Realistic or Modern Transformation

[Acorn]

There had been multiple points throughout the remainder of the ceremony (primarily when Rita said her vows with love infusing every word) that he’d felt tears threaten. His main solution to deal with them had been to hold his eyes open as widely as he could and blink as infrequently as possible, but that only worked until the pastor declared them man and wife and gave them permission to kiss. When he closed his eyes and met her in the sealing kiss, the intensity of it speaking volumes for their affection for one another and disregard of the audience watching them, something of the overwhelming joy he felt escaped from the corners of his eyes.

He inhaled sharply and was quick to pinch away the moisture. It wasn’t that he had a problem with crying — if there was ever an appropriate time for a man to cry it was on his wedding day — it was that he knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Rita didn’t make it easy on him though, not when she looked at him with tears brimming and said what she did to him.

“I love you too,” he managed, his voice a croaky whisper, “wife.” There were hoots and a few high-pitched whistles in addition to the applause when he pulled her in for another kiss that rivaled the first. This time when they parted, he was all grins.

When he finally looked away from Rita to everyone still standing and clapping, Becca started the next phase of the night by stepping alongside Rita to return her bouquet. The violins struck up an upbeat tune and they left the altar arm in arm. The return down the aisle was surprisingly long and challenging, because he didn’t have flowers to tie his hands up, and he continuously received handshakes or enthusiastic pats on the back and shoulder that sent him reeling. If not for being a werewolf, and Rita being made of sturdy stuff herself, he suspected it wouldn’t have just been his vows that he tripped and fell through.

He was laughing deep belly laughs by the time they made it through, and they only faded when he got Rita back into the house and to the room that’d been set up for them to wait in while their guests enjoyed a cocktail hour. On a small table, they’d placed a platter filled with crackers, cheese and other tidbits that they could snack on, as well as a champagne bottle and glass flutes. There was a small sofa nearby, and a window that overlooked the grounds that Leon went to, but only for the purpose of closing the curtains. Once they were secured, he turned and looked at Rita.

It’d all happened so quickly, but that beautiful woman was his wife. He shook his head and breathed out a short puff of air that spoke of his disbelief that they’d ended up where they were.

Leon went to her and placed his hands on the curve of her hips, just below the cinched waist of her dress.

“How’s it feel to be a married woman?” he asked, smiling widely.

 

[Poe]

There was a moment in time where Rita had honestly convinced herself that marriage would never happen for her. After losing Chase, it had been a battle to open her heart to Leon and every day she thanked whatever part of her heart held onto hope. She remembered that afternoon when Jackson had put her baggage out on display and she was hardly strong enough to face it. Instead, she had run from Leon and he always ran after her. He sat with her and held her as she sobbed, promising her all the while that it was possible to care for him and Chase. One did not need to exist without the other because Chase would always be a part of her. Chase’s death had changed her, too, in some ways that were good. Rita was more open now, more laid back and forgave herself a bit more often. She became more passionate and more reliable, stronger certainly. Mentally and physically stronger. But more than anything, Rita had learned to not take a single moment for granted. She knew how fast things could end and after facing death herself and experiencing Chase’s, she knew she had to spend every day of her life holding onto the things and people that meant most.

Leon had always been her partner. From the day they met, she relied on him with everything she had. He never let her down, always came after her, and he loved her more than she felt like she deserved some days. He had opened his arms, his heart, and his life to her without hesitation. He always commented on how caring and giving she was with others, but Leon had given her a safe space when the world seemed like a terrifyingly dark place and he never once faltered. Even when they visited her parents, she knew he was someone she would hold onto forever. Whether he was her husband or not, he would always occupy the same space in her life. Her partner. Her life partner.

But now that he was her husband, she loved the sound of it. Over and over and over again. Husband.

“You have no idea,” Rita breathed out on the tail end of a laugh. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck and she spent some quality time acclimating herself to the feeling of her husband’s lips, almost selfishly so, until she had to pull herself back for the sake of making it out to the reception. If she had her way, they would go home and never leave – at least for a week or so – but there were people waiting, family members who hadn’t seen them in years (such as Leon’s mother who Rita could not believe Angela actually managed to help track down), and friends who wanted to congratulate them.

The selfish kisses would have to wait then.

Soon enough they were brought back out for the reception which was under a brilliant canopy of branches and hanging lights. It was almost ethereal when Rita saw it and she couldn’t help but squeeze Leon’s hand as they waited to be announced. After some glass clinking, she could hear the DJ call out for everyone to stand. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you for the first time as husband and wife.”

“Leon and Rita Alvarez!”

“God, I love the sound of that,” Rita laughed as the two walked in and their family and friends all erupted into powerful cheers enough to rival Bourbon Street only a few miles or so away. They came out for their first dance and it all passed by in a blur, all Rita could remember was the sight of Leon in front of her. Even with all the congratulations and comments, the two of them managed to make it to their sweetheart table at the head of the reception and took a seat for dinner. It was only after they ate that Angela came up and handed them two new drinks.

“Courtesy of your father,” Angela said with a smile, radiant in her mother-of-the-bride gown. Her words were not just directed at Rita, but Leon too. Her family, Angela decided, was Leon’s family too now and Rita wasn’t about to argue. Frank was a pretty great dad. “I am so happy for the both of you. The rosary was a beautiful touch, Leon.”

“That being said, I’m sure your mother would like to meet your new wife,” Angela winked and sipped her champagne.

 

[Acorn]

Somewhere between dancing with Rita and sipping on the drink Angela had brought over, Leon realized his perception of time was fucked. Everything bad that’d happened to him and Rita — including but not limited to their time at the facility, when they’d been on the run after their escape, and when Rita had been shot — had passed with painful slowness. But getting married to the woman he loved more than anything in the world, the moment when he felt like it’d be impossible to measure his level of happiness? So far, it’d flown by.

When he thought back on it, all his other happy moments had gone by just as quickly, but there were feelings and images that stood out far more vividly than any of his darkest memories. He remembered being crunched up with Rita on the medical bed she’d been confined to after a werewolf-induced concussion, how he felt like he’d fall off at any moment, but how that hadn’t mattered a single lick when she’d kissed him.

He remembered their first date, the night she invited him over to her fancy apartment, and how he hadn’t known what to do with his hands then, either, and how she’d cooked what he was sure was a wonderful meal of steak and mashed potatoes, but he could only recall what her lips had tasted like. He remembered with perfect clarity the moment he told her he loved her. They’d been sitting in his childhood room on his squeaky-ass old bed, and she’d lit up in a way he’d never seen before she told him she loved him too.

Everything, all of it, he remembered, and he could play it back just as it happened as often as he wanted. He’d remember her walking down the aisle to him, how her eyes were fixed on him and only him, he’d remember kissing his wife for the first time, and he’d remember waving his mother over — a woman he’d only met a couple hours before then, if that — and how he’d had just enough to drink that he didn’t give it any thought before he stood and walked around to take her by the hand and pull her over to meet Rita.

“Rita, I’d like you to meet Claudia, my mom.”

His mother looked like she wanted to find a soft spot in the ground that she could burrow her way into when all nearby eyes went to her, and he wondered if that was what he looked like when that happened to him. Maybe that’s where he’d got it from. His grandma certainly wasn’t that way. She’d talk to anyone, and though she never went out of her way to get attention, she never seemed to mind when she got it.

Claudia, hand up and fiddling with one of her gold hooped earrings, recovered enough to smile at Rita.

“You were beautiful. Are beautiful. Are.” She cleared her throat and ducked her head, then looked sidelong at Leon. “I’m sorry, I’m— this is all…”

Yeah, she was definitely where he got it from.

He laughed pulled her into an abrupt side hug that made her eyes widen. “A lot to take in,” he finished for her, and she nodded.

She shared a few more words with Rita but before she escaped, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled from it the double rosary that'd been placed over him and Rita during the ceremony. After splitting it, he gave her one half of the rosary, and Angela the other.

 

[Poe]

“We’re a lot to deal with,” Rita smiled and took Claudia’s hand affectionately, “but I certainly couldn’t ask for a better family than this and a better husband than your son. I’m sure you’ll find your place here faster than you believe.”

And so it came and went. Leon and Rita were married and Angela led the rest of the night in tears and laughter, drink and merriment, until so late in the night that Rita’s feet had been relieved of their heels and were sitting on her chair instead of with her as they should be. The crowd had cheered their exit, hoot and hollered for Rita and Leon as they swung each other around in loving embraces and kisses until Leon hoisted Rita up took her from the dancefloor for the evening. They hadn’t decided on a honeymoon date, necessarily, so the two took a limo (courtesy of Orvar) back to their own home which was free of any and all guests.

Becca had decorated the living room with welcome home and newlywed banners, champagne and more food, but the moment Leon carried Rita over the threshold, she tugged on his untied tie and pulled his lips towards hers greedily. There was only one way she was spending her wedding night and Leon seemed to comply rather easily as the two stumbled upstairs and in between the sheets.

What Rita did not expect, was to be back at the facility. Or was it?

As soon as she had closed her eyes, images of the facility-like room burned in her mind. She was in a cell, but this time she could see Leon, Orvar, Becca and Nate just on the other side of the glass entirely well. They all looked on wide-eyed and Leon beat his fists against the glass, but for some reason Rita couldn’t speak and her body would not will itself to move. She was not tied up nor beaten like her old dreams, recycled memories, but instead this time she was just looking at them through a glass. What was it they were looking at? What was Leon screaming about? She couldn’t hear him.

It was like she was underwater and no matter how hard she willed herself to turn, she could not. It wasn’t until she felt a hand in her hair did Rita look back at the woman responsible. Her long, sharp nailed fingers yanked her hair back and there was a curl of a twisted smile on her lips. But when she looked back all she heard was a scream and she snapped her eyes back to Leon before she felt the knife plunge into her chest and her entire body radiated with a white-hot pain that shocked her out of her dream, screaming.

Rita never saw who the woman was.

In the early morning of their first day as husband and wife, Rita was thrashing and crying, her scream having rattled her to the bone and her hand gripped at her chest where the phantom stab had occurred but there was nothing there. She could feel it though, so deeply that it quickened her breath and made her hands shake. It was just as deep a pain as the gunshot she had endured, but it did not dissipate.

She thought the nightmares were over and it shook her to her core.

They were far, far from over.

 

[Acorn]

It wasn’t the first time he’d been startled awake by Rita’s nightmares, but Leon had convinced himself that once they were married, once she no longer had to worry about him dying before the wedding the same way Chase had, that she’d sleep peacefully again. He’d been wrong. He realized that as soon as his eyes snapped open and he registered that the bloodcurdling screams were coming from Rita. The sound was familiar, but held an edge of pain he hadn’t heard the like of before. At least, not in recent years — the closest he’d heard was when Becca had pulled a bullet from Rita’s abdomen after Jackson had shot her.

He wasn’t thinking about that specific incident, however, when he rolled over and reached out for Rita like he always did after one of her dreams. He leaned up on one elbow and wrapped his other arm around her, simultaneously scooting towards her as he pulled. What usually happened next, where she’d struggle against him a moment before she realized where she really was and curl into him, didn’t. That meant he couldn’t pet at her hair and whisper words that were more about their capacity to soothe than anything else, couldn’t dislodge the cobwebs of fear with kisses, and he couldn’t ground her by holding her against his chest.

She didn’t stop fighting him, her breathing didn’t slow and even out, her shaking didn’t stop. Her expression, what he could see of it in the darkness of their bedroom, was twisted in pain and she clutched at her chest in a way that made him begin to think whatever was going on was more than a nightmare.

Leon tried to pull her hand from where it was over her chest so he could check, but she resisted, and it took gritting his teeth and prying it loose to confirm nothing had happened. There was only her fair skin, unmarred by anything that would’ve caused her to react and continue to react the way she was.

Was it her heart? Oh, God, what if it was her heart?

He’d always worried she pushed herself too hard training. What if the night’s festivities — the drinking, dancing, and all the heightened emotions — had put her past some limit?

“Rita, talk to me,” he said, smoothing his palm over her forehead, cheek, wherever he could as she continued to cry and had resumed clutching at her chest. “Rita, please. Should I—“ Distress lined his face, and he glanced over his shoulder where his phone was on the nightstand. “Should I call an ambulance? Rita?"

 

[Poe]

It took Rita longer than usual to pull herself from the depths of her own mind. It was usually quick, like an elastic snap where the warmth of Leon’s touch pulled her up through the breaking waves above her. This time, it was slow. She could feel him there – feel his touch and hear the tone of his voice, but she could not hear the worlds or bring herself there. She was so deeply set in panic that it felt like her episode with Jason, but this was so much more real. That searing, white hot pain radiated through her chest though she felt nothing out of the ordinary. No blood, no entry wound, nothing but the feeling of her skin and then Leon’s hand prying hers away.

Rita, please.

When Rita had been shot, she remembered the feeling of falling beneath the surface and she could not register a single sound that came out of Leon’s mouth. She remembered the darkness and the chill, but this was different. She wasn’t dying, right? Her breathing was rapid and painful, her sobs so powerful that they shook her entire body, but she could only feel the prickle of goosebumps on her skin from the sensation. It had felt so real. She actually thought for a moment that she was gone, that it was Leon calling out her name in her mind, but she couldn’t hear him. There was a wall then, but now the only wall keeping him from her was Rita herself.

She brought her hands up from her chest and curled her knees up to her chest so her hands could find her face in a desperate attempt to curb and quiet her sobs. Were they in their bedroom? Had it all really happened? She blinked hard a few times, enough to clear the blurry vision, and soon enough the room came into view in the light of the Louisiana moon. Those were their covers, this was their bed, and Leon’s hands were on her, palming any inch of skin her could to make contact with her.

“…an ambulance?” his voice came into focus for her and Rita was confused. An ambulance? Was she – no, she wasn’t hurt, but he was looking at her with such worry because they were in their bedroom. They had just gotten married. Tonight – their wedding night – she was curled with her knees against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably over a nightmare that never happened. It never happened.

It never happened.

“I—“ she finally gasped out but it took her a few moments of shaky, shallow breathing to figure out how to speak again in the silence of the room, “N-No, no.”

She didn’t need an ambulance. She needed to figure out what was wrong with her – this was something unlike anything she’d experienced. She could have sworn on her life that it happened and that very fact made her feel insane. What was happening to her? It was supposed to be over now. Why wasn’t it over? “It was j-just a nightmare,” she rationalized, “m-me, not y-you. I died, I—“

She patted her chest as her sobs turned to painful hiccups, her staccato words came out in bursts. Shaky, unstable, but unmistakably Rita again. She turned instead of trying to pull out any more words and clutched herself so powerfully to Leon’s chest that he could not have made her let go even if he had transformed. There had always been a safety net there, a place for her to hide from the world around her that continuously tried to cut her down, but even pulled into his arms – she knew he could not be in her mind. How could he help? How could he make this better as he always did with crooked smiles and loving touches?

She was afraid to close her eyes again, because something told her that one of these times, she would never again open them.

 

[Acorn]

“Just a nightmare? Christ, Rita, you scared the shit out of me,” Leon said, rubbing her back as she clung to him.

It hadn’t helped at all that she’d pulled away from him and curled in on herself, just like she had after Jason had triggered some sort of episode in her during a training session. She’d called it a panic attack, and when he’d looked it up online, the symptoms had matched what he’d seen, but what’d just happened went beyond that. She’d been lost to terror and pain, she’d thought she was dying — had died, by the sound of it.

He wanted to press, to find out exactly how she’d died in her dream to figure out if it had anything to do with how she’d been holding her chest, but as he held her, she began to settle — her shaking stopped, her breathing steadied, and she only sniffed occasionally — he didn’t want to bring it up again when she’d just calmed down. He also meant to wait until she fell asleep before he did, but as his adrenaline wore off, Leon had a difficult time fighting against his body’s demands to sleep. They’d just spent the night drinking, dancing, and consummating their marriage more times than was strictly necessary. He was exhausted.

“Love you, Rita,” he mumbled, nudging his nose against her neck before he planted a sleepy kiss in the same spot. “Thanks for being my wife.” He snuggled closer to her, and was already drifting off when he added, “Sorry it didn’t make the nightmares stop.”

The next morning, they dressed and took breakfast out to their balcony. Leon put aside his plate, which had only moments before been filled with the food Becca had intended for them to eat the night before, and stretched his arm out over the back of the love seat he shared with Rita. They’d got out ahead of the heat and sticky humidity, but he still felt the uncomfortable weight of what’d happened the night before. They hadn’t talked about it yet, but he couldn’t continue down the path he had prior to the wedding, where he never confirmed his suspicions about Rita's nightmares.

He took a breath and started down a new path.

“What exactly happened in your nightmare? What made you think you'd died?”

 

[Poe]

Rita knew the question was coming. While Leon had fallen asleep the night before, she had curled up impossibly small in his embrace and listened to his even, calming breaths. She tried to mimic them herself and by the time she had entirely calmed down, the sun had risen on a new day and Leon was stirring awake with a need for breakfast, so they’d ended up here – but Rita’s food went mostly untouched. The feeling that lingered was akin to a hangover but the most prominent ailment was a splitting headache, a migraine that made it difficult to process anything with ease.

But Leon needed to know. Hell, she needed him to know. Whatever happened last night, it was not something she had ever dealt with before and these weren’t like the nightmares about him and Chase.

Rita picked up her head a bit from where it had been leaning on Leon for support in the early morning sunlight. She blinked a few times, trying to bring herself to a place of understanding so she could explain to him exactly what happened. “It was different than anything I’ve ever felt before,” Rita admitted, “Before they were just – memories. You and Chase, Lorelei, Jenny, Jackson -- they were always familiar. I’ve been working so hard, too, with Jason to do everything I have to do in order to live with the post-traumatic stress. I know to listen for your voice, I know to keep my eyes open and focus on what’s really in front of me – because those episodes are like loops. The memory just plays out, but this wasn’t a memory.”

“I don’t think I died, Leon. I know I did.”

She took a shaky inhale and then exhaled. Her hand instinctively found her chest where her fingers splayed out against her sternum. “I was in this room,” she recounted slowly, “I thought at first it was the facility, but it wasn’t a room I recognized. There was a big reinforced glass wall that looked out into some other room. That’s where you were – and the others. Nate, Becca, Orvar…they were all there. You were all standing and looking at me, concerned, but I didn’t know why. I wasn’t—it wasn’t like my other dreams where I was tied up or tortured. This was entirely new, there was no reason why I couldn’t move, I just didn’t. Then you started screaming and I looked up. I couldn’t figure out what you were saying and the moment I was going to move I felt this hand curl around my shoulders and whoever it was behind me, they took a knife and…”

She trailed off and shook her head, her hand still holding onto her chest. “I felt myself get stabbed and I thought maybe it was just my mind projecting the pain from the gunshot would onto my dream, or whatever it was, but it wasn’t the same, Leon. I felt the slice of skin, the crack of my sternum underneath the blade, the slow, deflating feeling of a collapsing lung. And when I looked down at my hand, I saw the blood. I could feel it seeping between my fingertips. My heart slowed down, Leon, I felt the painful thumps.”

“And when I come back from those post-traumatic stress episodes, my heart is always beating so fast, but this time it wasn’t. It was like I woke up and my body was shutting down, that’s what it felt like. Like it wasn’t something that happened in my head, it was something that was happening to me. Usually, like I said, I can pull myself out and realize what’s going on, but this time – this time I was there and then I was here. I couldn’t hear you, I couldn’t feel you, it was like I didn’t have any control of my own mind.”

 

[Acorn]

He listened without interruption while she spoke, his thumb working a fidgety path back and forth over his new wedding band. He’d wanted his ring to match the color of Rita’s and silver was out of the question, so it was made of platinum. The band was smooth, unadorned, and Becca had even magicked it to adjust in size when he transformed. It was the single most expensive piece of jewelry he’d ever owned. Four years ago, the cost would’ve equaled that of several months’ worth of paychecks, but he hadn’t batted an eye when he’d paid for it.

Not having to worry about money was one of the biggest changes from when he’d worked full-time at a restaurant, went to night school, and stopped in at the facility every full moon. Granted, the only thing that looked remotely close to what it had four years ago was that Rita was still by his side. They had changed — they’d both grown surer of themselves and each other over the years — but they were still forging a path through all the shit and the muck like they always had. He used to think the shit and the muck would always look the same, though, that the only real difference was how high it could climb, but it’d changed, too.

Nightmares that affected Rita in the real world? That was different, and not good different like not having to worry about the ill-effects of eating ramen noodles for two weeks straight.

“You make me think I should’ve gone ahead and called 911,” he said, lowering his arm from the back of the love seat to Rita’s shoulders so he could pull her close. “For a bit there, I thought you were dying, too. It was like—“ He broke off and scrubbed at his hairline with his free hand, pushing his fingers into his curls and leaving them in disarray. “Honestly, it was like when you got shot, except there was more screaming and no blood. It scares me even more, you talking about feeling like your heart was slowing down. Explains why you were clutching at it like you were.”

Leon craned his neck to press a hard kiss against the side of her head, hugging her tightly in the same motion.

“I don’t know what to do to help,” he admitted, his mouth twisting into a grim line. “If you can’t hear me or feel me, what am I supposed to do when you go into one of these things and you don’t come out before your heart actually stops?”

He couldn’t lose Rita, not ever, but especially not when they’d only just gotten things where they were meant to be.

 

[Poe]

“I don’t know.”

They were three words Rita almost never muttered. She was always the one with a plan, always the one who maintained a level head in high stress situations, but this affected her own mind and it was hard to keep it level when it felt like everything had shaken loose and was just tossing about her skull. She had no idea what to offer as a solution because she didn’t know what this was, she didn’t know how to face it when it was her own mind working against her – and it frightened her. She would never speak the words but the fear had settled into her chest and weighed her down. What if she had met a breaking point? What if she had pushed herself too far and by doing so ruined any chance they ever had at a future together?

The thoughts made tears well up in her eyes but she blinked them back and let out a shaky exhale. No, there was nothing she could do until they figured out why this was happening. That was the first step. She could and would figure it out from there. “Maybe we should talk to Jason,” Rita said finally, “Or Orvar, or see if Becca can take a look at what’s going on. Maybe it’s something residual, but all I know is that it’s not normal.”

She didn’t want to feel that again, but more than anything she never wanted to hear Leon have to admit those words again. I don’t know what to do to help. She remembered all too well what else he had said before they’d fallen asleep too where he admitted how sorry he was that their marriage didn’t take the nightmares away. If only he knew how much it did, but something wasn’t right in her mind. Something was awry and she could not just sit idly by and wait for it to go away. She wanted her happiness, her life, her husband – and she’d be damned if this was going to stop her.

And it didn’t take but a second for Leon to agree, but Jason didn’t.

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell you,” Jason shook his head as they sat in Orvar’s house. Jason was sipping on some whiskey but Rita had refused a glass for the sake of keeping her mind clear. “PTSD has some really fucked up symptoms and those exercises I showed you are…”

“But I’ve been doing them. I haven’t had an episode since—“

“I doesn’t work that way, Rita,” Jason said, almost talking down to her as his hand wiped at his stubble in frustration, “Doing the exercises doesn’t stop it. It helps, but this shit you’ve gone through is always going to be there. You went through some pretty fucking serious trauma, you didn’t think you’d really come out unscathed did you? I know you’re smarter than that. You’re just reliving—“

“I wasn’t reliving, I told you that,” Rita said adamantly, “This was new. I had never ever felt that kind of pain before. It wasn’t just a memory, it was something new.”

“Listen, kid,” Jason huffed and leaned with his elbows on his knees to bring himself closer to Rita, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you are not the first PTSD case that has tried to convince me that their trauma is different. You had a lot to drink last night, there’s a lot of stress that comes with a wedding, it’s understandable, but you’re too smart to let yourself fall into this shit. Supernatural or human trauma, it’s all the same, and you’re getting overwhelmed. But getting yourself worked up like this is exactly what fuels that shit. I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you a million fucking more times if that’s what it takes to get it through your head, Rita.”

“You need to buck the fuck up and deal with it. This is your trauma. It’s something you’ve got to face on your own.”

 

[Acorn]

“Something she has to face on her own?” Leon stood and stalked away from the love seat he always shared with Rita when they were in Orvar’s sitting room. He knew if he let himself stay within arm’s reach of Jason, he’d bust his nose again. He’d thought he be able to keep a lid on the anger he usually felt when he had to share the same air with the man, but the more he’d dismissed their concerns, the more heated Leon had become until it’d finally boiled over.

He shook his head and turned on his heel to direct his glare at Jason.

“You’re ex-military. Used to your guys getting messed up and then leaving them to sort their shit out on their own, aren’t you? Bet you’re not even shocked when they end it. Sucks, but they should’ve bucked up. Dug deep. Dealt with it. Oorah.”

Fucking military. He’d grown up next to an air base, had interacted with military personnel enough to form a general, disdainful opinion of them as a whole, but what’d really tipped him over was his time at the facility. Most Enforcers, Rita excluded, had been ex-military like Jason. They came from all branches, but one thing had remained consistent: They’d all been brainwashed to believe whatever the hell their higher ups wanted them to believe.

And the Enforcers had wanted them to think supernaturals were less than human, and though they weren’t wrong about how dangerous something like an unconfined werewolf on the full moon was, it didn’t mean he’d appreciated or deserved being treated like an animal. They'd usually called him by an identification number, but when they hadn't, they’d referred to him as dog, mutt, or his least favorite, puppy. Never Leon. Not until Rita.

It’d occurred to him more than once that her saving grace might’ve been that she’d been a civilian before they’d recruited her. She’d been loyal to the Enforcers, but it wasn’t the same unwavering loyalty the rest had — once she’d caught the scent of what they were really up to, she hadn’t continued fighting for their cause.

She’d thrown herself in with the rebel group, with the supernatural cause, and she’d picked up some shit on the way.

Wasn’t it on them to help her now?

“How about this?" He took a step towards Jason's chair. "How about you buck the fuck up and help me figure out a way to help her, huh?”

As he’d continued talking, the level of his voice had gone up, and his hands had balled into fists. He wasn’t yelling, but he was close, and it’d drawn the attention of Orvar who’d slipped into the room and stepped into his line of sight, then moved to stand just behind Jason. The tall blonde vampire was wearing a suit, as always, and clasped his hands in front of him as he regarded Leon.

“Leon,” Orvar said, “I believe Jason is right. In the end, this is something Rita must work through.”

“Fantastic,” Leon scoffed. “Yeah, this was really helpful guys, thanks. She wakes up with her heart slowing down because in her nightmare she got stabbed in the chest, but it's just 'something she must work through'.”

"At most," Orvar said, gaze shifting to RIta and his expression softening, "I could provide something that gives a dreamless sleep, but it's highly addictive. I wouldn't suggest it."

 

[Poe]

In this end, this is something Rita has to work through.

She wondered if they would have said the same thing if she was bleeding, if there was a visible wound on her body that required immediate assistance. Never in her life had Rita seen herself as a victim, she tried to make herself strong enough to endure and carry on through anything they faced. She worked and worked to handle her PTSD and after months of dealing with it flaring back up, she was finally at a place where she felt like she was coping effectively. Hell, leading up to the wedding after her mother arrived? She was fine. Not a nightmare in sight.

Sure, she was stressed, but there was so much about this nightmare that didn’t fall under that category. She felt like she was dying and she really didn’t have any words when Orvar and Jason both looked at her and told her to deal with it.

She was dealing with it. Didn’t anyone see that? But between Leon’s digs about military personnel ending their lives after such an ordeal and both Jason and Orvar telling her to just move on – there wasn’t anything left for her to say.

“No,” Rita said simply as she stood and slipped her hand into Leon’s. It always made her feel safe, but she couldn’t help but think of how far away she’d been in her mind during her last nightmare. He was right, he couldn’t help her, through no fault of his own – but now Orvar and Jason were choosing not to help her. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe this was her slow descent into madness and there was nothing she could do. It just felt like the harder she fought back, but the worst it would get. She knew that.

But she wasn’t going to drug herself.

“Why not?” Jason huffed, clearly ruffled a bit by Leon.

“Because,” she said, her voice smaller than it had ever been in front of someone like Jason, “You said it yourself. This is something I have to face on my own.”

Rita let her hand slip from Leon’s so she could excuse herself and leave Orvar’s house. The air felt almost oppressive and it exhausted her. There was little in the way of sleep that could help her, but she longed for it. She wanted to just lie down and forget everything that had happened. She just wanted to be married, happy and sane, but it seemed too much. Within moments, she felt Leon back behind her and she shook her head and looked away from him. “I’m sorry, Leon.”

“I thought they could help, but maybe they’re right. Maybe this is me.”

 

[Acorn]

“No, fuck them,” Leon said, purposefully loud. With as close as they still were to the mansion, Orvar probably would’ve heard him even if he’d whispered, but he’d wanted to make sure he made his feelings known. The night was warm without being uncomfortable, the lightning bugs were out en masse, and he could make out jazz music playing in the distance. All those things usually worked to relax him, but it took pulling Rita into a hug before he felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders.

He inhaled deeply and focused on the floral scent of her shampoo and Rita’s own scent just beneath that. The rest of his tension parted ways with him on the back of a sigh.

“Let’s just go home,” he said, taking a step back and mustering up a smile for her.

On their way, Leon wondered if they had any inkling how rarely Rita asked for help. The last time she’d done so had been for the wedding, and it was only because he’d suggested she call her mother after seeing how she was buckling under the stress of juggling two jobs, wedding planning, and dealing with nightmares.

He made dinner and encouraged her to eat, hoping nothing would come of her reaching out for help of her own free will and having her hand slapped away. If it did, if she couldn't be convinced to reach out again, he'd kick their asses.

After dinner, he coaxed her upstairs and into the bath. Leon joined and held Rita with the nearly scalding water licking his chin and considered that if he could switch places with her, if he could take on all her memories — of the torture, the pain, the humiliation that’d come at the hand of Enforcers — he’d do it in a heartbeat. Even if it meant taking on her nightmares, too.

They dried and slipped into their nightclothes, and as they climbed into bed, he wondered when it’d become normal to dread falling asleep. He pressed his forehead into the back of her shoulder and closed his eyes while guilt surged through him. If he dreaded falling asleep, how did she feel?

For the second night in a row, he tried to wait until her breathing had deepened before he let himself fall asleep but failed.

And for the second night in a row, he woke to her screaming.

 

[Poe]

This time, she couldn’t find her way out.

Once she fell asleep, she was trapped in her own mind, in a place entirely new to her. She did not recognize anything – the walls or the floor, the scent or the feeling of the air conditioning brushing her skin. This was a new place, a run down warehouse perhaps? An old abandoned building with exposed beams and she looked around frantically but there was no one there. She was by herself in this one. There was no woman behind her with a firm grip, long nails and a dagger in her grasp. No instead, Rita was standing in her chemise and barefoot. The very chemise she had fallen asleep in.

There was a crack of wood and an old door opened, but Rita did not recognize the woman that entered. At first she had thought it was Lorelei, but she wasn’t familiar at all to Rita. Just another red headed witch and Rita cocked her head to the side to get a better look at exactly who she was – but she did not stay for long. In a moment there was magic, and the next it was six men who manifested from the glow of magic. Six men who all bore a striking resemblance to Jason, but it wasn’t him. He didn’t speak, he didn’t look at her, and instead he was just dead in the eyes like the puppet he was. Did this witch know Jason?

Slowly, Rita became more and more self-aware of her dream, more lucid, and while she could not will herself to wake, she felt herself in her own body entirely. Her feet would not move, her hands were hanging limp at her sides, but she watched as each of the Jason copies inched closer to her. She anticipated a weapon because if it was really Jason, he would have pulled a weapon if his intention was to kill her, but in an instant, they were running at her with their fists drawn. They knocked her back, tossed her around like a rag dog and each time her body hit the ground she could feel it reverberate through her spine. It wasn’t until Jason grabbed her by the throat, lifted her up, and shot a direct punch straight into her stomach and ribcage that she expelled out a painful puff of air and struggled against him.

But she couldn’t get free. She was unarmed, her legs and arms were useless, and Jason had every intention of killing her. Who could she call for? Enough! she heard a jumbled, muted voice of a familiar timbre but she could not quite put her finger on it. Just like that Jason dropped her like a sack of potatoes to the ground and she anticipated watching him walk away, but only five of the six did. The last moved back towards her, took his boot and pressed it against her throat. But there was nothing she could do except gasp against the pressure, pound by pound, as he threatened to snap her neck and suffocate her at the same time. She felt her lungs set on fire, tears prickling in her eyes. Once enough oxygen had left her body, Rita began to panic and felt it settling in so deeply that Jason stepped harder and harder until the pain she felt was unbearable.

And then she heard the snap.

Her screams echoed through their bedroom as she jolted back to her own body, her breaths rapid and uneven, dangerously so. It sounded like she was wheezing and her lungs could not manage to suck in any more air. Tears soaked her cheeks, her body shook with ferocity, but more than anything her hands reached for her throat and held onto the tender skin there. And it was tender. She knew she was not just projecting her feelings, it hurt. Her throat hurt and she could still feel the impact against her stomach, against her ribs but when she looked there was nothing there.

Rita let out a screech of frustration before she buried her face in her hands and wild hair. Maybe Jason was right, maybe this was Rita’s breaking point. Maybe she would never come back from this. Maybe it would never stop – god she wouldn’t survive it. Her body curled up.

Too ashamed to even look up at Leon.

 

[Acorn]

Leon sat up, sheets pooling around his waist, and reached for Rita, but as soon as his fingers landed on her arm, she flinched away and somehow managed to curl up even tighter on herself.

“Oh, Rita,” he said miserably, and watched and listened to her cry and felt the bed shake as she trembled. He wanted to hold her but was afraid of what would happen if he tried again. Shifting so one leg was under him, Leon leaned over to bury his head in his hands. What the hell were they going to do? What could they do? Neither Jason nor Orvar had been able to see or hear these nightmares. They didn’t know. How could they understand how fucked the situation was if they couldn’t see?

His face crumpled behind his fingers, and he breathed deep breaths, one after the other, until he felt like he could look at her without evidence of his distress on his face. Not that she could see him anyway in a fetal position, but on the off chance she turned back, he didn’t want her to see him as anything other than her rock.

He sighed then reached out to touch her arm again. This time she didn’t jerk away, but he suspected that had something to do with already being on the edge of the bed — she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Slowly, he lowered himself down next to her and held her, though with the way she was curled up, the best he could manage was to drape an arm over her side and leave the other tucked between his chest and her back.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, once her crying had ebbed, “we’re getting a second opinion.”

~*~​

“I’m busy right now. Don’t either of you have phones? You can’t just show up at someone’s apartment and expect to be let in.”

“Becca, please. I did call, I texted too.”

The brown eye peering through the crack between the door and frame narrowed, and the door closed. There was a rattling noise as she slid the chain lock free from the door, then it opened again. Becca’s red hair was piled atop her head in a loose bun with more strands escaped than contained. He might’ve thought it was a new style if not for the dark circles under her eyes or the fact she was still wearing the dress she’d worn as Rita’s maid of honor. Leon glanced back at Rita, eyes wide, then at Becca again when she spoke.

“Fine, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m busy.”

She shuffled away from the door, leaving it open in what he assumed was an invitation.

He stood back for Rita to go in first, and after he turned from shutting the door behind him, his eyebrows went up. Her living room was trashed. There were leather tomes and half-melted candles — some lit and some not — scattered over every surface, and in the middle of the wooden floor, she’d painted a pentagram in white.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Leon muttered as he gingerly stepped over a pile of books.

“Like I said, I’m busy.” Becca turned and crossed her arms over her chest and looked between him and RIta, and raised her eyebrows. “Well? You’re here now. What’s so important?”

 

[Poe]

A second opinion.

Becca didn’t seem very willing to give a second opinion when they showed up. Her hair was tousled, she was still wearing the dress from their wedding and her apartment was trashed to the point of being unrecognizable. Nate was nowhere in sight and Rita worried immediately about him. Had something happened and she’d been too caught up in her own mind to notice? Rita stepped into her room, exhausted from head to toe but powering forward. It was unlike her to stay in leggings and one of Leon’s shirts, but it was all she could muster that morning and Leon seemed less keen on her looking pretty than he was her getting help. She hardly remembered what happened last night after she woke, but she remembered the nightmare.

And this morning, when she’d gone in the bathroom to change, there were bruises on her ribs though she did not remember inflicting them herself. All she could remember was Jason in her nightmare and the way his fists had berated her abdomen to the point where she had felt vomit rise up in her throat.

“Whoa,” Nate’s voice echoed through the apartment, “Rita, you good?”

Rita looked up at the young werewolf and noted his own disheveled hair and the way he stepped over Becca’s apparatus like it was commonplace in their apartment. He walked up to her and gave her a good, hard look before looking to Leon. “I was at Orvar’s last night picking up some stuff and he mentioned you couldn’t sleep, but fuck, Rita,” he breathed out, “you look like the walking dead.”

“That’s actually what we’re here for,” Rita finally spoke, her voice exhausted and heavy, but she turned her green eyes to Becca and offered a comforting smile, “I know you’ve got a lot going on, but we were wondering if you could take a look and see what’s going on. Orvar and Jason think it’s nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothing either,” Nate said, “Here, c’mon and sit down. I’m getting tired just looking at you.”

Nate led her and Leon into the kitchen where there was a little breakfast table that they all settled at. Nate poured Rita some water, but she didn’t touch it. Her stomach hurt too bad, like she hadn’t just been bruises on the outside but on the inside as well. Maybe she was going crazy – there was no way a nightmare could affect her this entirely in real life. “C’mon Becca, just take a look at her.”

“Then you can go back to all of this,” he motioned at the candles and tomes, “And maybe they can help if Rita was in better shape, but this is important.”

“What?” Becca snapped, wide-eyed.

“I—uh, not important, what you’re doing is important to, I just—“

“Becca what’s going on?” Rita asked, pushing her own needs aside, “What is all of this?”

 

[Acorn]

“Oh, you know, just trying to locate my mom who disappeared from the facility she was being held captive at,” Becca replied without taking her eyes from Nate. “Nothing important, so yeah, sure I’ll come over and figure out why Rita can’t sleep.”

Even from where he sat, Becca’s anger was palpable — her mouth was pursed, her fingers bit into her arms where they were crossed, and her nostrils were flared.

“Becca, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Leon said quietly, plucking at the corner of the checkered placemat in front of him, but his hand froze when she turned and launched a tirade against him.

“No, you didn’t know. You know why you didn’t know? Because it didn’t have anything to do with Rita.” She shook her head and loosened her arms, then leaned down to scoop a large leather-bound book from a nearby end table. She didn’t open it, though, she held it up in their direction and jabbed a finger into the cover. “I haven’t been asleep for two days because I’ve been going through every grimoire I own, looking for a way to track her down, but no one’s rushed to make sure I’m resting, no one’s asked how I am.”

Her voice dropped an octave as she continued mockingly, “Maybe they can help.” The grimoire landed on the table with a sudden loud thunk that caused Leon to jerk involuntarily. “You really think you’re going to be able to do anything when my tracking spells can’t find her?”

“Won’t know until you let us try, but we need your help first,” Leon said, even though he was sure that had been a rhetorical question.

“Right.” She snorted. “Help you help me.”

Leon licked his lips and dropped the placemat to reach for Rita’s hand beneath the table. That morning when he’d helped her out of the chemise she’d slept in and into the clothes she wore now, he’d seen the marks on her ribs, angry red and purple, and paused. Her first nightmare, she’d clutched at her chest after being stabbed in her dream. This one, she’d curled in on herself. At the time, he’d thought it was because she wanted to be away from him, but seeing the bruises made him suspect she’d been holding her ribs.

“It’s not just that she can’t sleep. She’s waking up with bruises when no one’s touched her, not… not out here, not in the real world. She has a nightmare where someone hits her and she wakes up with a bruise in that same spot. Something else is going on. Please, just a look.”

“Just a look,” she repeated without inflection.

“That’s all. We’ll get out of your hair as soon as you do. You can get back to what you were doing, and I’ll hit up some sources and see if I can’t find any information on your mom, okay?”

Becca continued staring at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she considered.

“Okay,” she finally said, nodding to herself. “I look, you look. It’s a deal.”

He exhaled loudly through his mouth, and as she started towards the table, he squeezed Rita’s hand and then stood so the redheaded witch could take his seat. He glanced at Nate after he moved to stand behind Rita and placed a hand on the back of her chair. It was no fucking wonder he looked like he did if every interaction with Becca took what that one had just taken.

“Alright,” Becca said, sitting down and angling herself towards Rita, "Turn to me.”

Once Rita did, Becca lifted her slender fingers to press the tips to Rita’s temples, inhaled, and closed her eyes.

 

[Poe]

Rita’s mind rejected Becca’s presence almost immediately.

Her eyes closed and rolled back, unconscious, as Becca poked around and as soon as her eyes had shut, she was back in that room. That inescapable room where she had been stabbed, first, but beside her was Becca. They stood together but it was quick to go downhill. The pain was white hot, enough that it felt like it was searing her skin and there was a screech in her ears so loud she swore they would bleed. Rita tried to move in front of Becca to shield her from whatever was coming but it all happened so quickly. Images of blood and fire, Rita’s screams echoing though her mouth was not open to make a sound, and the feeling of not being alone. It was crowded, cramped and uncomfortable even though they were the only two there. There were doors this time leading out of the room, but not a single one of them with a handle to grab.

But whatever was in her mind, did not want Becca there for an instant.

They both flew back as if by an act of God and crashed into the far wall so hard that Rita could feel blood seeping from a cut on her head. Almost immediately, Becca was gone but Rita was there still, pushing herself up to stand against the blood curdling screams that echoed in the room. Where was Becca? What happened to her? And just like that, the floor disappeared beneath Rita’s feet and she felt her heart leap into her throat as she free fell. The shock was immediate as she came back to, her body jolting in the chair so hard that her chest ached from her laboring heart. There were no tears this time, but Rita’s breathing was unsteady, quick and she could not find the strength to speak only shake.

Even Becca couldn’t find anything.

And she could see it on Becca’s expression as it darkened and she looked at Rita. Rita wanted to speak, to promise her that they would find her mom, but she was in no position to make promises to anyone. She could hardly function under whatever had her mind in its grip and it had exhausted her more than any PTSD or gunshot could have ever done. It broke her down to her core, made her as vulnerable as she had ever been, but she wanted to help. She wanted to be there for Becca – but she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Holy shit, Rita,” Nate said quickly as he moved alongside her and pressed his fingers gingerly to the side of her head where they came back with splotches of red blood against his skin. He moved to grab a towel and press it to the side of her head gently as not to jostle her too much. He did not want to overstep Leon who looked just as worn down by the experience, but Becca had to understand.

Rita could help her, if she was in her right mind. She’d helped all of them before, right?

“You alright?” Nate said finally as he stepped over to Becca who had snapped back like an elastic band rather abruptly and he worried it was her magic that gave out. “Take it easy, Becca…”

 

[Acorn]

When Nate moved away, Leon took up towel duty and kept pressure on the wound that’d appeared out of nowhere, just like Rita's bruises. Except for this time, she hadn’t been coming out of a nightmare, Becca had just touched her with her magic. There was something else going on. He supposed he should’ve been relieved to finally have his proof, but all he felt was fear growing heavy in his gut, like someone had jammed a funnel in his mouth and poured wet concrete down his gullet. Just because they knew something else was going on didn’t magically make Rita better, it only opened a world of possibilities, and with their world being the supernatural one, the possibilities were endless.

“Don’t,” Becca said when Nate approached, recoiling and holding her forearm up as a shield. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go back and make sure Rita’s okay?” Her chin began to quiver as she looked past Nate to where Leon still stood with the towel pressed to Rita’s head.

“Becca—“

“No, don’t Becca me.” She began to stand and again, shrugged Nate off as he tried to help her. “I said don’t,” she snapped, hanging onto the chair until she was able to push herself fully into a standing position. When she released it and tried to take a step, one of her ankles gave way beneath her but before she hit the ground, she was able to grab onto the chair again.

“Christ, Becca, sit down,” Leon said. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

She glared at him and for a moment he thought she’d try and prove a point by attempting to walk again, but she sank back into her chair and stared sullenly at the table.

“Now, you mind telling me what you saw?”

Becca shrugged without looking up.

“Come on, Becca. Something happened. She’s bleeding and nothing that happened out here could’ve caused it.” Despite knowing he should’ve kept the pressure on for minutes longer before removing the towel, he lifted it from Rita’s head and held it out to Becca as evidence.

“Look, I went in, but I didn’t see anything. I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t?”

“I mean I couldn’t fucking see anything, okay? I can’t break that down any further for you.”

Leon shook his head, incredulous. She’d never talked to him like that before, never cursed him, never made him feel like he was an idiot. Where had their sweet Becca gone? Would she come back once she found her mother? He hoped so. He didn’t much care for this version of her.

“I think we should go,” he said quietly to Rita, sliding his hand around her shoulder and then beneath her armpit to help pull her into a standing position.

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s what we agreed to,” Becca intoned, crossing her arms over her chest.

It took everything in him to keep going past her without saying anything in response. What mattered was getting Rita back home and to bed, not ensuring Becca knew what an asshole she was being.

 

[Poe]

“I’m sorry, Becca,” Rita said quietly as Leon hoisted her up onto her feet. Rita wished there was more to offer her, more comfort she could give, but every time she tried to will her body to stand it felt like it was weighed down like lead. The young witch had done so much for them, continued to do so much, and the least Rita could do was help her find her mother. Of course, Rita knew that people disappeared off facility files all the time, sometimes between transfers or escapes, but she wished she could give Becca something to hold onto, some sign that everything was going to be alright. Before she could manage anything, Leon rightfully helped her from the apartment where she could hear Nate begin to raise his voice in frustration, met by Becca’s, and it broke her heart.

Only a few days ago, everything seemed like a fairytale ending. She had her Prince Charming, her own little ragtag family, a home and a job that made her feel fulfilled. Becca had been her maid of honor, was still wearing the dress they picked out together with Rita’s mother, and she had been the one to coax her through the whole process like a rock. She deserved happiness above all else and it broke Rita’s heart to know that she wasn’t happy and in turn, Nate wasn’t happy.

It seemed no one was happy – at least since her nightmares began.

They went back to the house and Rita climbed back into bed after cleaning her head. Little did she expect the knock at their bedroom door that followed shortly after, revealing Nate with a small drawstring bag that he often took on runs with Leon. He seemed out of breath and perhaps in the time it took for them to get home, change, settle in and tend to her head wound, he had managed a fight with Becca and a run.

“Yo,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe, “You left the front door unlocked and I was wondering – maybe could I stay here a few days? Figured I could be useful, maybe help out with everything.”

“Everything okay?” Rita asked, but she knew the answer.

“Nah,” Nate scratched his neck and moved into the bedroom, setting his bag down unceremoniously on the ground before sitting on the edge of the end of their bed. “But there isn’t much I can do. Becca’s been on this tirade for days, hasn’t slept, and I have asked and asked what she needs, but she won’t tell me. She doesn’t understand why I can’t just fix it.”

“If I could fucking fix it, I would,” he pushed his hair back, “Anyhow, how you feeling? Or is that a dumb question?”

Rita felt a smirk rise on her lips, brightening her face considerably.

“Right, dumb question,” he laughed, “So have you talked to Orvar then? Does he know that you’re literally getting the shit beat out of you in your ‘dreams?’” He turned to Leon, “I don’t know if Becca’s going to be willing to take another look, but I’ve got the numbers of those witches that broke the transformation seal. Maybe between the three of them, they can help. Assuming they’d be willing to go against Orvar’s diagnosis of ‘bad nightmares.’”

 

[Acorn]

Leon sat up and stuffed a pillow between his back and the headboard as Nate came in to sit at the end of the bed.

When they first moved to New Orleans all those years ago, they’d stayed in Orvar’s mansion in one of his rooms. So had Nate and Becca. Back then, it’d been commonplace for Nate, Becca, or even Orvar to stop by and chat for a while, even if they were in bed like they were now. Of the three, only Becca had ever walked in on them while they’d been using the bed for anything other than sleeping, but of the three, she was the only one who didn’t have supernatural hearing. Realizing that’s why Orvar and Nate always knew when to stay away from that area of the house had been one of the many reasons he’d pushed to move into their own place.

“Haven’t talked to Orvar since the night before last,” Leon said. “Didn’t think to bother again, to be honest. Still pissed he shut us down like he did.” Maybe they should reach out again, though, since Rita had physical proof in the form of the bruises on her ribs and the mark on her face that might sway the vampire. The worst that could happen is that Orvar would send them away again. The witches weren’t a bad idea either, and Leon asked Nate to get in touch with them in the morning to see if they couldn’t set up a meeting.

“If it helps sway them, tell them they won’t be working for free. We’ll pay,” Leon said.

Nate nodded and promised to call first thing.

Now they had a plan. Get a third opinion.

He started to get out of bed to make sure the guest room was ready for Nate, but the younger werewolf was quick to remind him that he’d stayed there plenty of times before. He wouldn’t get lost on the way there, and if he needed anything, he knew where to get it.

Once Nate left, Leon sighed and flipped the nightstand light off.

“That really sucks about Becca,” he said, but that’s all he said on the matter. There was another pair of supernatural ears in the house again, and he didn’t imagine it’d make Nate feel any better to hear them discussing his problems with Becca. It felt like it’d been forever since he’d teased Nate about his and Becca’s wedding being next, but that’d only been a few short months ago. How had everything gone so off the rails since then for the lot of them?

Rather than try to figure it out, Leon rolled onto his side facing Rita, pulled her close, and kissed her.

“Hey,” he said after their lips parted. “Did you know I love you?”

She did, but it never hurt to remind her.

For the third night in a row, he held Rita in his arms and tried to wait for her to fall asleep before he did, but failed.

And for the third night in a row, he was pulled from his slumber by Rita.

But it wasn’t her screams that did it, it was her thrashing like a fish turned out on land. He leaned up on an elbow then pushed himself into a sitting position so he could see her face. Immediately, he recognized that her eyes were open, but she wasn’t there; it was like looking into the eyes of a porcelain doll. Leon reached over and rest his hand on her arm, hoping against hope that he could help bring her back this time, only to have his hand slapped away.

He sucked in a startled breath.

“Rita?”

 

[Poe]

“I love you, too,” Rita murmured before Leon fell asleep, “So much, Leon.”

That night, though, the dream was different. She was back again in that damn room and Rita felt a shiver snake up her spine. Was this the rest of her life? A prison of her own making? Trapped in this stupid room every single night, doomed to die by the hand of whatever fucked up monstrosity that her mind made up. Nothing was different about the room, except there was one door across the way, no handle from the outside, but it creaked open slowly. A laugh reverberated through her, a familiar maniacal laugh, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she had heard it before. There was a chilling breeze as the door flung open and there was a shadow that approached.

The last thing she anticipated was seeing Leon standing there, but it couldn’t be him. He couldn’t be there. His head was held a little too down cast, his eyes near empty as they looked up at her and his shoulders were powerful, almost predatory. She had seen Leon look at Jason like that, but never her. “Leon—“ her voice managed to pierce through the silence. She willed her body to move so intensely that her foot picked up from the ground and set back down in front of her. One after the other and she was walking. She was moving. There was no way Rita was leaving here without figuring out what Leon had to do with all of this.

She reached out with a tired hand, but he grabbed her forearm so hard she swore he could have snapped the bone. She slapped it back and backed up with her eyes wide. Leon would never lay a hand on her, so in that instant Rita knew this wasn’t real. Her mind was creating something that wasn’t there. Or someone else was. Who, she wasn’t sure, but it had to be someone who knew Leon or dug deep enough in her memories to pull him out as an important figure in her life.

But before she could reason her way through it, she felt a hit to her chest as Leon came after with his bare hands. He was fast, almost as good as Jason as he met her hit for hit and sent her onto her back. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to remember that it wasn’t really Leon. She had to protect herself. The real Leon would have wanted her to, right? It was only when her kick landed to his chest did she feel the reverberation of his growl through her whole body. In an instant she was thrown back and Leon was in wolf form, snarling and snapping his giant maw at her like he had when they first met. Back when he didn’t know her. Back when he couldn’t realize it was her.

She noted the weapons that had manifested, a gun strewn only a few feet away and the laughing grew louder but Rita could not give in. She would have to kill Leon to get out of here, wouldn’t she? Then she would stay forever. She would rather lose herself to her own mind than ever hurt him. She shook her head and ducked as the wolf lunged at her, swiping and biting at her. He sent her to the ground over and over and over again until she could hardly breathe but she pushed herself up and ran for the door. She ran so fast for it that the copy of Leon looked surprised that she had broken through the confines of the dream.

Little did she know, it sent her right back into her own body. Her eyes blinked slowly and there she was standing in their bedroom with her knuckles bruised and bloody from missing her target, her knees were weak and she looked down at her hands to turn over her palms. Only then did she managed to look up and see Leon and Nate as far from her as they could, the obvious marks of Rita’s attacks on their skin, and Rita felt a sob well up in her chest. In a split second, she was sobbing and shaky, her hands grasping at her own skin and then burying in her hair desperately.

She hurt him. God, she fucking hurt him.

She heard a footstep but Rita flailed and hiccupped in hysterics. “D-don’t—“ she gasped, “I don’t w-want to hurt you p-please, I'm so s-sorry,” she wept openly, “just go. It’s not s-safe, pease—please.”

Just as her sobs reached their climax, she felt her entire body give out and she went painfully to the ground, her knees slamming against the hardwood as consciousness danced at the corners of her vision. It was the moment she had dreaded, the moment she never thought would come. She had hurt Leon.

She didn’t deserve help. Not anymore.

 

[Acorn]

Leon had logged hundreds of hours watching Rita train with Jason. He’d watched her on the field. He’d seen her kick ass so many times he’d lost count. He knew what she looked like when she fought. It had in no way, shape, or form prepared him to fend off her attacks. It was one thing to see how fast she was, how she’d find an opening and press it, and if she couldn’t find an opening, how she’d make one, but it was another thing entirely to be on the receiving end.

The only thing that saved him was being a werewolf. Even in his human form he had supernatural speed and strength, and retained some of the wolf’s instinct for staying the fuck alive. When he tried to reason with her, though, when he begged her to wake up from whatever nightmare she was in, that’s when he caught a fist to his face, splitting his lip and filling his mouth with the metallic tang of blood, that’s when she kicked him in the chest, pushing all the air from his lungs and sending him stumbling into the corner of their dresser, and that’s when the wolf tried to surge forward.

All the wolf knew was that he was being attacked, not by whom, and they needed to stop. They needed to make them stop.

By that point, Rita and Leon had made enough of a ruckus that Nate came charging into the room, and when Rita turned on Nate, it gave Leon the ability to lasso the beast and tug it back down.

It went on like that, the both of them taking blows and trying to talk her back into awareness, until something finally clicked and she stopped. He’d been backed into a corner with Nate, and he breathed hard as he watched her, every bit of him — from the top of his head to the tips of his toes — waiting and ready for her to come at them again. He sighed and his shoulders dropped when he saw Rita come flooding back; it was in her eyes and the confused way she inspected her hands.

His bottom lip was already swollen and he pushed his tongue against the inside, probing at the damage she’d caused, while at the same time he brushed away whatever it was that tickled his cheek and came away with blood on the back of his hand. There wasn’t any pain, not yet, just adrenaline and relief that she’d come back.

Leon’s relief shifted to dismay as she looked at them. He watched her face crumple, saw the horrified realization, and took a step forward to her but both Rita’s plaintive request that he go away and Nate’s hand on his arm made him hesitate.

“Easy,” Nate said, but Leon pulled away from him. That was Rita on the floor now, despondent and smaller than he ever remembered her being.

She needed him.

“Go get the car. Keys are next to the door,” he said gruffly. He waited until Nate had obeyed before he went to his knees next to Rita and then began dragging her long, dark hair out of her face piece by piece until he could see her again. “That wasn’t you, Rita. That wasn’t you.”

 

[Poe]

Rita didn’t flinch when Leon touched her, she was too exhausted. Instead she sort of just let him brush her hair back and just sunk into herself. The feeling this time was not like the mental hangover of her last few nightmares, this was a full body energy zap. Every single inch of her body seemed to lose the ability to hold itself up and function normally. Instead, when Leon moved to touch her, she just sort of uselessly fell into his arms with mutterings about why he should be careful. To not risk it.

She had no control anymore, even when she fought back with every fiber of her being, so what was stopping her from falling asleep again and losing herself? The real battle was keeping her eyes open. She hadn’t slept in so long that it was beginning to feel like she could not properly get her body to react to her mind’s commands. Leon scooped her up and cradled her close, far closer than she deserved, and it made tears well up in her eyes. She had hurt him. She could see it from where she was in his arms.

His split lip, the blood on his cheek. She reached up slowly to touch at it gingerly, almost unable to process that it was real, but when she felt the familiar, warm touch of blood against her fingertips, she felt her heart sink so deep into her stomach it made it lurch. She was his wife – she was supposed to stand by him, to have and to hold, to protect and love – but she had laid her hands on him even when she had fought tooth and nail to not lay a single finger on him. Leon would forgive her – it wasn’t her—but she should have done more. She should have fought harder. She should have, should have, should have.

They arrived at Orvar’s house and without a knock, Nate burst into the house and called for Orvar and Jason. It was still relatively early in the evening, before midnight, and there was no way both a vampire and an ex-enforcer had much of a need for early sleep. Leon brought her into the sitting room and set her down on the loveseat, never leaving her side once. God, she didn’t deserve it.

He loved her and she let him down. She let them all down.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason huffed as he walked in and took in the sorry sight. Nate was banged up a bit and Leon’s lip was split, but when Jason’s eyes found Rita he cocked his head to the side. “The fuck do you want me to do?” he asked and glanced at Leon, but Nate interrupted.

“Open your fucking eyes and see that this isn’t your military PTSD bullshit. Someone or something is hurting her, controlling her.”

“Is that true, kid?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Rita, “Is someone in your head hurting you? Or are you in your own head so much you’re hurting other people?”

“I—“ Rita tried to breathe out but her words died on her lips.

“Jason, now is not the fucking time,” Nate growled, on edge.

Jason moved over to Rita and his hand immediately shot out to grab her chin roughly and pull her head up so that she was forced to look up at him. “You said you could handle this,” Jason reminded her, “If you came here to be babied, Rita, you’ve got another fucking thing coming. Open your fucking eyes. I said look at me, Rita.”

 

[Acorn]

Nate was right. Now was not the fucking time. He’d just faced off with an empty-eyed Rita in their bedroom — their goddamned bedroom — and had to fight to keep himself from transforming and hurting her. It hadn’t been her attacking him, she hadn’t deserved it, but Jason was doing what Jason was doing without anyone in his head. He was the one talking to Rita like she was a child, like she didn’t know her own mind, like she’d had some choice in the matter.

He deserved to get hurt.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Leon said lowly, and it was the only warning he gave before he grabbed Jason by the wrist and pulled his hand from Rita’s chin. When Jason jerked his hand back and turned to face him, Leon shoved him a step back. “You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to talk to her. You sit down and you shut the fuck up or—“

“Or what?” Jason demanded.

Leon’s mouth twisted and he breathed hard enough that it caused his shoulders to rise and fall with every inhale and exhale. He’d been ready to say “or leave”, but Jason’s interruption had made him forget he’d meant to speak at all. He glowered at the other man, imagining how satisfying it’d be to grab him by the throat, drag him outside to one of the big oak trees and slam him into it repeatedly. That’s what would happen if he didn’t stay away from Rita.

Jason stepped back into his space and leaned into his face.

“That’s what I thought. You’re not going to do shit. Par for the fucking course.”

“Back up,” Leon bit out. When Jason took another step forward in response, pushing into him with his chest, Leon’s expression grew dark.

“Fucking make me,” Jason growled.

Leon accepted the challenge. Scowling, he took a step back, but only so he could have enough room to bring his hands up between them. He pushed Jason with not just his supernatural strength, but with all the helplessness and frustration he’d been forced to feel since Rita had started having nightmares. He pushed Jason hard enough that the backs of his legs hit an antique coffee table — a beautiful piece dating from the antebellum period, all spiraled feet and glossy dark wood — and he fell onto it. The sound of splintering wood was loud to his ears, almost as loud as the sound of his heartbeat, and the ugly snarl that parted his lips.

He leaped after and landed on Jason, straddling and then swinging at him. While he had the advantage, Leon landed a couple hits, but soon it was him pinned with his back on the ground and Jason’s fists pummeling his face before he had a chance to protect it.

“How’s it feel, dog?” Jason said, after he crashed his knuckles into Leon’s nose and white, searing pain temporarily stunned him. His eyes watered and he felt like his sinuses were going to explode. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Consider it payback.” The next time his fist connected to his jaw and Leon tasted blood for the second time that night when he bit his tongue.

“Fuck you!” Leon screamed, and speckles of red landed on Jason’s face. Jason pulled his fist back again, and Leon managed to get his hands up and over his head, so his forearms took the next blow instead of his face.

“That is enough!” Suddenly, the weight of Jason disappeared, and Leon lowered his arms to see Orvar standing over him. The vampire wasn’t looking at him, though, he was looking over his shoulder to where Jason had started to pick himself off the ground. Leon started to climb to his feet too, but without turning, Orvar held his hand up, palm out, at him. Leon grunted and sat back down heavily.

“Where the fuck were you?” Nate asked Orvar from where he sat on the love seat with a protective arm around Rita’s shoulders. Leon imagined he’d gone to her as soon as shit had hit the fan with him and Jason, and was grateful that the other werewolf had stepped in when he couldn’t, and would do so for as long as it took for Orvar to remove the stick from his ass and let him get up.

While Leon carefully pressed his fingers into his face, assessing the damage Jason had done, Orvar explained that despite what they might think, he did occasionally have matters to attend to that weren’t breaking up fist fights between what he’d once assumed were full-grown men.

“Now would someone please explain to me why my coffee table is in pieces and there’s blood on the rug?”

“Because he didn’t fucking listen,” Leon muttered stuffily, like he usually did when he had a head cold. He hissed when he touched the bridge of his nose. White dots swam in his vision and he swallowed the feeling of nausea. “You broke my goddamned nose, you piece of shit,” he said once he'd recovered.

“Let’s go again and see what I can break next,” Jason said, chin jutted out.

“Enough! You two, no more talking. Rita or Nate, what is going on?”