A
Acorn
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With every mark she healed before it had a chance to scar, Becca worked to erase some of the reminders of Rita's time at the facility. Leon doubted she'd ever forget, but she'd be able to put some immediate distance between her and what'd happened if she didn't have to relive it every time she looked in the mirror. He knew how jarring it could be to see scars, to be pulled back to the moment they'd been put there, and to experience the trauma of it again. His arm, the one gnawed on by the werewolf that'd cursed him, was covered in them. For a while, every time he'd looked at the scars, he'd relive the pain and feeling of helplessness as he'd been dragged and thrown around like a rag doll.
There were other scars — two silver bullets had gone into his thigh, and another that had grazed his shoulder the night he'd missed getting to the facility in time to change within a containment unit. He hadn't been able to remember his time in his other form when his transformation had been tied to the full moon, so he'd been spared reliving the moments he'd gone after RIta and her partner in an attempt to eat them, but he'd felt shame every time he caught a glimpse of those scars. He'd fucked up. Royally. He could've hurt a lot of people if it hadn't been for Rita and Alice.
Now all his scars did was serve as a reminder that if things hadn't gone exactly as they had — if he hadn't been a werewolf, if Rita had aimed up and left of his shoulder, and if she hadn't been willing to help him after he'd shifted back — then he would've been dead or on a different path, one without Rita at his side. When he entertained what direction his life would've taken if not for her, it usually led to someone like Jackson putting a bullet between his ears, or with him still in a cell awaiting his next round of torture masquerading as treatments.
As much as she talked about how he'd saved her, she'd done just as much to save him.
"You're welcome," Becca said smilingly and moved away again. Leon inspected Rita's back: the skin of her shoulder was as smooth and flawless as the skin on her stomach. She wouldn't bear any physical reminders of her brushes with death, but even if she had, Leon suspected they would've eventually come to look at them as not a reminder of what'd happened to her, but that she'd survived. He reached for her hand, twined their fingers together, and squeezed gently.
He cast a sidelong look Becca's direction after she returned to Orvar's chair. This time, she sank into it heavily and reclined until she looked like she'd be swallowed by the plush throne. The vampire didn't seem to mind that his seat had been commandeered, and remained standing near the love seat.
"Well, I don't know about y'all, but I'm starving," Leon said into the silence. Becca made a scoffing noise and shook her head.
"Didn't you just eat?" she asked.
She was unmoved by his argument that it'd been several hours ago. It wasn't until he went on to complain about making up for several days of no food at all that she shifted and sat up.
"They didn't feed you?" Disbelief was written on her face and in the squeaking tone her voice took on.
"They fed you?" he shot back. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad if they did because going hungry sucks, but what makes you so special?"
"I'm a princess."
"Right," Leon snorted.
"And I'm Lorelei's niece," she added. "She was trying to place nice. Too hard. She actually made an image of Nate, but he didn't…" Becca trailed off and blushed a shade of red he'd never seen her blush before. "Anyway," she said, trying to speak over the sound of Leon's laughter. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."
"It really doesn't," Nate said.
"Okay, okay," Leon said, lifting the one hand not attached to Rita's in surrender.
"I believe what does matter," Orvar said quietly, "is that you're all home and well. The facility is gone. Jenny is dead and Lorelei is on the run. The future belongs to you now, not them."
Leon nodded his agreement. The future was theirs.
There were other scars — two silver bullets had gone into his thigh, and another that had grazed his shoulder the night he'd missed getting to the facility in time to change within a containment unit. He hadn't been able to remember his time in his other form when his transformation had been tied to the full moon, so he'd been spared reliving the moments he'd gone after RIta and her partner in an attempt to eat them, but he'd felt shame every time he caught a glimpse of those scars. He'd fucked up. Royally. He could've hurt a lot of people if it hadn't been for Rita and Alice.
Now all his scars did was serve as a reminder that if things hadn't gone exactly as they had — if he hadn't been a werewolf, if Rita had aimed up and left of his shoulder, and if she hadn't been willing to help him after he'd shifted back — then he would've been dead or on a different path, one without Rita at his side. When he entertained what direction his life would've taken if not for her, it usually led to someone like Jackson putting a bullet between his ears, or with him still in a cell awaiting his next round of torture masquerading as treatments.
As much as she talked about how he'd saved her, she'd done just as much to save him.
"You're welcome," Becca said smilingly and moved away again. Leon inspected Rita's back: the skin of her shoulder was as smooth and flawless as the skin on her stomach. She wouldn't bear any physical reminders of her brushes with death, but even if she had, Leon suspected they would've eventually come to look at them as not a reminder of what'd happened to her, but that she'd survived. He reached for her hand, twined their fingers together, and squeezed gently.
He cast a sidelong look Becca's direction after she returned to Orvar's chair. This time, she sank into it heavily and reclined until she looked like she'd be swallowed by the plush throne. The vampire didn't seem to mind that his seat had been commandeered, and remained standing near the love seat.
"Well, I don't know about y'all, but I'm starving," Leon said into the silence. Becca made a scoffing noise and shook her head.
"Didn't you just eat?" she asked.
She was unmoved by his argument that it'd been several hours ago. It wasn't until he went on to complain about making up for several days of no food at all that she shifted and sat up.
"They didn't feed you?" Disbelief was written on her face and in the squeaking tone her voice took on.
"They fed you?" he shot back. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad if they did because going hungry sucks, but what makes you so special?"
"I'm a princess."
"Right," Leon snorted.
"And I'm Lorelei's niece," she added. "She was trying to place nice. Too hard. She actually made an image of Nate, but he didn't…" Becca trailed off and blushed a shade of red he'd never seen her blush before. "Anyway," she said, trying to speak over the sound of Leon's laughter. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."
"It really doesn't," Nate said.
"Okay, okay," Leon said, lifting the one hand not attached to Rita's in surrender.
"I believe what does matter," Orvar said quietly, "is that you're all home and well. The facility is gone. Jenny is dead and Lorelei is on the run. The future belongs to you now, not them."
Leon nodded his agreement. The future was theirs.
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