Transformation

[Acorn]

A few? He wanted the whole case. He wanted to sit on his ass, dig his toes into the sand, and drink himself to oblivion. As soon as he heard the crack and ensuing hiss of a can being opened, he went over to where Nate stood and snagged the beer from his hand. He chugged it, then exchanged his empty can for the second Nate had opened in the meantime.

"Really?"

Leon held a finger up as he took several long pulls, and Nate rolled his eyes.

He'd had a single glass of wine throughout the travesty that was dinner, though he'd desperately wanted a refill. Rita's mother had watched them like a hawk, and he hadn't wanted to risk her thinking he had a problem. She'd already decided it was an issue that Rita hadn't spent the rest of her life in mourning, and he'd been the one to push her past being sad all the time — she didn't need more ammo for all her underhanded comments. If she looked out the window to where they gathered now, though, he'd be fucked.

Maybe when he thought back on this exact night in a few years, he'd laugh at the absurdity of being twenty-five and ducking his girlfriend's mother while he tried to achieve a buzz in the shortest amount of time possible. Why hadn't they brought liquor? Hadn't any of them heard the phrase liquor is quicker?

He finished off the second beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then blew out a burst of air forcefully enough to send his lips flapping like a horse's. Nate had opened another can, and when Leon looked at him, he turned away, guarding the beer in his arms.

"Fuck off. You can open your own."

So he did. He opened his third can, tucked a fourth unopened under his arm, and plopped himself down onto the ground. Leon pulled off his shoes so he could wiggle his toes into the sand; it was still warm from the day's sun, and dry since they were so far up from the water. Nate handed the can he'd saved to Becca, and she smiled sweetly at him before she came to sit on the side of the fire pit that Leon was on. It was the best view: facing towards the ocean and the sky that was already turning orange, like a giant fucking mango, or some pumpkin pie. They hadn't brought snacks, had they?

Rita worked efficiently to get the fire going, and once she turned from it, he held an arm out and waved her towards him.

"C'mere," he said with a grin, and gave her the beer he'd nabbed for her, then wrapped his around her shoulders after she'd settled.

Now, he could breathe. His head had started to tingle pleasantly, Rita was at his side, his toes were in the sand, and he still had another beer to finish before he begged Nate to toss him another.

"Will you tell us about Chase now?"

"What the hell, Becca?" Leon laughed. "We just sat down. Sun hasn't even set yet."

"Sorry!" she said quickly. "I— I thought... I don't know. Sorry. But seriously. Will you tell us?"

 

[Meraki]

Rita finished up making the fire when Leon beckoned her over warmly. Part of her had been scared that when they visited and the storm that was her mother hit, he would be upset with her. It was an irrational fear, but Rita understood just who her mother was and how she could make people feel, so she was afraid that Leon would resent her for dragging him into this, but to see his arm outstretched and that goofy grin, Rita settled beside him and curled into his side contently. It wasn't so bad – at least, when they were away from her mother it wasn't. The house was warm, the beach beautiful, and there was just a beautiful air of being free that fell over her. No Enforcers for miles and miles, just her little family and her parents on the beachfront.

She took the beer graciously and cracked it open and only took a sip, but when Becca mentioned Chase, Rita threw it back like her college days and beckoned for Nate to toss her another. He didn't hesitate to and Rita caught it in her hands before cracking it and starting in on it. There weren't any words necessary for it – it wasn't an easy story to tell.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Rita said a bit sheepishly, "I never wanted to throw that on you guys, but as we pulled up I realized that all of this would be impossible to deal with or understand. I shouldn't have just dropped that bomb."

"Chase was my fiancé, before I met Leon," she added, realizing how much easier it was to tell the story compared to when she told Leon. She remembered shaking, feeling impossibly small and embarrassed. Leon had held her then, much tighter than he was holding her now, but he had helped her heal. Now, it wasn't so much an open wound as it was a part of her story. It made her who she was. "We met when I moved to the city right out of high school. I had a full track scholarship to university and I met him within the first few weeks of being there. We were together for, god, almost eight years? I know this probably sounds crazy to you two, but before all this, I was just working public relations for a high profile company. I didn't know about werewolves or witches or vampires. I was just busy living my life – but one night, Chase was at the office late and he called me, told me he was gonna be late and to not wait up. I went to bed and he hopped on the subway like any other night, but it was a full moon."

"One of the guys on the train—"

"Was a werewolf," Nate finished for her, voice quiet.

"Yeah," she nodded, "he, uh, transformed and went after a woman and child on the train, but Chase threw his phone at him and got his attention to try and save them. He – that was it. He didn't stand a chance."

"Your parents don't know," Nate added.

"How do you know?" Becca asked, turning to him with curious eyes.

"Well she told me once that her parents didn't know anything about supernaturals," Nate remarked in a gentle tone, "So, what did the Enforcers make them think?"

"They didn't make them think anything. I did. After he was killed, Jenny got in contact with me and brought me into the facility to identify Chase's body. She explained to me what really happened, I've seen the footage – and she told me that to everyone else, it had to be spun as a subway accident. She had me call his parents, my parents, and before long she offered me a job as an Enforcer. She told me that I could help stop innocent lives from being lost, that I could help them strengthen the bond between supernaturals and humans. After losing Chase, after losing everything, I needed something to cling to. Some sort of purpose, so I joined. I quit my job, the funeral passed, and I took up as an Enforcer, completely ignorant to what was happening beneath the surface."

"Until I met Leon," Rita smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "and he taught me how to open my eyes again."

 

[Acorn]

Leon sat quietly and drank his beer while she told her story, staring at the sunset that soon took on shades of the flames, but remembering and seeing Rita in her long, black gown, tied to a chair and sobbing as she watched the video Lorelei had played her of Chase's death. When she told them about the last night Chase had been alive, and how he'd gone into the subway car and then been attacked by a werewolf, she shared what she'd seen herself. What they'd both seen.

He also thought of the night on the rooftop, when he'd held her after she'd said she'd been dishonest with him, that she hadn't been upfront about her reasons for becoming an Enforcer. Until then, she'd always alluded that she'd gotten into the program because she'd been involved in public relations, and Jenny had wanted her skills to help smooth things over between supernaturals and humans. While her experience and education had made her attractive enough to Jenny to make an offer of employment, it'd been anger and aimlessness that'd driven her to accept.

He hadn't cared, though. Not then, and not now.

When they'd met, she'd been kind to him despite having every reason to hate him. She'd bandaged and cared for him, and if he was honest with himself, there'd been a spark of something there for him in that very moment. An angry woman without goodness at her core like Rita had would've left him there in his containment unit to bleed out. They wouldn't have given him a second thought. But Rita had. And she'd kept coming back to visit him even after that.

She kissed his cheek and he squeezed her tightly against him in a hug, then twisted to kiss the side of her head in return.

"How did you meet?" Becca asked, and Leon looked over at her. The redhead sat with her arms wrapped around her bent legs, leaned over with her chin resting on the tops of her knees, and she had that same look on her face she had when he'd caught her watching Beauty and the Beast last.

"It's not romantic," he warned, and she scoffed. She had been hanging out with Nate a lot, hadn't she?

Leon laughed and finished his beer, then called for another. Once he had it open and had taken a sip, he cleared his throat.

"Alright," he said. "I fucked up one full moon and didn't make it to the facility before I started changing. Rita and her partner, they're the ones who brought me in." He settled his can of beer in the sand and reached up to pull the collar of his t-shirt aside, revealing the long scar on his shoulder. "First time Rita put eyes on me, she shot me. Sorry, grazed me. I think we're back to that, aren't we?" Leon released his shirt and took his beer up again, then nudged into Rita and smiled. "Anyway, when I wake up back in my containment unit, I'm bleeding from my shoulder, then from two more holes Rita's partner put in my thigh. Rita comes in with a first aid kit and bandages me up. That's how we met."

"How is that not romantic?" Becca asked, wide-eyed.

"I don't know Becca, maybe we've got different ideas of what romantic is. Getting shot ain't romantic."

"But she came back for you!"

"She did."

"That's romantic."

He looked at Rita with raised eyebrows. "Whataya say? I don't know I trust the opinion of someone who only watches Disney movies."

"Hey! I watch other things… sometimes."

 

[Meraki]

The way they met wasn't romantic, not really. Gunshots, mortality, fear – it was less than romantic. But, she remembered little moments from that first meeting that stuck with her all these months and she was sure would stick with her for the rest of her life. Leon looked to her and asked her thoughts, but Rita just smiled. "Maybe the circumstances weren't romantic, but the way you looked at me was," she said knowingly, immediately pulling a squeal from Becca's lips. The girl was a hopeless romantic, to be sure, but she was right to an extent. There were moments in between the bad that were romantic, that were brilliant and life changing.

"And might I add," Rita said, looking up to Leon with a playful huff, "after being properly shot, I definitely grazed you. If the bullet wasn't inside of you, it's a graze."

They all laughed and Nate took a sip of his beer, looking up at the two, "So wait, lemme get this straight. Chase was killed by a werewolf and now you're dating one?"

"I'm sure there's got to be a clever bumper sticker somewhere for that one," Rita chuckled.

"How do you even do that?" he scoffed, "I could never have anything to do with an Enforcer."

"Well, technically, you have something to do with me, so you already have."

Nate rolled his eyes, "It's different."

"It's really not," Rita shrugged, "I don't know. Everyone just needs to realize that you have to let a person's character speak for themselves, not who they are or what they are."

"Yeah, yeah," Nate muttered, but she knew he understood her words. He tossed her another beer and grabbed one for himself, while Becca still nursed her first. "Anyhow, dead fiancés and warm-fuzzy feelings aside, we're on a fucking beach. Let's lighten the mood up a bit, huh? The water warm?"

"Yeah, but like hell you're getting me in it," Rita laughed, "I am not drunk enough."

"I will!" Becca jumped up and tugged Nate by the arm, beer still in her hand, "C'mon!"

The two kids started running towards the sunset lit shores and into the breaking surf. It was late enough in the year where the current wasn't too strong, so they kicked happily in the froth of the waves. Rita smiled as she watched them, the alcohol buzzing in her system as she kept drinking. "Not to say I told you so," Rita smiled knowingly up at Leon, "but I definitely told you that Nate was a good kid."

 

[Acorn]

"Really?" Leon's eyebrows dipped as he cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. "I don't recall such a thing happening. Not once."

The first time they'd encountered Nate, they'd nearly hit the deer he'd been chasing in wolf form and without hesitation, Rita had gotten out of the car and followed after him. Into the woods. At night. After they'd waited him out, Nate had shifted back, and even then, Rita had been quick to see past his spitting anger to the heart beneath. She'd never given up hope that they'd get past Nate's gruff exterior. He had. He'd wanted to take Nate back to the woods they'd found him in, but she'd been right to persist.

He glanced over to where Nate and Becca ran, laughing and high-stepping through the surf like long-legged foals.

They weren't paying them any mind.

Leon put his beer aside and reached over to capture the side of Rita's face in his palm, then leaned over to kiss her; it started out slowly, though not at all tentatively, and he relished the familiar feel of her lips on his. Within the span of a dozen rapid heartbeats, the kiss had deepened and he dropped his hand to her waist.

He pulled back abruptly, then came to his feet and reached down to pull on her hands. "Come on," he said laughingly, "can't let them have all the fun."

Rita protested, but Leon, with alcohol humming through his head, persisted. He managed to get her up just enough that he stepped forward and then hefted her over his shoulder. With time and helping hand from Becca's magic, her wound had healed, so he wasn't concerned that he'd hurt her, but he did remain standing with her long enough to determine that she wouldn't flip him right back onto his ass. She put up a fight, kicking and shoving at him, but it was playful and peppered with gasped laughter. His grin was wide as he jogged her towards the water's edge.

"Like hell, huh?" he teased.

He continued into the ocean, past the rolling surf, until the water reached his chest and then unceremoniously plopped her into the water.

 

[Meraki]

After their little romp in the water, Leon had managed to finish the case of beer and drag her loving and drunk back towards her childhood bedroom. Becca and Nate had slipped off without a word, which made Rita smile, and when she woke up the next morning entangled in Leon's embrace, she hoped they managed to feel some semblance of the peace that she felt. Her alarm only had to go off once for her to reach over in the tangle of Leon's limbs to shut it off. He did not budge and she looked up to see him knocked out cold by the drinking the previous night. She wasn't surprised, but she saved him the agony of waking and pressed a kiss to his forehead as she slipped out and changed into a pair of leggings and an old t-shirt.

Just like clockwork – every morning – her dad was downstairs, leaning up against the counter waiting. She could have been in high school again, nothing had changed. "C'mon kid," he clapped her on the shoulder and the two of them made their way out onto the beach in the early morning long before the sun rose. "Let's see if you can still beat your old man."

It was like riding a bike, the high of the run hitting her and the speed coming with the muscle memory in her legs. She kept a good few paces ahead of her dad, all the while the sun began to rise ever so slightly over the horizon. Give me a sprint for the last leg! He called out to her and she felt her body respond as it had for years and years of his coaching. She sped up, pulling further and further ahead until she reached the rocks stretched out into the water. She slowed her pace and came to a stop with her hands on her hips, breathing in and out. "Damn," her dad called out as he came up behind her, fiddling with the timer on his watch, "Shaved some good time off that sprint."

"Told you," she laughed, a breathy tired sound.

The two of them stood there for a moment, catching their breath and sitting on the edge of the rocks looking out on the sunset. They would make their way back, but they always just took a moment to enjoy the beach and sunset. "He seems like a nice guy," her dad finally said, but Rita didn't even look over at him and kept her eyes on the sunrise. "He is," she replied.

"You love him?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I do. Enough to risk bringing him to meet mom."

"Yeah, you were fucked the minute you walked in," he chuckled.

There was a crash of a wave and silence for a few moments before the next broke.

"Listen, Rita—" he spoke, clearly uncomfortable, "I'm no good at this."

"I know, Dad," she turned to him finally and offered him a soft smile, "You don't have to be."

"Just – y'know, I'm your Dad and all a Dad ever wants is to know his daughter is happy. You seem real happy. I'm, uh…I'm glad."

They were simple words, but for her dad they spoke a million. His hand patted her shoulder affectionately and turned to press a quick kiss to his cheek. They were similar, more so than Rita ever gave him credit for. While Rita didn't avoid emotions, she tried to hold them back for the sake of those around her and she processed differently than her mother. Her father never asked questions, never pushed, and it brought her more clarity than anything. "Thanks, Dad," she smiled, "Now come on, I know those old man bones have more speed in them than that."

/

By the time dinner rolled around, Rita had showered and spent the day with Leon and the kids out on the beach. It was a beautiful day, one that she hated to see go, knowing that they would leave just after dinner the next day. As a kid, Rita wanted nothing more than to get out of her small hometown, but she loved the view, she loved being near the ocean, and it almost made her miss New Orleans. Strange how the place had become more of a home than anything these past few weeks.

Her mother had made a spread, as always, and there seemed to be a little less tension than nights prior. They all sat down at the table and served one another, chatting and laughing before her mother interjected with a clink of her glass as if she were going to give a toast and she smiled. "Where are my manners? I know we're not always so good about it, but tonight seems a befitting night to say grace, don't you think?" She clasped her hands together and began to speak over the table.

"Heavenly father, we thank you for this food and the chance to spend the evening with family. We ask that you continue to bless us, both those here and those we have lost. Amen."

Rita felt her stomach drop at the comment, but made no mention of it and instead turned to her wine glass. She wouldn't do this tonight, would she? Tonight of all nights? She started into her food and held Leon's hand under the table, not in a vice grip but as a lifeline of comfort and familiarity. Today, more than anything, she wanted him close to her. The dinner went on for a few more minutes, awkward silence turning into gentle and almost pleasant conversation before silverware clattered to the table and her mother slammed her napkin down.

"Angela?" her dad said, though made no move to get up.

Her mother looked frazzled as she pushed herself standing. "I just cannot do this," she breathed out incredulously as her eyes immediately found Rita, "Do you even know what day it is, Rita?"

"Mom," Rita said, her voice dangerously low as she tried to keep her eyes on her food, "Don't."

"Well, I am sorry, Rita, but I just cannot sit idly by as you lie to yourself. One year today, Rita. It has been one year since Chase was killed. But you do not say amen after the prayer, you do not mention him all day, and I have not once heard to mention calling his poor family. His parents loved you, Rita, how could you just forget all of that? Is that what this is? Did you just forget?"

For the first time in a long, long time, Rita felt anger rise up inside of her. She squeezed Leon's hand and tried to breathe. In through her nose, out through her mouth, as she took a sip of her wine.

"Angela, not now," Frank said sternly.

"If not now, then when, Frank? When am I supposed to ask my daughter if she is capable of feeling damn near anything?!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Rita snapped and slammed her hand down against the table. "What kind of mother asks that of her daughter?"

"You will watch your language in my house, Rita."

"I will not," she said firmly, "not when you have your head up your ass, and have for a year."

"Well excuse me for thinking so!" her mother exclaimed, "What was I supposed to think, Rita? I have not seen you shed a single tear, I have not heard from you in an entire year! For all I know, you didn't even really love him, Rita! Heck, that's what it seems like!"

That was it, that was the moment something audibly snapped in Rita and her green eyes went wide. "How dare you? Of course I loved him. I loved him with every single fucking ounce of my being and losing him broke me, mother. It shattered me so deeply that I couldn't breathe most days. I never stopped seeing it, I never stopped hearing his voice in my head. You're right, I wasn't sad at the funeral. I was still in shock. Shock because I lost my entire fucking world that day and I had no idea who I was anymore. I was empty. I was broken and you looked at me like a fucking freak. For all you know, I didn't even really love him? How can you even say that to me? How can you say that to your daughter?"

"Because he was a son to me!" she screamed, "I lost a child that day!"

"And what about me mom?!" Rita looked up at her, tears welling up in her eyes, "I'm your child!"

"Sometimes I wonder!"

The words from her mother's lips were like an atomic bomb, decimating everything in its path and turning everything to ash. Rita stared at her mother, mouth hanging slightly agape in surprise and she heard her father's silverware hit the table.

 

[Acorn]

Leon had some misgivings about the speech Rita's mom gave before she said grace (why was tonight more befitting than any other night?), but he'd lowered his head obediently when the prayer started, closed his eyes, and murmured amen when it ended. On the surface, there was nothing wrong with the prayer: it was a nice sentiment, asking for continued blessings for those who'd passed, but something about it left him feeling unsettled. He had his suspicions, but when he looked at Rita, he couldn't judge anything by her expression because she'd masked it with her wine glass.

When silence stretched into a semblance of the conversation they'd been having before dinner kicked off, Leon took his fork and began picking at his food, but he barely tasted the few pieces he brought to his mouth. He could feel bad tingly in the air, as Becca called it. Not magic, but tension that built and built until finally Angela threw her silverware and napkin to the table. He straightened in his chair as she came to her feet, put down his fork, and watched her warily with Rita's hand gripped tightly in his.

Like one of the hurricanes well known in those parts, Angela whirled and roared, and rather than run for shelter, Rita stood in the face of the wind and the debris and she fought back. He was proud of her for standing up to her mother, for not letting her get away with what she said. Angela had been making comments throughout their time there that, on the surface, looked like the legitimate concern and care of a mother for her daughter, but closer inspection revealed something far less benign.

She'd needed a way to let Rita know that she wasn't happy with her without actually saying it.

At one point, after asking how long Rita had been with him, she'd mentioned being relieved that Rita hadn't been on her own for long, but she'd made a judgment about the length of time Rita had gone between Chase and him, and that was her way of letting Rita know she disapproved. It was clever, when he thought about it, because even if Rita had confronted her, she could've backed away and pointed to it just being a mother being concerned for her daughter

After Angela spat her last bit of poison at Rita, Leon shifted and scooted his chair closer to Rita. He released her hand, but only so he could wrap his arm around her. With his remaining hand, he reached across his lap to twine his fingers with hers.

"Mrs. Mason," he said, his voice only loud enough to be heard across the table. She looked at him sharply and he remembered belatedly that she'd requested he call her Angela. He didn't correct himself, though, because it still felt too familiar. "When Rita told me it'd been a year since she'd seen y'all, I wondered why. If I'd lost someone I loved like Rita did, I would've driven straight to my grandma and I would've put it all out there for her to help pick up. She would've done it 'cause she knows that's what I need from her."

He took a deep breath through his nose and released it loudly. He'd half expected that she'd jump in with retort or some defense of herself as soon as he paused, but the woman seemed shocked into silence, so he continued.

"Now I know Rita didn't come back because you wouldn't have been able to give her what she needed, and the only reason you can't do that is because you don't know what she needs. You assume she didn't love Chase 'cause she didn't grieve for him the same way you did? She's a different person. She's gonna do things differently. She needs different support. She's still your daughter, she's still part of you, but she's not you."

"You might start by asking her what she needs."

 

[Meraki]

Chase had never stood up for her like that.

For the first time, Rita was actually surprised by Leon's actions and looked to him as he firmly put her mother in her place. Mind you, Chase had never needed to stand up to Angela. Her comments were always met with a perfect retort and he would diffuse the situation. When Rita would get frustrated with her mother, Chase would wrap his arms around her and tell her that there was no reason to dwell. It was just how her mother was and Chase would give her a call to smooth it over. Never about the situation at hand, but just for a little small talk that appeased her. But to hear Leon call her out, to firmly plant his feet in beside her, she was overwhelmed.

He's always told her that he was on her side, that he would defend her and stand by her through any storm, but her mother was a fucking hurricane – yet still he stood, holding her beside him.

It wouldn't fix anything, her mother would just come back with a million excuses but Rita noted the way her dad seemed to relax and look at Leon. He never looked at Chase like that, like he was certain no matter what happened, someone would stand up for his baby girl. "I appreciate your concern for my daughter, Leon, but quite frankly it's not your place to be in this conversation. I'm talking to my family."

"And he's my family," Rita said finally, her voice coming back and standing strong in her position beside him, "I am not going to stand here and listen to this. Leon's right – I'm not you. I have never been you and that's never been enough for you. Ever. How could I tell you how I felt? How could I cry? Grieve? Come crawling back to you and dad? All I wanted after Chase died was to not be alone and you left without a word. You decided that you had enough and you left."

"But your world kept spinning when he died, mom. You came back to your house and your husband and your walls of perfect pictures of the brilliant life you've led and get to lead. When I walked back into my apartment, I had nothing. I had no one, nothing but rooms filled with things that belonged to someone who was supposed to be there. I had to clean out every single room and I couldn't. I couldn't. When Chase died you lost a son, but I lost my world and I was alone."

Her words were not screamed, just spoken evenly. There was no point in arguing with her mother anymore. She knew that. The woman was stubborn and set in her own ways. While Rita never wanted this trip to be a falling apart for them, she knew it might be. They would either reconcile or fall apart and whatever happened, Rita would have to accept it and move on with her life. Unlike her mother, Rita tried. She tried and tried until she had little strength left to try and be there for her, to help her, to work through this – but she had to put forth the effort, too. She had to decide that Rita was worth more than the ideal daughter she had worked up in her head.

"You always do this, Rita. You never tell me."

"I do always do this," Rita agreed, "So why haven't you learned?"

There was a beat of silence across the table. Rita was right and her statement shut down the entire argument. Rita had never claimed to be a saint. All she ever tried to be was everything for everyone, but she had a breaking point, too. She could only be stretched so thin and after everything – the facility, getting shot, her family – she felt that breaking point well up inside of her. "I'm not hungry anymore," she muttered and placed her napkin down, slipping herself from Leon's hold so she could make her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door quietly and moved towards the window, watching the same sunset over the ocean. She didn't regret coming because she knew it was a conversation that had to happen, but it still hurt. It hurt to know that after twenty-five years of trying to be everything her mother wanted, she still wasn't enough.

She heard the door shut and immediately she knew it was Leon coming up behind her. She turned to look at him before burying herself in his chest. They weren't broken, desperate sobs, but Rita felt the tears run down her face as she hiccupped out a sob or two. It was a breaking point.

That's all it was.

 

[Acorn]

With a few words, Angela confirmed one of his earliest suspicions of her: that she'd never allow him to step out from Chase's shadow. After they'd escaped the facility, they'd had to figure out where they should go next, and one of the possibilities had been her parents' beach house. Rita had quickly ruled it out, citing small town gossip and a mother who wouldn't have appreciated some nameless, faceless man coming home with her after Chase. He'd been grateful because he hadn't thought he'd be able to handle a visit when everything was new and they hadn't labeled themselves as anything, but if he'd had a clue how big a part Rita's former fiancé had played in her parents' lives (especially her mother's), he would've known it would've always been hopeless.

During her outburst, Rita's mother had referred to Chase as a son. She'd loved him, and mourned him when he'd died. She still had a picture up of him on the mantle, and she'd taken every opportunity she had to make digs at Rita for not grieving for him in the same way she had, accusing her of forgetting him and moving on too quickly. Leon didn't think she could even see him as Rita's boyfriend, much less leave herself open to the possibility that he might come to be part of their family. And to think, he'd believed her when she'd, in a roundabout way, referred to him as family when she'd demanded a hug from him.

What a crock of shit.

Leon's lips thinned, he shook his head, and he started farther down the path of thinking he'd wasted his time and breath on her, but then Rita spoke. She called him family, and she said it in such a fiercely possessive way that it made his eyes widen briefly. He'd thought of their group — of Becca, Nate, and even Orvar — as being something like family, and he'd acknowledged the bond he had with Rita as being something even stronger, but for her to announce the tie she felt to him to her mother after she'd dismissed his concerns, then made it clear he didn't belong? Hell, he wanted to kiss her right then and there, but it wouldn't be appropriate. Rita was still saying her piece to her mother, too, and he wasn't about to interrupt that.

Her voice and words were powerful, not shaking and tear-filled like they'd been before he'd scooted close so he could hold her as well as he could with chairs between them. She slipped away from him, though, when she seemed to reach a similar conclusion as him: Angela wasn't listening. She asked to be told, and there Rita was, telling her, but she wouldn't or maybe just couldn't hear her.

Leon pulled his cloth napkin from his lap before Rita had even made it all the way out of the room, and by the time she went up the stairs, he'd stood from his chair to follow after her.

"Please excuse me," he said, but out of habit, not because he needed permission to leave the table. Even if Rita's dad hadn't grunted his acknowledgment, Leon would've gone after her anyway.

He'd always go after her.

He went up the stairs, past the hallway lined with all its professional photographs, and without hesitating, went into Rita's old bedroom and shut the door behind him. She was in his arms then, and he hugged her tightly to him. He let her cry for a time, felt the wetness of her tears seep into his shirt, before he said anything.

"We can head out now instead of in the morning if you want. Unless you wanna stay and try to sort things out? Whatever you wanna do, I'll be fine with." He smiled and laughed, though it was a tiny thing, a burst of air through his nose that was typical of Leon when he'd thought of something amusing, "I'll keep my mouth shut next time, though. Don't think your mama much appreciates my insight."

 

[Meraki]

Rita knew that her mother wouldn't understand.

It was a curse sometimes being able to read people the way Rita could. She knew that her mother had her ulterior motives, she knew that she let her pain blind her and cloud her judgment. She let herself get worked up but never showed it, let anger fester for an entire year but never spoke of it. No wonder it had gone the way it went, but her mother just needed to hurt the most. She needed to cry the loudest. She needed to be the one who was wronged, the one who lost everything, the one who received the sympathy cards and the casseroles. She was a beautiful griever. Everyone would always tell her how lovely she looked in her all black, and people offered her tissues as she dabbed at the inner corner of her eyes. Chase was everything Angela wanted for her daughter – rich, successful, a southern mama's dream. He called her ma'am and opened doors for her, told her what she wanted to hear, because that's who Chase was. He was the people pleaser.

And that's what made this so hard because Rita had gotten used to Chase being everything her mother wanted, so it veiled their struggles. Rita never had to deal with the rift between her and her mother, because Chase had been the bridge between them. It wasn't Leon's fault, but Rita had never brought someone home before who didn't bow to Angela's every whim and it uncovered a lot of bad blood between the two. It all came down to Rita's core realization about her mother: she was not the daughter Angela always wanted. Though she had played the part for a good, long time.

Rita shook her head no, gently back and forth as her tears stained his shirt. The sound of his laughter brought a bit of a hiccupped sob out of her, the tiniest smile curling at the edge of her lips. "No, I don't think she did," she chuckled softly, "but I did."

"You may not be everything she wanted," Rita looked up at him with her big, green eyes, "but you are everything to me and everything I ever wanted. I guess I forgot what it was like growing up trying to please her, but that was the first time I ever had someone on my side. Not mediating, not pleasing her, just entirely with me. I think you really impressed my dad, too. He likes you a lot, told me himself this morning. I'm sure that whole ordeal only solidified that more."

It was a trade-off. Frank had never liked Chase that much.

"I'll, uh," Rita said finally, "I'll talk to her in the morning. Poor Nate and Becca, though. We just abandoned them. Hopefully Nate hasn't opened his mouth. I'm not sure my mother's poor southern heart could handle so many expletives in one sentence."

 

[Acorn]

Leave it to Rita to find yet another way to assure him of his position in her life. What she'd said downstairs about being her family, effectively laying claim to him in front of everyone— he hadn't thought anything could top that, but now there was talk of him being her everything, everything she'd ever wanted. What the hell could he say to that when he couldn't do more than smile at her stupidly? Words were difficult enough for him, but words through a smile that big were impossible.

He knew she loved him — he'd heard the words often, and he could see it in her eyes every time he looked at her (except when he'd deliver a bad joke, then it was something like resignation before love took over again), but to be her everything was another ballgame. That meant just as much as he couldn't picture living a life without her in it, she couldn't picture one without him. It went beyond their label of girlfriend and boyfriend into territory he hadn't ventured before, but felt perfectly right with Rita.

And even though it hadn't ended well, she'd at least appreciated and wanted the thing that came naturally to him: choosing her always, following her always, being there for her always. It sounded like her dad was happy with that aspect of him, too. Having the man's favor in the long run couldn't be anything but good.

He nodded his agreement when she suggested she'd talk to her mother in the morning, and had finally worked through enough of his elation that his mouth wasn't all smiles, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs and voices made him wait to say anything.

"What a bitch."

"Nate!"

"Didn't say it to her."

Becca made an incredulous sound, and he could easily imagine that she'd thrown her hands into the air.

"That's Rita's mother, you can't just—"

The rest of her words were cut short by the sound of the door closing behind them, then all he could hear was the muffled sounds of Becca's chiding tone and Nate's defensive one.

Leon looked at Rita, his lips twitching as he tried and failed to contain his laughter.

"At least he didn't stay down there long," he said, shaking his head.

 

[Meraki]

"He's growing," Rita laughed gently from the comfort of his arms, "Little by little, but it's there."

The next morning came too quickly for Rita's liking. They spent the rest of the night tangled up in her childhood bed and gazing out the big bay window at the ocean. It was nice – North Carolina was beautiful and she missed it terribly, but she also knew the curse of hometowns. You missed them when you were away but the moment you stayed for too long you knew exactly why it was you left in the first place. Getting away from her mother and out of the sleepy town was the best thing that could have happened to Rita. It gave her Chase and while losing him had shattered her, that brought her Leon and Becca and even Nate. It gave her Orvar and a home in New Orleans, it gave her newfound hope that someday their lives would have some semblance of normalcy. It gave her a purpose, a rhyme and a reason. But more than anything, it gave her what Leon had so eloquently described – what she needed.

She had wanted a lot of things in her lifetime – marriage, children, a high profile job, city life – but her story had played out differently. She was head over heels in love with a man who put her above everything, she had two already grown children, worked as a pseudo-freelance supernatural expert and wrangler, and lived in a new city. It was all different than how she planned, but it gave her everything. IT made her feel complete. That was something she had never really felt before.

Early that morning, Rita got up to start packing their things and came across the frame she had placed in their duffel bag. It was something she had picked ut before they came to North Carolina, hoping to give her mother something she wanted so desperately. Rita picked it up and ran her fingers over it, glancing down at the photograph of her and Leon, watching the way their eyes met and he held her. Her hair was long in this one, something her mother had wanted for years, and she was all done up pretty, but the picture was raw. It was real. Orvar had done a magnificent job capturing the essence of who they were apart.

But also, who they were together.

Rita pressed a kiss to Leon's very, very sleepy lips and smiled, "I'll be downstairs whenever you wanna get up and hit the road, okay? I'll wake the kids."

Rita slipped out of the room with frame in hand, only to walk a few steps and knock on the door of Nate and Becca's room. After a moment, she opened it and noted the two curled up against one another, though Becca was blinking sleepily. "Hey, lovebirds," Rita smiled, "We're heading out soon. Don't wanna miss breakfast before we hit the road, it's a long drive."

Nate's eyes snapped open and she saw a blush rise in his cheeks from his position with Becca beside him, but Rita just let them be and saved them the commentary from Leon. She shut the door and walked down to the kitchen where her mom was already padding about preparing biscuits. She looked up at Rita and froze for a moment before resuming her work. Rita took a deep breath and walked up alongside her. She knew if this was ever going to be okay, she had to extend the olive branch first. Her mother didn't know how.

"Here," she reached out with the frame in hand, "I brought this for you. I thought you might like it. I hoped you would put it on the mantle, but I understand if you don't want to. A friend of ours, he's a photographer and I just thought it would be nice if you had something current."

Her mom wiped her hands off on the hand towel and turned with a curiosity in her eye. She reached out and gingerly took the frame, her eyes going wide at the image like Rita thought they would. It was a beautiful photograph, more beautiful than anything she had hanging on the walls or up on the mantel. She brought a well manicured hand up to her mouth as if to mask the shock she felt and Rita watched as gratitude welled up in her eyes. She was too proud to say it, but it seemed to give her all the reason she needed to forgive Rita. "This is beautiful," she breathed out, "I—"

"It's okay, I get it," Rita said before she could try to fumble out anything, "I just wanted you to have that. I know that losing Chase was hard for you and is still hard for you, but Leon told me once that I don't have to choose who to love. I can still love Chase and everything he was for me, while loving Leon too. And I think, if you really thought hard about it, you would know that the only thing Chase would ever want was for me to be happy and Leon makes me feel happier than I have in a long, long time."

"I can't tell the future, as much as I wish I could," she laughed gently, "but I know Leon's going to be around for a long, long time. So I am just asking that you try. Take a moment to look at Leon as who he is, not for who he is in comparison to Chase. I really think you'll love him, mama. I do."

Her mother took a few seconds before she moved to pull Rita into a hug. For someone who claimed to be open, sometimes her mother could be just as mysterious with her emotions as her father was, but it was alright. Rita knew what the hug mean and she understood what she felt. "I' will," she said gently, "You know I love you, Rita Marie?"

"I know you do," Rita laughed, "just sometimes a little too much, okay? I'm a big girl now."

"You'll always be my little Rita, that isn't ever going to change," she replied.

"I know, I love you too."

 

[Acorn]

Leon took his time getting out of bed after Rita left— mainly so she had time to talk to her mom alone, but also because it always took him longer to get going than Rita. She'd bolt right up when the alarm went off, alert and ready to greet the day, while he'd shove a pillow over his face and beg for a few more minutes (or hit the snooze button half a dozen times). That was how it'd been when they'd had to get up for work at the same time, at least. Alarm clocks had been a blessedly rare feature in his life since they'd fled from the city and facility, and he'd grown accustomed to getting out of bed at his own turtle pace.

He spent some time eyeing what he could see of her numerous trophies and awards, her pictures and posters, and then rolled over onto his side and watched the beach. He let his thoughts wander, and naturally, they wandered to Rita. As he watched the waves, his thoughts became less concrete, dissolving into a general sense of contentment and he'd nearly drifted off again when breakfast was called. Leon finally forced himself to get up and dressed, finished packing their things, made up the bed, and placed each of her stuffed animals in roughly the same position he'd first seen them in.

"Don't tell her mama if you saw anything. Best not to traumatize her," he said to them, eyebrows lifted warningly. They stared back at him, beady eyes blank and unmoving. Their secret would be safe.

Leon laughed and grabbed their bag, then made his way downstairs with the scent of biscuits, sausage, and gravy thick in the air.

When he finally joined everyone at the table, he was surprised by the distinct lack of bad tingly. Rita's mom even smiled at him, and it didn't have the forced edge it had before. Whatever Rita had said to her had worked magic, because he would even go so far as to say she was friendly with him. Genuine and relaxed friendly, not stiff and Southern friendly. It made him relax, too, and breakfast ended without a hitch. After dishes were cleared and they made their way out of the house, he caught a glimpse of the mantle, and he would've continued on without looking too hard at it, but there was an additional frame in the row and he smiled when he recognized the picture Orvar had taken.

So that'd been the trick, then.

They said their goodbyes in the driveway. Rita's dad shook his hand, but his grip was tighter than it had been in their first meeting and Frank nodded at him. Despite the change in Rita's mom over breakfast, he hadn't anticipated the intensity of the hug he received from her, and his eyes widened in surprise before he returned it. They'd made some real progress on their trip; the cracks in Angela's walls were tangible.

Maybe she'd come to think of him as a son, too, some day.

~*~
​

"It's not like him not to answer," Leon said, roughly halfway through their trip back, when they'd considered pulling in for the night. They'd all texted, all called, and Orvar hadn't reached back to any of them. After some deliberation, they decided to push through, rotating drivers so they could get back as soon as possible.

Leon drove on the last leg of their journey, and didn't feel tired despite the long day or lack of stops. He hoped it was nothing, but Orvar had talked about overseeing the mission to retrieve UV bullets, and at the time, he'd assumed he'd act in the same way he had when they'd gone on their mission back to the facility for the grimoire, but what if that hadn't been the case? What if he'd gone along?

He was a self-identified "elder vampire", with all the strength and speed that came along with it, but Leon had been under the impression that he was more comfortable setting up tea parties, shopping with the girls, or musing over his photographs than he was with fighting. He'd been around a long time, though, so maybe he'd spent at least one lifetime studying some obscure fighting technique high in the mountains with monks. Ninja monks.

When they pulled up to Orvar's house, Leon frowned. As soon as he came to a complete stop, but before he managed to get the car in park, Becca was out and running up the sidewalk.

All the lights in the house were off.

Dread filled him as they went inside. Becca called Orvar's name repeatedly, but there wasn't a response. Just as he'd started to think Orvar wasn't there at all, he heard a gasp.

"He's here," Becca said, and he rushed towards her voice.

Orvar had collapsed at the foot of the door that led down to his basement room. Becca kneeled next to him, but she had her hands up and away from him, as if she'd been afraid to touch him, and Leon didn't blame her. All the exposed skin of the vampire he could see — his face, neck, and hands — was red and raw, charred in spots, with blisters scattered throughout. His normally immaculate suit was dirty and torn.

If he hadn't stirred and opened his eyes, revealing the icy, almost unnatural blue of them, Leon wouldn't have recognized the man as Orvar.

"Hmm, welcome back," he muttered through cracked lips.

 

[Meraki]

Leaving her parents was easier than she anticipated. For once, she felt like she could call. There was no bad blood brewing between them anymore and while her mother would never change, Rita knew that they were at a place where they could try to reconcile. Maybe a call every so often wouldn't kill her, so Rita put it on her mental to-do list. Her dad hugged her tightly, whispered that he'd miss her and she felt herself tear up a little bit. Nothing fell, but she felt like she was leaving a part of her family, but she knew it was important to go back to New Orleans. That was where her life was now, alongside Leon, Nate, Becca and Orvar. They needed her now and while she would always love her parents, she had to find her own way.

And she was getting there. Slowly but surely, the pieces of her broken life had started to fall back together and ease the tension in her shoulders.

What didn't ease the tension was the fact that Orvar wasn't answering her phone. He always answered, even during the day when he was locked up in his room. But there was silence. Nothing but silence. Rita agreed with Leon and they elected to rotate drivers until they got there. Rita was worried. She knew that the UV bullets were important and Orvar had gone to great lengths to help them already, so she did not doubt that he would have done something reckless like gone in himself. He was a brilliant man, that made him an integral part of the mission, but the UV bullets could take him out easier than anyone else.

Rita bolted after Becca before Nate and Leon could get out, taking the steps two at a time. Becca was fast, but Rita was faster as they made their way to where Orvar was lying on the ground. The smell of burned flesh filled the area and Rita immediately dropped down to his side to take a closer look at him. While Becca's hands hesitated, Rita was quick to work off his suit jacket, just enough to expose his abdomen. He welcomed them back and Rita shushed him gently, without a single thought. He had explained it thoroughly to them – it would be a slow death for him, unless they could get the bullet or bullets out.

And they damn well couldn't move him yet.

"Becca, I need you to run into the bathroom and grab a pair of tweezers, can you do that for me?" Rita asked of the girl, but she seemed to hesitate for a moment as if she wanted to help and Rita understood, "Your magic won't do anything if the bullets are inside of them."

Becca nodded and ran off towards the bathroom as Rita worked. Her eyes flickered up to Nate and Leon, the strongest of the four of them, "I'm gonna need you two to be ready to move him. There's no way we can do this where it doesn't suck, but once the bullets are out, he needs to lie down somewhere we can take a better look at him."

She had no idea how to care for a vampire's injuries, but she wondered if there was blood anywhere in the house they could get access to for him. Surely being well fed had to help the healing process. "I can see why you turned down our invitation to the beach," Rita said to Orvar with a warm tone, in only that way Rita could speak. The same voice that had eased Leon out of his Transformation. Careful, gentle and soothing. "Just relax, I'm going to get you all patched up. Nate and Leon will get you to bed, okay?"

Becca returned with the tweezers and without any reaction of disgust, Rita peeled back his shirt to reveal his chest and abdomen. There were three bullets lodged in his charred skin. They were deep, menacing injuries though it was nice to see that there was only some blood, thicker than human blood. Rita reached up to tie her hair back and got in close. For someone who had lived a normal life pre-supernaturals, she had gotten strangely talented at removing bullets. The first was in his chest, burrowed deep in his ribcage and Rita apologized. "This isn't going to be great," she admitted, "but I'm going to do it fast. I promise."

And she was quick. She expertly dug down and pulled what seemed like a normal bullet from his chest and set it down on the ground next to her. Then were two and three which were lodged in his upper and lower abdomen, like someone had shot him nearly right down the center. They were a bit tougher to dig out, but Rita managed one after the other, until the skin seemed to stop charring and the blisters and rawness remained stagnant.

"Okay," Rita breathed out heavily, her heart beating in her ears from the adrenaline, "We need to move him. Leon? Nate?"

 

[Acorn]

Rita stepped in, and before anyone had a chance to panic or wonder what they should do, she'd taken the reins and guided them to their respective tasks. He watched as she went to work on Orvar after Becca gave her the tweezers, and he wondered how differently things would've turned out for her if she'd been able to guide them when she'd been injured. They'd figured things out eventually, but he didn't think a single one of them had the gumption to fish after bullets with tweezers. He hadn't. If Rita had been conscious and aware enough to guide them, though, he wouldn't put it past her to have gone after the bullet herself.

Beyond making a wheezing sound that was a pale imitation of his normal laugh when Rita made her joke about the beach, Orvar was silent while Rita searched for and pulled the bullets from him. His eyes were glazed, pain-filled, and on more than one occasion he closed them tightly, but he'd eventually open them again to fix on Rita's face. Something there seemed to comfort him, to anchor him, just like she'd done for him all those months ago at the facility, and more recently in the nature reserve. His eyes still sought her out when Leon and Nate moved into position, but his ability to keep his pain quiet disappeared when Leon got him under the shoulders and hefted him at the same time Nate lifted his feet. He cried out, and both he and Nate froze, but Orvar managed to tell them to go on between his gasps for air.

Leon had mostly been able to avoid the scent of Orvar's burnt flesh by breathing through his mouth, but there were several times he forgot and breathed through his nose as they maneuvered him down the stairs and hallway towards his room. He smelled like charcoal, and strangely, like the fresh livers he'd pull from deer, metallic and sickly sweet. His eyes watered as he tried not to gag. It didn't help that every time he shifted his hands underneath Orvar's arms that he could both hear and feel the crunch of his charred skin beneath the material of his suit. The vampire made small, pained noises every few steps, and Leon expected, even hoped, he'd lose consciousness to spare himself the agony, but Orvar remained awake throughout the whole ordeal.

Even after they eased him onto his bed, but made him sit up while they took off his suit jacket and then peeled — fucking peeled — his dress shirt from him, pulling pieces of skin along with it in spots, he clung to consciousness. The same was true when they took his pants, shoes, and socks. When they finally let him lie down fully and pulled his sheet over him, and Rita moved to inspect him, Orvar stared at the ceiling and breathed shallow, quick breaths.

He eventually turned his head with a low groan towards the far wall, one filled with pictures like the upstairs room that led to Orvar's studio. Rather than a mixture of people, however, all the paintings and pictures were of one man. He had a thin, angular face, a swarthy complexion, with dark hair and dark eyes, and in the earliest paintings, he smiled and had a joyful look about him. As they progressed into photographs, his expression morphed into one of frowns and sadness. The last and final picture reminded Leon of the one of Jenny, old-timey and in shades of brown. In that photograph, the man's eyes were empty and his face expressionless.

Leon tore his gaze from the wall when Orvar groaned and inched his fingers across the bed, towards the wall and the pictures.

"Orvar, can we get you anything? Would blood help?" he asked.

"Hm. My Tomás, it—"

"Orvar?"

"—hurts worse... than I remembered."

"Where do you keep your food? Your blood packs?"

He'd seen the vampire empty one of his baggies filled with blood into a wine glass before. Orvar had laughed when he caught Leon staring, and asked if he'd prefer him suck from the bag at the dinner table, or allow everyone to forget for a moment he drank blood instead of wine.

"Hey, look," Nate said, standing near a small refrigerator like the ones that had populated all but the shittiest of motels they'd stayed at. He popped the door open, and within were easily a dozen blood bags, all neatly stacked.

He brought one over, unfurling the long tube that was attached to it, and shrugged, then held the end of what was essentially a long, floppy straw up to Orvar's mouth. He required some coaxing, but he finally closed his lips around it and began drinking. All the while his eyes remained fixed on the first painting on the wall — the one the man smiled widest in.

 

[Meraki]

The smell was horrid, but she couldn't imagine how potent it was to Nate and Leon. They picked him up without argument and despite the smell, they carried him all the way to his room and helped her with peeling off extra layers of clothing that were inevitably stuck to charred skin. It crunched most of the time, but other time it was an awful, crisp sound like peeling wrapping paper away from a gift. He cried out as they maneuvered him more and more, but it broke Rita's heart. She had never seen Orvar as anything other than the suave, powerful man they had come to consider one of their own. Hell, they had come a long way from Leon believing that Orvar would use Rita as a snack.

But she knew he never was. He was a humanist. That's why he drank from donated bags of blood, she could see it in his eyes. There was a compassion in him that may have once existed in Jenny, too, but probably died out over the years. It was not their fault, considering Rita couldn't imagine seeing the worst humanity had to offer for nearly four lifetimes. After that, she wasn't sure she would have the same compassion she did now. Immortality had to be a dreadfully lonely business. As Leon and Nate bumbled for a bag of blood, Rita's eyes found the wall that Orvar was looking at and traced her gaze over the photographs.

They were all of one man and it didn't take much for Rita to understand. They were kindred spirits in a way, her and Orvar. Both suffering great loss and trying to find their way along to a purpose. It made sense now why Orvar had been so keen to photograph her and Leon, admitting that their love was raw and beautiful. It must have been some time since he last felt that kind of love in his life and her heart ached for him. What a terrible place of mind to be in. As he spoke of Tomás' name, Rita could hear the despair in his voice. When Rita could tell the smell was getting overwhelming for the two men in the room, she looked up at them and offered a soft smile. "Go, it's okay," she said, "I'll stay with him. Go get some air."

"Orvar?" she said his name gently as the men left, "Will you tell me about Tomás?"

/

Hours passed and Rita kept up Orvar's intake of blood. She continued to replace pack after pack, but nothing seemed to help and all of his wounds remained as is. It worried her a bit, but she kept on by his side and tried to coax him through the worst of it. It had to be an immense and unimaginable pain to cripple a vampire and Rita could not believe he had endured so much without losing consciousness. He continued to cling on to some semblance of it, his words a bit more coherent with the blood intake, but nothing else was really affected positively. Nate and Leon returned later, with Becca in tow, and Rita smiled up to them when they entered. It wasn't a big, bright smile, but a small, welcoming one.

"How's he doing?" Becca asked timidly.

"Doesn't look any better," Nate said gently, though his words were less than comforting. She knew he was trying, but he seemed to still have issues dealing with trauma. Understandably so, but it was glaring bright in a situation like this. "How many of those things have you given him?"

"Enough that it should be doing something," Rita admitted, "but it isn't."

"Orvar? Can you hear me?" Nate said, raising his voice a bit, "There's gotta be something else we can get you. Stop being stubborn and trying to do this on your own. Tell us what it is you need."

"Nate, easy…" Rita started but he interrupted her.

"No, I won't, because he went with a group and ended up on his own. I've got no doubt he told the others he was fine and has been lying like this for way too long. We have like zero fucking knowledge of vampires, so yeah, I'm gonna push him to tell us what to do, because otherwise we can't do shit for him."

 

[Acorn]

After Nate and Leon left, Orvar remained facing the wall, breathing shallowly but otherwise the vampire remained unmoving. It wasn't until Rita said Tomás' name that there was a change, and even then, it was barely discernible: his chest became still as he stopped breathing entirely, then it rose and fell with a small sigh. A long moment of silence followed, long enough that she might've assumed he couldn't or had decided not to answer, but there was another sigh punctuated by a small grunt, then he began to speak.

"My great love." His words weren't crisply enunciated or eloquently woven as they usually were; they were tied together roughly and sent forth on the backs of breathy exhales. "Went into the sun. Followed, tried to… but was too late. Too late for a long time."

Orvar turned his head with painstaking slowness towards Rita, blinking rapidly and breathing raggedly. Once he'd turned enough to fix his gaze on her, much like it had been upstairs when she'd worked to remove the bullets from his chest, he smiled at her; not with his lips, but his eyes. "Beaut— Mm, good story other… otherwise. Will tell you. Sometime."

The entire time Rita sat with and fed him, the vampire rotated between staring at three points in the room — Rita by his side, the ceiling above him, or the pictures of Tomás by his other side — in various states of alertness. Sometimes, he'd mumble incoherently in a foreign language, while others, he managed to follow her words and respond in English, and occasionally, he was unresponsive and didn't do more than stare blankly at whatever point he'd fixed to.

Orvar was in the latter state, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, when Nate and Leon returned with Becca. He didn't even blink when they entered the room.

Leon was immediately struck by the smell, even though he'd spent the entire walk down mentally preparing himself for it. Surely it wouldn't be as bad as he remembered, but it was, and his normally olive complexion went pale as he struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down. It'd been a mistake to eat before heading back to see Orvar, he realized, but the best he could do was fight back the bile and wait for the nausea to pass.

When Nate started talking, Leon swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, then split his attention between remembering to breathe through his fucking mouth for the time being, and listening to Nate. It seemed clear to Leon at this point that he wouldn't die from his injuries since they'd gotten the bullets out of him, but Nate was right: he didn't look any better than he did when they'd left. They didn't know what to do with a barbecued vampire. Hell, they hadn't even known that sunlight and decapitation was a way to take out vampires before Orvar had told them. Their knowledge of vampires was basic at best, and if Orvar couldn't tell them what to do, then he'd… what? Be stuck in the bed for the rest of his existence?

There was a wheezing sound, and Leon's eyes went to Orvar's face. While less charred than what he could see of the vampire's chest, it was still bad, red and raw and blistered. He felt something curl and crawl in his stomach that was entirely unlike the nausea he'd felt moments earlier— discomfort, maybe, mixed with sympathy. He knew how bad it hurt just to brush against a still-hot stove eye. What sort of pain was Orvar in when his whole body from the inside out had been burned?

"Perceptive pup," Orvar whispered, blinking but head still fixed in the direction of the ceiling. "Bags are… old blood. Keeps alive, little healing."

"So fresh blood would be better, then?" Nate asked.

Orvar tilted his head down, the beginnings of a nod, then hissed through his teeth and winced. "Yes," he said, instead.

 

[Meraki]

Rita listened attentively as those around her conversed, but her eyes were locked on the charred skin on most of Orvar's body. Nate was right, it wasn't healing. So what were they doing besides prolonging the inevitable? Would he have to spend the rest of his existence like this? In immense amounts of pain with little to no relief? When he said that they only provided a little healing, she realized that it was an overstatement. He would heal, but it would take weeks at this rate. Maybe months. There had to be something, anything that could…

Fresh blood.

Immediately, Rita felt like all of the eyes in the room were on her. Not invasively so, but Orvar had made it clear that other supernaturals, especially werewolves, had terrible tasting blood. He needed fresh human blood and unless they wanted to go try and hunt down a donor, there was only one person in the room who could really help him. She thought about it for a moment, about what that would be like, feel like, and she realized that if she offered, he would probably just have to drink straight from her. There was no time for some sort of donation where she got all of her blood neatly in a little baggy with a straw.

But when Orvar agreed that fresh blood would be best, Rita did not hesitate.

"Would I work?" Rita asked, "I mean, you can't take all of it. But I've got some to share."

After all, he had offered her his blood when she was hurt and even though it wasn't a good idea back then, this seemed to be their only option. Orvar needed help now. There wasn't time to really try to find an alternative. Just as she thought, nearly everyone in the room had a reaction that ranged from Becca's worried comments, to Nate's incredulous remarks and Leon's apprehension. She knew it was hard for Leon, especially after everything they went through to get to that moment. But Orvar was part of their family now and when Rita looked up at him with those big green eyes, he folded. She knew it wasn't what he wanted for her, but they needed to do this.

And after a moment, everyone in the room seemed to understand.

Sometimes she was powerless in a world of supernaturals, but there were moments when she was asked to step up and she knew she had to. Just like she needed to endure Nate, or run after Becca, or talk Leon down from his transformation. Rita moved up closer to Orvar and settled beside him. She reached out her wrist to him and used her other hand to help anchor his head up enough so he could reach it. After a few slow seconds, she felt a sharp pain jolt through her and she visibly winced. It sent painful shivers up and down her spine, enough that she wanted to reach back for Leon, but she held on.

After a minute or so, she felt Orvar stir beneath her and begin to sit himself up. He wasn't joking when he said fresh blood would be better because almost instantly he seemed to regain some strength. The burns would take a while, she assumed, but the weakness slowly seeped out of his body. It wasn't a euphoric feeling, but after a few moments of him drinking, Rita began to feel a bit in a daze. She just felt light, easy, and nothing hurt anymore. It was like those few moments before you fell asleep, warm and content. But then his fangs retracted from her skin and she opened her eyes to see him at eye level, upright enough that he could bring a hand to brush back her brown locks from her shoulder. He glanced at her pulse point, voice still cracked and pained, but with a bit more strength behind it, "May I?"

Rita nodded gently and Orvar moved to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. She began to feel lightheaded, but nothing hurt and all she could hope was that four hundred plus years of life had given Orvar some semblance of self-control. "Huh," she heard Nate in the background, his voice sounding so far away, "Orvar's literally draining life from your girlfriend and he still treats her more like a lady than you do."

Though Nate kept a careful eye on her, just in case.

 

[Acorn]

"Really not a good time," Leon said without looking at Nate. If the situation had been less dire — if Orvar wasn't literally draining the life from his girlfriend, as Nate had put it — he might've responded in kind to the teasing, but as it was, he wanted to swing around and deliver his fist to Nate's face. That would require him looking away from Rita, and more importantly, Orvar, though.

Seeing another man with his face buried in her neck, holding her intimately close, would've triggered jealousy in him under different circumstances, but he was tense with the knowledge that Orvar pulled blood from her, that he had her fucking life in his hands, in his mouth, and if he kept going until there was nothing left, then they wouldn't know until it was too late. With as closely as he watched, though, he saw when her shoulders slumped and she stopped holding herself upright and Orvar tightened his grip on her.

"Hey, that's enough," he said as he sprang towards them. He stopped at her side, pried one hand between Orvar and Rita where their bodies met, and used his other to pull at her shoulder, but the vampire was an immovable object with a vice grip on her.

"That's enough," he repeated, his voice a bullwhip crack in the silence of the room.

Orvar lifted his head from Rita and blinked, simultaneously relinquishing his hold on her, but Leon was there, pulling her off the bed and into his arms. He continued back-stepping, dragging Rita along with him, and stared hard at Orvar.

The vampire sat up fully, the sheet sliding to gather at his waist and stared back, his eyes wide and breathing hard. There were bright spots of red at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I—" He said, his voice stronger, his eyes clearer, but the burns marks covering his body still unchanged. "I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've fed directly from a human."

Leon shook his head, his mouth a thin, disapproving line. "Right," he said, maneuvering Rita so he could lean down and then scoop her off her feet.

"Please tell her I'm sorry," the vampire said plaintively, but Leon didn't acknowledge his request— he moved through the door, up the stairs, and didn't stop until he'd gotten Rita back to their room and on the bed. There was a light touch at his elbow, and he tensed until he realized it was only Becca.

"He didn't mean to," she said.

"I know," Leon sighed. Just like he knew Rita had done what needed to be done, and things had turned out alright because he'd been there to stop Orvar before he got too carried away, but this wasn't the first time she'd put herself on the line for someone else and nearly lost her life for it. He could've killed her as easily as Jackson's bullet could've killed her, and he needed a minute to come down from that. Leon scrubbed his face with his palms, running his fingers into his hairline and pushing his curls into further disarray.

The redheaded witch glanced at Leon as she moved to perch on the edge of the bed next to Rita, then reached for her wrist. There was a warm, golden glow that flowed from her fingertips, and the two puncture marks on Rita's skin faded. She performed the same action for Rita's neck, then stood and smiled at her. "I can't do anything about the blood loss, but Nate's bringing some juice and cookies. They'll help."

 

[Meraki]

By the time Rita started to come to, she had no idea what had happened.

She could guess, though. She remembered Orvar moving to her neck, his teeth sinking into her and draining the energy and blood from her bit by bit. She remembered the feeling of lightness, the lack of control she had over her own muscles and slumping against him, but that was it. Very suddenly, she was back in her and Leon's room, with both him and Becca hovering over her. She blinked hard, but it didn't nothing to pull the fog from her vision. Orvar must have drank a bit too much, but she did not make a point of complaint. She couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it would be to feed on a human after hundreds of years and be able to control yourself, but it seemed that Leon had managed to separate them.

Becca even came close to work her magic on the bite marks that marked her skin. Rita's blinks were slow, her movements slower, but she was coherent, especially coherent enough to make out Becca's words and nod gently. Nate was on a mission for snacks, and while she wasn't particularly hungry, something to drink sounded like heaven to her parched throat. Leon was standing there with a tense look on his face and she reached up slowly to brush her fingers against his before pulling him seated next to her. She didn't have much strength, but he never seemed to fight her too much.

"Hey," she said gently, "Becca's right he didn't mean to – and he didn't do anything irreversible. I wouldn't have done it without you there."

In truth, she wouldn't have. Leon protected her, his love for her gave her the opportunity to help others, because she knew no matter what she tried to accomplish, he would always be looking out for her. Orvar had gone overboard, but Leon had gotten her away and brought her to a safe place. No part of her could or would be mad about that. He had pushed his curls away, though, and tussled up his appearance under the stress. She could feel the tension and apprehension radiating off of him even if the wolf side of him did not have control anymore. It was still there and it was still very, very territorial when it came to Rita.

"Have you gone out since we left for North Carolina?" she asked quietly, "Maybe once you get me set up with some juice and cookies, you and Nate should take some time to head out. Clear your mind, get some running in, get away from the smell. I think it would help."

"Becca and I will be fine for a little bit on our own," she explained, "and Orvar isn't going anywhere. No one's going to hurt me."