Tides of Midnight Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Do not own, just playing around
Warnings/Tags: Wing!fic, M/M (Slash), romance, angst, h/c,
AN: As mentioned in Chapter 4 (updated 7/17/14), this story needed a serious geography lesson. I believe I've done that, and everything else should be okay. Only chapters 1-3 have been modified. I apologize that this went back to the top of the 'new story' list.
Updated version - geography, spelling, grammar. Overall story should not have been altered.
Running from the military was hard on him. There was no rest, no recovery. Just, change after change, transformation after transformation, sapping away at his strength.
He hasn't been able to stop running long enough to eat, and had discovered that his new "friend" required easily twice as much food as he'd been used to. Unfortunately, a lack of money, plus minimal access to civilization meant he'd had to learn, quickly, how to live off the land. He was grateful that his new state of being meant he was less prone to catching diseases and getting sick. The feathers had thrown him for a loop. After each transformation, he always found green, gray, or black feathers on the ground. He had no idea what it meant, but tried to keep a few after each change, to hopefully run some experiments on later.
He felt drawn to California. The creature made significant headway, moving across the mountains. Military scouts forced him into Mexico, leaping the border in an unoccupied part of Arizona. Once there, he traveled south into the jungle, trying to get distance before he was too weak to keep going.
He was profoundly grateful for the ability to absorb new languages. Less than a week, and he spoke like a native no matter where he ended up. It enabled him to move around without attracting too much attention. Having a deep bronze tan and dark, curly brown hair aided Bruce in being invisible as he evaded capture.
Living in a shanty town, he was able to disappear adequately enough to lose his pursuers. He found work in a factory, repairing machinery, and lost himself to the endless drudgery.
Back in California, another, more well off man was attempting to recover from a severe illness that none of the best doctors and naturopaths could determine source or cause of. It was a good 6 months before the symptoms lessened enough to allow him to get out of bed longer than a couple hours at a time.
He took one trip, south into Arizona, searching for some kind of medicine or palliative. He spent 2 months there, attempting to relax and recover. The hot springs were a frequent choice for relief.
When he returned to his southern California home, he was at least able to get back to work at his multi-billion dollar company.
The desire to travel was easily sublimated as he lost himself in the new weapons requested by the Army. The briefing he and Obie had received had hinted at some kind of feral monster. He'd laughed at the time, but oddly, his dreams had taken on a particular green and angry flavor. He dismissed it as related to his illness and ignored it like the rest.
Both men were unaware of how things would change, in just over a year's time.