Closed RP We Need To Talk

This RP is currently closed.
Phoenix

Phoenix

Member

Sam and Todd needed to talk. It had been an entire day since the night when Todd broke her knee and left her behind. She hadn’t heard him come in, but she could feel him through the walls. His heartbeat, even and strong, and asleep. She had felt him there in the morning when she had woken up, and she had waited for him to come to her. Instead, he had fallen asleep, on what seemed to be his couch judging by the distance. And night had come and passed.

It was his birthday. Today, Todd was 27, and Sam had planned out a whole day for the two of them. He had slept through breakfast and slept through to almost noon. That meant skipping the movie, but Sam wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to walk anyway. Thankfully, she was able to move around, albeit stiffly, so she got started on their dinner prep, getting the things in the slow cooker on the balcony that needed to go there. While she worked, she thought.

Todd knew that she knew what he was. He had known ever since he brought Nahual back, and yet he hadn’t said a single thing to her about it yet. It had been a week since she had seen that look of resignation enter his eyes. That resignation that told her everything she needed to know about what he thought was going to happen. It hurt her in a way she didn’t think she could ever put into words. He thought, without any doubt, that Sam was going to kill him. He thought this was the end, he thought this was it. And Sam didn’t know how to fix that.

But now she had other things to weigh that against. Because for one single night, that resignation had left his eyes, and he had broken her knee. And yet despite that, he was everything to her. He was the cold to her heat, the freshly fallen snow to her summer thunderstorm, the twilight to her dawn, the moon to her sun. The moon to her sun. There was a time she couldn’t imagine ever calling someone that again. But now she had Todd, and he was every bit her balance as Alice had once been. Maybe even more.

She and Todd fit together like puzzle pieces, even when they were fighting. Everything always clicked into place like he had clicked into place. If there was a god, he had designed them perfectly for each other. The phoenix and the wendigo, opposites but equals. The girl made of fire and the boy made of ice, always in balance.

Well. Almost always. She thought back to that look of joy and excitement in his eyes as he had looked at her, as he had taken out her knee, as he had lowered her so gently to the ground. That had been a discordant note in the melody of their song. And she needed to know why it happened so that it never happened again.

She got the last of the ribs in the smoker and then went back in and changed into her clothes for the day. The skirt might have been impractical, but her brown boots were made for hiking, and her long brown coat gave her the look at least of someone who was conscious of the weather. The same striped brown scarf finished the look. It felt almost too girly, almost too much. But she was trying to prove a point. And for that reason, under the sweater and beneath the sheer tights, Sam wasn’t wearing her suit.

The suit was staying at home. She’d made a point of wearing it less and less when they were home together, but this was the first time she was venturing into public without it in almost eight years. She was trusting Todd in so many different ways with this. She was giving him all of her trust, and hopefully, he would see that for what it was. Hopefully, he wouldn’t keep looking at her with those eyes that broke her heart every time she saw them. She wanted to see light back in those beautiful eyes. She wanted to see real happiness in them.

And she never wanted to see that false joy in them ever again.

Sam centered herself and then straightened out her posture. Her ribs, bandaged and taped under her sweater, and her knee, splinted, both protested. She moved anyway and made it out the door of her apartment, keys in hand. This was a bad idea. Realistically, she should be running as far away as she could. She should run as far away from Todd as she possibly could. Instead, she walked up to his door. His heartbeat was still on the couch, but it was starting to beat faster, stronger, like someone just at the edge of wakefulness. With a deep breath, she lifted her hand to the door and knocked, hard, four times.

"Todd? It's Sam. Are you ready?"​
 
Todd woke with a start. There’d been another bang, followed by three more. He didn’t know why his heart spiked, just that he remembered danger, remembered Sammy, and the splitting agony in the side of his head–

The couch complained under him as he shot upright. His eyes scanned the dark for danger, and he breathed deeply through his nose, something sharp on the tip of his tongue. Something that died as he realized that there was nothing there. He was in his living room, in Sam’s apartments. He raised a hand to his temple, and felt no pain, no blood. But there was a smell, a heavy scent of fear and copper that stuck to him.

He looked down, and took a deep whiff of his shirt. Sure enough, that was where the smell was coming from. Blood. Someone else’s blood. That, and the warmth of his skin, and the lack of pain from the bullet’s impact…

His heartbeat spiked again as he looked at the door. Blood and wholeness, and that warm kind of energy that made him feel truly alive, meant only one thing.

Hunt.

He had hunted last night.

Sammy had seen him hunt.

Sam had seen him hunt, and he’d survived.

Samantha Walsh was outside his door, asking if he was ready.

The window was closer than the door. The fire escape was ready for him. His keys were most likely on the counter, where he’d probably come in last night. It’d be easy. He could leave, and vanish. She wouldn’t find him. And if she came after –

Would he actually do anything, if she came after?

Sleep finally started to clear from his head, letting him think with his brain and not just his instincts. His instincts demanded that he run away. But he knew Sam. Sam would follow him to the ends of the earth after seeing what he was, what he could do. Had he hurt her? How many people had he hurt?

How long had she let him sleep after that? He didn’t feel rested, but that could just be the burst of adrenaline as he realized where he was, what was happening. What was coming. What had always been coming since he first met Samantha Walsh.

He should have run away. He should run away now. He should ease off the couch, and go out the window, and disappear forever. But she’d find him. She’d found Slate, after all – found Obsidian. He couldn’t exactly go to Ethan for safe harbor from Sam. That’d get too many people killed. He could leave the city, but without definite direction, he’d just wear himself out, and her rage would catch up to him.

So he had to face what was standing on the other side of that door. Who would be standing there. He wondered if she’d have her hammer, or if she’d just burn him until he stopped. He hoped she’d brought the hammer. It’d be faster. It’d be easier. He’d be less likely to snap again, to fight her.

To hurt her.

He stood up, and looked down again at the clothes that smelled like blood he hadn’t quite been able to scrub out. He must’ve stopped somewhere else to wash off – a truck stop, maybe. Or Slate. He hoped it wasn’t Slate. Ethan would’ve asked too many questions. Sam might ask questions, too. He didn’t want to spend his last minutes answering questions.

In a few long strides, the door was all that was between him and her. When he opened that door, something would end. Something was going to happen, and he was– he was afraid of it. He had to admit that to himself. He was afraid of what was coming, with the same old, deep-set fear he used to reserve for Arlo.

She was going to kill him.

He was going to let her.

It was better than the alternative. It always had been.

He was going to die here.

His hand turned the lock, and then the knob. Light flooded in from the hallway, and he squinted out, toward her shadow. And as she cleared up, he realized something. He saw the brown boots and huge sweater and the way her neck was – her neck was visible, to him. Her armor was gone. She wasn’t wearing the suit. And that, above all else, was what brought the question from his lips, from a tongue that still tasted like someone else’s blood.

“Sam? You’re not– I mean you’re not dressed for–”

He caught himself, and swallowed. The soft resignation had evaporated, and there was something scared in his eyes as he looked down at her tiny form. He was forgetting something. The skirt, the hiking boots, what was he forgetting?

This wasn’t Phoenix. This was Sammy, as if nothing had happened.

He rubbed the sleep out of one eye, and made himself relax. It had gotten easier, over the years. Fear gave way to real confusion, though his heart never slowed, never stilled.

“Ready for… what?”
 

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when the door opened up. Todd was standing in the doorway dressed in all-black sweats, looking down at her with what she could roughly guess was fear in his eyes. With a start, she realized something. He had no memory of what had happened. Todd did not remember the night before last. He did not remember what had happened. That was why there was so much confusion in his eyes.

As he artificially relaxed his body, she put on a smile. It was sad, and a bit tight, but it was there. She paused for a moment, trying to take in the rest of the scene. This led to the second thing that Sam noticed.

Todd didn’t smell like blood.

Why didn’t he smell like blood? He hadn’t showered here. She knew. She would have woken up if he had showered. So why didn’t he smell like blood, or have blood on his clothes? Where had he gone after he had broken her leg?

That could wait. It would have to wait. She wasn’t going to let it ruin his birthday. Her smile eased up slightly and she sighed. She reached up and pushed some of his messy curls back from his face, gently touching his skin, finding it to be almost normal temperature.

“It’s your birthday. You slept through the morning, so we missed the movie, but we were going to go hike. Remember? We’ve been planning this all week.” She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek before pulling it away and giving him space. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked down, a bit of sadness leaking into her eyes.

She wanted to just be happy. She wanted to just be happy that she could still feel that rope between them and that that hadn’t changed. She wanted to be happy that he seemed normal again. She wanted to be happy that they could still touch and that neither of them was dead. But she couldn’t be. She couldn’t be happy. She couldn’t be because she knew why he looked scared.

He might not remember anything, but he knew something had happened, and he thought she was there to kill him. Expected, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.​
 
His birthday.

It was December 20th. The day they’d gone on patrol together had been the 18th. She’d let him sleep a whole day away, let him lie alone in the dark, let his body work off – someone. Someone he only remembered in flashes of fear, of warmth, of gut-wrenching joy. The pleasure buzzed under his skin even as it tried to crawl away from her touch, from the hand that brushed the side of his face and filled him with her scent.

If she was going to kill him, she should have done it in his sleep. Unless– had he just dreamed it, and forgotten yesterday? Dreams of the hunt weren’t unusual. Dreams he didn’t remember when he woke up, besides the taste of cinnamon.

But…no. There was something in her eyes, something that recognized his fear. Something that didn’t deny it. She knew. She saw. She had seen his monster, the part of him that he’d thought dead, the part of him that hunted for fun and for blood. He should be looking into those golden eyes, feeling her feverish hand against his cheek, as he burned alive.

So why wasn’t he? Why was she here in her sweater and boots, talking about his birthday? About their hike? About the plans they’d made before she knew?

His eyes held hers. His eyes stared deep into hers, stuck in the liquid amber, until she turned them away to hide her sadness, until she pulled her hand – her only weapon – away from his face. And then he realized. Then, he knew why.

One last day. One last good day, his birthday, an easy day to remember. A warm memory in the coming dark, after he made her snuff him out. This couldn’t be for him, because he didn’t deserve that mercy.

She did, though. It was the least he could do. The least he could do was to brush aside the sadness, and let resignation replace the false relaxation. He could smile at her, without showing the teeth that had threatened her, and he sighed.

“Right,” he said, quietly, “I forgot to set my alarm. I’ll be ready in ten.”

Ten minutes. Ten minutes to dress, to pull himself together, to drink some coffee – even without the hunger, it wasn’t a bad idea to take whatever precautions he could – and to use the orange soap to scrub the last of the blood from his hands and face and hair. To make himself presentable. For her.

One last day. He could give her that.

It was the least she deserved, after what she was going to do for him.
 
The resignation didn’t escape her notice. But it was better than fear. She would take anything over him looking at her in fear. She smiled and nodded, moving away from the door. “I’ll be sitting on the stairs. Just come out when you’re ready.”

She turned to walk over to the exit from the hallway and barely caught herself when her knee gave out. Her hand slammed into the wall and she breathed in sharply. The pain radiated out and across the top and bottom of her leg. She breathed in, and as she breathed out, she pushed herself back up into a standing position. Gritting her teeth, she kept moving, walking toward the hallway exit. She heard a hesitation, and then the door closed behind her.

She sat on the top of the metal staircase for the next ten minutes and waited. And while she did, she thought about two things. The first thing was how relieved she was that when she had looked at him and she had felt the tether snap into place between them. It was still there, even without his inner monster. He was her soulmate. Not the monster. Todd Oscar Fowler was the other half of Sam’s heart and always would be. And the simple bliss of knowing that was enough to make her smile for just a moment, tilting her head back and sighing.

The second thing she thought of was that she could never lose him. He thought she was going to kill him. He had been so scared of the idea of her killing him. Then the resignation had set back in. And now, now she had to figure out how to broach the subject. Today would not be the day she talked to him. By all that was good and right in the world, he would have a good birthday.

Behind her, the door opened. She looked up and saw Todd, looking more like him. Combed out curls that were just starting to get long. His many layers of tans and blacks in place, despite the healthy glow to his face. He looked normal. He looked right. He looked–

“Beautiful.” The word slipped past her lips ever so softly, just loud enough that she knew he would hear it. She hadn’t meant to say it, but that was okay. She had said it anyway. “Ah, are you ready? We’re going to have to take your car today, not mine.”

Sam pulled herself to her feet with the help of the staircase railing. She almost tipped forward, but held tight to the bar and stayed steady. She looked up at him with a small smile, nervous, sad. There was so much sadness in her eyes then. She watched his face, checking for that resignation, for the fear. She wanted just one bit of happiness. Just one true smile again.

Just one.​
 
He heard her stumble just before the latch caught. He grabbed the door handle last second, held it long enough to anticipate the sound of her body hitting the floor –

She caught the wall instead. He exhaled slowly, and then shut the door the rest of the way, before she could notice.

But she had to have noticed, hadn’t she? She noticed so much he didn’t want her to. He stayed on the other side of that door for a second, stayed there and didn’t move. Just breathed. Just listened to her drag herself across the hallway, and judged the type of injury she had. Leg, for sure. He tended to inflict leg injuries to prevent running on nonlethal fights. It wasn’t the ankle; she was dragging too much for it to be anything below the knee.

The knee. Had she been holding her weight wrong? Had she been favoring one leg? Or had she been pretending, so he didn’t see?

Why wouldn’t Sammy want him to see her broken knee? It could be fear. She wasn’t afraid, though. She didn’t have her armor on. She was wearing civilian clothes, and had stood in front of him, unarmed. Not like a rabbit with a sprained ankle at all, but not like a wolf trying to pretend it wasn’t hurt, either. Could it have been Mary, or her brothers? They were all he could remember before the gunshot. Or had it happened after? Had it –

Todd usually broke the knee to prevent prey from running.

His stomach knotted itself around whoever his meal had been last night. All he could think was that it hadn’t been Sam. It hadn’t been Sam. The thing that he became was so human that it – he must’ve pretended to be normal long enough to try to incapacitate her. A shiver ran down his back at the thought.

The fear he’d been experiencing about banishing that part of him from this world was slowly starting to dissipate. Maybe Ethan was wrong – no. Ethan had to be wrong. He had to be, because if Ethan was right, he had no control over whether he’d kill Sammy or not.

She was going to kill him today. One last good day.

It took ten minutes for the resolve to finish settling, to force it to replace the tired resignation. She didn’t deserve to remember him for his resignation. She didn’t deserve the sad, tired look he kept seeing in the mirror. She had to do what she was going to do.

And for that alone, she deserved to remember him well. Remember the part of him that would love her, if he could.

His usual layers weren’t usually good for hiking, but he’d made a few small adjustments. Jeans that were a little short and a bit too wide even then, but those discrepancies were hidden by the brown hiking boots he’d had for years. A t-shirt over his turtleneck, under the other two sweaters, that was a little bit long and stuck out. His hair combed under his cap. His camera in a backpack, slung over one shoulder. She’d have to go through that camera. He’d make sure to leave something nice on it, from today. Whenever it presented itself.

His smile was loose and practiced. It would look natural, to anyone who didn’t know. Who didn’t know Todd, who’d never seen it tighten at the edges with force that would break a normal person’s teeth. His eyes were soft, bright, mysterious and maybe even cold. Like a fresh blanket of snow hiding the hard-packed dirt underneath, or a slick of black ice. His posture was slightly bent, curved to hide the far edges. He was Todd. The Todd she’d met at Vik’s two months ago.

The Todd she’d kissed that day, before all of this happened.

And his warm, well-fed cheeks flushed when she called him beautiful, and meant it. That alone meant that his preparation was paying off. There was no fear, no anger, but so much sadness behind her eyes. She knew as well as he did how this was going to end.

But before that, they were going to have a day to remember. He was going to shove all the resignation, all the exhaustion, into a box where it belonged, saved for later. Saved for the right time. Now he smiled, now he watched her and for the first time today, really saw her. Her tiny form, her glowing curls, her sweater and hiking boots and impractical skirt. He let himself smile for her. For her.

This was going to be hard enough as it was. Especially with her leg like that.

He took a step forward, followed by another, and before she could resist he scooped her up in his arms with a little spin as a flourish. He felt her warmth against his body, let himself fill his lungs with her scent, and looked down at her golden eyes with distance – but not sadness – in his own, set over a sunny smile.

“For the best birthday ever? Of course I’m ready, Sammy.”

He planted a kiss at her hairline – unless she flinched away, god forbid she flinch away – and started down the stairs.
 

There was something wrong. His eyes, his face, the way he was acting– it was all wrong. Everything was wrong. Why was he acting so bright and sunny, why was he faking happiness? She could see it, sense it, knew it. It was setting off her vibe checker like nothing he had ever done before. This was one big lie, one big act.

When his lips met her hairline, right between her new framing pieces from her haircut, Sam froze up. She let him get halfway down the stairs before she spoke up. “What are you doing, Todd?”

Fuck. Fuck she hadn’t meant to ask that.

She looked up at him as he stopped walking, still holding her in his arms. She looked at that smile and tears started to overflow in her eyes. He was trying to compensate. One of them had to be happy, right? He was trying to compensate for her sadness. And he was misreading her sadness. She let her hands run over his shoulders for a moment as she thought about what to do next.

Might as well commit.

“What are you fucking doing? Stop pretending. I don’t want you to pretend. I don’t want you to be scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you.” She paused as the words left her lips, as she silently cried. She raised a hand and used the sleeve of her oversized sweater to wipe at her eyes, glad she hadn’t worn makeup.

She really wasn’t going to do this, but now, now that he was acting like this– she wasn’t going to have this be what the rest of the day was like. A shudder ran through her body, leaving her aching and hurting. She threw herself into him, seeking shelter in his arms. Shelter from the storm that was finally reaching a peak.

Her hands found his back and buried themselves in his sweaters, holding tight like it would stop the thundering rain or the rolling waves that threatened to separate them. She felt the bond between them snap tight at the contact and held it steadfast in her mind. She would not lose Todd. She would not lose Todd. She would not lose Todd.

She buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him. He wouldn’t run with her in his arms, unable to set her down, with her broken knee unable to support her weight that well if he did. He wouldn’t run if she held him tight, let him feel her beating heart that had begun to bleed. He wouldn’t run if she willed him not to hard enough. He wouldn’t run. She had to believe he wouldn’t run as she cried and as she started to shake.

“Please stop. This is enough. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.” Her voice was muffled against his sweater, but she knew he’d hear her.

God, please don’t let him run.​
 
Todd froze mid-step. His grip stayed relaxed, but his heartbeat picked up again, and he simply stopped walking for a second.

She’d seen right through him. He never lost the smile, but something behind his eyes went cold, too. And before he could make up a reason for his pause, a reason to pretend, she was crying. Clinging desperately, weakly, to the thing that the night before last had broken her knee with the intent to tear her apart. Her hands ran up his back, tight, but unafraid, and he held his breath while she shivered.

The hunger didn’t claw into his throat, this time. Somehow… somehow that was worse. Knowing someone else had died in her place –

No. Knowing he was relieved that someone had died, if only so Sammy could live one more night, so he could hold her right now. So he could have her here in his arms without his teeth crying out for her flesh. Someday soon, that hunger would come back. With it would come the urge to chase again. With it, his mouth would water at her scent again. The cinnamon would fill him up and bleed into her.

He couldn’t keep resisting. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t strong like her.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” His voice was quiet. He leaned back and sat down, settled on the stairs, still holding her tight and close. His eyes burned with tears, but he wouldn’t let them fall on her. Wouldn’t let her feel how much this hurt him.

This was hard enough.

“I’m sorry. For– everything. But you don’t to hold back for me. It’s okay now. I’m sorry that’s how you had to find out, but – I’m okay now. I won’t fight. I’m not scared.”

The fear had left him. He needed to be strong enough to bear this for her. She loved him. She still loved him, still didn’t want to do this. But he was still a monster.

“Please, just… just do it.” His voice got quieter, somehow. Trying to hide the tremble behind his words as he wrapped her in his arms, let her sit on his lap. Holding her. “It won’t even hurt if it’s you. But I can’t keep going like this if it means I’ll just hurt you like that again. It’s really okay.”
 

The tears came faster as he tried to be brave. She shook her head violently against his shoulder and gasped in a breath as she looked up at him. “No! I’m not going to kill you! I’m not going to hurt you!”

She wrapped her shaking arms as tightly as she could around him, leaving just enough slack that she wouldn’t fracture anything. She pressed herself into him, curling her whole body around his. Knees tucked up into his side, arms around his chest, head nestled in his neck. She stayed like that as she finally let everything out, as the words spilled from her without her consent.

“I would never hurt you. I can’t hurt you. I’d rather crawl on my hands and knees over broken glass. I’d rather cut out my own eyes. I’d rather die. No, Todd, I’m not going to hurt you. Please, love, stop asking me to. Stop asking me to.” Even though she started strong, her voice cracked at the end and became small.

Sam moved her hands from his back and up to his face, which she caught and held. She lifted her forehead up and pulled him down, so their faces rested against each other. She breathed him in, spearmint and forest and coffee and cigarettes, so close she could taste him. All she wanted was for him to believe her, to understand that she meant every word she said. That he was safe with her. That she would keep him safe from her fire.

That they could be safe together.

“I’ve been trying for weeks to come up with a way to tell you I knew. But I thought you’d run away. I thought you’d leave me. I can’t lose you, Todd. I don’t want to hurt you. Please don’t ask me to anymore. I love you.”​
 
“Why?”

The question was just behind his lips the entire time she spoke, in his eyes when she looked up at them, when he finally let the tears fall from his eyes. And now, now the fear came. Not fear of her; that wasn’t gone, probably, but it was still in its box.

“I’m just– I’m just teeth, Sammy. I’m just going to hurt you. That’s all I am. I’m a predator. Maybe you’ve known, but you– you saw what I did. What I am.”

He ended in a whisper, as she curled up against him, curled closer despite her wounded knee. He reached up and cupped her face in his hand, and all at once, all the pain, all the grief, all the sadness broke through the mask. It shattered silently. Tears flowed, not fell, from his eyes. His body started to shake from more than the cold that was barely tangible under his skin.

“Sammy, you’re the only one who can make it stop.” His voice never rose from the snowfall whisper. “I need you to make it stop. Please. You don’t – you deserve so much more than me. You should love someone who can love you back, not– not–”

Someone who’s wanted to devour you since the first second we met.

Someone who’s lied to you since the beginning because I knew where this had to go.

Someone who’ll tear you to pieces the second he loses control.

Someone who doesn’t have a soul.

“– me.”
 

Despite everything that was happening, Sam laughed. She brushed a few stray curls back up under Todd’s cap and held his face gently. She smiled despite the tears that still spilled down her face. With one hand, she gently rolled her sleeve down and wiped his tears– not hers– away. She breathed in and out shallowly, her breath catching a few times. Then, she pressed her face closer, so their noses brushed against each other.

“You’re worried about things that you don’t need to be. Todd, you love me. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be so worried about how you don’t love me. And even if you think you don’t, I know you do.”

She sighed as she sat up a little straighter on his lap, tucking her face into the curve of his neck. The tears were finally starting to stem. She knew that could be changed, if he kept asking her. But she hoped he would hear the words she was about to say and take them to heart. That he would believe her. She had no idea if she could undo such deeply ingrained beliefs, and she knew she couldn’t do it in one talk, but maybe she could get started.

“You’re right, I saw what you did. And I was… afraid, a bit. Only because you didn’t seem to see me. It was like you didn’t care that I was me anymore. I don’t know what that was, but it’s clearly not permanent. So I can figure out what to do about it. And yes, I could make it stop. I could burn you alive. I could crush your skull. I could hold you and boil you while whispering how much I loved you.”

She paused for just a moment and pressed a small kiss to the side of his neck. “But I would kill myself right after. I wouldn’t let you die alone. I don’t want to live without you. You’re… the other half of me. You’re my perfect balance. I’d be a hollow shell if I killed you. Forever missing half my soul.”

Sam wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him, a hand climbing up into his curls. Finally, she whispered to him, “You don’t deserve to die. You’ve never deserved to die. You didn’t choose to be this. I know you. You hate what you are. You would give anything to change it. You want to do good in the world, and you want to help people, and I bet you’ve never eaten an innocent person in your entire life. You aren’t a bad person. You aren’t a monster.”​
 
She tried to offer him absolution. She gave him what she had – her forgiveness. It wasn’t hers to give. Not for everything else. Not for everything he was.

“You don’t know who I’ve eaten.”

He sighed. He couldn’t do what he’d done with Nat. Like Rhodonite, Sam knew him too well to believe any hardcore monster persona. But he didn’t need a persona to let the tears stop for a second, to adjust her in his arms, to hold her close and tight, and speak in a calm, distant, cold voice.

“You’re from Columbus. You left after I did. I’m sure you heard about Breeze.” He leaned in, speaking behind her ear softly, but his voice never seemed any closer. “Summer Kelley. Almost eighteen years old. Could get into any college of her choice with a dozen scholarships, including cheer and academics. Popular, pretty, and believed there’s good in the world. In monsters.”

He felt like he didn’t have to tell her what happened to Summer Kelley. So he took a slow breath, and changed the subject – in such a way that made it seem related.

“When I hear the hunt song, it’s everything, Sam. The whole world stops for me. I’m stronger than anything that could hurt me. I’m happy in a way I can’t be without it. It’s stronger than any drug. I spent – a long time, just doing that. Being in that mindset, in that moment.”

Now that I’ve relapsed, who knows if I’ll snap out of it next time.

She was close. So close he could break her. His mouth, and by extension his nose, were near her ear. He took a deep breath of her, and sighed, tasting the cinnamon and vanilla and jasmine in the air.

“If it was me killing you, it wouldn’t be quick.” He thought about what Ethan had said – that his monster could banter. What Sam had said – that it was like he couldn’t see her. He didn’t know. He wished he knew. He wished he’d taken Ethan’s offer, now. He wished he could just tell Sam what kind of monster he was.

He swallowed, lightly, and then he kissed her neck. Her skin was soft under his lips. The very air tasted like her, like fire and sugar. He wasn’t starving, but for a second, he let himself be blind to Sam. What would he do if he wasn’t seeing her, if he gave in to the demand to make her wholly and truly his?

“I’d say ‘I love you,’ too.” He traced the curve of her neck with a knuckle, but kept his head turned so she couldn’t look into his eyes. “If you ran, I would laugh and chase you. When I caught you, I’d pull you apart, piece by piece. You’d watch me eat you. And if you didn’t fight, I would just savor you. I know it’s you. Perfect Sammy, sweet and soft. And if that – song takes me again, if I relapse and can’t get out, you’ll never be safe.”

He leaned back, and took her hands between his. He placed a soft kiss on the back of each, very well aware of their thickness, their texture.

“I’d take these first. Hands, up the arms, never letting you bleed out.” The memories of texture, of order, were bubbling up. Memories without thought, just the manner of things, once upon a time. “You’d lose yourself to me in mouthfuls. Other extremities: ears, toes, feet, legs. I’d fill your mouth with your own blood when I kissed you, and I’d ask you how you want to die. Heart, throat, lungs…”

He kissed her, and he let the tears fall again, silent. His voice didn’t shake when he pulled away and finished.

“And when it was done, when I woke up, I’d survive. I’d be in hell, I’d never be happy again outside of the huntsong– but I’d survive, Sammy. And that’s so much worse than everything else, isn’t it?”

At last, he cupped her face again. At last, he held her so she could see the fear in his eyes, and the grief, that premature grief that had lived there for so long without outlet. He couldn’t live with himself even knowing that was a possibility. Because he knew he’d live with himself once it was done and over with.

And that was more monstrous than anything the hunt could do to her.
 

Listening to him was easier than she thought it probably should have been. Listening to him talk about taking her apart, piece by piece. Listening to him confess that he was who took Summer. That he ate Summer. While that might have upset her, even then, she was sure he had a good reason. He wouldn’t have just targeted Summer for no reason.

She let his lips brush hers, but she didn’t put anything into it. Not yet. And when he cupped her face, Sam looked up into those eyes, and she knew. She knew that every word was the truth. He hadn’t lied to her once. Instead of violently jerking away from him like Sam was sure she ought to, she shifted so her shoulder was in his chest, so she was facing him a little more as his hands held her face. She reached up and gently brushed away his tears again, a small smile on her face. She rested her weight in his arms, against his chest, and she smiled. They sat for a moment in silence as she processed everything he had said, but then, in a soft voice, she finally spoke up.

“You’re right. That’s horrible. But I don’t care. I still love you.”

She tilted her head up and caught his face in her hands, pulling him down into a kiss. This one, she gave as much as she could to him. She didn’t know if he’d believe her words. There was no mistaking the actions and the love behind them for anything but what they were. He kissed her back, and she could feel the sincerity in it. She held it for a few seconds, then broke away. Soft tears streamed down her face, but instead of a frown or a sob, Sam laughed.

Sam laughed, and she pulled Todd in close by the back of his head and held their faces together. Because she knew the truth now. “You could rip me to pieces and eat me and I would still love you. I can’t love you and not love that part of you too. Does it scare me, sure. But do I still love you enough that you could manipulate me into not noticing what was happening? Always. I love you, Todd Fowler. I love you, demons and all. You won’t scare me away.”

Until that moment, her warmth had been soft, below its normal temperatures, but now she cranked it up. She let him feel how much he made her burn. She channeled warmth into his body, filling him up in the only way she could while alive. She would chase away the violence he was so sure he would commit against her. She would chase away his lingering doubts about whether he could love her. She would chase away his fears about them and prove she was safe in his arms.

Sam tipped her head back as far as she could and raised a hand to pull down her collar. “If you’re so sure you’ll kill me, then do it. Take me. Bite my throat out and I’ll run for you. I’ll give you the best chase you’ve ever had. If that’s what you really want, then do it.”

She paused for a moment before adding in a soft voice, her eyes fluttering shut, “Or just admit you love me to yourself. Just admit that like every other wendigo there’s ever been, your teeth want to take from you what you love the most in the world. Like every other wendigo, it wants your family first. If you don’t want to kill me, then admit you love me, Todd.”​
 
Sammy wasn’t scared of him. He knew she had no reason to be, except that she wouldn’t fight back. As her warmth spread through him, he knew that she – she was right, probably. But it felt like there was something in his heart, something hard and lodged deep, that wouldn’t let him believe that. That wouldn’t let him believe that what she was telling him was love.

Oh. Oh, that was it. Something – something about the laugh. Something about her smile, despite the tears, something about her tone, made his heart want to shrivel up and die. Because he knew. He was seeing something familiar there, even if he was sure this wasn’t the same.

Sammy would never do what his father had done.

But she would expose herself to him. She would tip her head back so he could claim her life, if he wanted to. There’d be no butchering shed in the backyard, but there’d be no kitchen knife to the brain if he lunged, either. He looked down at her, and some of the sadness left his eyes. Maybe… maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

But he had to be sure.

He kissed her exposed throat. Grazed it with his lips, his teeth safe for now. Safely sated by someone he couldn’t remember. Mary, maybe. He hoped not. He hoped it wasn’t her brothers, either, but something about it being Mary just pulled all the sadness back into his bones. He stopped thinking, and raised his face from her neck before kissing her cheek again.

“That’s not what I want, Sammy. You know that.” His voice was still quiet. Something at the edges had warmed, however. “But I can’t promise it will always be that way. I need– if, if I’m going to accept that, Sammy, I need you to promise you’d hurt me if I – became that again. Maybe not kill me. But stop me. Stop me from hurting you. Promise me you won’t let me kill you, and I’ll admit– I’ll say what you want me to say. I will. But promise me first. Please.”

And then, if she could do that, maybe they’d address what she’d called him.

Wendigo. The Algonquian demon had come up in his early research, but he hadn’t thought he had enough overlap with it. Whatever was doing this to him wasn’t some possessing demon, some outside force. And he didn’t have antlers or anything, no trappings of being something so wholly other. When he’d done the research, he’d thought he never looked quite dead enough for that.

Mary had suggested wendigo, too, except she’d written it off right away because wendigos couldn’t shapeshift. They hadn’t in the lore he’d read, either. Vocal mimicry was common, but…

He shook that off, exhaled it with a sigh. There was no way to find out where Sam had gotten that idea without asking, and he wouldn’t ask until he knew she wouldn’t just lay down and let him kill her.
 

She melted into the feeling of his lips on her neck, confident as she was that he wouldn’t choose to hurt her. And as expected, she never felt the flash of his teeth. His lips ended at her cheek, and she sighed blissfully as he pulled away. She tilted her head forward and followed him so she could press her forehead to his again. While he spoke, she continued to pour heat into him, holding his shoulders in her hands.

“I won’t let you hurt me. I promise I’ll stop you if you try. Okay? I’ll stop you and I’ll do whatever I have to to bring you back to your senses and then I’ll bring you home. Every time.” She breathed the words out in a warm sigh, her breath mixing with his.

Everything bubbled back up in her. She remembered the feelings of not being enough. She remembered the feelings of isolation. She remembered her meltdown over Nahual. She remembered her life before him. She never wanted to feel those things again. She never wanted them to be in a place where there was distance between them. All she wanted in the world was Todd. All she was asking for, the thing she was begging the world for, the thing she was on her hands and knees for, was Todd.

After a moment, she swallowed and closed her eyes, pressing herself closer. She wrapped herself as close in his arms as she could get, her arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him equally as close. “Now… Please. Say it. For both of us, Todd.”

She pressed her lips gently against his and pulled him into a soft kiss. All softness, all sweetness, just a butterfly brush of lips. She breathed in his scent while she did so, letting the scent fill her lungs and ease the tension that was starting to fill her body. She let it melt away, and brushed his curls back up under his hat as she pulled back just enough for her to finish speaking with, “Please.”​
 
Her words washed over him, soaked into him and came through him, a buzz of light and peace – full sunlight on a spring day after a long, harsh winter. She promised. She promised to keep herself safe, to keep him safe. Both sides of him, the uneasy predator and the damaged man, felt the weight fall off his shoulders.

He leaned down into her as she pressed herself against him, small and fragile and broken in his arms. Broken, but whole. His Sammy was whole. She brushed his lips like a summer breeze running through his hair. And as he held her without that touch of icy hunger, he knew. He knew. He knew that the words he was going to say weren’t a lie, were not a placation. He felt them in the frozen heart, like something was stirring to life that had been in deep hibernation for the last decade or more.

“I love you, Sammy Walsh.”

And for once, saying it out loud, it didn’t feel like it could possibly be a lie. The living thing in that hollow of his chest, normally reserved for ice and starvation and fear and anger, was soft, and scared, but it shook itself off at the words like a sleepy animal. The more he thought on it, the more he thought about her – about them, the two of them, her curled into him, warm and safe and happy –

“Thank you.” There were tears pouring down his face again, but they fell like rain, not the same flood of awful emotions he’d just experienced. He leaned forward, and kissed her, gentle, without hunger, but without deception.

And one more time, as a whisper that mixed his breath with hers: “I love you.”
 

Sam accepted his kiss with the same softness and gentleness he offered her. It was nothing less than a binding, than an acceptance of the tether that lay between them. She felt everything in her soar and burst into heat and happiness. She felt the heaviness in her soul fade out like it had never been there. Her hands held his face close as he breathed out those words that she had needed so desperately for so many weeks.

“I love you.”

She poured everything into him in the form of summery warmth, pouring it into every spot where their bodies touched. She let him have her heat, her heart, all at once. And as he whispered those words softly, as his tears dripped down her hands and into her sweater, she felt tears of her own start again. In a soft voice, she returned the words, finally said in wholeness, with no hesitation or offers to be unheard. She finally let the words leave her lips, with no fear left.

“I love you, Todd Fowler.”

If she could have, she would have curled tighter around him, but already she was wrapped as tight around him as she could get without laying tightly entwined together. So instead, she pushed his hat back and off as her fingers played with his hair and held him close through the touch.

“I love you, too.”

For a long moment she stayed like that, content with the beautiful silence that lay between them. As their tears fell like rain, she let it wash away all of the fears that she had been harboring about them, about him. She let it pour out all of the love in her heart. She let it pour into him. As she held him close and tight, as she ran her fingers softly through his hair, as she let her happiness burn like a fire between them.

She played with his curls, running her fingers through them and musing them. Their tight coils felt soft beneath her warm touch, despite the fact she knew they were stripped. She dragged a hand down his face to his chin, feeling the stubble on his face. With a bit of a muffled laugh, she finally broke the silence. “You look good with the long curls and the scruff. I like it.”​
 
She loved him.

He’d always known. She’d never lied to him, even when he didn’t know she knew the whole truth. But she said it out loud now, now that she knew, now that she’d seen all of him, and she believed it. And he believed it, because she’d made a promise to bring him home if that ever happened again. He didn’t let himself dwell on the promise, didn’t let himself think too hard about all its implications. He didn’t want to, right now. Right now, he had Sammy Walsh in his arms, curled against him, and right now, he wasn’t hungry. Right now, she was happy, and right now, for the first time in almost a decade, he realized he was happy, too.

He let her pull his hat away, felt her fingers in his hair, stripped though it was from the hard washings he’d given it over the years. Now, at least, she knew why. There was so much now that he wouldn’t have to tell her, but none of that mattered. None of it mattered as he looked into her amber eyes, and smiled, and laughed, softly, as she commented on his hair.

It was so silly, so mundane, that he couldn’t help but laugh. All of the fear, the weight of expectation, had shattered with her words, and lay all around them in broken pieces. He’d need to pick them up and remember their edges when he and Sammy were done today. But for now, he let them stay harmless on the floor as he scratched the scruff he hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning.

“You think so?” he asked, before placing his hand behind her back. “I’ve, uhm… I’ve thought about growing it out before, but it’d be harder to keep clean, and long hair with a, uh, with the mechanic job…”

He paused, and then smiled down at her, and started to stand with her still in his arms. Where they’d go from here, who knew? He definitely wasn’t going to let her hike, but… they needed to talk. For a moment he stood there, holding her.

“But I’ve been looking for an excuse to keep it. ‘Sammy likes it’ is good enough for me.”
 

His laugh made a new wave of warmth erupt from her chest, flooding the cold air around them. His smile chased away everything that still lingered in the air. There were still things that needed to be said and discussed, but not right then. Not that second. Right then, she was content to just be in his arms, as he lifted her up, standing on the steps of the entryway to their shared home. She curled herself into him, settling into his arms.

“I do like it. Consider this your perfect excuse, cheekbones.” She nestled her head into his neck, placing a kiss on his jawline. She replayed his words in her head as she smiled brightly up at him, the tears finally stemming.

He loved her.

As much as she had hoped and prayed, she had felt deep in her heart like she would never hear those words. Those words meant everything to her. She breathed in slowly, lifting one of her hands up to his curls again, touching them freely. It was then that she was painfully reminded of her shattered knee, the hole in her foot, and her broken ribs. She shuddered and winced as the pain pushed itself to the forefront of her mind.

“We probably shouldn’t go hiking. I, uhm. I might have more injuries than you currently know about.” She smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging her shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal that her foot had been impaled by a spear only a few days prior. But then, with everything that had been happening, she realized that Todd might not have clocked the injured foot.

“How about we go back inside and just… talk? I have a lot of questions still, and I think I’d like to just curl up on the couch maybe while we wait for dinner to finish cooking.” She nestled her face into the collar of his turtleneck and sighed gently, sharing her warmth with him. She hummed gently, feeling the vibrations of his body echo through her. There was nothing more comforting to her in the entire world than the feeling of his body, the unique vibrations of his being, against her own. A thought briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly brushed it aside. As much as she wanted that, she had a feeling he never would.

… Maybe that could go in the discussions later.​
 
She flinched in his arms, even as she flooded him with warmth, and the immediate concern was going to be a hard habit to kill. She knew, now. The flinch had nothing to do with his predator, nothing to do with fear. She wasn’t afraid of him, even now, when she really should be. Anyone else would be. Even Ethan, sometimes – Ethan, after seeing what he really was, had been. Ethan was another predator, and he’d been afraid.

That was something he’d have to think about later. Right now, his fingers found her ribs, the place where they’d shifted. It was a simple act of recognition. His smile softened, when she was the first one to admit they shouldn’t go hiking. She’d beaten him to the suggestion by a second.

“You’re right,” he agreed. He shifted his weight to stand up, careful not to jostle her ribs or leg. “You, ma’am, should be on bed rest. Sitting on the couch would be a good substitute, and… I think I have questions, too.”

Why am I different? Why a Wendigo? What happened that night? And those were just the first few. Specific questions about Mary, about the exceptions, about Nahual, about – everything, really. Everything. But that was something that could be settled when they’d gone in and sat down. Assuming she didn’t object, he got up, and headed back toward her apartment.
 
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