanted to believe Milo, the rising guilt and panic that made its way from my gut into my throat prevented me from believing anything but the critical voice that rang incessantly through my head. “It’s not okay. Don’t you understand? I’m letting everyone down!” I finally burst, the rush of energy draining out of me as quickly as it materialized. “I’m letting everyone down and it’s all my fault.”

Milo began to stroke my hair in a way that he often did when we cuddled in bed together, listening to a playlist Milo made for us or watching a show I had put in our queue. Somehow, no matter what we were doing or how we were sitting, Milo’s hands found their way into my hair, carding along my scalp with slow, deep movements that somehow never failed to brush away my worries with every swipe of his wrist. “What are you talking about, Sweetheart?” he asked concernedly. “You’re not making sense. I think you’re so tired that your brain’s starting to play tricks on you or something.” Milo gave a little laugh that lacked his normal brightness. “Come back to bed and we’ll straighten all this out in the morning.” He stood up, taking me with him, and started making his way towards the bedroom.

“No, I can’t.” Pushing up from Milo’s shoulder, I took a shuddering inhale and tried my best to make Milo understand so that he would leave me to my work. Even though we had only been talking with each other for a few minutes, it felt like I had set myself behind by hours. All I wanted was to make up for that lost time. “I can’t,” I confessed, feeling my legs begin to quiver underneath me. “I can’t go to bed. If I do, then I’ll never finish this work on Quinn’s priors. If I don’t finish this work on Quinn’s priors now, I won't be able to check out those other reports on CloseKnit you asked me to do. If I don’t check out those reports on CloseKnit you found for me this weekend, I'll have to do it this week, and then I'll be behind on my caseload at work, which means I'll get even more behind on everything.” The words came out between sharp pants. I didn’t realize when I started to cry, but I didn’t have the strength to stop myself, so I formed my words around my sobs as I sunk down onto the nearby couch. “Can’t you see? I’ve got to get this done! If I don’t, I let the pack down. And I let all of Dahlia down.” I dropped my gaze, suddenly too embarrassed even to meet Milo’s eyes. “I let you down.” The sheer weight of that fact threatened to crush me right then and there. “I'm disappointing everyone. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over again as I pulled away from him and into myself, wishing I could find words that captured how truly sorry I was.

Stunned, Milo’s jaw dropped as he watched me from his seat. “W-w-what?” he stuttered. “Sweetheart, no. You’re not letting anyone down. You don’t have anything to be sorry for! I‒”

“I do!” I interrupted, fully unhinged. It was like now that I had started verbalizing just how insufficient I was, I couldn’t find it in myself to stop. “I do. I have everything to be sorry for! I want to be the one people can come to for help. That’s who I am. That’s what I’m good for. What good am I if I can’t be what people need?” I barely paused to give Milo a chance to answer. “Nothing! I’m no good to anyone!” I felt the undertow of self-doubt pull at me, dragging me down into a sea of insecurity that I didn’t know if I could escape this time. “I’m trying so hard, every hour of every day, but none of it matters…” I explained, torn between frustration and helplessness. “None of it matters. I’m messing everything up and I don’t know how to fix it.”

A hum of my magic zipped through me, momentarily cloaking me. It was more of a flicker than a full disappearance. Even with all the control I had amassed over my powers, I still couldn’t shake my inclination for involuntary cloaking when I began to panic. Usually, it made me feel ashamed, but I already felt so awful, I couldn't be bothered to care. I welcomed the familiar comfort that invisibility always provided me, and I hid my face with my arm in a feeble attempt to facilitate that.

“Sweetheart, Sweetheart!” Milo raised his voice to cut through my disjointed spiraling. “Hey, you’re safe. You’re safe with me now. No need for any of that. I'm right here with you.”

I stilled at his voice, peeking through the crook of my elbow, fully prepared to see him glare at me disapprovingly now that he knew how much of a disappointment I was or scowl at me angrily to realize his trust in me was misplaced, or worst of all: he’d just get up and leave.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I promise I'll do better," I wept. I had no idea how I'd ever achieve that, but I was too caught up in assuring Milo that he could count on me even if my recent work proved differently.

It was ironic that a second ago, all I wanted was for Milo to return to bed, and now I wanted to hang onto him for dear life.

When I finally swiped away the tears that blurred my vision, I was shocked to discover Milo was right there, no glare of scowl in sight. The only emotion etched into his face was worry. “I…” His nostrils flared as he tried to speak. “I… I didn’t realize…” He plopped onto the couch, so close to me that our knees brushed against each other. “I didn’t realize how much you had going on, how hard you’ve been working.” Milo’s arms reached to wrap around me again, but hovered mid-air. “Can I hold you?” he asked quietly, probably worried an unwanted touch might send me into a panic attack.

“Mhmm,” I confirmed with a nod.

As soon as the sound left my throat, Milo gathered me up in his arms. I buried my face into his chest, another wave of turmoil rippling through me as I wept into him.

Milo turned his head so that his mouth was next to my ear. “Shhh,” he hummed, the warm air from his mouth curling around my neck. Somehow, Milo’s hushed murmuring drowned out my loud sobbing. “Shhh. Everything’s going to be alright. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Sweetheart. I’m right here with you. I got you,” he vowed. “I got you and I’m not letting go.”

I clung to Milo tighter, if that were possible. It felt like a current was about to take me downstream and he was the only solid object that I could use to keep myself afloat. “But…but, you’ve already got so much on your mind,” I protested. “I know how hard it’s been for you not to shift. I know you’re sore and you’re dizzy and you’re so scared you won’t be able to access your wolf again.” I patted his chest. “But he’s in there. You’re in there, Love. I know you are. I know you’ll be able to shift again. And in the meantime, it’s a hard, long wait. I get that. Err,” I corrected, hyper aware of how insensitive I must’ve sounded. “I mean, I get that I don’t get it. But I’m trying to help you through it, and I know that working these CloseKnit connections helps you deal with it. And instead of giving you that, fuck, look at me!” I cried. “I’m coming apart at the seams, and why? Because you asked me to do my job? Because I’m trying to support you in this teeny tiny way after you were so brave?” A flutter of delayed worry flashed into my brain as I remembered what led to Milo's injuries. "I can’t even give you that. What kind of partner am I that I can’t keep it together for you?”

“Sweetheart,” Milo sighed, his fingers kneading into my upper back, caressing a particularly stubborn kink that had given me trouble for the last few days. “You’re the best kind of partner and the best kind of person. Everything you do, you do it with such a full heart. You give 110%. And I love that about you,” he declared steadily. “And you’ve been such a help to me as I recover from the Inversion, trying to keep tabs on Quinn to keep our pack safe, calling in favors left and right to get access to these classified documents, investigating all this under the table, on top of your normal work…”

"I can handle it," I maintained desperately through tears. "I should be able to handle it."

Milo paused, a grunt catching in his throat. He had heard me repeat those phrases so many times in so many contexts, but I knew he never wanted to be the one who made me say either phrase. “No, Sweetheart. That's not how it works. Just because you’re willing to take it on and do your best to do it all in stride, doesn’t mean I should be asking you to stretch yourself so thin that you start to tear.” He kissed my temple lightly. “I should’ve realized what I was doing was taking advantage of you, but I got so wrapped up in trying to distract myself from having to wait to shift, I apparently pushed all my shit onto you.” I could’ve sworn I felt him huddle into me a little bit more. "I didn't mean to."

Instinctively, I frowned at Milo’s attempt to blame himself for my embarrassing breakdown. “You’re not taking advantage of me!” I argued. “This is my job,” I insisted, a little bit of pride wiggling into my heart even at a moment where I felt horrifically underqualified to say that. “It's what I'm supposed to do. I want to help. I need to help.”

“I know you do,” Milo sympathized. “I suppose that’s another quality we share, but you? You take it to such an extreme sometimes. We both know you have that tendency. I’ve seen it before. Usually, I’m the one who steps in and reminds you to slow down, to take a break, to remember that you're a person who is more than the sum of their job duties. That you are more than what you do." I practically melted into Milo as he kissed my cheek. "So much more. But this time…” A soft growl reverberated in his chest, vibrating against my ear. “This time, I didn’t. I watched you do this to yourself and what’s worse, I pushed you in that direction. I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m sorry I made you feel like working yourself into the ground was the only way you could help me. I'm sorry I reduced you to just the result of your investigating, like your stupid supervisors do to you. I'm sorry I made you think the work you do is more valuable than who you are.” He cupped the side of my face, gently encouraging me to look up at him. “Please listen to me when I say that you are worth more than your job. So much more,” he emphasized. “More to your friends, more to our pack, and a hell of a lot more to me.”

Milo often spoke confidently, a bit of a bravado almost always coming across in his speech. When he said that, holding me close and looking into my eyes, however, there was a different kind of confidence. Authentic. Honest. Like he was speaking right from his heart. I couldn’t deny how safe and loved that made me feel, even with the turmoil that lingered inside me.

“You are kind, warm, you’ve got energy for days," Milo listed. “You make me laugh harder than anyone else. And…” He raised eyebrows, pausing to build suspense like the drama queen I knew he was, despite his reluctance to admit it, “When it comes to being sweet, you’re top-notch.” He winked. "I can’t believe I didn’t see what was happening, what I was doing to you,” Milo said regretfully, his shoulders hunching forward into me. “And now, when I think back, all the signs were there. I choose to ignore them.”

“Signs?” I repeated incredulously. Concealment, in all its forms, was my specialty, after all. “I don't leave signs. What signs? There were no signs.”

Milo clicked his tongue. “There were signs,” he maintained. “Small ones, to be fair. But I know you well enough to read all your tells. Guess your abilities to investigate and interpret evidence are rubbing off on me a little. Here, look.” He pointed over to the spare room off of the living room and down a short hallway.

“What?” I pressed, feeling my breathing begin to even out for the first time since I started to lose it that night. When did that happen? Milo’s ability to reach me when I felt positively unreachable never failed to amaze me. “It’s too dark to see what you’re pointing to.”

Milo chucked tiredly. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Sometimes I forget my own human senses are still heightened because they’re so much less than when I’m shifted. I’m pointing to your yoga mat in the corner of the room,” he explained. “It’s all curled up, leaning against the back of the treadmill, where it’s been for over a week now. I know how much you love doing that, and I also know how yoga helps keep you, y’know, grounded. Centered. Whatever you want to call it. I know it helps you slow down and take time for yourself. But you haven’t had the chance to do that in a while now, have you?”

“Guess not,” I replied.

He was right. Ever since my colleague had introduced me to yoga, I looked forward to rolling out my mat and carving out a specific amount of time in the day to show myself some gratitude and love. I don’t know why I doubted him when he first suggested I tag along with him. Cam was a serenity-daemon, so he was an expert, after all. As much as I struggled to follow the yoga teacher’s instructions to ‘quiet my mind’ or to ‘breathe in peace,’ as well as a million other trite little phrases, I always did appreciate knowing that I was at least attempting to cultivate a habit that benefited me physically and mentally. And I always felt better for doing it.

“Mhmm,” Milo acknowledged. “Not to mention, I’ve seen that canvas you’re working on in your little paint corner there.” He jutted his chin in the general direction of the same spare room where I kept my painting supplies. “You got the sky and mountains almost done, but no animals in sight. That's unlike you. But I haven’t seen you add anything to that scene since this Inversion shit went down. Isn't that right?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t had the time lately,” I defended hollowly. When Milo spelled it out like that to me, I began to see how easy it was for me to shove away the hobbies that gave me joy in lieu of the work I had agreed to do, both officially and unofficially. “I’ve missed yoga and painting. But,” I said. “I missed you more.”

“Because I’ve been taking all our time up, talking about CloseKnit, asking you about CloseKnit, making you check out something related to CloseKnit…” Milo said in a rebuke towards himself. “And instead of noticing you were struggling, I just kept piling on more shit for you to do, never even thinking about the consequences or the cost to you.” His grainy voice cracked a bit. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” he apologized, gently moving back and forth, adding an almost imperceptible but incredibly comforting rocking motion to his words. “I never wanted this for you. I never meant to make you feel like that. You’ve been so good at making sure I didn’t overdo it when it came to my own health, because you know I’ve got a tendency to bury myself in whatever’s in front of me until there’s no way back out.” I felt him clench me a little bit tighter, like I might start to cloak involuntarily again if he let up his grip at all. “But somewhere along the way, I forgot to do the same for you. And I promise, from now on, I’m going to be more considerate of you. I won’t let myself obsess over this shit in such an extreme way.” He peppered my forehead with kisses, each one strengthening the force behind his promise.

I leaned my head back into him, relishing the feeling of my face tucked into his neck. “I know how preoccupied you’ve been with your condition,” I noted. “And you’re well within your rights to be preoccupied. What you did was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do,” I praised. “Really, Love. You made that decision to bring down that ward once all the people were gathered around the stadium, even if that meant sacrificing yourself in the process. You didn’t know what would happen, and you didn’t let that scare you. I was so scared for you,” I admitted, realizing that up until then, I hadn’t ever let myself say that in front of him. “When I saw you take in all that magic, when I saw you fall,” I recalled, the immense fear that overtook me as a memory of watching Milo redirect the magic into himself flashing in my mind’s eye. “I thought, I thought…” I couldn’t even get out the words that finished that horrible sentence, so instead I let my hand settle around the back of his neck.

“I know,” he surmised. “I know what you must've thought. I’m sorry for putting you through that. And, hell, I’ll tell you something, Sweetheart, don’t ever think I wasn’t scared of putting myself on the line like that. Scared? I was mortified. Terrified! Shaking in my fucking boots,” Milo asserted. “But as scary as that was for me, it doesn't hold a candle to what you had to do. To stand by helplessly and watch your mate do something as dangerous as that?” he huffed, the sound nearly identical to the one he’d make in his wolf form when he came across a scent that was displeasing. “I don’t know if I could’ve done that if things had been the other way around. But, that’s what you needed to do, and you did it. No one will ever know, but we helped save Dahlia,” he reminded me so casually, like we weren’t talking about life or death situations, but instead, we were talking about our dinner plans or trying to figure out where to fit (yet another) cat scratcher for Aggro in our home. “Outta the two of us, Sweetheart, I think you were the braver one.”

I blinked a few times, trying to digest his words. “I somehow doubt that,” I finally answered. “But thank you for saying that. It helps.” And, strangely, it did help to hear him say that but, more importantly, for him just to know how much I was affected by Milo’s part in the Inversion, even if I wasn’t directly involved. “I was so worried for you,” I remembered sadly. “And I’ve been so worried about you since.” I swallowed nervously. “I’ve been so worried for everyone. Our family was trapped in that horrible situation, and for the longest time, we couldn’t do anything. So many Dahlian citizens were in there, too, the citizens I took an oath to protect, but I was given direct orders to stand down. You were right in front of me, but I couldn’t do anything to save you. I’m sick of not being able to do anything!” I exclaimed. “And so, I guess, I tried to do everything.”

“You overachiever you,” Milo teased. “I’m sorry I added to that pressure. I never, ever meant to be one of the things that pushes you over the edge. I’m your mate, Sweetheart. I want to be the one who keeps you from going over the edge, or, if that doesn't work, to be the one who catches you when you fall.”

I threaded my hands through Milo’s hair, sweeping through his curls. “You do catch me. I know you do. The least I could do to help is stop throwing myself off the edge.”

“But I got you,” he murmured into my ear. “Always, Sweetheart. No matter what.”

Milo’s words sent a ripple of heat through my heart. Even after all this time together and all the times he’s told me that exact phrase, it still gave me something I never knew I needed until he said it. “Hmm.” A wave of genuine sleepiness, not the anxiety-induced exhaustion that's been plaguing me endlessly, rolled through me for probably the first time since that portal opened. “I got you, too,” I declared through barely parted lips.

“In more ways than one,” Milo agreed with me as he adjusted his weight a bit.

We hung onto that moment, sitting on the couch and holding each other close. Our bodies were propped up against each other; the force of our leaning matching the force of the other’s sturdy hold so perfectly that we were in stasis: two trees with roots that had tangled up together into a thousand knots, somehow ensuring that neither one of us would fall. When he held each other, I realized it was the first time things felt normal again.

I probably could’ve stayed there all night long, but thankfully, Milo had the good sense to remember that we did, indeed, own a King sized bed that currently had one very good cat sleeping on it. “C’mon,” he beckoned. “We both need to get some sleep tonight. See? Even your laptop went to sleep,” he wryly noted, pointing to the now-black screen. “What do you say we go back to bed and get a little bit more comfortable?”

“Mkay,” I droned, forcing myself to stand up with gargantuan effort. I swayed a bit on my feet, but Milo was there in a flash to steady me. Slowly but surely, we made our way back to the bedroom and fell onto the mattress.

Aggro mewled at the commotion, but after kneading his spot in the corner of the bed, apparently to fix the blankets, he curled back into himself and fell asleep.

“I haven’t slept in so long,” I said quietly, suddenly addicted to the weightless feeling that confiding in Milo gave me. I suddenly felt compelled to tell him everything, even if he didn't ask. “Even those few hours a night I did finally fall asleep, I never felt rested when I woke up. It was just a time when all my worries blurred together in my dreams.” I shuffled over a little closer to Milo. “I’m so tired.”

Milo fixed the pillow under my head so that it supported my suddenly weary neck. “No wonder,” he grimaced, tracing his hand along my shoulder. “Go ahead and sleep, Sweetheart. You need it." Milo swept away a piece of hair that fell into my eyes. "I'm right here with you."

I nodded, burrowing into the blanket as Milo pulled it over both of us without disturbing the one Aggro slept on. His palm ghosted along the back of my neck.

My resolve to manage my burden alone crumbled at Milo’s pointed touch. "Will you hold me again?" I asked, a bit of residual embarrassment warming the tips of my ears. “Please?" I added in a small voice, still not accustomed to asking for what I wanted without a means to reciprocate. "Just until I’m asleep. It won’t take long.”

While we both thoroughly enjoyed cuddling together in bed, we never usually stayed in those positions once we fell asleep. As much as he denied it, Milo snored, so that meant that I’d often wake up to roll him over to readjust his head in an effort to keep him quiet.

As for me, I moved around like a maniac when I slept. It had never been a problem when I lived alone. I never gave it much thought. There was a time in my life I never thought that would change. Once I had begun to sleep next to Milo (and, more often than not, Aggro), I realized what an inconvenience that was. Sometimes I’d accidentally knee Milo in particularly sensitive areas and I slept on, unaware and unbothered. Other times, I moved around so much that I'd disrupt his sleep and almost fall off the bed myself. As much as I tried to break myself of the habit, once I fell asleep, there wasn’t much I could do. Milo seemed to get used to it over time, though there were some nights I’d stir as he either rolled away from me or climbed on top of me to help still my frenzied movements. We usually found little ways to keep contact during the night, fingers around a wrist, knees pinning thighs, but we certainly weren’t the couple who would arrange themselves into a perfect pose at night and wake up in the same position in the morning.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, I just wanted Milo with me. I wanted to hear his breath, to feel his touch, to smell the lingering notes of satsuma from his body wash.

“Yeah, yeah, Sweetheart,” he whispered gratefully. "You don't ever have to ask me twice about that.” He framed my body and pulled himself close to me, so that his body was flush against mine. “I'll hold you all night long. And tomorrow during the day, too," he chuckled. "I love having my arms around you.” He kissed my cheek, long and slow, somehow encouraging my racing thoughts to quiet down enough for me to shut my eyes. “And I love getting to see you like this: relaxed, sleepy, maybe even a little bit vulnerable. It’s so rare for you. Too rare.” Milo observed wisely. "I wish you didn't feel like you have to work yourself to the bone before you finally let yourself get here."

“You help get me here,” I said rawly. "I don't know how you do whatever it is that you do, but keep doing it. I need you to keep doing it. Please." In the past, I would’ve never admitted that I needed anyone, but with Milo, all of that swagger disappeared. He made me feel safe enough to want him, to need him, to love him. “I love you.” I settled my palm into his clavicle, letting my thumb trace along his collarbone. It was a sensitive spot for him, so the purr that came from his throat was of no surprise to me, though it gave me a little burst of pride.

“I love you, too.” Milo pushed his forehead into mine, an intimate kind of gesture that always stole my breath. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have you here with me through all this.” His voice grew more husky with every passing second. “I’d never be able to do this without you.”

“Me neither,” I responded, vaguely realizing that I only saw darkness because my eyelids closed. “Good thing we got each other, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Milo assured me drowsily. I could tell from the thickness of his voice that he was a moment away from sleep, too. Even so, he managed to slip his fingers into my hair and comb through the locks with a gentle ease that soothed my body and soul as I fell into the most restful sleep I had in a long time. “We got each other.”

Chapter Text

“That was delicious, David,” Darling praised, rolling their shoulders back as they relaxed into the comfy chair. “Would you mind giving me the recipe for the shepherd’s pie, please?”

“Why?” Sam quipped. He sat at the card table, helping Babe set up the glass chess board. “What in the world are you going to do with a recipe? In order for that recipe to be of any use, you need to have food in your fridge. And last I checked, leftover duck sauce ain't exactly a staple ingredient for shepherd's pie.” The ceramic chess pieces clacked against the board as Sam arranged the game.

The chess set was a gag birthday gift to David from Asher from a few years ago. All the regular pieces were replaced by wolves in different positions to correspond to their role. David knew the basic rules of how to play chess, but never enjoyed playing. The strategizing and logical anticipation felt too much like work to him. He much preferred more active ways to destress and, given that he had very little time for relaxation, David liked to make sure every minute he got counted. What bothered David the most was that Asher knew all of that, and he still chose to buy him the set anyway. Asher insisted that the little wolf figurines were too precious to pass up, especially since, he claimed, the king piece for the black set looked exactly like David. He was taller than all of the rest of the pieces, sitting proudly and gazing upwards, snout tipped to the sky and his yellow eyes somehow glowering all while looking quite intimidating. Still, for as much as David complained that the set was just a dust collector, Asher noticed that David still took the time to wrap each piece and the board up in bubble wrap when he moved into his and Angel’s house. Asher also noticed that the set sat in the corner of the living room, carefully placed away from anything that might accidentally fall on it or break it, but obviously visible to anyone who entered the room. Lately, the set had been seeing more action than it had seen in years since both Babe and Sam discovered they both played chess. The two wolf-pack mates had developed quite the rivalry, and more often than not, when they both came over to David’s house, they found themselves locked in a battle of wits and trash talk as they moved their chess-wolves around the board. It warmed David's heart to see the game used by his friends. He never admitted it to Asher, but he was confident in his beta's ability to pick up on that fact.

Darling dismissed Sam’s concern with a wave of their hand. “Well, maybe if I had a recipe to follow, I would go buy the necessary ingredients.”

“Fat chance of that,” Asher said. “You’re barely better than I am in the kitchen. The only reason you have a better track record is that you don’t make attempts to cook like I do.” He sipped from his can of lemon-flavored sparkling water. “At least I try!”

“Hey, not true! Maybe I don't cook often, but I bake!” Darling glared. “And I do it without burning the place down.”

“It was one little fire!” Asher began to defend plaintively. “David, back me up here! Wasn’t it one little fire?”

David neither said a word nor broke his famed deadpan expression. Instead, he held up three fingers.

“Three!” Darling burst. “It was three fires?!” they repeated incredulously through laughter.

Sweetheart put out their arms like a referee. “Everybody just take it easy. Cooking and baking are two totally different skills,” the stealth interjected. “As I see it, here is a list of relevant facts for this debate. You?” They pointed to Darling. “You suck at cooking, but you’re a decent baker. I loved those chocolate-chip muffins you brought to the pack meeting last week.” Sweetheart turned to Asher. “And you? You’re just a whole damn mess in the kitchen.” The stealth haughtily clapped their hands together. “No more arguing! I have resolved this conflict," they said proudly, elbowing Angel. "Looks like that Department conflict resolution training finally came in handy."

“You're nuts if you think that's going to stop them from arguing,” Milo teased from the barcalounger.

“I’ll second their claims,” Angel added as they slid closer to David and not-so-subtly tucked themselves under his arm. “We’ll trade you the shepherd's pie recipe for the chocolate-chip muffin recipe.”

David rolled his eyes. “We are not holding the shepherd’s pie hostage for chocolate-chip muffins,” he griped at his mate. “I’ll send you the recipe,” he assured Darling.

“Don’t worry,” Darling quickly winked at Angel. “I’ll send along the chocolate chip muffins recipe, too. It’s only fair. An eye for an eye, a recipe for a recipe.”

Milo lazily reached his hand around the side of the chair, searching for the lever that controlled the recliner part of the barcalounger. As soon as his fingers curled around the lever, Milo yanked it and sighed deeply as he reclined backwards. “We’ve gotta get one of these for our apartment, Sweetheart.” Any time he came over to David’s house, Milo always claimed the barcalounger as his spot and took full advantage of its reclining features. “It’s so comfortable.”

“Where are you going to put it?” Babe wondered cheekily, staring at the chess board intently as they decided their next move. “There’s no room for something like that to fit with all of Aggro’s boxes and bags and cat scratchers…”

Milo wiggled into the cushions, interlacing his fingers to cradle the back of his head in his palms. “I could find room for it.”

“Hey,” Sam said, his voice uncharastically low and intense. Playing chess against Babe always brought out a rarely seen, competitive side of him. He tapped on the board. “You gonna talk cat decor or you gonna play chess?”

Angel jumped to their fellow unempowered human’s defense. “They can do both!” Angel shimmied up a bit, conveniently hovering over David’s lap as they stretched an arm out towards Babe for a high-five, which Babe eagerly gave them. After the supportive high-five, Angel nonchalantly settled themselves onto David, letting their back rest against the crook of his elbow.

David tried and failed to resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on Angel’s brow. He took the opportunity to inhale their scent that mixed with the residual aroma of their shampoo, sending a wave of calmness through his spine. A nearly imperceptible smile pulled at David’s mouth as he looked on at the sight before him. His family was gathered together in the home he had made with Angel. They had just finished eating the dinner he had made them. It was a miracle any of them had even finished eating given how much they had all talked with each other. If he were being honest with himself, David’s nervousness at the thought of hosting this dinner had grown exponentially since Angel had extended the invitations. On the one hand, there was nothing extraordinary about the night. More than once, this very same group found their way to David’s for an informal dinner, the occasional game night, and sometimes even an impromptu sleepover. Having his pack over for dinner was a completely, totally, unequivocally normal event.

But, deep in his heart, David knew that tonight was different. It wasn’t normal.

Tonight, they were all survivors, in one way or another. Even though only four of the eight people sitting in his living room were directly involved in the E&E Games that would now live in infamy as the setting of the Inversion, David knew all eight of them had been affected by the tragedy. So far, no one had broached that subject directly, save for exchanging a few, ‘How are you feeling?’ questions for a few ‘Yeah, doing alright, thanks,’ answers and ‘you’re looking good’ comments. David made a conscious effort to take a good look at his pack members without letting them in on his wary, secret evaluations.

Asher moved stiffly. Sam acted a bit more clingy. Sweetheart sported dark circles under their eyes. Darling was suddenly tolerant of small-talk. Babe tried to hide their frequent yawning. Milo’s arms shook with fatigue as he gestured while talking. And Angel?

David looked on as Angel silently conducted their own survey of their friends with a look of steely determination that David presumed mirrored his own. A tingle of comfort and pride danced through his chest at the evidence that his mate cared for the pack with the same heightened level of protectiveness that he felt as the alpha. He loved them so much. His heart swelled with gratitude as he reflected on the fact that they had all made it out of the Inversion alive and mostly intact.

Angel’s voice jarred David out of his reflection. “Speaking of your delicious muffins,” they said, “I think it’s right about time for dessert! Don’t you, Davey?”

“If I said ‘no,’ would that matter?” David mockingly groaned. Truth be told, he had been craving a piece of the pineapple upside down cake ever since Angel had pulled it out of the oven.

“Not at all!” Angel gleefully declared, springing up from their seat. “Because it’s always time for dessert. Let me get the plates and silverware.”

“Oh, I can help you with that!” Milo volunteered brightly. He snapped the barcalounger into an upright position and hopped to his feet. “Wouldn’t want to take a chance of the pineapple upside down cake slipping through those butter fingers of yours. Then it would be pineapple right-side-up cake.”

"I think that would be just 'pineapple cake,'" Babe pondered.

“Just for that little comment, I’m going to make you carry the forks and plates,” Angel threatened as they disappeared into the kitchen with Milo.

“Ooh, pineapple upside down cake?” Asher licked his lips. “I really should supervise. Maybe volunteer to do any last-minute taste-testing.”

With Asher, Milo, and Angel in the kitchen and Babe and Sam fully engrossed in their chess game, David scooted over to the other edge of the sofa so that he could more easily talk with Darling and Sweetheart. “I didn’t get a chance to respond to your email yet, but I saw all that work you did on Quinn’s possible priors,” he said to Sweetheart. “It’s helpful to know his patterns because that lets us make more educated guesses as to where he’ll be and when. Thank you. That must’ve taken you days.”

Sweetheart was almost too stunned to speak when David’s words reached their ears. It wasn’t often that someone sought them out just to express gratitude. “I know I sent that information a little bit later than I said I would, but‒”

“Don’t you dare say ‘sorry,’” David warned. Despite the bravado Sweetheart often displayed, David could recognize the stealth’s tendency to aspire to a nearly impossible standard. It was an inclination David intimately understood. “I didn’t bring this up to call you out on an email being sent a day later than you planned. That’s not what this was about. Between the multiple disasters the Department is trying to control, the Inversion, Milo’s injuries, and your regular workload, I’m amazed you could even think about Quinn’s case, let alone make progress on it.”

“You’ve been working Quinn’s case?” Darling asked shyly. “Really?”

“They have,” David confirmed in a tone that left no room for argument. “And diligently so. I appreciate all your help with that case and your willingness to take it on. You’re doing an incredible service to the pack. I…” He snatched the throw pillow that separated him from Sweetheart and put it behind his back as a small gesture to show the stealth that he meant what he was saying. “I’m grateful for your help.”

“Me, too,” Darling remarked sincerely. “I hadn’t realized D.U.M.P. was taking my complaints seriously. After what happened earlier, I thought‒”

“What happened earlier should’ve never happened,” Sweetheart interrupted fiercely. “I’m sorry you were brushed aside then. I won’t let that happen again. D.U.M.P. made a mistake overlooking Quinn’s crimes.” Sweetheart gave Darling a little punch on the shoulder. “But it’s not a mistake I’ll duplicate. I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to protect you and to protect your pack.”

“Our pack,” David gently corrected.

Darling quickly nodded when they noticed a teeny hint of doubt flicker across Sweetheart’s face when David made that inclusive assertion. “Yeah, our pack.”

“Our pack,” Sweetheart responded, unable to keep from smiling. “Thank you.”

Confronted by both shifters, Sweetheart had no grounds to deny their claims. Not that they wanted to. The Shaw Pack had shown nothing but warm, inclusive acceptance to Sweetheart as they began a relationship with Milo. That acceptance only solidified once Sweetheart and Milo became mates. Sweetheart cherished the Shaw Pack, not just because they were Milo’s family, but because they had grown to view themselves as a part of that family, too. It meant the world to Sweetheart when they heard Darling and David say the Shaw Pack considered them to be a part of the family, too.

“Cake time!” Angel announced as they paraded into the room, holding the cake proudly.

“Looks amazing!” Asher beamed, holding a knife and spatula. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Yeah, well, at least wait until you have a fork and plate like a civilized person,” Milo ordered gruffly, clutching a pile of forks, napkins, and plates in his hands.

Everyone gathered around the coffee table so Angel could cut the cake. Milo made his way over to join his friends, but a thick wave of vertigo stopped him in his tracks. He squinted, recognizing the too-familiar feeling of a dizzy spell. “Aw, shit,” he groaned under his breath, not wanting to ruin the party with his post-Inversion condition. Milo felt a jolt of sudden heat vibrate along his threads, causing him to stumble a bit. The plates in his hand suddenly became heavier, slipping from his hands and onto the carpet. The forks and napkins soon followed as Milo struggled against the pounding in his head. He reached for something to take his weight, trying valiantly to keep himself upright, but his limbs lost the agility and strength he usually possessed. “I’m…” Milo shut his eyes in a futile attempt to make the room around him stop spinning. As Milo waited for his legs to give out completely, as they usually did when one of these dizzy spells hit him, he knew that collapsing onto the floor in a heap was inevitable.

But Milo never felt himself fall.

Two strong pairs of hands grabbed at both of his shoulders. Before he could figure out what was happening, Milo felt himself being guided towards the sofa. He clumsily tried to move his feet so he could do something, anything, to help himself fight through the vertigo, but all Milo could manage was to slump further to the ground.

“Hang on,” a deep, clipped voice echoed through the ringing in Milo’s ear. “You’re not going to fall. We’re right here.”

Something innate in Milo’s chest relaxed a bit at the knowledge that his alpha was there to help. “David?” he mumbled in a daze.

“Get his head between his knees and give him some space!” another voice ordered. It was Sam, Milo slowly realized. Sam must've been the other one to grab him so that he wouldn't fall face first onto the floor. There was a gruffness to Sam’s voice, but even that edge couldn’t erase the care with which the command was spoken. Without a second passing, Milo felt a large palm settle at the back of his head and push his head down towards his knees. “Deep breaths, Milo.”

Milo tried to obey, but it was as if his breath was being squeezed out of him, despite his attempts to drag in air.

“Focus on matching my breath with yours, hmm?” Babe encouraged, modeling the deep, full breaths they knew Milo needed to take in enough oxygen. “You can do it. That’s it,” they praised warmly once Milo began to do as they asked. “You’re doing good, Milo.”

David’s hand ruffled Milo’s hair a bit, but didn’t let up the pressure that kept Milo’s head between his trembling knees.

Remarkably, the breathing and the position did help Milo regain his senses. The movement of the room slowly disappeared and the pounding across his skull diminished to a dull ache. He still felt shaky and weak, but comparatively better. “I… I’m sorry,” Milo panted. “It still happens sometimes. Less than it did in the beginning, but ever since I… I…”

“No, don’t apologize,” Asher soothed in Milo’s ear, which made Milo aware of the fact that Asher was also right beside him, on his knees next to the couch. “You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

As Milo became more aware of his surroundings, he realized all eyes were on him as everyone hovered around the couch. “My core…” Milo continued to haphazardly explain. “It… I can’t…” The tears that pushed at the backs of his eyeballs took him by surprise and he fought to blink them away before any fell. He was embarrassed enough and couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down any further in front of his pack, especially his alpha and beta. "It's burning again. So hot, too hot…"

David huffed, understanding Milo’s disjointed statements perfectly. “Okay, okay now.” A sinking feeling formed in David’s gut as he wondered just what the hell Milo experienced when he forced himself into such a powerful ward. There was no doubt in David’s mind that the fact that Milo had lived through such an ordeal was a testament to his strength as a shifter and as a human.

“My threads, they’re burning… All over my body, I…” A moan overtook whatever it was Milo was attempting to say. “I can’t…”

“Sometimes ice packs help,” Sweetheart mentioned, their heart breaking as they saw Milo suffering. A sheen of sweat broke out all along his face and neck. “And, maybe a trash can. Just in case.”

“On it,” Darling declared, sprinting into the kitchen to retrieve the ice packs. Darling also darted into the bathroom to grab the empty waste basket, which they thoughtfully lined with a plastic bag. They returned in a flash, handing the ice packs to Sam and shoving the basket underneath Milo.

“How’s this feel?” Sam asked as he gingerly put an ice pack at the back on Milo’s neck. The chill seeped into his overheated body, offering a bit of relief.

“Better,” Milo sighed tiredly. “Thank you.”

David watched Milo carefully, noticing every muscle twitch and tense. He was so focused on Milo that he failed to notice Angel watching everyone, but especially David, closely, too.

Even without David ever giving them the slightest indication that he figured Milo might want a little bit of privacy, Angel stepped up to make that happen. “Maybe we oughta give Milo a little bit more space,” they suggested. “I think that might help put him at ease.”

Babe and Darling moved back a bit, fully intent on obliging Angel’s reasonable request.

“Plus, we can help you get started on the dishes from dinner,” Babe offered casually. They knew Milo wouldn’t want them to make a fuss over his discomfort, even if his discomfort warranted a fuss.

“Sure thing,” Darling agreed hastily. Sam bit back a smile, knowing full well that Darling’s hatred for washing dishes paled in comparison to their friendship with Milo.

As much as Babe, Darling, and Angel all aimed to support their partners through their traumatic experiences, they knew that process couldn’t be shouldered by just one person. They, along with Sweetheart, had discussed the prospect of having their partners all get together to hash out how they were feeling post-Inversion. If nothing else, they all figured, it might dispel some of the misinterpretations and self-doubt that bred so easily in the minds of survivors of any harrowing event.

“But…” Sweetheart said with uncertainty, eyes still glued to Milo and hand rubbing at his back.

David caught their hesitant gaze, jutting his chin towards the kitchen. “Go ahead,” the alpha assured them, a mix of confidence and compassion in the two simple words. “We’ll handle this. Don’t worry.”

Sweetheart was about to offer a rebuttal, but their stubbornness miraculously faded once they saw the steely look in David’s eyes. Milo needed his alpha and, Sweetheart gathered, David needed to help Milo. They saw firsthand how helpless and out of control David looked as he laid there at the makeshift healing station. It was a completely forgien, almost eerie, sight for the stealth to see that day, as were so many sights they took in as they made their way into the stadium after the shades were destroyed.

“If you’re sure,” they relented, patting Milo’s back. “I’ll be right in the next room if you need me,” Sweetheart whispered to Milo as they trudged away.

David did not take their trust lightly. “Of course,” he responded solemnly, throwing a wink to Angel as they nabbed Sweetheart's wrist and ushered everyone into the kitchen.

Sam rocked on his heels awkwardly, torn between staying with Milo until he felt better and not intruding on the wolves’ moment together. “Maybe I should go, too?” he proposed, about to stand up.

“Please stay,” Asher invited before Sam could get to his feet. “You’re part of this pack, too, Sam. And, like everyone else here, you know why this is happening to Milo.”

“Not only that,” David added, “You were there with us that day, part of the battle. We all fought so hard to make it out of there, so it’s only fair we stand together now, too.”

Sam ignored the lump in his throat, though he did stay put. “Sure thing.”

“I… I think it’s mostly passed now,” Milo choked out, slowly rolling up vertebrae by vertebrae until he was sitting. Asher adjusted a few pillows to help Milo stay propped up. David let his hand slide off of Milo’s head. “Thanks for…” Milo trailed off, unsure of what exactly to say.

“We should be thanking you,” David supplied to ease the thick tension that settled over the room. “Your sacrifice to break that ward is what saved us. And saved Dahlia. It’s a damn shame no one will ever know it.”

“I’m just glad it worked. I don’t want or need credit, David. I didn’t do it for a pat on the back or a parade.” Milo brushed off. “When that portal opened and the ward went back up… a-and I realized I wasn’t going to make it back into the stadium in time, I felt so helpless. So small. So worthless. I needed to find a way to help.”

David couldn’t stomach the idea of Milo thinking himself to be anything less than the strong, capable wolf he was. “You were anything but worthless,” David declared. “The Department gave us plaques and certificates and a whole fucking ceremony. They pinned that Medal of Valor on me with those trite speeches and empty promises,” David grumbled. “Little do they know the one who actually deserves the accolades wasn’t even in the stadium.”

Milo bristled under David’s praise. “If this got out to anyone at D.U.M.P., my mate could be fired on the spot and who knows, maybe I’d even be arrested. You can’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t,” David vowed. “None of us will.”

Asher and Sam added their agreement with nods and murmurs to promise the same.

“Thank you,” Milo repeated. He shivered, the ice packs contrasting sharply against the internal flames that licked at his threads.

Sam was quick to note Milo’s discomfort. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“A little, I guess,” Milo shrugged. "It's like, the outside of me is cold, but the inside is like lava." Without missing a beat, Sam removed the ice packs and tossed them onto the carpet. “The heat just comes up on me all at once, you know? And, at first, it would be for long stretches. Hours of just lying around, dizzy and sweaty and hotter than I’ve ever been. I’d take a sip of water, because I was sweating so much I was worried about dehydrating myself, but most times, I’d just hurl it up as soon as it went down my throat.”

“Sounds like sunstroke,” Sam diagnosed as he scratched his beard. “But the heat you’re feeling ain’t got nothing to do with the sun.”

“More like magic-stroke,” Asher termed. “Because the heat is from taking on all that magic at once.”

“The ice packs help,” Milo continued. “And when these ‘magic-strokes,’” he said, mimicking Asher’s voice and accent, “hit me now, they aren’t as bad, nor do they stick with me as long. But…” His gravelly voice cracked before he could hide it under a cough. “I still can’t shift. And every time I try, the shift fails and this is what happens. Plus all the sore muscles and exhaustion that normally comes with a failed shift.”

Asher frowned. “You’ll be able to shift again, man. You just gotta be patient. Your threads endured a level of magic that no human was ever supposed to take. They didn’t break then, and they’re not broken now.”

“There ain’t no reason to expect that would be permanent,” Sam reminded Milo. The vampire reached out, his hand just stopping short of Milo’s chest. “May I?”

Milo nodded, squelching the fear he always felt when anyone other than his mother performed any sort of healing magic on him.

Sam pressed his hand into Milo’s chest, reaching out with his magic, as if his aura could strum along Milo’s threads. Sam felt them there, and was more than a little relieved. The threads were taut and frayed. They would probably be tender if they were corporeal. But not broken. Sam could feel the wolf that resided within Milo’s aura was present and accounted for. “Mhmm. Just like the other healer said, your threads are intact,” Sam confirmed, removing his hand. “I know it’s slow-going, Milo. And I know that telling a shifter not to shift is like telling the sun not to rise.”

All three wolves nodded at Sam’s simile. They each understood what a difficult concept that was. The idea of losing, even if temporarily, that primal part of themselves was enough to make David and Asher want to shift on the spot, if only to assure themselves that they still could. Their wolf form was an intrinsic part of themselves. Once their powers manifested, it was nearly impossible to consider the ramifications of not being able to shift for an extended period of time. What did it mean to be a shifter who couldn’t shift? They couldn’t fathom such a tortuous existence. The only thing that kept them afloat was the fact that the healing student, Marie, and Sam all confirmed that Milo’s threads had been put through hell, but somehow, some way, they remained unbroken. And to an empowered human, those threads were the difference between magic and not.

“But,” Sam advised, his healer roots fully prominent in his tone. “You’ve got to hang in there a little longer.”

Milo swallowed. “I know,” he sighed, his whole body drooping. “I know it’s going to take time, but how much time? No one knows. And in the meantime, I’m just waiting endlessly and…” His breathing rate began to pick up again. “And it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard. And my mate is trying their best to help and I’m trying my best to be patient, but I don't know how much more of this I can take!” As Milo’s shoulders began to shake, the tears that had stayed at bay finally began to flow down his cheeks. “I could deal with the dizziness and the headaches and the fainting and this fucking painful, blistering heat if I knew there was an end in sight! But I don't. And that scares me. It really, really scares me.”

“Hey, hey,” Asher quickly soothed. He wrapped Milo in a strong hug, holding him close to his chest, not even considering the fact that Milo could probably feel his rough scars through his shirt. “It’s okay, Milo. It’s going to be okay. You’re doing something that is impossible for most shifters even to conceive of. It's okay now. You're okay.”

To David’s surprise, Milo didn’t cower away from Asher or attempt to hide his tears. He clung fiercely to his beta, the physical contact a welcome anchor amidst the churning sea of anxiety that threatened to drown him. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he squeaked into Asher’s chest. "I'm trying so hard, but how much longer will it be?"

“I don’t know how long it’ll be.” David hated to admit that as much as he knew Milo hated to hear it. He didn’t know. And there was no way he could possibly figure it out. “But I do know that you won’t have to wait alone,” the alpha told his pack member. “I know that your pack is right with you, every step of the way.” His hand snaked onto the back of Milo’s neck and gave him a light squeeze.

It was a comfort-spot for many shifters because it was where their scruff resided. Marie Greer was not shy about grabbing her cub and dragging him by his scruff at a moment’s notice and, much to David’s chagrin, neither was Gabe. As a wolf cub, David tried hard to quell those little whines of frustration that escaped his jowls when he went limp as Gabe picked him up by the scruff after deciding that it was time for David to come inside after a day of wolf-play. However, no matter how much a wolf cub balked at the idea of being carried around by their parents or an adult pack member, a warm feeling of belonging always seemed to accompany the maneuver. It was a tactile reminder that they were a part of the pack, wolves in their own right. Even though they had all grown out of being small enough for their scruffs to be of much use anymore, that part of themselves always held the ability to inscribe upon their bodies the ethereal, communal connections that came along with being part of a pack.

To have your alpha initiate that haptic signal was an overwhelming gesture of closeness and kinship. Milo soaked it in, not having realized how desperately he needed to feel that connection after he had been separated from them all by that stupid ward.

“We’re right here with you, Milo,” David whispered, the words rumbling through his chest. The weight of David’s hand on Milo’s neck remained a steady and strong reminder of the alpha’s presence, his trimmed nails skimming back and forth Milo’s skin. “You selflessly used your own body to make that ward drop because your family was trapped inside with those shades, even if we can’t ever officially acknowledge your bravery. You stepped into that ward alone once. We’re not going to let you fight this alone anymore.” David couldn’t help but feel his body magnetically pulled towards Asher and Milo, so he let his chin rest on top of Asher’s head and wrapped his other arm around Asher, squeezing him a little closer, as if to shield his pack against the world.

Sam patted Milo’s knee and, surprising himself, let his hand linger on Milo’s kneecap. “David’s right,” he drawled. “I know I’m not exactly in a position to be making any judgment calls about the Shaw Pack. I aint’ a shifter. I didn’t grow up in a pack. And I sure as hell don’t know the cultural and social expectations that come attached to pack life. But…” Sam shifted a bit closer to the huddle of wolves. “But I know a family when I see it, Milo. And this? You? Family, plain and simple. And family doesn’t let each other fight tough battles like this one alone.”

“Aww, Sammy!” Asher exclaimed, all choked up and unabashedly so. He took a fistful of Sam’s flannel shirt and pulled him closer. “Get in here. You’re part of this family, too!” The strength behind the quick yank betrayed Asher’s lithe build, but Sam knew better than to underestimate the beta when it came to strength and stamina.

“It’s Sam,” the vampire grumbled, though he had no intention of extricating himself from what had clearly turned into a group hug. “But, I’m mighty glad that you’d consider me part of the pack, too. Thank you, Alpha and Beta,” he said stoically, remembering that the official title was apropos when the situation called for reverence.

Milo felt himself buckle under the weight of his pack’s embrace, like it was the first time since stepping into that ward he could finally let himself feel the pure anguish he kept trying to shove down and bury deep within himself, or else risk losing his nerve to do what had to be done. But sitting there, surrounded by his pack as they held him until his physical discomfort passed, seemed to be doing wonders for the mental discomfort that was always on the periphery of his heightened senses. Even in his human form, Milo had never felt like more of a wolf as he burrowed his face into Asher’s chest or relaxed into the feeling of David’s hand massaging the many knots in his neck or feeling the stately rhythm of Sam’s breath against his dipped chin.

“Thank you,” Milo whispered, overwhelmed with a torrent of relief and gratitude that he and his family had survived such a terrible ordeal. “All of you. Thank you.”

David blinked quickly, heaving a sigh. “We’ll be right here with you, for as long as it takes.”

“Damn straight,” Asher tacked on.

“As long as no one calls me ‘Sammy’ again,” Sam warned playfully, though the sparkle in his silver eyes made it clear that he was only aiming to generate a little bit of levity after such a heavy moment.

“Just wait until Ash comes up with a more creative nickname for you,” David warned. He unwound his body from the embrace, though he wouldn’t admit how reluctant he was to do so. Everyone else followed suit.

“Yeah,” said Milo. “After that, you’ll be begging him to call you ‘Sammy.’”

“I’ll get to work on that,” Asher winked, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “I gotta get my creative juices flowing and I'll think of something catchy in no time.”

“Hmm,” Sam glared. “Not if you value your own magical threads.”

“Speaking of which,” David intervened, realizing he might need to steer the conversation away from that potential train wreck. “Sam, how difficult is it to check someone’s threads with magic, like you did earlier?” he asked tentatively. “I’ve been trying to keep up with the little healing magic you showed me that day. I want to keep up that skill. Improve it, if I can."

"Wow," Sam said. "That's great to hear, David. Checking threads ain't too hard at all, with a little practice and concentration."

"Then, if that’s not too difficult of a move, I was wondering if you could show me how sometime, please?” David’s brow furrowed. “Because then, at least I’d be able to monitor your threads, Milo. I know your mate and your mother do a good job with that, but, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to help, too.”

“Sure, sure,” Sam agreed. “As long as that’s alright with Milo.”

Milo nodded instinctively. “Of course it’s alright,” he confirmed, sensing Sam needed to hear verbal consent. “I trust you, David. And, maybe once my own magic gets straightened out, I could brush up on some of my own healing magic? I know the basics, but it wouldn't hurt to learn more.”

"Not until you have a clean bill of health," David cautioned. "And that clean bill of health needs to come from your mother. I figure if she says you're fine for magical activity, then you must be in tip-top shape. We all know she can be quite overprotective."

"Especially when it comes to her youngest cub," Asher mocked.

Milo rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he grunted. "I seem to remember you howling for her a time or two when we were growing up."

"Sounds like healing duties kept Marie pretty busy," Sam observed.

"Yeah," Asher confirmed. "And believe me when I say, Sam, no one was safe. Not even your mate! Marie would literally have to chase them down sometimes, but she'd always catch them and insist on healing them." Asher paused thoughtfully. “Can I get a healing lesson, too?” He straightened his spine a bit. “I want to know if, if there ever comes a day that the situation is reversed, that you can depend on me,” he told David as he pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “That our pack can depend on me, too.”

“Sure thing,” Sam agreed encouragingly. “Happy to do it.”

David found himself biting the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit that he’d developed during childhood and carried into adulthood. He never bothered to break it because it was a rare type of habit that wasn’t visually obvious. “I think it’s great you’re interested in learning some healing first aid, but the pack’s ability to depend on you was never in doubt, Ash. Never.”

“I think it is,” Asher admitted hesitantly. “At least, it is in my head sometimes.” He shrugged, as if to pretend that confession wasn’t a big deal, though neither David, Milo, nor Sam were fooled. “You got hurt up there after I was injured. I just… If things had been different, if I hadn’t let those shades get the drop on me, or maybe if I had been able to heal faster, maybe I could’ve prevented that. You were all alone up there, Buddy. I don’t…” Asher’s throat swelled. “I can’t let that happen again.”

“Asher.” David rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You didn’t let that happen the first time. None of it. Not one of my injuries was your fault. At all. Do you hear me?” Rather than wait for a response, David clapped a hand on Asher’s shoulder, silently bidding him to look into David’s clear, blue eyes. “None of it. You saved my ass time and time again that day. I couldn’t possibly ask for a better, more dependable beta than you. Getting injured isn’t a testament to your shortcomings, if that’s what your brain is trying to tell you. It’s a testament to your loyalty to this pack.” He chomped down on his cheek hard enough to leave indentations from his teeth, hoping his words would sink into Asher’s mind.

“Hell, I wasn’t even there and I know you fought tooth and nail, Ash,” Milo interjected. “Because that's what you do. That's who you are. There ain’t no one in this pack who deserves to be beta more than you do. And I was sure of it from day one. But after this?” Milo whistled. “No question.”

Asher cleared his throat, flustered and unnerved at the genuine praise from his pack that somehow quelled the otherwise-constant voice in his head that he needed to prove himself worthy of his title.

"By your logic, Asher, that would mean your injuries were my own fault, because I should've kept you safe as your alpha," David explained. "Is… Do…" He tried to steady the shake out of his voice. "If you feel that's true, I wouldn't blame you."

"I don't!" Asher yelped. "At all, David. That thought never even crossed my mind. We both knew the risks. And we both held our own against those shades. I've never even considered blaming you for something that you had no control over. Not for a second," Asher lectured passionately. "And I-"

"Then apply that same logic to yourself," David advised him coolly.

Asher's mouth snapped shut.

“Take it from me, Asher. I’ve seen some bad injuries in my time. A lot of them. Yours should’ve killed you. No two ways about it. If your injuries and scars are going to indicate anything about you, let them indicate your strength. Your fortitude. Your fidelity. Your endurance. Because that’s what they symbolize.”

“I… I…” Asher stuttered. “Thank you.” He gave David a short nod before acknowledging Milo and Sam. “I was just taking after my alpha.”

“That’s not necessary of you to say,” David tried to wave off. “Really, I…”

“Oh, come on, now,” Milo chided. “You gotta be kidding yourself if you think we’re not going to tip our hats to our fearless leader.” He slapped David on the back. “You made an impossible call that day, David. And you made the right one. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been in the moment, or how hard it must be now, trying to make sense of something so… nonsensical. But you did it. And we’re around to tell the tale because of you. So let’s not forget that.”

To hear Milo, someone who had been injured as a result of the Inversion, so candidly approve of his choice had David feeling lighter than he had since before signing the contract to provide security for the E&E Games.

“Luckily, ain’t no one here the forgetful type,” Sam quipped, the last few vestiges of his anxiety over his vampiric immortality shrinking in size. He knocked on his head for good measure. "These memories are safe in my thick skull."

“A thick skull and a steady hand,” David complimented. “You could’ve just holed up somewhere and waited for everything to stop. The shades never would’ve touched you. Instead, you didn’t think twice about helping the cause, and draining yourself of energy in the process. I’ll always be thankful you were there with us, Sam. Your friend Vincent, too.”

“We were happy to be able to help,” Sam said automatically. “And we’d do it again in a heartbeat if there was a need.” His inhale hitched a bit. “I hope there’s never a need again.”

“You and me both,” David sighed.

“Add my name to that list,” Milo slyly suggested.

“Where do I sign?” Asher smiled.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, but that silence was cut short when a voice belonging to a certain alpha’s mate burst “I’ll sign twice!” from the kitchen.

“Shut up!” Sweetheart hissed. “You’re going to blow our cover!”

Just then, Darling, in their wolf form, no less, toppled through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. They somersaulted over themselves, scrambling to get upright and shift back into their human form. “Umm… oops,” they said sheepishly. “But, I’d be willing to sign that petition, as well?”

Without warning, Sweetheart quickly phased through the swinging door, bringing Angel and Babe along with them. “Amateurs,” they whispered, pinching the bridge of their nose.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault! My hearing is better when I’m shifted,” Darling defended hotly. “And that door looks a lot more stable from inside the kitchen.”

“See? Magic can be more trouble than it’s worth sometimes,” Babe criticized with a knowing smirk. “The unempowered human was the one who thought of using a glass at the wall!” They held up the tall glass to support their point. “And I heard everything.”

“Hell yeah, Babe!” Asher whooped, until a look from David instantly quieted him. "You make your own kind of magic."

David glared, putting up the image of annoyance more than actually feeling it. “So are the four saying you eavesdropped on us?”

“We’re saying that we took it upon ourselves to keep informed of the ongoing situation and conversation, vis a vis, this living room,” Angel diplomatically described, their nose turned up with the knowledge that David knew exactly what they were saying and would never stay mad at that.

“Hmm, that’s a bunch of doubletalk bullshit if I ever heard it,” Sweetheart marvelled. “Have you ever thought about pursuing a career at the Department?”

“Don’t tempt them,” David cautioned, eyeing his mate.

“Well, from where I sit, I think those four all did us a favor,” Sam noted. “They saved us the trouble of having to explain what happened later. Because you know that’s exactly what we’d be doing.” He flashed a quick, fanged smile to Darling, silently asking them to join him on the floor, which they did. “I'm not embarrassed to say I've been finding solace in that recently. You make me feel like I can get through this, Darlin'. I love you. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you in my life.” He captured their hand in his, a devilish look flitting across his mouth. He drew their interlocked hands to his mouth and kissed the back of their hand.

Asher giggled. “That’s true, you know,” he remarked, getting a bit more serious. “I… I always tried to be open and honest with my mate, but since this whole Inversion thing? Hell. I lean on them like never before. Tell them all sorts of things. I… I couldn’t do this without them.” He opened his arms to invite Babe to sit on his lap. As soon as they did, Asher kissed their cheek. “Thank you, Babe. I love you so fucking much.”

“I imagine we’ve all been leaning on our mates in ways we never imagined before. I know I have.” David agreed. Angel quickly took a seat on the arm of the couch next to him, which prompted David to loop an arm around their shoulders and press a kiss to their forehead. “I love you, Angel.”

Milo stretched his hands in front of him, seeking Sweetheart. They joined him instantly, sitting close. It wasn’t long before Milo had a hand at the small of their back. “You already know you’re what gets me up in the morning and what keeps me up at night,” he commented. “But I hope you know what an incredible help you’ve been to me all this time, Sweetheart. I love you.” He kissed them softly, relishing their taste on his lips and their presence in his life.

“I’m glad that we’ve all got each other to help us figure this shit out,” Sweetheart said. The communal dynamic gave them a warmth that so sharply contrasted against the isolation they had imposed on themselves. “And even if no one else will ever know how brave you were that day or recognize the part you played in stopping the Inversion, at least the most important people in your life do.”

David snapped his fingers, pointing at Sweetheart. “You know something? You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He shrugged out of Angel’s grasp and took wide strides into his bedroom, raising his voice so everyone could still hear him. "There won't ever be a public ceremony for Milo, but…" He rummaged around what sounded like a full drawer. "We can have a private one right here, right now."

Before anyone had the chance to ask where David was going or what he meant by that, he returned with something clutched in his palm.

“Milo, I… I want you to have this.” David opened his palm to reveal a bronze medal dangling from a short, green ribbon that hung around his index and middle fingers. “It’s my Medal of Valor.”

“What?” Milo gasped. “David, no. No way. I can’t take that. You deserve that medal. You were the one who closed the ward and kept Dahlia safe.”

Everyone else looked on in silence, each hoping Milo would accept the token of David’s appreciation. They knew David certainly deserved the medal and the accolades that went along with it. But they also knew how David fidgeted while receiving the medal and the memories that he no doubt associated with the Department’s award.

“I’m trying hard to view my part in the Inversion in that positive light,” David said, earning him a supportive arm rub from Angel. “I, like the rest of the pack trapped inside, also received commendations. We were a team.” He threw a hard glance at Asher. “That suffices for me. Your mate is right when they said no one will ever know of your service to Dahlia that day. But we will, and we won’t forget here. We also need to honor you, too. You deserve it. Please, let us do that.”

Milo struggled to steady his trembling lip. “O…okay,” he agreed, timidly. “Thank you.”

David carefully pinned the Medal of Valor to Milo’s shirt. “Milo Anthony Greer, your bravery and heroic actions went above and beyond the call of duty, saving many lives in the process,” David recited, just as the Department Commissioner had said to him. “Thank you.”

In awe, Milo thumbed the circular disk proudly, unable to say a word.

When Angel noticed Milo's growing shyness, they decided to take the pressure off Milo and began applauding. Everyone else instantly joined in, leaving Milo to bask in the glow of their appreciation.

When their applause finally died down, Asher chased any possibility of awkwardness to settle over the room. “So, how about that pineapple upside down cake?” he asked expectantly.

Everyone continued to chatter about their excitement over the dessert and gathered around to cut the cake as they acquired the knife to cut the cake, plates, and forks.

"Looks like a professional baked it!" Sam admired.

“Can I get a piece with a cherry, please?” Darling politely requested.

Babe pointed at a section of the cake. “Ooh, a corner piece for me, please! I love the edges.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Milo rebuked just as Angel was about to cut him a slice. “Don’t be stingy. You can give me a bigger piece than that.”

“Do you have any whipped cream in your fridge?” Sweetheart wondered, already moving towards the kitchen.

David admired the way Angel took all of their friends’ enthusiastic clamoring in stride, expertly doling out pieces of cake without getting anyone’s order wrong or dropping one crumb. He sat back, watching the scene before him and simply savoring every minute of it. His family was here with him, safe and healing. His mate was by his side. As a family, they were all just as ready to cry together as they were to laugh together. Somehow, they had all found strength and support in each other. Even if so much of their world seemed to be in such disarray, their bonds had withstood that test and somehow gotten even stronger in the face of a horrific tragedy. They’d navigate this unchartered territory of their post-Inversion life together as a pack, just like they always had.

And, David surmised with a smile, that felt completely and absolutely normal for the Shaw Pack.