I had the gun hidden in my lower back. My black and dark grey shirt covered the handle easily. The barrel was tucked protectively in my low rise jeans. I felt uncomfortable having to pull them up more. I hated high pants. I sighed, tightening my belt when I felt someone coming too close for comfort. He smelled like Ash and Woodstuck. I waited for him to tap me on the shoulder, but it never came. I kept my back turned to show my trust. "Ya know I'm coming. You don't have to show trust, you already have it." I spun around to no one. I closed my eyes. That time I hadn't known he was there. Carless of me. I heard deep laughter and turned around. The laugh was honest laughter. The kind that raise from the pit of your stomach to the top of your throat, coming out in deep thunderous laughter. "That wasn't funny Achillies." Achillies was a tall man. And had very broad shoulders. Very attractive. In his late ish 20's. I think he was 26. But, he was much, much older than that. And alot more wiser that I would ever be. He had dark brown hair that filtered down to the high of his shoulders. In soft ruffly curls. I'm not exactly sure if he brushed his long hair or what, but, it always looked out of bed neat. Which fitted nicely on him. He had the sideburns that came all the way around his chin. Where they connected, making a thin beard on him. He shaved the rest at his neck, only touching his chin. No mustache, he didn't like them. Except the thin beard looked almost reddish. The hair fell absently around his face, sometimes covering his eyes. Only throwing back out of his way, constatntly. He had a slim waiste, going to the slightly invisible curve of his hip, leading to his long legs. He would have almost been called feminin, if he weren't so built. And tall, he stood about 6'1. But, in a way, I guess that would be very tall to me. I was only about 5'6. So he basically, towered over me. He had faded dark blue jeans, that he had worn many times before. Looking very soft across his legs, hanging low on his waiste. Soft brown boots, which he wore all the time. A wrinkly baby soft white button up. With an old leather belt. If there was one thing I liked most about him, was how he always looked comfortable. Always. We could be caught in a gang with the odds 50 to 2. A life or death situation, and he looked completely comfortable. I envied it. And his clothes, putting this lightly, completely and utterly matched him. All of him. He had deep honey brown eyes. The were almond, and large. Giving him the appearance of a big cuddly bear. One that you could put at the end of your bed and pet, while at the same time it could rip your throat apart, on a whim. But, like I said, I trusted Achillies. With my life. And it was, comfortable, in his hands. And, he felt the same with me. We had eachother's backs. He grabbed me in a bear hug, picking me up off the ground in the airport. Swinging me around. I shuddered, unlike Achillies, I was very very motionsick. Also, unlike me, Achillies could be put through anything. And he'd come out smiling. He is a very tough man. He would never show it, and you'd never know he's the kind of man; by just looking at him. You had to know him, personnaly. He didn't usually spill things just by knowing him, you had to trully 'know' him. "Put-put me down Achillies!" I squeeled. I didn't like to show weakness, but around him, it was literally, impossible. He put me down, grabbing my shoulders, leaning down to look right in my face, "Du fehlst mir." I stared through his honest eyes. "English." He smiled, his bright flashy smile. Hugging me again. Achillies is very German. In fact, Achillies full name is; Achillies Von Rich Houst. Born of a military forefather, great grandfather, grandfather, father, and so on. In force Achillies was born into a military family. Although he didn't want to go, in act it was an honor. One he didn't want to be burdoned with. But, he was forced in the end. Achillies in actuallity, around 70 some odd years old. When I found out, I was shocked. He looked like a Were, but his attitude threw me off completely. And, I would never imagine him in a family of hard core military. His sad past, was the most tragic thing he could hide. One of the worste stories, that on a daily basis, I go back and think about. And a sad past, he had. His Father was a field Marcial in Germany World War 2. Also bringing in his son, Achillies in the 2nd. World War. Achillies soon became a Junker. Of high status among their soldiers. It was a rival amoung the Germans between the old Imperial Junkers, and the Nautzie soldiers. Soon after the war, Achillies was kid napped, captured, and tortured by the Nautzie soldiers. Many of Hitler's soldiers were bred werewolf. But the Junkers were not. Achillies wasn't a werewolf, but during one of the torture sessions; Achillie's was bitten. They left him to bleed to death, also in hopes if he survived the transformation, to become a werewolf. High stakes for a Junker birtch right Colonel. In German, he was considered the highest of the high Oberst. German for Colonel. He was appraised by all. Soon, to take his Father's place as the highest Field Marcial. But, after the kidnapping, he had already spent, unwanted years and years in the military. In the beggining not even wanting to be, at all. He had been through anything and everything you could ever imagine. And even more than that. But he never showed it. He was under the Nautzie's care for weeks, close to months. But one night they went farther than they figured. And when they 'had' realized what they'd done. It was too late, Achillies had survive, and had changed at the first full moon. Transforming painfully and brutally. He tore through the bars in his cell, tearing away brick and mortar. Coming to the states. He had gone back to visit Germany one or two times, his family that he knew of were long and gone. The paintings on the wall of him, hung in honor of his capture. The familiy royalty was still there, and passed on to the next son. Who was not a werewolf. I often thought back to wonder if Achillies was sad, miserable? If he were he sure as hell never showed it. And I knew him for a long time. I'm one of his longest friends. We don't speak about that night he changed, or of any the others. For a moment, when his shields were down, I felt everything I needed to. Too much in fact. And, I couldn't ever imagine what he'd gone through. And the glimpse of pain and anguish, and how everynight he'd thought how they'd come to find him. And now they never came, was more than I ever needed to know. I never asked Oberst Achillies Von Rich Houst, Junker, son of Field Marcial, and fore-son of a birth right military family; ever again of his experiences those haunting months. Now that I looked at him, really looked at him, he didn't really look 'that' German. Maybe he was a different kind I'd never seen before, but he didn't seem German, only if you heard his accent, then you realized. I could understand him talking, easily. He could hide the accent when he wanted, but he had to try. And when he went on a role, there was no understanding him. It was practically a giberish language between English, German, and God knows what else. He hugged me again, tighter. My face felt purple lost in the crook of his neck. "I've missed you!" He roared laughter. "Achillies." I coughed out. He had his hand on my lower back. He pulled away quickly, still against me. Shaking his head, I felt him remove my gun. Holding it between his thum and pointy finger, shaking it in the air. "Tsk, tsk, now now little der wolfet. This is not really needed, is it?" He waved my little Browning in the air. Shaking it in his medium sized, tan hands. I jumped in the air, yanking it back in my pants. "ACHILLIES! We are in an airport! If someone sees us with this!" I yanked my front pocket pants around, like he had. With an angry, 'what are you thinking' kind of face. "They will throw us into jail faster than we could run!" He shook his head, crossing his arms, elbows out. "Little der wolfet, they cannot run faster than wolves." I shook my head, immitating him. He reached for my shirt. I grabbed his wrist. "No worries Little der wolfet, I'm not taking it. I have my own." He flashed me that big smile of his, pulling my shirt over the handle. He placed his smiled with an angry face. Pulling back his hair, in a huff. What was his problem? "Jesus! Do you know what they will do to us if they see you, with that monstrocity! They will throw us in jail, faster than wolves could wrong!" He put away his act smilling. "I was just helping." He said in his very heavy accent. He let his hair fall angrily, back to place in front of his eyes. His grin was still plastered to his face. I squinted my eyes. "You said it wrong." He shook his shoulders. "Cannot help it, you talk too fast." I scuffed. "Me? You should take a look in the mirror!" He smiled. "Why? Do you like looking at me?" I shook my head, he always mis-interpritted things. "No." "Are you sure Little der wolfet?" "Stop calling me little wolf." "Why? Does it...how is it...annoy you?" I gave him more squinted eyes and harsh arm crossing. "What do you think." I looked up at him, towering over me. He didn't have to use his height in intimidation. He knew it didn't work. Besides, Achillies really wasn't the kind of man to try and intimidate, not even with his enemies. Which he had few of. Everyone seemed to like him. Even the bad guys. He put his arms, lightly, over my shoulders. Pulling me into his side, walking towards the luggage center. "I am sorry my love. I was only looking for conversation." I sighed, leaning into his embrace. I didn't like people holding me. It felt strange. But, when he did, he had a thing where you just couldn't put down an offer. "I know. I'm just grumpy. I don't like being in airports." He patiently waited for his bag to come around on the revovling glass. "Then let us leave this place." He stood away from me, holding out his hand. We weren't a couple, we were just close. I had had romantic thoughts of him before, that he'd never known about. Or at least I hoped he never knew about. He had keen senses. So keen he could smell the mood of an individual. Sweat, blood, tears, emotions. You name it, it was his specialty. I took his hand, gratfully. He glided through the rush of people. He could do that. I also liked that about him. He was swift at all things it seemed. Except computers. That was a strange thing about him. When he typed at a computer, he typed very slowly. Hollering in German when he was frustrated, which was often. He typed with two fingers, staring at the keys. Once I'd sat down at it and tried to help. He got so angry, he ripped out the monitor and the tower, crashing it through his window. He stood there, his back to me. He'd said, "This, this, computers, das leiden's me." Which meant, gave him slight pain. He simmered down into a humorous mood. Turning around having a giant smile on his face. If he had anger moments, they didn't usually last long. I hadn't moved, just stood there with a tired look on my face. He shrugged innocently. Oh, but he was far from innocence. I shook my head, and went to bed. Thinking how he'd have to buy, 'another' computer...'again'. I smiled thinking thinking of that. Thinking of Achillies usually did make me smile. I did have somewhat of a crush on him, if that's what you'd like to call it. I knew he didn't. I'm pretty sure I could have smelled it on him, if he did. Besides, I'm not sure how that would affect us, if he had. I looked up at him, resting the top of my head against his chest. Feeling the soft ruffly, off white, cotton button up shirt against my skin. Feeling like milk clouds. He looked down at me, "What are you thinking of, Juendliebe?" I frowned. He never realized I didn't know German, even as many times as I told him. And the only way I knew little things, was because I'd been around him so often. The only reason why he'd been coming from the airport, was to pick up some last remaining things in Germany. He had been visiting, which was not ever often. I'd wondered when he came back if he'd be angry, or upset. But, he wasn't, he was just...Achillies. "Enligh Achillies, English." He smiled, his big white smile down at me, blowing air on my face absently. "First love. What are you thinking about, first love." I hit his chest, "I am not your first love!" I frowned up at him. He was also one of the only people I made fun of with. And felt completely comfortable with doing. He smiled, again. He smiled a lot. "And you would know how?" His accent carried thickly, hotly. I squinted my eyes in frustration. "I'm not sure." "Exactly." He said, squeezing my shoulders tightly. I laughed. If I were anybody else, I would have put giggled. I didn't 'giggle' around anybody, and not often around Achillies. It would have to of been damn near funny. "About you." I said chimingly. "Ah, really?" He lifted his trimmed eyebrows. I always hated guys with thick eyebrows, it bugged me. His were perfect. What? I'm just saying..."Yes, really." He smiled. "What of?" "None of your business." "But it's about me?" "So?" "So?" "So." So." "Stop saying so." "Okay, so, what about me?" "It's none of your business. Wait, what? Shut up Achillies." I pulled away from him annoyingly. He started that deep rich laughter. When he was truly laughing, it reminded me of waking up in the morning; the hot coffee filtering through the house. The rich, expensive kind. That you only get on Christmas; from people who really care about you, or from people who just don't know what the hell to get you. Either way I took it gratfully. He didn't try to pull me back. He just left the space open between us, just in case I wanted to go back. Or was it just me? But, by that time, we were already to my car.
